At sixteen, Willow has the body of a twenty-five-year-old and a reputation for using it indiscriminately. This isn’t the first time she’s sized me up as if she’s considering adding me to the notches in her bedpost.
Hands on hips, I meet Willow’s defiant gaze. “What are you girls up to tonight?”
“Nothing,” Piper answers immediately.
My gaze swings to Piper. “Does your mom know she’s here?”
“Of course.”
I slide my phone from my back pocket. “Then you won’t mind if I—”
“No,” Piper cuts in, her expression shifting from annoyance to fear. “Don’t.”
I look at Willow. “Time for you to leave.”
“Sure,” she says, running her tongue over her pierced bottom lip. “Can you give me a ride home, Officer?”
Knew that was coming. I lift my phone and speed-dial dispatch. “Sandy, it’s Xavier. Can you send any free unit to Piper’s house? Willow Raven needs a ride home. Thanks.”
The benefits of living in a small town, everyone knows where the trouble spots lie, and there’s always a unit somewhere nearby. In this case, right around the corner.
Willow gives a throaty laugh. “Afraid to be alone with me, Officer Wilde?”
“Uncle Z, come on,” Piper whines. “All we’re doing is listening to music.”
“Not by the smell of it.” The strange sweet scent in the air tells me they’ve been vaping.
Piper’s gaze drops to the floor.
“Piper tells me you and the yoga queen are getting busy,” Willow says. “She’s cool, I guess, but I’d leave you way more satisfied.”
“Willow, stop it,” Piper says, clearly disgusted. “He’s my uncle.”
The sound of movement draws my gaze toward the sliding glass door at the rear of the house. Then the familiar “Stop. Hands up. Let me see your hands.”
I recognize the voice as Peter Belau’s, deep and demanding. I put myself between Piper and the door and shove her into the safety of the hallway.
“What are you doing?” Piper asks, her voice rising to that pitch just before she starts crying.
The glass door slides open, and Peter says, “The brilliant Mr. Hawthorne is paying a visit.”
We emerge from the hallway in time to see Belau lead Dale into the house by the arm. Belau and I greet each other with a chin lift.
Willow laughs at Dale. “You’re such a dumb shit. You always get caught.”
True. Dale Hawthorne is not the sharpest tool in the shed.
“Who wants to tell me why he’s here?” I ask, looking directly at Piper.
She’s got her arms crossed, her shoulders up around her ears, and an expression that’s half angry, half guilty. “He was just going to hang with us.”
Anger spikes. I swing toward Dale and get in his face. “You touch anyone under eighteen and you’re looking at statutory rape. Do you understand that, Mr. Hawthorne? We’re in California, which means there are no age exceptions. It’s a solid eighteen years old. These two are sixteen and fifteen, so you’d better go find someone else to play with for the next few years if you don’t want to end up in jail.”
“Dude,” Hawthorne says. “I’m not doin’ Piper.”
“Uncle Z,” Piper says. “Stop.”
She spins, stalks to her room, and slams the door. Belau shoots me a commiserating smirk. He’s also got teenage girls.