Chapter 21

"Hang on," Chris said. He slowed his steps, stopping and turning away from the other officers in the hall of the station and answered his cell phone.

"Larabee," he said by way of greeting. He didn't recognize the number.

"Hi, Mr. Larabee. This is Mary Travis."

Chris stilled completely, ready for whatever the principal of Sam's school was going to have to say.

"Is Sam alright?" he asked. He needed to at least know his sister was safe.

"She's fine," Mary said. Her mellow voice was reassuring.

Chris let out a breath of relief. Sam was in one piece at least.

"There's a disciplinary issue we need to discuss. Are you available to come in for a meeting?"

Chris looked over at Buck. Buck raised his eyebrows in question.

"Yeah," Chris said. They could start their patrol over by the school. Do the meeting, then get back out on the street. "I'm on my way."

Chris ended the call and jerked his head to motion Buck to start moving with him.

Buck didn't ask questions until they were in the squad car.

"Who was on the phone?" Buck asked.

"Mary Travis." Chris glanced in the mirrors, then pulled out of the parking spot in the lot behind the police station.

"Is Sam in trouble?" Buck asked. His posture tensed with worry. Chris appreciated that Buck's worry was just as genuine for his sister as it would have been for Morgan.

"Sounds like it," Chris muttered.

"Morgan?" Buck asked, after a long pause.

Chris glanced at him. Buck's jaw was tight, waiting for an answer.

"She didn't mention Morgan."

Buck nodded jerkily. Morgan not being mentioned meant she wasn't in whatever trouble Sam had found. But it also meant that most likely Morgan still wasn't anywhere to be found.

"Sam's a smart kid," Buck said. "She ain't gonna get in too much trouble."

Chris wished he could believe that.

"At least she probably ain't married to some kid with a police record," Buck offered grimly.

Chris supposed that was at least a small mercy.

The school was silent outside when they pulled up, students inside for classes for the day. Chris parked in the fire lane in front of the main entrance.

"You want a wingman?" Buck asked.

Chris shook his head. Whatever it was, he would fill Buck in afterwards. It wasn't like Buck could do anything to lessen the blow in the moment.

Buck accepted his answer with a nod, then slid his passenger seat back to allow more room for him to stretch out his legs.

Chris went into the school and right to the office. The secretary didn't direct him to take a seat on the bench this time. She motioned him right into Mrs. Travis' office.

Chris knocked on the ajar door and heard the principal welcome him in. He pushed open the door and stopped.

His younger sister sat, slouched in one of the chairs opposite Mrs. Travis. Sam slanted a look at him when he came in.

Chris quickly looked her over. He didn't see any injuries. She wore her usual uniform of jeans and t-shirt, a flannel shirt open over the t-shirt, a couple necklaces her only jewelry. Nothing looked wrong. At least she was in one piece.

"Have a seat," Mary Travis said kindly, gesturing to the other open chair.

Chris looked Sam over one more time, then took the seat next to her. Sam slouched lower in her chair.

Chris waited.

"Sam?" Mary said, not unkindly.

Sam's expression didn't change. She sat silently, her jaw tight. Chris wasn't surprised. Sam could clam up better than anyone he knew when she didn't feel like talking. And the principal's office would be the last place she would feel like talking.

"We had to search Sam's backpack," Mary said.

Whatever she was about to tell him, that wasn't where Chris had expected this conversation to go. He didn't show any more expression than his sister, waiting for Mary to tell him what they found. He could imagine an underground newsletter planning a mutiny among the student body, a train ticket to Mexico, or a pocket knife she forgot to take out of her bag.

Mary reached down and set a bottle on her desktop with a soft clink. "Sam had alcohol on school grounds."

Chris stared at the bottle. Whiskey. It was over half empty. He curled his fingers around the arms of his chair so he didn't grab the bottle off the desk with one hand, get a hold of his sister with the other, and haul her out of there to ask her what the hell she was thinking.

When it became clear neither Larabee sibling was going to say anything, Mary spoke.

"We have a zero tolerance policy, as Sam is aware."

Chris knew things were about to go from bad to worse.

"She's going to be suspended for three days since it's her first violation. Next time would be a full week. The third strike would be expulsion."

Chris ground his molars together. There was no way there was going to be a second or third time this happened. There shouldn't have even been a first.

"I had Sam's teachers bring me her assignments for the next few days. And scheduled an appointment for her to meet with Dr. Jackson when she comes back."

"The shrink?" Sam said, her tone too disgusted for someone who was skating on thin ice that was about to crack.

"She'll get her work done and see the shrink when she comes back," Chris said. He didn't put a lot of stock in shrinks, but if nothing else, it was clearly something Sam didn't want to do and Chris couldn't come up with a better punishment.

"Anything else?" Chris asked Mary.

Mary's blue eyes were concerned when she looked at Sam. More than that, they were sympathetic. Compassionate. Something that Chris was feeling very little of for his sister at the moment.

"Sam," Mary said, leaning forward over her desk. "I want you to know you can talk to me. Any time."

Sam stayed rigid.

"She appreciates that," Chris answered for her. He stood and motioned to Sam to stand.

Sam slowly got to her feet. It took everything in Chris not to hurry her along until they got out of the office, into the hallway.

"Let's go," he ordered her.

Sam picked up the pace slightly. Chris marched her out to the squad car where Buck was waiting.

"Hey, Sammy," Buck said.

Sam didn't respond, but Chris figured they were well past a lecture on manners. He and Sam had bigger fish to fry at this point.

He opened the back door of the squad car and jerked a hand to motion Sam in.

She started to get in, but Chris stopped her, taking her backpack from her, before letting her get in. He shut the door and went around to the driver's side. He handed Buck the backpack.

"Search it," he said.

Buck's brow furrowed at Chris' instruction, but he didn't argue, just glancing back at Sam with concern.

"My gym teacher already did that," Sam said, slouching down in the back seat, arms folded across her chest.

"Anyone can find a bottle of whiskey," Chris said. "Buck'll find anything they missed."

In the passenger seat, Buck unzipped the bag while Chris drove. Chris kept an eye on the school papers, pens, a couple dollars, and a pack of gum Buck found. Buck did a thorough job of feeling the lining of the bag.

Chris had watched Buck go through the exact same process hundreds of times, searching bags when they stopped suspicious characters on the street. Not when they picked his sister up from school.

"Nothin' there, Chris," Buck said.

Chris wouldn't let himself feel relief. It didn't matter that Sam didn't have drugs in her bag. She was drinking at school.

As if reading his mind, Sam grumbled from the backseat. "I wasn't even drinking at school."

Chris' fingers tightened around the steering wheel. He didn't respond.

"Where we goin'?" Buck asked quietly.

"She can sit at the precinct until we're off. Work on her homework."

"The precinct?" Sam asked.

Chris glanced back at her in the rearview mirror. Whatever she saw in his eyes had her closing her mouth and slouching down farther in her seat.

"Josiah's at the desk today. He'll keep an eye on her."

At the precinct, Chris steered Sam inside. He got her behind the counter that Josiah was supervising and pulled a chair up to the small table.

Sam sat without a word. Chris moved the paperwork from the table to a counter and set her backpack down.

"Josiah will get you something from the vending machine if you get hungry. Don't move."

Josiah gave Sam a small nod of greeting, his eyes warm, if questioning.

"She stays put until we're off shift," Chris said.

Josiah's forehead creased, but he nodded. "Sure thing, brother."

Chris fixed Sam with a hard look that he hoped communicated how much trouble Sam was in, disbelief at her foolishness, and how much he cared for her.

Sam glared back at him.

Chris narrowed his eyes at her before turning back to Josiah. "Don't trust her," Chris said.

He heard Sam slam her backpack on the floor as he walked away.

He closed his eyes briefly. He had never expected one teenage girl to be this much trouble.

#

Buck aimed his truck toward home.

He didn't envy Sam going home with Chris after the stunt she had pulled.

Worry for Sam edged into the already overfilled space in his chest that Morgan occupied. Buck figured whatever was going on with Sam was either directly tied to Morgan, or a reaction to her—

Buck could hardly bring himself to even think the word. 'Marriage,' he managed to form the word mentally. His jaw clenched.

He turned down the long dirt road that would lead to his place. He didn't have the land and barns Chris did, but his house was set on ten acres, no neighbors in sight. Peaceful. Or it had been, until Morgan had come to live with him. Then there had been music blaring, doors slamming, shouting matches, movies on the couch together, epic ping pong matches, Morgan's dry commentary making him bust out laughing.

He'd give anything to have her home again.

His driveway was lined with trees, their leaves half on the ground now.

The days were getting shorter and the light coming from his house was welcoming.

Except he hadn't left every light blazing when he left this morning.

Buck's foot eased down on the gas a little more.

He didn't recognize the rusty Ford Bronco parked in front of his house.

Buck put his truck in park and reached for his service weapon. He had changed into street clothes at the precinct, but his gun was holstered at his side until he got home and put it in the safe in his room. But for now, it was in his hand.

He got out of the truck, scanning for any sign of movement, anything out of place.

At the front door, he paused, listening. He didn't hear anything.

The handle turned easily and the door opened silently. Buck stepped inside cautiously.

He moved through the living room, the dining room that held the ping pong table, his empty kitchen.

Next he checked the den. Clear. His room, silent and undisturbed.

The door to Morgan's room was open a crack. Buck pushed it open.

Morgan sat on the edge of her bed, a picture in her hands.

Buck's breath left him in a huff, his gun dropping to his side, before he caught himself and holstered it.

"Morgan," he said.

Morgan's shoulders tensed. He watched her fingers tighten briefly on the picture. She looked up.

"Morgan," he said again. This time the word carried a question. "You're home."

Morgan's amber eyes drifted over her room, cleared of most of her possessions. "Just visiting," she said. Her lips thinned.

Disappoint dulled the relief he had felt at finding Morgan in her old room. It took every ounce of willpower Buck possessed—and probably some he was borrowing from the next life—to keep from asking her why the hell she didn't move home. But that wasn't going to get him anywhere.

"Well, it's good to see you," Buck managed.

She looked at him then. Buck forced a smile, trying to show her he wasn't planning to pick a fight.

The rigid line of her shoulders eased slightly.

"You stoppin' by to pick up more of your stuff?" he asked. He even managed to sound like it hadn't just about tore him in two when he had come home and found she had come over and cleared out her room.

Morgan shook her head slightly. "Just…" she looked back down at the picture she held. Her hair was tousled, falling in a haphazard mess down her back, her face free of make up. "Just wanted to visit home," she whispered.

Buck quickly bit his tongue before he could tell her to just move back home, then. Instead he took a seat on the bed next to her. He looked at the picture she held. He recognized it from the collection of photos she had taped to her vanity mirror. It was her and Buck, taken when she had first moved in, not too long after their ma had died. Morgan's eyes glinted, even in the picture, like she was ready to challenge anyone who spoke more than two words to her. Buck's arm was around her, his grin broad, just happy to have his sister with him.

Morgan studied the picture silently. Buck wondered what was going through her brain.

Her nail polish was chipped, her clothes wrinkled. He didn't recognize the shirt. It was oversized, it probably belonged to her juvenile delinquent husband. She wouldn't leave the house looking like that ordinarily. Buck wondered what the hell her husband was doing to her.

Morgan stood slowly. She slipped the picture into her jeans pocket. "I should get going. Vin's going to be off work soon. I need to pick him up." She looked at him briefly before her eyes darted away.

Buck tried not to show a reaction to her saying that guy's name. "It's good to see you, Morgan," he said gently. "Real good to see you."

She looked at him. Buck opened his arms and stepped toward her. Morgan stepped toward him and squeezed him. Buck hugged his baby sister, wishing he knew what had set her off and made her so determined to head down this path to nowhere.

Morgan rested her head against his shoulder and sighed heavily. Buck just wanted to make life easier for her. Something he couldn't do if she kept throwing herself off into the deep end without a life jacket. He tightened his hold on her, his arms hugging her securely to him.

She stiffened. Without warning, she jerked away from him, shoving against his chest and staggering back.

"Hey," Buck said, reaching out for her.

She jumped back, eyes wild. "Don't—don't do that," she snapped out.

"Do what?" he asked, sincerely baffled.

"Don't hold me," she said. She grit her teeth. "Don't restrain me!"

"I…what? I wasn't restrainin' you. That was a hug."

Morgan swallowed hard. Her nostrils flared with every breath. She shook her head. She strode past Buck. He could see her hands shaking and tried to stop her, but she got around him and hurried toward the front door.

Buck was at a loss, not wanting to scare her again, but still not sure what he had done wrong. He followed her to the rusty SUV.

Without a word, eyes panicked and avoiding any look at him, Morgan started the vehicle and jammed it in gear.

"Morgan," Buck tried one last time.

She drove off without a backward look.

#

Morgan gulped in air. The highway was empty. The Bronco wasn't a quiet vehicle, but the roar of the engine at least helped drown out her thoughts.

She had just wanted to not feel so lonely. Not miss Buck and home. She had thought maybe going back home, just for a short visit, get some pictures, it would help.

But it had only made her realize how alone she was. How much she had changed. She wasn't the same girl who had lived in that room.

And then Buck had come home. At first, she had been ready, braced for whatever he was going to say. But he hadn't done anything other than welcome her home for a visit. He had even opened his arms and held her.

But then his arms had wrapped around her back. Tightened. Held her against him.

She had gone back to that night. When she had struggled to get away. Tried to scream and couldn't. Been pinned against her will.

The Bronco fishtailed slightly and Morgan forced her thoughts back to the present. She looked at the speedometer and slowed the Bronco to a safer speed.

Her breaths slowed with the vehicle. Back to something closer to normal. Something that didn't burn her chest.

By the time she got to the edge of Denver, she was mostly under control. By the time she pulled into the parking lot of the lumber yard Vin worked at, she had the memories buried back down where they belonged. All that remained was the exhaustion. Physical, mental, emotional exhaustion. Ready to pull her under at any time.

She looked up when Vin came out of the main building. He looked tired. Morgan knew he was well past forty hours into his work week. But he didn't complain. His face even lit up when he saw her. Morgan managed a smile for him.

She got out of the SUV and handed the keys off to him.

Vin took the keys. She let him stop her from going around to the passenger side with a light hand to her hip.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey yourself," she said, managing to sound like she didn't just lose it at her brother's house.

Vin searched her face and his eyes darkened with concern. "You ok?"

Morgan tried rolling her eyes like the question was too ridiculous to even merit an answer. But the lump in her throat was too painful and tears stopped the movement. She blinked them back quickly.

Vin's other hand came to her hip and he stepped closer to her. She closed her eyes when he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She leaned into him. He wrapped his arms behind her, but his hold was loose. Non threatening.

His warmth was a comfort. Another kiss, to her hair, next to her ear, her forehead.

Vin was here and he was real.

There was no reason for hopelessness to weigh heavily on every breath she took.

#