“Are you okay?” Mrs. Williams asked for what felt like the umpteenth time. “Talk to me, dearie. Was that—was that—”

Lisa? Linda? Whatever deadbeat aunt of yours that you brought up back before? Mrs. Williams felt furious with herself for not nagging her husband to investigate back then. It’s one thing for the woman to be belligerent and screaming—but, she was also completely naked there in the doorway, like some kind of stark raving lunatic!

“It was my Aunt,” Tabitha confirmed in a small voice. “My Aunt Lisa.”

The poor thing still looked shell-shocked. Tiny and vulnerable, clutching a natty old purse against herself in the passenger’s seat. The situation was grave, serious enough that Mrs. Williams didn’t even have her Beatles hits playing. Her Ford Taurus was only ever this quiet when she was about to give her son a stern talking to, or when she needed to illustrate to her husband how furious she was over something without having to actually spell it out.

“Well, you’re safe now, no matter what,” Mrs. Williams assured the girl. “Do you need anything? Do you have enough clothes and toiletries in your bag there for an overnight stay, while we figure everything out?”

The streets of Springton were silent and still this far past midnight as the car rolled on down the street. As a small Kentucky town, there was no nightlife to speak of—all of the shops, businesses, and restaurants shut down before ten o’clock, save for a gas station or two. As a self-professed people person, Karen Williams always found the late night empty shopping centers and dark storefronts disquieting and eerie.

“Oh, um,” Tabitha seemed to snap out of her daze. “No, I don’t. I don’t have anything at all. This isn’t my bag—this is my Aunt’s purse. That woman that was screaming at us.”

“Your Aunt’s purse?” Mrs. Williams did a double take. “...Why do you have your Aunt’s purse?”

“I… I was afraid to tell you specifics over the phone, because I wasn’t completely sure yet,” Tabitha admitted in her quiet voice. “My Dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother, she… she can’t do anything about it. I think even if my Dad did believe me, he would cover for her, or try to help her, and just try to take everything on because… she’s family.”

That last word spoke entire volumes, because there it had become a swear word, there Tabitha’s normally soft tone was laced with pain and anger, so suffused with frustration and helplessness that Karen took her eyes off the road for a moment to give the girl a glance. The teen’s eyes were wet, but she wasn’t crying. Instead, her jaw was set like she was gritting her teeth, and her face was hard, a mask of bitterness that in her opinion had no rightful place being on a dainty young woman.

“What specifics?” Mrs. Williams gently prompted, eyeing the purse Tabitha held with trepidation now. “Honey… what did you not tell me, when we were on the phone?”

“Heroin,” Tabitha said, visibly uncomfortable at the admission. “She was shooting up heroin in our bathroom—I broke in once I could hear she’d moved into the shower and had the water running. I have all the… well, the evidence, here.”

“Heroin?!” Mrs. Moore was so stunned she subconsciously hit the brakes.

She was already distracted, so she hadn’t been driving particularly fast. But still, the sudden lurch to a stop felt like it took the breath out of her as the seatbelt tightened across her chest. It was past midnight, and Springton’s streets were deserted, allowing her to let the car sit there in the middle of the road for a moment while she processed the dreadful thing she’d just heard. HEROIN. Good Lord almighty, I don’t think she’s joking with me.

Heroin use had no place in a nice little town like her Springton—heroin was the domain of awful, wretched big city places like Lexington. This wasn’t pot or shrooms, this was heroin! The fact that substance abuse of this severity had crept into their one little low-income neighborhood was another alarming wake-up call, just like the shooting had been. It was so easy to blind herself with Springton’s charming small town daytime veneer and just never look too closely at the little darker corners. She was a valued member of just about every community organization of importance, well-connected to all kinds of gossip, and had always felt like she knew Springton better than anyone else. If someone from her usual circles had mentioned people doing heroin in Springton, she wasn’t sure she’d have believed it.

“Heroin,” Mrs. Williams repeated in a daze. “You’re sure?”

“No,” Tabitha was candid with her. “I’m not sure. If I had more confidence, I’d have called the police directly. I, um, I don’t have any way of verifying that it’s heroin myself. Just, there’s a mark at the vein in her arm. Puncture mark. There was a thermos full of… well, something. A syringe, a lighter, and a blackened spoon, like she was heating up something in it with the lighter.”

“Well, it certainly does sound like drugs of some sort,” Mrs. Williams still felt floored. “And, you have it right in there? In that purse?” There’s HEROIN in my car?! In the hands of this teenage girl?! What kind of FUCKED UP family has it so that hard drugs are within arms reach of a thirteen-year-old girl?! I hate to even admit that it’s possible somewhere, let alone in MY town, to a girl like Miss Tabby here who’s a friend of the family!

“Yes. I-it wasn’t easy to get,” Tabitha blurted out. “She wouldn’t let it out of her sight. She even slept on it, with it tucked under her. To me, it’s definitely heroin, but I, I need that confirmed. Confirmed by people who can do something about it. I need her away from my family. Away from her children. She’s—she struck her eight-year-old son across the face, in the middle of our… our early Thanksgiving dinner, we had our family Thanksgiving today. That made up my mind. I-I had to do something. I had to.”

“She struck her own son?” Mrs. Williams repeated in disbelief.

“Pretty hard,” Tabitha gave her a weary nod. “Across the face—it was, it was just because he was annoying her, um, trying to get her attention when she was in the middle of this, this rant. This rant to the rest of us about how she was in charge, or, or how we were too soft on her sons while she was away, something like that.”

“Your parents didn’t…?” Mrs. Williams was aghast. “Do something? Say something, about any of all this?!”

“My parents…” Tabitha trailed off, her expression full of grievance. “My mother isn’t good with people or people problems. She’s getting better, but she’s… um, she’s still a long way from who she once was. I think she gets severe anxiety around, um. The kind of confrontation that would be needed to… resolve things here. My father has a big heart, but he’s just. He’s blind to things. Blind to this. He’s… more than willing to assume the best in people, let people around him take advantage of him. Especially if they’re family.”

Again, Mrs. Williams noticed that the word family was issued out of the girl’s mouth like a dirty word. It put her on edge, and certainly soured what little impression she had of the times she’d met Tabitha’s parents. She was getting angry just seeing Tabitha in a fluster here, though, and she wasn’t sure now was the time to speak her mind on the matter.

“He didn’t believe me when I warned him that Aunt Lisa might be on drugs,” Tabitha continued in a weary voice. “I-I was also upset though, so. I don’t know? Maybe he didn’t take me seriously. Maybe it’s better that he didn’t believe me. I think, I think more and more that if he did think she was getting into drugs, he’d take it upon himself, take it upon us to shoulder the burden and make sure she got all the support she needed, got into rehab. Since she’s family. Maybe that’s the right choice, even. I, I just, I just—I don’t trust her. I can’t trust her! In my mind, she didn’t come back for her children, didn’t come to us as family. She only came back to us because she heard about settlement money, came because she’s… she’s an addict. I don’t trust her. I can’t trust her. Maybe they knew her back before, knew her differently, or remember her some other way, but to me—she’s just this drug addict, and, and I, I can’t. I can’t.”

“Okay, okay,” Mrs. Williams patted Tabitha’s shoulder. “We’re gonna be okay, and everything’s going to be sorted out. Everything’s going to be okay. You did the right thing calling me, I’m proud of you.”

“Th-thank you,” Tabitha looked emotional. “And—I’m so sorry again.”

“Don’t you dare be sorry,” Mrs. Williams insisted, starting the car forward again to resume her trip home. “You did the right thing. Let’s get you safe, and I’ll call my husband right away.”

“Is he on duty this late?” Tabitha asked.

“Putting in extra time now, so he can be off a bit longer throughout the holidays,” Mrs. Williams explained in an exasperated tone. “He’ll sleep in tomorrow ‘till just before football starts, while all the rest of us’ll have been slaving away getting Thanksgiving dinner ready for everyone. And, I say putting in extra time now, but all that really means is he’s goofing off with his dumb cop friends at the station. Darren Macintire got released, and the boys’ve all been getting together there to see him.”

“That’s good,” Tabitha remarked. “I was worried he wouldn’t be out of the hospital for Thanksgiving. That’s actually why we had our Thanksgiving a day early—Mrs. Macintire wanted us to get together with them, with their family, for their Thanksgiving.”

“They’ll be thrilled to have you,” Mrs. Williams put on a strained smile, somewhat at a loss as to how she could even shift the topic away from the subject of family. “Hannah talks about you all the time, wants to know when she can come over and ‘babysit’ with you.”

“I—I don’t know what to do about tomorrow,” Tabitha admitted in embarrassment, letting her face drop down into her hand. “What to do about my parents. Having to turn to you about all of this, because they’re… well. Incapable. Of acting against my Aunt. We, um, we just… drove off.”

“I’ll call them and explain,” Mrs. Williams harrumphed. “Or, maybe they’ll have explaining to do to me! If they’re any kind of parents at all, that big ruckus your Aunt was throwing was commotion enough for them to realize something was obviously terribly wrong! You’re just going to be spending the night at a friend’s house, because of that. I’m a friend. A concerned friend, and I’d certainly like to hear their thoughts on all of this! Seems to me like they’re due for a nice long chat while we get my husband to look through that purse.”

“I just… I shouldn’t have had to do this,” Tabitha’s voice was small and sad enough that Mrs. Williams felt her own throat hitching up. “I just… I really can’t thank you enough for coming to pick me up. For trusting me, without me even telling you what was going on. It’s even so late at night, and—”

“Oh, hush,” Mrs. Williams waved away her concerns. “You wouldn’t have called and asked for help if it wasn’t serious, and this sounds terribly serious. Good Lord! It’s the same thing I’ve told my son—if something’s happened, and he doesn’t feel safe and needs me to pick him up, it doesn’t matter what it is or where or what time of night. I’m a mother! He just has to get a hold of me, and I’ll be there, no questions, or dilly-dallying, or any of that machismo you’re on your own bullshit my husband tried pulling with him. If you’ll excuse my language.

“Any of that nonsense, any figuring out what’s wrong, or who’s to blame, or whatever issues it was, that all can be figured out after the fact, once everyone’s safe and away from whatever’s gone on,” Mrs. Williams clarified her position on the matter with a helpless shrug and shake of her head. “I know it’s not really my place to say, Tabitha Honey, but you living in that trailer park—I don’t like it. You being in these situations. It just breaks my heart! Please believe me when I say that heroin has no place around children, and nor do people who use heroin. End of story! There’s just nothing else to it.”

“I agree,” Tabitha sighed. “It’s why I called. I can’t let her remain around my family, my four little cousins. They need away from her. For good, forever. I can’t stand the thought of h-her, of her worming her way back into our family because of the settlement money— and the way she treats them, the way she doesn’t even care, it’s… it’s… I can’t. I can’t. I can’t let anything happen to them.”

“You did the right thing calling me!” Mrs. Williams said again, feeling her fury build up all over again until she was almost strangling the steering wheel.

“How to actually make this work, when I’m just the angsty teenage daughter, I-I don’t know,” Tabitha said. “But, I thought, if you could help—Mrs. Williams, you’re a somebody. People will listen to you, you’ll make them listen to you.”

“You’re damn right I will,” Karen Williams swore, grinding her teeth. “Don’t go and call me Mrs. Williams, though—if you trust me enough to call me when you need help, I’m Momma Williams to you, alright?”

Against all of Tabitha’s expectations, the drive was short and ended in a quiet suburban neighborhood just ten minutes across town. Although the street was too dark for her to glean many details, the driveway they pulled into seemed normal and the house was upper-middle class at best. It sported a two-car garage that Mrs. Williams made no motion to open via the remote Tabitha noticed was clipped to the driver’s side sun visor, instead simply opting to park in front of the house.

“Here we are!” Mrs. Williams announced, actually reaching over to unbuckle Tabitha’s seatbelt for her. “Oh—shoot, sorry. I’m so used to taxiing around little Hannah! You’re a grown teenage girl, I’ll let you get the door yourself, hah.”

“Th-thank you,” Tabitha murmured, unsure as to whether she was thanking the woman for getting the seatbelt for her, or thanking her for allowing her autonomy to open her own door. I guess the house on the lake is a second property? Or, maybe their parent’s home? Something like that?

Juxtaposing this sudden and dramatic shift in social roles had Tabitha feeling like she had to go rigid with respect and politefulness. It wasn’t even just the jarring disparity in income class between their two families—it was that while her own mom Shannon Moore was a traumatized woman who just incidentally happened to be a mother, Karen Williams was one hundred and ten percent bonafide aggressive suburban Mom, with a capital ‘M’. Moreover, Mrs. Williams took this identity and then applied it in the community of the entire town, forming all sorts of connections throughout the strata of Springton.

Definitely brings to mind all those observations I made back when I was attending high school all over again, Tabitha reflected. With those strange hierarchies that form within their little closed systems. Everyone fighting to be the biggest fish in their pool— is this where that all ends up? At Karen Williams?

It was something to think about as Tabitha opened her door and slipped outside, awkwardly managing to hold the stolen purse against herself with her cast. The neat orderliness of the block of homes visible in the streetlight was picturesque, like something out of a sitcom. Textbook tidy little lawns, mailboxes, decorative shrubs. She was almost surprised there wasn’t a—nope, there was actually was one, an actual white picket fence a few doors down. The pervading silence at this midnight hour made the place seem oppressive; like she had to restrain her voice to a whisper, to mind her manners and make sure she never speaks out of turn.

An inexplicable wave of panic rose up within her again, but Tabitha attributed it to her nerves as she carefully—slowly—eased the passenger door closed behind her so that it wouldn’t make a noise.

Is this… is this where I want to be? Tabitha wondered, too frazzled to ruminate on the double-meanings tumbling around inside her head. Calling Mrs. Williams for help seemed like the only thing I could do, but at the same time… WAS it the right thing to do? I just feel… I don’t know. So lost, so in over my head. This entire… EVERYTHING feels so far out of my element.

Having lived a life before seemed to mean absolutely nothing when that prior life was a passive, sedentary experience that eschewed dealing with conflict whenever possible.

“Tabitha? Oh, honey, here,” Mrs. Williams rushed over to grab her up in a motherly embrace. “You’re fine, now. You’re safe! Everything’s going to be alright!”

Mrs. Williams is—she’s not just a Mom. She’s THE Mom, Tabitha was embarrassed at realizing how much she needed a hug, and flabbergasted at the woman’s ability to sense it. Like Mrs. Seelbaugh, she’s just this weird SUPERMOM figure that I guess I never really believed in, because I just didn’t have someone like that, for me. Mrs. Williams is, she’s, I don’t know. Late thirties? Maybe? Younger than I was. Except, she’s certainly not younger than me, really, in ANY sense. Or—or, I was never OLDER, really, except just in age. And that was just me, I don’t know. Waiting out the clock, watching time elapse and waiting for—I don’t know what I was waiting for, but I know now in my bones that whatever it was, it was never coming. Life isn’t—it’s not just going to come to you, you have to reach out and grab it. I guess?

Mrs. Williams can do that, HAS done that, so her soul is, it’s older than mine. It’s like the saying—‘it’s not the years, it’s the mileage.’ Mrs. Williams has miles and miles that I just never did. Her soul is well-traveled and just has this wealth of, well, WISDOM. Most of my last life was honestly wasted, because I avoided experiencing anything. I didn’t GROW.

“You’re going to be alright, okay?” Mrs. Williams gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Look at me. Everything’s going to be alright.”

“I’m—I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed,” Tabitha admitted, smiling through her tears. “I’m okay.”

“C’mon, it’s cold,” Mrs. Williams looked like she was getting worked up all over again. “Let’s get you inside!”

Do I WANT the kind of life Mrs. Williams has? Tabitha wondered in a daze. Is this it? American dream, a life in the suburbs? What DO I want, really? Did I ever know? Did growing up the way I did before, without stumbling across real-life actual VALID role models… STUNT me, somehow? Can I be fixed? SHOULD I be fixed, am I broken? Like my mother? Like AUNT LISA?

Tabitha let Mrs. Williams usher her forward towards the front door of the residence in a daze, spinning between what felt like six completely different epiphanies and too tired to firmly grasp and realize any of them. Her life was changing right at this moment, it seemed like some indelible barrier had been crossed and she’d stepped off a path that was going nowhere in particular and onto a new one. Invoking family in Momma Williams wasn’t something she was going to be able to go back on—because every aspect of this interaction continuously laid bare the inadequacy of her actual parents.

There… may really be no going back, after this.

“Alright, we’ll try to keep our voices down,” Mrs. Williams said as she led Tabitha up the front step and opened the door. “Forgot we have company, my mother-in-law and my sister-in-law’re staying with us for Thanksgiving.”

It was hard for Tabitha to register what was being said, as she was still blinking in confusion at the open door.

Wasn’t even locked, Tabitha realized as she was guided inside. She’s—they—I thought that kind of thing was just naivete, or urban legend or something. Such a nice neighborhood that they really don’t lock their doors? I mean, a POLICE OFFICER lives here, so—so, I guess it makes sense. Who would try to break in here, of all places? Just… wow. More culture shock for trailer trash me.

“Here Honey, kick off your shoes before we go in on the carpet.”

Mrs. Williams then bustled a sock-clad Tabitha, who was still reeling from the various circumstances and trying to take in the sudden decor of antiques and vintage furniture all at once, along into an equally well-appointed dining room. Each room seemed to be furnished as if Martha Stewart catalog photographers might arrive any minute, with earth tone colors garnished by splashes of orange and red to represent the fall season.

Looking around, it was a lot to take in, and Tabitha couldn’t help but think back to Sharon, the Springton Town Hall administrator who had seemed to pour all of her passion into the seasonal displays. Here in the Williams home, woven wicker baskets were filled with artificial pumpkins and gourds, dry garland wreaths were draped in fabric autumn leaves, and rustic candle pieces filled the shelves and curios. Amish-made cloth dolls of man and wife Plymouth settlers and a large collection of painted porcelain Thanksgiving turkeys were nestled together in an intimidating row upon the fireplace mantle.

“It’s late, I think everyone was just shuffling off to bed around the time I left the house,” Mrs. Williams seemed to say to herself. “We’ll try not to wake anyone up!”

Two minutes after getting Tabitha settled at the table, Mrs. Williams then went around the house and to wake everyone up anyways.

First out was another adult woman, still dressed, who seemed to be about Mrs. William’s age who was then followed by a much older woman in a nightgown, with a face bedecked in wrinkles and folds and sporting a short crop of stiff gray hair. Finally a door down the hall opened and Matthew joined them as well, the chiptune music from a video game still faintly audible from his room.

“Alright, everyone—this is Tabitha, she asked me to pick her up because of some situations going on at home,” Mrs. Williams said. “Tabitha, this is my mother-in-law and then my sister Carol. You already know Matthew.”

“Hi,” Tabitha gave them all a weak little wave.

“Uh, hey,” Matthew said, looking confused. “Long time no see.”

It was hard not to feel mortified at being in this position, she had no idea what to say or how to act when put on the spot like this, and the sudden alarming appearance of a boy her age made her incredibly self-conscious in ways she didn’t even want to delve into right now. She met each of their curious gazes for a brief moment before feeling defeated and retreating back into herself so that she could stare down at the tabletop.

“So—what all’s goin’ on?” Matthew asked. “Am I allowed to ask?”

“Well… why don’t we see?” Mrs. Williams gestured towards the purse. “Hun, do you want me to…?”

“I’ll,” Tabitha swallowed. “I’ll do it.”

“Alright, then,” Mrs. Williams gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “Either way—I mean, no matter what’s in there, I’m calling my husband right now and we’re gonna do something about all this, alright?”

“Alright,” Tabitha nodded. “Thank you.”

With that Mrs. William’s face darkened and she stormed off around the corner into what looked to be the kitchen. They heard her snatch a phone from it’s dock, heard a single touch-tone as a number was presumably speed-dialed, and then an angry huff as the woman was forced to wait for several seconds for an answer.

“Hi—yeah. It’s Karen. Put my husband on, please, there’s a situation and, well—” Seemingly mindful of her guests and how stark the words were in the tense silence throughout the rest of the house, Mrs. Williams lowered her voice to continue the rest. Matthew pulled out one of the chairs opposite Tabitha and took a seat, while both of the other women present exchanged glances with each other and then looked towards Tabitha.

Mindful of her audience, Tabitha hefted the bag, arranging it on the table in front of her, and then unsnapped the opening. With trembling fingers, Tabitha took a faded Batman children’s thermos from the stolen purse and placed it on the Williams family’s dinner table. After a moment of nervous hesitation, Tabitha borrowed several napkins from a ceramic holder at the center of the table—the sculpted piece was shaped like a Turkey—and spread the napkins across the tabletop. Then, she extracted the rest, lifting the implements out one by one; a disposable lighter, a blackened spoon, and a used medical syringe.

“Honey—is that what I think it is?” Aunt Carol shrunk back from the table and put a hand over her mouth.

“What is it?” The elderly woman in the nightgown asked.

“I… believe it’s heroin,” Tabitha explained with a wince. “I, I think my Aunt, my Aunt Lisa was doing heroin in our bathroom, after my parents went to bed. I… grabbed it, and I ran. Mrs. Williams was kind enough to, to be there to pick me up.”

“Heroin?” The old woman looked aghast.

“Yes, I want you to shoot her on sight!” They all heard Mrs. Williams raise her voice into the phone. “She was screaming at us, buck naked! She’s some kind of dangerous God damn drug addict, and I was terrified for my life! Shoot her on sight!”

“...Good Lord!” Aunt Carol shook her head.

“Well, I know you can’t actually shoot her, God damnit!” Mrs. Williams bristled, rounding the corner with the handset phone and then glaring furiously at what she saw laid out on the table. “You get out there, and you get her in handcuffs and you lock her away! There’s—look, now we have evidence—there’s her illegal drug paraphernalia on my Goddamn dining room table, for Christ’s sake!”

“How do you know this is heroin?” The frail old woman in the nightgown asked, unable to tear her eyes away from the incriminating items arrayed on the napkins.

“I, um. I don’t know for sure, I guess,” Tabitha made a face. “I don’t want to open the thermos.”

“Well, no—don’t open it,” Aunt Carol hurried to assure her with a knock of her knuckle against the mahogany tabletop. “You just leave that for the police, Hun. You did right not to open it, you leave it well alone.”

“I’m just saying—she’s dangerous!” Mrs. Williams yelled into the phone. “I don’t feel safe with her running around my town hopped up on who knows what! You’re going to get everyone out to that park and arrest her right this goddamn instant or I’m going to start making phone calls and then you’re going to start getting phone calls!”

“It looks like heroin to me,” Matthew spoke up, immediately holding up his hands as his aunt and grandmother both snapped their heads around to give him stink-eyes of scrutiny.

“I mean—c’mon, I’m not saying I’ve ever seen it for real before, but they go on and on about it in all those D.A.R.E. videos at school. Heroin—but they call it dope or smack, uhh, ‘out on the streets.’ Whatever stuff from in the thermos, it goes onto the spoon, you heat the spoon with a lighter to get it so you can draw it up with the syringe, then it goes right into your arm or wherever, and gets you high.”

“Matthew—I don’t think I even like you knowing all that,” his grandmother huffed, looking angry and uncomfortable. “Good Lord.”

“Better to be aware of it, at least,” Matthew gave her a helpless shrug. “Dad’ll know a lot more about it. No one I know at school does anything like this—at high school it’s just harmless little stuff. Pot and beer, stuff you hear about. This is, uh, this is like the heavy stuff, bad dangerous stuff. Like, real drugs.”

“Yes. Yes, I know. I will. Hurry on home, there’s drug paraphernalia on our dinner table, and you need to DO something about it! Yes, I love you. Muah. Bye.” Mrs. Williams slammed the receiver down, ending the call. “Jesus. Okay, first of all—Tabitha, are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” Tabitha croaked. “I mean—I will be. It’s better, thinking that this is. Getting resolved. I was going out of my mind or uh, going in circles trying to, um, panicking, trying not to panic, panicking anyways, going around in my head just… tearing myself up. It’s going to—things are going to get better now. Right?”

“Of course they are, you don’t have to worry about anything,” Mrs. Williams promised. “ We’re going to get all of this mess straightened out. Do you need to use the powder room and freshen up or anything? You’ve eaten? Do you need a glass of water? Matthew, go get her a—”

“Oh no, no, I’m fine,” Tabitha assured them, stopping Matthew with a raised hand. “I’m fine. Please.”

“Okay,” Mrs. Williams fanned her face dramatically for a moment and then put both hands to her temples. “I’m going to make a few more calls. We have both Carol and June in our guest room right now, because they’re visiting from Indiana, but I’m sure I can make you comfortable somewhere. Tomorrow we’ll get a hold of Sandra, and I know she’ll be happy to have you for however long you need to stay. Hannah would be just tickled pink to have you around. Oh! I introduced you to Carol already, I think. This is Granny June, she’s sweet as can be.”

“Ah, hello,” Tabitha gave a small, awkward wave. “It’s nice to meet you. Sorry again for the, uh, circumstances.”

“It’s nice to meet you, dearie,” Granny June sighed. “Don’t you worry about anything. You did the right thing calling Karen about all this.”

“Yeah, I just,” Tabitha still felt shell-shocked. “I hate having to impose.”

“You’re not imposing at all!” Mrs. Williams hollered, rounding the corner of the table to hug Tabitha again. “That woman was stark raving mad and dangerous! Good Lord!”

“I, I know,” Tabitha choked up a little. “I just, I hate it. Always just having problems for you. I don’t want to—”

“Ssh-ssh-ssh, none of this is your fault,” Mrs. Williams rubbed her back. “You did the right thing.”

“They’re gonna just arrest her, right?” Matthew gestured at the heroin on the table. “I mean, they can just test that it’s in her system, and that’s enough to put some kind of charges on her. Get her away from Tabitha’s family and out of their hair, and all that. Right?”

“Well, they’re certainly dragging their feet on everything!” Mrs. Williams scoffed, smacking the edge of the table. “Your father wasn’t out and about on patrol tonight, he’s just goofing off around the office doing who-knows-what with the rest of those lousy good-for-nothing cops. He said they’re sending someone to Sunset Estates to evaluate the situation, and then he’s on his way home now to take a look at this drug stuff from that woman’s purse. This is that same relative you were telling me about, that walked out on her children and disappeared?”

“Yes,” Tabitha admitted, struggling to remember what she’d told Mrs. Williams before between the random talks they’d had in the past month, the frantic phone call, and then the nearly incoherent babble of details she’d spouted out on the ride here as she attempted to calm down. “It’s my fault she was naked. She wouldn’t let her bag out of arm’s reach and was very, um, protective of it. I, I thought she was shooting up in our bathroom, so—as soon as I heard her get into the shower, I broke in and I took it and I ran. It’s, it’s honestly my fault she came back at all.”

“Oh, nonsense, none of this was your fault,” Mrs. Williams said. “You just wait’ll my husband gets home, he’ll fix all of this.”

In the excruciating half-hour wait, both Aunt Carol and June retired back to bed, leaving Matthew to make awkward small talk with Tabitha while Mrs. Williams paced back and forth and swore under her breath. For all their apparent similarity in age, the two teens were barely acquainted at all, and trying to carry a conversation composed of questions without substance and nervous laughter left both of them fumbling to fill the silence. Anything to stave off what felt like growing tension. When Officer Williams did finally arrive, he was bodily hustled in from the front door by his wife before he could even take off his boots.

“Well?!” Mrs. Williams demanded.

He frowned at the spread across the dining room table—the presumed drug stuff front and center on napkins and everything else from makeup and cigarettes to a brush missing a quarter of it’s teeth and even the woman’s wallet. After surveying it all, the cop let out a slow sigh and picked up the worn Batman thermos, unscrewing the lid and taking the first look inside.

Tabitha stared, shoulders tense and raised, unable to even breath for a moment as she waited for him to draw his conclusion one way or the other.

“Alright, so we’ve got some good news and there’s some bad news, here,” Officer Williams tilted the open container and then shifted the contents slightly with a shake of his wrist. “The good news is—you were right on the money, Tabitha. This is heroin.”

“Okay,” Tabitha let out the breath she’d been holding but didn’t let herself sag back in the seat just yet. “And… the bad news?”

“The bad news is, that takin’ the evidence away from the woman like you did puts us in a bit of a pickle,” the police officer said, twisting the lid back on and then carefully setting the Batman thermos back down on the table. “It’d have been one thing if I’d been the one that caught her with it, but as it is… we might have to do some finagling to get anything like possession charges to stick, now.”

“That’s a bunch of horse shit!” Mrs. Williams bellowed. “Look! Look at this, right here. Her identification was right there in the purse with it! Says on her license right there, LISA. MOORE. If that’s not incriminating enough for you boys at the station, then—”

“Listen, I know, I know,” Officer Williams held his hands up. “But there’s common sense like this and there’s the letter of the law, and miles and miles o’ wiggle room between the two that’s just packed full of lawyers who’ll sell you a bridge ‘cross it if they can.”

“Oh, baloney!” Mrs. Williams fumed. “That’s just… ridiculous!”

“She wasn’t caught with it, so what it might come down to is her word against Tabitha’s,” Officer Williams sighed. “Now, you do seem to have lawyer friends of your own with Seelbaugh and Straub, so that isn’t a total hopeless case. Our best bet right now, however, is to get ahold of this Lisa woman in the next few hours, here. We have cause to bring her in for questioning, and we can certainly get her tested for whatever all’s in her system.

“But, it’d need to be sooner rather than later. Opiates have a real quick half-life, and even if she just shot up, it’ll be hard to prove it after the first… I dunno, three hours, or so? After that, trace amounts’d still show up in a drug screening for employment or what have you for a couple days, but she could easily pass it off as bein’ from just about any prescription painkiller by that point.”

“I was… afraid of that,” Tabitha’s expression fell. “The last of my codeine from breaking my wrist disappeared. I think there were two tablets left over, in a little orange pill container we kept in the medicine cabinet. The container was gone from the cabinet, and it wasn’t here in her purse, either, so it’s just… missing. Would a lab be able to differentiate them, if they were both in her system? Heroin and codeine?”

“Hmm, I honestly couldn’t tell you,” Officer Williams shook his head. “In any case, all this evidence here’ll get us started, so I’m gonna get it down to the station. We’ll send someone over to pick up this Lisa character for questioning, and we might havta have you piddle in a cup too, just so we can have it clear and down on paper for later that you didn’t have anything to do with this nasty stuff.”

“Okay,” Tabitha sighed. “You’re right. That’s smart.”

“You wouldn’t still have any codeine or nothin’ still in your system, right?” Officer Williams asked. “I know you were just out of the hospital all over again, yourself.”

“I do not, no,” Tabitha firmly denied. “Not for days and days, not since right after the operation. Was always terrified of forming any kind of dependence on it, so just like with when I hurt my wrist—I’d rather tough it out for a few nights than ever get hooked on painkillers.”

“Well, nothin’ to worry about, then. I’ll get you a little cup before I head out,” Officer Williams nodded, turning then to the rest of his family. “Matthew—I know it’s not fair kickin’ you out outta the blue at this hour, but why don’t you change your bedcovers so we can put Tabitha here up in your room for night and have you out on the sofa.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Tabitha protested. “I can sleep on the sofa, or the floor or—”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Matthew waved her off, already heading down the back hall to his room. “Big TV’s out here, anyways!”

“Har har, very funny,” Mrs. Williams huffed, shooting Tabitha an apologetic look. “He’ll be fine out here—let’s get you settled in for the night, Dearie.”

“Th-thank you all so much,” Tabitha’s voice hitched. “For everything. I, um, I didn’t know what else to do, and—”

“Also,” Officer Williams paused, giving his wife a look. “I know there were, you know. Circumstances, and all. But, you do definitely need to get the girl’s parents on the line and at least let ‘em know where she is—they’re probably worrying themselves sick.”

“Oh… fine.” The frown Mrs. Williams wore deepened into a scowl. “I’ll call them.”

Though he was tired and bewildered by everything going on, Mr. Moore jumped to answer the landline when the phone began to ring. It had been a hell of trying day, he and his wife both needed answers, and between the tension of waking up to hollering and screeching out of nowhere and the sensation of terror at realizing their baby girl had run out into the night for some baffling reason, they had no idea what to think! He snatched the phone from it’s cradle and issued a brisk “Moore residence” into it while holding a hand up to forestall any interruption from his wife.

“Hello, this is Karen Williams,” A woman introduced herself in a brisk tone. “We’ve met before.”

“Yes, I—” Mr. Moore frowned.

“Tabitha is safe and sound,” Mrs. Williams revealed. “She’s here with me right now.”

“Oh, thank God,” Mr. Moore sagged down to slump against the kitchen counter in relief. “We woke up to all this screaming, and—”

“There was a woman named Lisa staying there in the mobile home with you?” Mrs. Williams asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mr. Moore said. “My sister-in-law, she’s staying with us right now. For Thanksgiving.”

“Were you aware of any substance abuse problems there might have been around this Lisa character?” Mrs. Williams pressed. “Anything like that you might remember? Anything at all?”

“No, no no no, nothing like that at all,” Mr. Moore quickly assured her. “Lisa’s not into anything like that.”

“You’re sure?” Mrs. Williams asked again.

“Absolutely,” Mr. Moore answered without hesitation. “Lisa would never get into any of that stuff.”

Good lord, He felt a massive headache coming on. What in the hell is Tabby TELLING them? That’s the family of a police officer, for Christ’s sake! It’s one thing to say that to ME when she’s a little too angry to think straight, but to go around implicating stuff like that to other people when poor Lisa’s—

“Because Tabitha brought some woman’s purse along with her, she says it’s her Aunt Lisa’s, and it’s full of heroin,” Mrs. Williams explained in an irritated tone. “So, you don’t have any idea where it came from?”

“Heroin?” Mr. Moore repeated, his features scrunching up in disbelief. “That doesn’t make any sense, there—there has to be some kind of mistake, or misunderstanding or something, here. Tabitha’s telling you that there’s drugs in a purse somewhere?”

“Tabitha had a purse with her,” Mrs. Williams growled. “When I picked her up. It’s here now with us. Tabitha said she thought there was heroin inside of it. We opened it. There was heroin inside of it. Just what are we meant to be misunderstanding, here?”

“That’s… impossible,” Mr. Moore put a hand to his forehead in confusion. “Where would Tabitha have gotten her hands on something like…? You said heroin? That, that just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, it was in this Lisa woman’s purse, so maybe, just maybe it belonged to this Lisa woman!” Mrs. Williams yelled through the phone, furious now. “Where is this woman now?”

“She’s not, she—” Mr. Moore looked around the trailer helplessly, knowing she was already gone. “She took off looking for Tabitha, ‘cause we’re here all worried about what the hell’s going on. But, there’s definitely no way Lisa would ever get into drugs or anyth—”

“Good Lord, it’s like I’m talking to a damned wall,” Mrs. Williams hissed. “Is there anyone there with a lick of sense there I can talk to? Let me speak to your wife, put her on right this instant!”

“She, she wants to—” Mr. Moore had turned to his wife and had lowered the cordless phone handset for a only moment before she snatched it out of his hands.

“Hello? Is Tabitha safe?” Mrs. Moore demanded.

“Tabitha’s here safe and sound,” Mrs. Williams assured her. “She called me earlier and asked me to pick her up. Now what the hell is going on over there?”

“My sister-in-law woke us up screaming and shrieking and hollering about who-knows-what, Tabitha’s gone missing, she says Tabitha stole her purse and ran off with it,” Mrs. Moore tried to explain everything all at once. “Lisa— my sister-in-law, she was staying with us for Thanksgiving. I know our Tabby wouldn’t steal anything from her, though, and, and—she shouldn’t be out and about running around either, Doctor Conners said she needs to be careful and take it easy, and she has been, I don’t, I don’t—”

“Okay, okay, you calm down and breathe,” Mrs. Williams told her. “You’re workin’ yourself up into a panic attack. Tabitha is safe and sound here and perfectly fine, and I’ll let you speak with her in a moment. First of all; where is this Lisa woman right now?”

“She’s—” Mrs. Moore frowned. “Out looking for Tabitha. She said.That’s what she said. Threw on her clothes in a big hurry and left the shower running and everything! She took off in her car, uh, our car now I guess, she sold it to us, b-back some month or so ago? We, we had the keys for it just in the little dish by the door, it—”

“That Cutlass Supreme we talked about before?” Mrs. Williams asked. “One that was supposed to have a bad alternator?”

“Yes—I mean, I think so,” Mrs. Moore tromped past where her husband was hovering over her, smacking and waving him back with her free hand, and peeked out past the curtains. “It’s gone for sure. She got it started this time, at least? Lisa’s out there somewhere in it.”

“I’ll call it in and have Springton PD looking for it,” Mrs. Williams said.

“Looking for Lisa?” Mrs. Moore felt panic rising up within her all over again. “What did she do? What’s going on—”

“This Lisa woman was shooting up heroin there in your bathroom,” Mrs. Williams said. “Your Tabitha knew something was up and called me beforehand, asked if I could pick her up. It’s—no you didn’t just SUSPECT, you DID know, Tabby Honey, and you were right— and anyhow she managed to grab the evidence and get away from there before that woman could stop her. I saw this Lisa woman myself! Buck naked and screaming at us in the doorway of your trailer like she was completely deranged! Good Lord, I’m glad your Tabby was smart enough to call on me, so I could be there to get her the hell out of all that!”

Lisa was doing HEROIN right here IN OUR BATHROOM?! Mrs. Moore was so livid she felt her eyes watering. And Tabitha took it on herself to take care of everything and actually DO SOMETHING about it. She had to. SHE HAD TO. What on Earth were WE doing about any of it?! Her useless fucking parents?!

“Is, i-is, Tabitha, she’s okay?” Mrs. Moore choked up. “She’s okay?”

Pangs of guilt and rage so strong they felt like they were folding her stomach in on itself nearly doubled her over. Her memory of being there across the table from Lisa when she backhanded her youngest son was still so sharp and vivid that it might as well have been cutting into her. Everyone but Tabitha had seemed to be frozen in indecision in response to that. Only Tabitha immediately got up and did something.

“Tabitha’s safe and sound,” Mrs. Williams reiterated in a cold voice. “She’s okay now.”

She’d been terrified of Lisa’s overbearing attitude and shouting and how aggressive the woman was about everything, she’d been proud of her daughter for speaking up, and more than anything else felt the deep weight of shame in her guts for not being able to stand up and take action when it counted. Speaking up about it afterward, after Tabitha had already taken the poor boy off to the back room, it wasn’t enough. The moment to do something when it mattered had already passed, and all of the so-called adults sitting there watching the whole Lisa mess happening had missed it.

“Can I, um,” Mrs. Moore tried not to sob. “Can I speak with her? If she wants to talk to us? Can you ask her?”

“Hi, Momma,” Tabitha called weakly into the phone. “Sorry about… all this mess. I didn’t know what else to—”

Mrs. Williams watched the teen pause in mid-sentence as the voice on the other end of the line interrupted her. The girl that was perched on the edge of one of the couch cushions looked awkward and exhausted, with her pretty red hair all frazzled and the dark circles beneath her eyes stark on account of how dreadfully pale she was. The entire bittersweet scene had Mrs. Williams getting riled up all over again—hadn’t this poor thing been through enough?!

Just look at her! Mrs. Williams fumed. Look at her! She still has that dreadful cast on, and everything! I’d hate to say it—I’d HATE TO SAY IT, but it’s her so-called FAMILY, it’s her parents, it’s that entire god awful neighborhood! Her parents don’t seem to give a damn about anything going on around her at all! Bullied the whole way out of school by those wretched cretin kids, almost got goddamn KILLED—at my own Halloween party!—By some trashy girl out to get her, that everyone says should have been on MENTAL ILLNESS MEDICATION, and now Tabitha’s even run out of her home because some naked drug addict LUNATIC woman is holed up there?!

“Okay. I know. I know. I’ll… I’ll talk to him,” Tabitha spoke into the phone, beginning to hunch her shoulders with apparent reluctance. “...Hi, Dad. Sorry about all the big commotion tonight. I—”

When does someone put their foot down and say enough is enough? Mrs. Williams pursed her lips so as not to display the scowl that wanted to appear. Her father especially, what an IDIOT! If I had a daughter half as nice as Tabitha, I’d be personally laying down the law with each and every one of these ‘problems’—and putting myself between her and anyone who dared look at her funny!

“No, I—Dad, no,” Tabitha hissed into the phone. “I, I don’t care if you believe it or not! She was shooting up heroin, in our bathroom. We—I’m not letting her near any of the boys if she’s going to be—”

Indignant outrage was welling up within her and Mrs. Williams realized her hands had risen up as if she needed to do something about this, but found she had no idea what to do. She wanted to snatch the phone away from this poor girl and scream obscenities through it and then hang up on that stupid lout! This wasn’t her family issue to stick her nose into, but she wanted to, and with Tabitha’s phone call for help earlier, she felt like some intangible line had been crossed. Now, invitation was open for her to start doing something about all this nonsense!

“Dad, stop,” Tabitha interrupted whatever her father was saying over the phone. “Stop, stop—I don’t care. I don’t care, an-and, and it doesn’t matter. Let’s just, can we just let the police deal with this? Let them decide? She’s not getting any sympathy from me. I’m sorry. She’s not. Sorry. She’s not. Not after—”

Despite her every attempt at self control, Karen Williams bit her lip and was forced to take a step forward as Tabitha rose from her seat and stood, the teen appearing increasingly vexed by whatever that man was trying to say to her.

“She’s not!” Tabitha’s voice broke this time. “And—and even if she was family, that isn’t a free pass! This isn’t about her being white trash, and she IS white trash, it’s about her actions! LOOK AT WHAT SHE’S DONE, look at the way she—no, no. NO. Dad, I don’t care! I—”

She couldn’t hear Mr. Moore’s side of the conversation, but Mrs. Williams didn’t need to, at this point. Being able to see Tabitha’s falling expression, how completely lost the young girl looked was absolutely heartbreaking enough.

“I… wish you weren’t like this,” Tabitha finally sobbed into the receiver. “With Lisa. With us. Mom being the way she was for so long, me becoming so, so—wretched, and hating everything about myself, and you j-just, just not doing anything about it. I-I know it’s not really your fault, an-and I know I can’t put all of that on you and just blame you for everything we’ve gone through, but, but—but at the same time, you just, just kept letting it all happen!

“I know you have a huge heart, and I know you’re, you’re just blind to all the bad in people, somehow, and I love you for that because I’m a stupid thirteen year old girl! A-and, I’m terrified of you ever changing, o-of you ever being someone else or, or being different. But I, I just—I just—Dad… I can’t deal with this anymore!”

Covering her face with her good hand and her forearm in a cast both, Tabitha broke into tears, no longer caring to hold the phone to her ear. Stepping forward in a rush, Mrs. Williams put her arms around the distraught girl as if to try to shield the poor thing from everything. The rage and sympathy and pure consternation she felt at having witnessed this sorry scene had her own eyes growing wet, and Mrs. Williams took the cordless handset from her Tabitha and decisively thumbed the call button on it to hang up.

Then she flung the phone aside towards the couch in an angry toss.

Tabitha’s staying with us, or living with the Macintires from now on—I don’t know, we’ll figure something out. No matter what, she definitely doesn’t need to go back THERE until they clean up and figure out their goddamned priorities. GOOD HEAVENS, what a mess.

It was well past two in the morning by the time Mrs. Williams decided Tabitha had gotten it all out of her system, and by then the girl seemed completely wrung out. There was just nothing left to her! Tabitha simply wore a haunted, vacant expression as Mrs. Williams led her into Matthew’s room. The new bedding had been set up, but the mother was forced to purse her cheek for a moment at the disastrous state he’d been content to leave everything else in, and he’d certainly be hearing about it tomorrow. Shaking her head, she got Tabitha changed out of her clothes and into a nightshirt, tucked the teen into bed as if she were Hannah, and then sat beside the quiet girl for a long few minutes, not sure what to say.

“It’s just…” Mrs. Williams tut-tutted, shaking her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe things turned out this way. Again. That they keep turning out this way. The shooting incident, you getting your wrist broken. All that awful bullying that just wouldn’t stop! That girl losing her mind at the Halloween party, and now? Now this. It sure seems like it’s just been one thing after another with you, from one big terrible thing to the next. Even just seeing it all happen, it’s still hard to believe.”

“In another life, in some other life, most of these things wouldn’t have gone this way,” Tabitha remarked in a distant voice. “It wouldn’t have been like this.”

“What do you mean, dear?” Mrs. Williams perched herself on the edge of the bed and stroked a strand of red hair free from Tabitha’s brow. “None of this has been your fault, okay?”

“In another life, a lot of these things would have just—passed on by and gone unnoticed,” Tabitha said. “All of these things… circling around me, they haven’t happened on purpose, but they weren’t really accidents, either. I involve myself in so many things, I express agency where, in some other hypothetical life, I wouldn’t have. I’m not supposed to be… like this. Not like this. Things that would have taken their own course, to their, their own various whatever resolutions over time have all gotten… disrupted. Like I’ve put my hand into flowing water, and then have the gall to be upset that doing so creates ripples, disturbs the current. It’s almost silly. Hypocritical.”

“Tabitha?” Mrs. Williams couldn’t help but grow concerned.

“If I’d only kept to myself, kept my head down, I wouldn’t have even appeared on people’s radar,” Tabitha confessed in a quiet murmur. “If I’d let the shooting happen… but then—Officer Macintire, he would have died, and because I was able to do something, I had to. Or, it would have been my fault. Getting pushed, a lot of the bullying, it’s because I wanted to have my cake, and eat it too. Be pretty and popular, be there for once, be noticed for once, but without putting forth the effort in socializing, connecting, being a part of it all, making a place for myself in a social setting. I wasn’t even supposed to be pretty in the first place to begin with, it just… just wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Well, that’s a bunch of nonsense,” Mrs. Williams hurried to assure her. “Tabby Honey, you have every right to be pretty, and no matter what there’s no reason for you to be bullied for it!” And the shooting—no one would have blamed you, even if you saw it all happen and didn’t do a thing. Not me, not Darren Macintire, not anyone. Seeing someone shoot a firearm right there out of nowhere, why, that’s terrifying, it’s loud and terrifying and not a single person would have blamed you if you just ran away. You’re a teenage girl, you’re allowed to act like one.”

“I would have blamed me,” Tabitha winced. “I’d have blamed myself.”

“You go on and blame yourself for everything that goes wrong if you want, but if you do, you’ve also gotta give yourself credit for everything that goes right! Huh, how about that? Tabby, Honey, you’re a downright frighteningly smart young woman, but I deal with the entire Methodist Women’s Choir, and I know sophistry when I hear it, okay? From everything I’ve ever seen, you’ve always done your best with what you had. That’s all any of us can do! I hate seeing you… overthink all of these things to death and be down about yourself over it. You’re fine. Your mind’s just grown up too fast, and all your feelings about everything have to catch up some, now.”

“Maybe… maybe you’re right,” Tabitha did her best to stifle a yawn. “I want to… I want to just not think about anything. For a good long while. I feel so burned out, all the time, I can’t even—”

“You’re gonna set all of your worries off to the side and let them cool off some,” Mrs. Williams bent down and kissed Tabitha’s forehead. “I say the same thing to my hubby all the time, tell him when he obviously needs to take a break and just go fishing with Matthew, or watch TV and decompress for a while. Tomorrow, you’re going to play with Hannah and stuff yourself with good food, and I don’t want you to worry about anything bigger than what it is you want to eat next, okay?”

“No, I can’t just—” Tabitha finally gave her an exasperated teenage sigh. “You don’t understand. I’ll get fat.”

“It’s Thanksgiving, we all get a free pass,” Mrs Williams chuckled. “Thank heavens. You get some sleep for now, Hun. You’ve had a rough time until now, but all of that’s over.”

“You alright, Miss?” Officer Stephens asked in amusement as he put his cruiser in park and popped open the door of the squad car to step out into the chilly November air.

“Aw hell—shit,” the blonde woman swore, her face running through a gamut of different expressions in an instant before a forced smile was pushed to the forefront and she let out an uneasy giggle. “Shit, shit—I mean, not you—I mean this piece o’ shit, would ya believe it? Hell, I, uh, I might need myself a jump to get ‘er back a’goin’ again!”

The main streets had all been empty at this hour, and he wouldn’t have discovered her if not for checking the smaller back roads where Springton began to bleed into Fairfield and zoning became a lot less distinct. There wasn’t much out here besides a barren stretch of road, a long guard rail dividing the roadside from the strip of berm, and then woods. Dead leaves and bare trees as far as the eye can see, what with the deer population having scoured away all the underbrush already.

“What’s this, an Oldsmobile?” Stephens let a low whistle as he flicked his flashlight on and swept the beam across the woman’s vehicle. “Whoa, Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme Classic?”

“Wow!” the woman gushed. “You can tell all that jus’ from seein’ it in the dark? Must sure know yer cars, huh? I bet you have some jumper cables with ya, right?”

“Whelp, thing is,” Stephens chuckled, ambling around behind the Oldsmobile so that he could shine his light across the license plate. “If my hunch is right, I don’t think jumper cables are gonna do you any good here.”

“Wha-whaddya mean,” the blonde demanded. “Officer—look, I know I ain’t in any kind o’ trouble, I just—”

“Yep, just like I thought it was—1988 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme Classic. Black paint. Plates match. Jump won’t do you no good, Miss. S’not the battery, you got yourself a bum alternator. I had to guess, I’d say both your idle air intake and your electronic control module are both kaput, too.”

“Well holy gee smokes you sure do know yer stuff, a’sounds like,” the blonde let out a guffaw of obvious release that turned into a wafting cloud of vapor in the frigid air. “For a second there I thought—”

“Ehh, not really,” Stephens chuckled, shaking his head. “Just—you know how it is, us boys ‘round the station get to talkin’ ‘bout these things. We all love cars. Good buddy o’ mine’s had us all pitching in to help get some replacement chips sorted out, direct from General Motors. S’not real expensive, just a lotta hoops you gotta jump through to get the exact parts you need programmed just the way you need it for a ten year old car like this.”

“Sure don’t sound easy, I wouldn’t know a thing ‘bout all that mechanical stuff,” the woman laughed. “But, hey— if’n you don’t think jumper cables’ll work, would you mind givin’ me a lift? I gotta friend right on the edge o’ Fairfield I’m tryin’ ta make it to, an’ weather sure ain’t good for walkin’ my way all the way there.”

“Well Ma’am, I’d be delighted to,” Officer Stephens said with a smile. “So long as you don’t mind if I make a uh, a quick stop at the station first?”

Quick stop, a quick piss test maybe to check for opiates, then a little talk, maybe? Stephens thought to himself—he had never expected apprehending Lisa Moore would be this easy. Sure as hell seems like this aunty is ‘borrowing’ that Tabitha girl’s clunker. And after Darren was all set on gettin’ fixed up for the girl’s birthday next month! If they really want to get the woman out of their lives, hell, we can slap grand theft auto on top of possession.