Jeremy Bergeron was not living a life of luxury or anything closely resembling the idyllic picture that many associate with childhood. He didn't know that; most four year olds wouldn't. Jeremy's world was the part of the rural city that the people from the bad part of town called the worst part of town. A subdivision of run down, five room, single family houses was all that Jeremy knew existed. Rarely did the toddler ever leave the confines of his neighborhood.

A one floor house with its faded yellow paint chipping away to non-existence served as Jeremy's home, though the term is used lightly. The front yard was nothing but dirt, except for the cracked concrete driveway where his dad's Camaro was thankfully missing. The front of the driveway was bracketed by a set of discarded car batteries, two stacked upon each other on each side to form little makeshift pillars. The pillars were the closest the Bergeron's came to a sense of class.

Jeremy was a small child. Even for his age, Jeremy was nowhere near average height and weight, and, in a pinch, he could still pass for being a baby. It appeared that he had long brown hair, when, in fact, it was only really dirty. His eyes were large and blue, a piercing dark blue that resembled an endless cloudless sky interrupted by tiny pupils at the center. His face was round and his mouth was a stern line, as if he was constantly in deep thought or expected to be in trouble at any second. The child wore a tattered blue t-shirt that, at one point in its existence, read “Superstar.” There were holes in the sleeves and a cigarette burn just below the chest. The shirt only came to the child's belly button, not even that far if the boy raised his arms in the air and risked adding a rip to the shirt's underarms. The only other article of clothing the boy wore was a pair of pampers, already turned gray by the dirt and dust around the house.

“Come on Pipsy,” the boy said to an empty Gatorade bottle that had a pink ribbon tied around its neck.

“Sit! Sit Pipsy!” Jeremy tugged on the length of ribbon, causing the bottle to stand on its base.

To Jeremy, a child with nothing to keep him occupied but an active imagination, Pipsy was a dog, not a discarded empty bottle. And not just any dog, mind you, but the child's very own pet dog. Eight days ago, on the child's forgotten and uncelebrated birthday, the old man living next door made a present for the toddler. On the cap, the old man drew a caricature of a dog's face with a slim black marker. He added the pink ribbon leash and made sure that it was just long enough to serve the child's needs. On handing the gift to the toddler, the man told Jeremy, “As long as you take care of it, and feed it, and love it, this here dog will always love you back.” Pipsy hadn't left Jeremy's attention since.

The rumbling in the child's stomach had been growing worse over the past hour and the child knew that he could put off lunch no longer. He picked up his pet and made his way to the front door that he left slightly open so he would be able to get back inside.

Once Jeremy closed the door quietly behind him, he got down on all fours so he wouldn't disturb his mother watching television and make her upset with him. He paused in front of the woman who was staring absentmindedly at a man talking on the screen. If the woman knew her child was around, she made no movement to signify his existence.

Jeremy decided to keep on his trek, making his way to his bedroom so he could drop off his pet before attempting to get lunch out of his mother. His bedroom was no larger than a walk-in closet, with an old once-blue plastic mat lying in one corner of the room. The mat had more silver duct tape on it than it did blue plastic. Off to the side of the mat was a faded green towel that was threadbare and almost had as many holes as the boy's shirt. Jeremy placed the Gatorade bottle pet under the towel for safe keeping.

“Now Pipsy, you stay here and be a good puppy,” Jeremy instructed while petting the lid. “Me feed you soon.”

Jeremy looked at the window that was covered by aluminum foil. Whether the foil was to keep the room cool or to make the room hot, the child didn't know. At the moment he wished the foil was gone so he could see the nice old man next door and wave to him.

The boy climbed on one of the black garbage bags that contained his clothes and attempted to pull back a little of the foil. As usual, all he saw was more foil behind the first layer.

An audible sound escaped the child's belly and Jeremy knew he could wait no longer for a meal. He went back to the living room where his mother hadn't moved an inch. Her long hair was barely combed and Jeremy tugged on the woman's tattered purple bathrobe. Her head was propped on a pillow so she could gaze mindlessly at the images on television. A marijuana joint dangled haphazardly out of the corner of her mouth as she took a deep, meaningful drag.

Jeremy tugged on the sleeve of her bathrobe once more, shaking his mother back to reality.

“What do you want,” Sheila snapped as she exhaled the putrid smelling toxic smoke into the child's face.

“Momma, me hungry,” Jeremy asked hopefully.

“Didn't you just eat?”

“Breakfast, Momma. Now lunch.” Jeremy tried to convey in his broken speech that it had been several hours since he had the stale slice of bread that his mother convinced him was toast.

“Jesus H. Christ! I guess if I don't feed you right this second, you're going to start crying and I won't get a minutes rest.” Sheila paused and looked at her child in disgust. She made sure she snarled so the boy knew she was not pleased with being interrupted. “Okay, let's feed you. All you do is take, take, take. That's all you know how to do. What the hell good are you? When are you going to learn to do for yourself?”

“But I'm just a little boy, Momma,” Jeremy said, making sure he didn't whine.

“No, you're a God damn pain in the ass. Get out of my way!” Sheila struggled to get to a seated position.

Jeremy watched as his mother slowly stood up and brushed a few ashes from her battered bathrobe. She placed her hand on the arm of the couch to keep the room from spinning. Luckily the worn cloth couch was sturdy enough to support her weight or she may have ended up sprawled on the floor. As she made her way to the kitchen, Sheila held onto the wall and various bits of furniture to keep her balance.

Jeremy followed behind her, making sure he kept at a safe distance.

“Let's see,” Sheila mumbled incoherently to herself. “What to give him for lunch.” The woman opened the old refrigerator door, making a loud squeak because of a broken hinge. The appliance itself held nothing that resembled food, only a case of beer and a carton of Chinese food that may have been in there from before Jeremy was even born. Sheila pulled out a jar of mayonnaise that sat in the refrigerator door and opened it. “This doesn't smell all that bad,” she said as she quickly pulled the jar away from her face. She reached above the refrigerator, to a cabinet that lost its doors a year back and pulled down a bag of bread. Sheila took out two slices that appeared to have the least amount of mold on them and smeared a tablespoon of mayonnaise on them.

“Before I give this to you,” Sheila waved the odorous sandwich in front of the child, knowing that he wouldn't dare reach for it until it was offered to him, “you must promise to take your nap right after you're done with it. Understand?”

“Yes Momma. Eat, nap.” Jeremy answered, giving the appropriate response would ease the pain from his belly.

“Okay. Here you go.” Sheila handed her son the sandwich. “Now don't bother me.” Sheila lumbered out of the room and returned to her spot on the couch just in time to catch the beginning of the Jerry Springer show.

Jeremy sat at the kitchen table, swinging his feet underneath the chair. The food wasn't appealing to him, but at least it was something. He ate every last bit of the sandwich making sure that not even a crumb was spared.

After finishing the meal, Jeremy made his way back to his bedroom. He paused in the living room to see his mother once again sprawled out on the couch with a yucky smelling 'cigarette' in her mouth. Just as before, the woman didn't even notice her son's existence as she smoked the joint. Jeremy hung his head as he shuffled to his bedroom. He made sure he didn't bang the door as he closed it behind him. Immediately, he pulled the threadbare towel off his pet.

“Hello Pipsy,” the child said cheerfully as he lifted the plastic bottle to his face. “Me back!” Jeremy giggled as he imagined the toy was licking his face, giving him puppy kisses. Pipsy was the only toy he owned that wasn't broken; and even those weren't many. “Me feed you now, Pipsy.”

Carefully, Jeremy unscrewed the lid and deposited two red Lego bricks into the bottle. The child reasoned that since it was a plastic dog, it must eat plastic food; such is the logic of a four year old.

“Okay Pipsy, time for beddy nigh'-nigh',” the child said as he lay on the old blue mat that at one time was discarded from a third-rate daycare. He pulled the green towel over his small frame, using it for a blanket. Gently he cradled the bottle, making sure not to crush it, and he closed his eyes. At least, in sleep, the still lingering pain in his stomach wouldn't bother him for a while.

Sleep was one way in which Jeremy could escape the reality of the life he was living. He always hoped for good dreams, and since he rarely remembered what he dreamed about, he assumed the best. As his breathing grew deeper, Jeremy hoped he would dream about Pipsy being a real dog. A great big dog that would be all his own. That, or a dream of a great big party filled with hamburgers, and hot-dogs, and ice-cream, and cake, and...There were no more ands. A long day of playing with his pet and the limited amount of food took its toll on the child. Jeremy was away in a special place where no one ever talked mean to him or called him names. In a place where his stomach never bothered him and the words “I love you,” were spoken in abundance.

Chase hopped out of the almost scalding hot shower that served as his usual early morning wake up. He wrapped a blue and white striped beach towel around his waist and stood in front of the steam-fogged mirror as water dripped from his body and landed on the fuzzy mauve-colored rug. Taking a quick swipe across the mirror with a washcloth that matched the rug and was reserved for guests revealed the young man-child's reflection. His physique wasn't all that he would've liked it to be, but that still didn't keep him from flexing his chest muscles a few times, causing his pecs to do a small dance always seemed amusing to him.

“You know,” his wife's voice called from the adjoining bedroom, “I hope you don't do that sort of thing while you're on duty.”

“I only do it for the ladies.” Chase smirked. “It keeps their minds off of getting a ticket.”

“Yeah? I guess it's hard to be mad when you're laughing so hard,” Melissa teased.

“I'll remember that the next time I pull you over, Melissa.” Chase joined his wife in the bedroom, knowing that he had some time before he needed to leave.

“The only reason you pulled me over the other day was because you knew it was me. You had no real reason to either, you naughty boy you.”

“I did want to see you in cuffs,” Chase said mischievously as he raised and lowered his eyebrows twice.”

“You need to keep your fantasies for when you're not on duty.”

Chase stood directly in front of his wife, his towel close to falling off. He gave his wife one of his goofy grins. “I'm not on duty now.”

Melissa gave her husband a lover's kiss. “But you will be on duty in an hour, so you better get a move on.”

“I can always call in sick.” Chase winked and returned the kiss. He lifted his wife with his strong arms and laid her on the bed.

“No. You can't.” Melissa gently pushed him away, smiling. So far the first year of marriage was going well, even with her husband's occasional immaturity. “You just started a few months ago and that wouldn't sit too well with your boss. Besides, there will be plenty of time to play when you get home.”

“Yes Ma'am.” Chase pouted for a second, and then kissed his wife on the lips. “You're right, but I'm going to hold you to your promise.”

“You know it.” Melissa smiled and then laughed as Chase sauntered away, lowering his towel just enough to reveal his tight glutes.

Chase and Melissa have been married for four months, but had been dating ever since junior high school. Two months prior to their wedding, Chase completed his training to be a K-9 officer. The newlyweds used most of the money they received as wedding gifts for a down payment on their home. It wasn't anything luxurious; after all, Chase was only earning a cop's salary. They lived in a simple two-bedroom house in a decent neighborhood. It was a good place to live; many of the men from the police force lived nearby, keeping neighborhood crime to a minimum and insurance rates low. With his meager salary, and working a little on the side as a “security consultant,” Chase and Melissa could live comfortably. It was always how Chase pictured his life would turn out and he was content with what he had. All that was missing was the patter of little feet and they planned that, by mutual agreement, five years down the road when they were more financially stable.

Chase returned to the mirror and noticed that he didn't need a shave. Rarely did the young officer need to use a razor, and that was often used as fodder when the senior officers would razz him. On one of his first days, someone had gone as far as to leave a teddy bear and a Blow pop in his locker. The men got a good laugh at “baby-face” Chase on that one. But, Chase knew how to roll with the punches and always knew how to take a joke: he let the bear ride shotgun with him all that day and put the Blow pop in his mouth right on the spot, grinning like the kid he was all the while. He was genuinely liked by all his colleagues and was considered one of the good guys. For what it was worth, which was a lot, Chase knew that if it ever came to it, anyone on the force would always have his back and he would have theirs. That was the way the police force was suppose to work.

“Looking good,” Chase thought as he buttoned his stiff, heavily starched white dress shirt; his badge and name tag were already pinned in place, Melissa always took care of that the night before. “Looking just like the old man.” Chase felt the pride of living his boyhood dream of following in his father's footsteps well-up in his chest. “God, I miss him. I wish he was still alive to see me. He'd be so proud to see me wearing the shield.” Chase bit his lip as he remembered the reason why his father wasn't around to see him was because some drugged up loser attempting to hold up a convenience store put two slugs in his father's chest when Chase was only twelve. The assailant was one of the few people that Chase couldn't bring himself to forgive, even though his core belief told him he should. “I hope he's still rotting away in a hole somewhere. It wasn't Dad's fault for being a cop. Being a cop didn't take him away from me, it was some idiot with a loaded gun and not much sense that did.” Chase pulled up the creased, dark blue slacks and fastened them. “Being a cop is a noble career and my dad was a noble man.” Chase settled himself; he didn't want to start work angry or upset. He was never one to take his anger out on anyone else.

Chase was a stand up kind of guy who thought individuals should be judged on their own merit, exactly like he wanted to be judged. That was the way he was raised in a semi-strict Christian home. He learned his morals from his mother and knew to treat people with the utmost respect and dignity no matter what they had done or how unruly they were to him. There were times when Chase wanted to put someone through a wall out of Christian love, but he mostly kept his restraint. He never wanted to let his mother or father down.

Chase looked at himself in the mirror and flashed a big, toothy smile. He turned to the side, facing the door. Quickly he spun around, formed a gun out of his right hand and pointed his finger-gun at the mirror. “Officer Chase Milan, K-9 cop,” he said in a deep booming voice.

“Officer Chase Milan, K-9 cop,” Melissa called from the bedroom. “You better hurry along or you're going to be Chase Milan, unemployed house husband.”

“Can't a boy have his fun?”

“Yes, but don't forget, it's your turn to get the donuts.”

“That's a vicious stereotype,” Chase feigned offense.

“Vicious, but true. Now hurry up.”

“Yes dear,” Chase said mockingly.

The officer put on the shoes that he had buffed to a high gloss shine the night before, always one concerned about how he appeared to others. His father once told him “You can judge the character of a man by the shine on his shoes.” Chase still didn't completely understand the logic of the maxim, but since it came from his dad it was gospel.

Chase slung his jacket over his shoulder; it would be too hot to be trapped in something so heavy. Jackets were usually considered optional wear while on duty anyway.

Chase walked downstairs, to the back door that led to the yard and held it open. He needed to retrieve his partner, and his best non-human friend. “Come on Neesa,” he called. “Time for work.”

The ninety pound Rottweiler sprang from her resting state inside the large dog house that Chase built with his own hands. Her brown eyes opened wide and the nub of her tail wagged in delight because she knew what was going to happen. In a full sprint the dog ran through the house towards the front door. The Rotti tried to stop on a dime in front of the exit, but the freshly waxed linoleum had other ideas. Neesa slid a few inches and came to an abrupt halt thanks to the solid oak door.

Chase called upstairs, “Honey, didn't I ask you not to wax in front of the door?”

“Oops! Sorry! Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she's fine. Be glad we have a Rotti and not a Shih Tzu.” Chase laughed. It was a little bit funny, but he knew that the blow to Neesa's square head had to smart, even if the dog didn't yelp in protest. Chase opened the door and the dog walked beside her master. Being a trained police dog, Neesa knew the difference between when it was time to have a playful jaunt around the block and when it was time to get into the back of the cruiser. The young officer assumed it had something to do with his wearing the uniform.

Chase hit a button on his key fob, making the rear window roll down automatically. Neesa took two measured steps backwards and leaped into the back of the black and white Crown Victoria.

Chase didn't have Neesa do that trick too often in front of his superiors; they might consider it excessive, but Chase always got a kick from seeing his dog perform the feat and couldn't resist indulging himself.

The officer got in the driver’s seat. From the day he received the vehicle, Chase always thought his Crown Vic was a much cooler car than his wife's little red Chrysler Le Baron convertible, especially when he considered what was under the hood.

Chase picked up the mike to his radio. “This is unit four-fourteen reporting in for duty.”

“Hey, Baby-face,” a lady's voice with a heavy southern lilt called over the radio. “Make sure you get some Bavarian creams for the sarge.”

“That's a big 10-4. You want anything special?”

“Just to see you smile, hon.”

“You better quit that,” Chase said jokingly. “Melissa may find out and get jealous.”

“Nay, she knows she's married to a boy scout who wouldn't do anything wrong. It's kind of disappointing, for some.”

“You're too much, Rebecca. Over and out.”

“See you later, hon.”

Light banter was the norm for the small city force as long as it didn't get extreme or cause problems. Chase knew with the call-in he was now officially on duty. That was one of the perks for working for the Lebanon, Tennessee police department; he didn't have to go to base and punch a time card. All an officer had to do was radio in and go where they were supposed to. Besides, there was enough ways to get caught up in police duty on the way; a speeder, a drunk driver, a purse snatching, an officer never knew what could happen on the twenty minute ride to get to HQ and they couldn't turn a blind eye crime because their card wasn't punched. The sarge preached consistency in performing their civic duty and the officers bought into that. They weren't out to make the public's life difficult, but the criminal element needed to know they were around and prepared to put a damper on any illegal activity.

“Base, this is four-fourteen,” Chase radioed in twelve minutes into his ride as he pulled behind an old Ford Taurus station wagon that was on the side of the road with its hood up.

“Go ahead, four-fourteen.”

“I have a vehicle on the side of the road, Tennessee plates 'LCL-04W.' Offering assistance.

“10-4.”

Chase got out of his cruiser and walked up to the driver's window. As always, Chase followed proper procedure to the letter; he was a stickler for doing things by the book. The young lady looked up at the officer in tears.

“What seems to be the problem, Ma'am?”

“It's dead. It cranks but won't turn over.” The lady turned the key in the ignition to prove her point. “See.”

Chase nodded sympathetically. “It'll be okay. I'm sure it's nothing that can't be fixed by a mechanic. Sounds like the starter has gone bad.”

“What's it matter now anyway,” the lady lamented. “I've been stranded here for almost half an hour. I've more than missed my job interview. Five months I've been looking for work, and when I finally find something good, this happens.”

Chase couldn't explain why people opened up to him, but it was nothing new to him. “I'm sure if you call and explain the situation, they'll reschedule if it's truly a job that deserves you,” Chase reassured. “Would you like me to call for a tow-truck, ma'am?”

“Please.” The lady resigned herself to sitting back and waiting.

Chase walked back to his cruiser, reached through the window and grabbed the microphone. “Base, this is four-fourteen. I'm going to need a wrecker at Main and South Hatton.”

“We'll get one right out there,” the radio squawked back.

“10-4.”

Chase waited until the wrecker from Frank's Auto got there. Even though it was early and on a well traveled road, one never knew when someone might take advantage of the situation. As soon as the station wagon was up on the truck, Chase bid the motorist a better day. He also thanked the wrecker for coming out so promptly. The young officer figured that most people enjoyed the appreciation, even if they were simply doing their jobs.

Chase got back into his cruiser and glanced back at the Rottweiler who was standing on the rear seat, looking out the front window, ready for action if needed. Chase picked up the mike. “Four-fourteen to base, en route. I still have to stop for the donuts, so tell Sarge they're coming.”

“10-4, four-fourteen.”

Chase pulled into the parking lot of 'the Perfect Cup', a locally owned shop that knew how to do things right. It was a tiny, tan brick building with an all glass facade. There were only a half dozen tables on the inside and a long stainless steel counter, which housed a glass display underneath. The specials of the day were written cheerfully on a black board in multi-colored chalk, but Chase knew his order was already put together.

“Hi Elsa,” Chase said as he walked to the counter. “How you doing today?”

“Pretty good,” the forty year old waitress said. “Lots of nothing going on.”

“Better than being too busy, isn't it?”

“I suppose, but too much nothing is bad for a girl's figure, sugar. Anyway, we got your order waiting. You're a little late.”

“Had a distressed motorist on the way in. Sometimes the donuts have to wait.”

“Yep. I suppose in life there are more important things than pastry.” The waitress tried to maintain her cheerful disposition.

Chase knew that to say something to validate the woman's role in life would only serve to depress her more. “Can you throw in a few Bavarian Creams in for the sarge? Last I knew, he wasn't watching his figure.”

Elsa grinned. “Anything for you, sugar.”

“Thanks.” Chase returned the smile and signed the order form. The officers never paid out of pocket and usually the owner cut the force a much better deal than what they charged the public. Probably a volume discount. Chase put two dollars on the counter, it was custom for all cops to tip the waitress whenever picking up any food, it kept everyone happy.

Elsa placed the box of three dozen donuts on the counter, swapping in three additional Bavarian Creams. “They should send you more often, sugar.”

“They send me when they can. I can't hog the sweetest waitress in town all to myself, anyway.” Chase gave her his winning smile.

“Such a sweet talker.” Elsa blushed.

“Have a good day, Elsa.”

Chase backed out of the parking lot and drove to headquarters. It was a large, serious looking monstrosity that resembled a four story medieval castle without a sense of the period’s charm. It was a cold building and a credit to its engineers that it was still standing. There were plans for building a more modern facility, but after waiting two decades for the ground breaking, that plan was the biggest legend amongst the officers. The phrase, “I'll get to it once the new building goes up,” was the most common colloquialism in use.

Chase clicked a button on his key fob that popped the rear door and Neesa joined him on the sidewalk. The two walked inside, first placing the box of donuts in the break room and then going to see the CO. It wasn't the norm for Chase to take the behemoth in with him. Neesa had the tendency to make people nervous with her almost hundred pounds of muscle. Since Chase planned to be in and out, he spared Neesa the indignity of being penned up in the outside cage.

“Hey, Sarge,” Chase said as he walked into the barren CO's office.

“Good morning, Chase. Making your own hours?” the sarge asked in as serious a tone as he could muster, always trying to come off gruff.

“Never! I hate traffic duty,” Chase joked back. “I had a distressed motorist on the way in.”

“I know. I always check in on you rooks. Never know which of you thinks he can pull one over on the rest of us.”

“Uh-huh,” Chase said and waited for the sarge to continue, perhaps adding how he didn't have to worry about Chase doing the right thing. The compliment didn't come. “By the way,” the officer filled in the uncomfortable silence. “I got you some Bavarian Creams on the way in.”

“Hmm. Kissing up, I see. That's a good way to go far here on the force.” The sergeant gave a slight chuckle.

“More like a good way to get doughnut duty permanently,” Chase replied half under his breath, but just loud enough to be heard.

“Nah, I need you elsewhere for real police work. Today you're going to patrol Greenwood Avenue between Leesville Pike and the Interstate.”

“That'll certainly get me some action today,” Chase said, knowing that most of the drug pushing thugs and less desirable members of society operated around that area.

“We're expecting at least ten busts.” The sarge cracked a smile, which didn't come easy for him.

“But you wouldn't mind twenty,” Chase rebutted, knowing the sarge's dislike for quotas.

“Remember, no profiling.” No profiling was the catch phrase that the sarge pushed on all his men, young and old alike. He knew how easy it was for a man to buy into stereotypes and start acting on them. He didn't need that kind of public relations nightmare.

“You know me, everyone looks guilty.”

“No,” the sarge said, straight faced and serious. “I do know you, that's why I'm giving you this assignment, even in front of people who've put in the time to earn it. Don't let me down, kid.”

“Not even on my worst day,” Chase said as he walked out the door. The vote of confidence from his commanding officer made him walk a bit taller.

Chase strolled back to his squad car, but not before popping his head into dispatch and giving Rebecca a smile and a wink. He was not attracted to the redheaded, fifty-something dispatcher who perpetually said she was thirty-two, but Chase always knew how to make people feel important. A smile and a wink could go a long way to making people feel a little bit better about themselves.

Once at the squad car, Chase popped the rear door with the remote on his key fob to let Neesa in the back seat. Since it was in front of HQ he didn't dare do anything more elaborate.

Jeremy was sound asleep when a loud bang tore him back to reality. The child sat up like a shot. He knew from the sound that the Camaro was back in the driveway and Daddy was home. Jeremy was terrified not because of the abruptness of the blast, but because he never knew what to expect when his dad was home. In a rush, the child hid the plastic bottle behind the garbage bags and returned to his mat. Most of the time it was best to remain out of sight when his father came home.

The front door banged against the wall as it was roughly opened. The six-foot three man with shaggy red hair and handle bar mustache stormed into the house. “Hi honey,” Curtis shouted out mockingly. “I'm home.”

“About time you got here, Curtis,” Sheila shouted back, barely lifting her head as she slumped on the couch.

The rugged man pulled his salt-stained T-shirt off and used it to wipe the sweat from his forehead with one of its few dry spots. He threw the damp shirt into a corner when he finished. “Listen, Bitch. I'm out there all day in the hot sun, working and slaving to keep the bills paid, put food on the table, and keep you happy.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot, this is the lap of luxury that you keep me in.” Sheila made a grand gesture with her arms and looked about the living room in mock awe. “Quick, call Robin Leach. Would you like me to ring for the butler and have him bring you some Dom Perignon in our fine crystal?”

“Listen, you ungrateful slut.” Curtis jumped on his wife; straddling her prone body. He took hold of her throat in his large calloused hand. “If you didn't get pregnant, if you were on the pill like you said you were, we wouldn't be in this situation.”

“Oh sure, blame the mistake on me.” Sheila pushed Curtis off of her. “If you didn't get me plastered and maybe kept that little pecker inside your pants...”

Sheila didn't get the chance to finish her statement before being interrupted by a loud slap across her face, the sound of which echoed through the house. Once again, Curtis was on top of her. “I'll show you what this little pecker can do.” Curtis pushed her deep into the couch and forcefully opened her robe and pulled down her sweatpants.

Sheila laughed. “I love it when you get all rough, but the mistake is sleeping in the back room and we don't want to be disturbed by it.” Sheila rarely referred to Jeremy by his given name; she preferred calling him 'the mistake.'

“Too bad. You would've gotten it good .” Curtis plopped down on the couch next to Sheila. “Let me get some of the stuff, might as well get into a good mood.”

The stuff that Curtis was referring to was a brick of pot that he had scored after robbing some poor sap who didn't know which streets not to walk down.

“I can't.” A small trickle of sweat rolled down the side of Sheila's face. She knew full well that she smoked the last of the marijuana a few hours after sending Jeremy to his room. Her mind scrambled for some kind of excuse.

“What the hell do you mean?” Curtis' anger was making his already ruddy features more red.

“The mistake flushed it down the toilet,” Sheila finally answered, hoping that Curtis would buy her story.

“Don't you watch him and see what the hell he's doing?” Curtis stood up with a purpose. “Am I the only one who keeps him in line?” he added as he stormed off.

The deep thud of work boots grew louder as they approached the child's bedroom door. Jeremy closed his eyes as tight as he could and pretended to sleep. The door opened and the smell of new soil and old sweat filled the child's room. Without warning, Curtis lifted the child off the floor by his long, matted hair and threw him into the wall. The loud crack of Jeremy's head hitting the wall echoed for a second as the child slid to the floor with a bang. Jeremy instinctively wrapped his arms around his head in order to ward off any incoming blows. Curtis didn't take a swing at the child, but instead lifted Jeremy up by the throat and pinned him against the same wall he was thrown against. “Hi, Dada,” Jeremy said as sweetly as he could manage. Tears filled his eyes, but he already learned to equate crying with receiving more pain.

“Don't 'hi Dada' me, you little bastard.” Curtis shoved his thumb deep into the child's throat.

Jeremy took a quick gasp as he tried to inhale and started turning red. He quit trying to protect his head and pushed ineffectively against his father's hand.

“You touch my shit ever again and I'll make sure you never touch anything ever again. Do you understand?” Curtis asked as his cold, steel eyes stared at his son.

Jeremy started to turn blue as he nodded his head yes. He didn't know what offense he was admitting to, if any. But he knew that agreeing with his father was the only way to end his agony and get another breath of much needed air.

Curtis finally let the child go after he felt the proper amount of punishment had been dealt. Jeremy's feet had hardly touched the floor before a new odor filled the room that was neither soil, nor sweat.

“What's that smell?” Curtis demanded.

Jeremy turned away and looked at the floor.

“What did you do?”

“I make,” Jeremy said quietly while trying to avoid eye contact.

“What are you? Four? Still wearing diapers! That's frigging ridiculous.”

Jeremy kept his head down as his father roughly pulled up his shirt, further revealing the freshly filled diaper. It would do the child no good to explain that his mother kept him in the diaper because she didn't want to be bothered when he needed help in the bathroom like most toddlers did.

“Four and still in diapers!” Curtis said in a louder voice, causing Jeremy to look up at him. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Jeremy didn't answer. He didn't know what answer would get him into more trouble. He didn't even fully understand the question.

“Answer me,” Curtis loudly demanded. After waiting a fraction of a second, he pulled his arm back and slapped the child across the face. A small trickle of blood flowed out of Jeremy's nose and a tear drifted down the side of his face.

“Don't start that crying. You take your punishment like a man. You want something to cry about, then I'll give you something to cry about.” Curtis untaped the diaper and laid it on the floor. “You want to cry? Cry about that!” Curtis yelled. “See how disgusting that is?” Curtis grabbed the back of Jeremy's head and pushed the child's face into the soiled diaper. The man did it in the same manner that one might treat a dog that had an accident on the living room carpet.

Jeremy raised his head as soon as his father released his grip, once again gasping for air.

“Next time I find you in a shit-filled diaper, I'm going to make you eat it!” Curtis screamed. “Do I make myself clear? You better learn how to use the bowl, do you understand?”

Jeremy meekly nodded yes to each of the questions.

“Now go into the bathroom and wash yourself off. And, if you leave a mess in there, you're going to get twice as bad.”

Jeremy ran off as fast as he could and closed the bathroom door behind him. He climbed on an old wooden crate, ran the water, and saw the brown marks that covered his face in the mirror. After several attempts to get his face fully rid of all the refuse, he finally succeeded.

Jeremy went into the living room in time to see his father about to leave. Like most young children, being bare-bottomed didn't seem to cause him any discomfort or embarrassment. His mother looked at him as if he were beyond contempt, and placed her hand on the arm of the couch in an attempt to rise.

“Sheila, leave him bare-assed until I get back,” Curtis instructed. He then knelt down next to his son and pulled a switchblade from his back pocket. “Listen, you little shit,” Curtis said straight faced and in a steady tone. “If you have an accident while I'm out getting dinner, I swear to God I'll kill you when I come back.” With those words, Curtis placed the blade to the child's throat and pushed it just hard enough so it would leave a dent in the skin, but wouldn't draw any blood.

Jeremy took a shallow gulp and said “Yes, Dada,” in a whisper.

“Good! I'm glad we understand each other,” Curtis said as he stood up and then walked out the front door.

Jeremy sat down on the living room floor and felt the cool linoleum on his bare skin. He sat against the coarse brown couch where his mom had been laying most of the day, watching television. He made sure not to make a sound or even have any physical contact with her. He never quite understood why, but even if he accidentally touched his mother, she would get upset, he would get slapped and often he would be sent to his room without any hope of supper.

“I might need you today, girl,” Chase said through the metal grate that separated him from his partner. “We're going to a whole new part of town for you.”

The north side of town is what the locals considered as the slums. It wasn't really a slum in the true urban sense, but in the small rural city of Lebanon, Tennessee, it was close enough in spirit; a few miles of low-priced single family homes, and several blocks of rundown apartments. It was an area known primarily for its low wage earning blue collar workers, drugs and prostitution. The police made their presence known by having a patrol in the area at least twice weekly. The area hosted a lot of crime; drug dealing, burglary, grand theft auto, and battery to name a few. The most common complaint the police were called in for was domestic violence.

Chase had been involved in a couple of those latter situations, and he considered himself lucky that cooler heads prevailed. He didn't think his calm nature (at least in those volatile situations) and his ability to explain both sides of the issue while offering possible solutions came into play. But both of those characteristics are mentioned repeatedly in his file.

Chase pulled into the neighborhood as if he was only passing through to get somewhere more important. Despite the occasional parked car and the litter, the streets were barren. Those who did work would already be at their jobs. Many worked at the Dell computer factory a few miles down the way. Another good portion of the population worked the second shift and was more than likely still in bed. The criminal element was in bed as well, choosing to roam and create havoc after conventional business hours. Chase figured there were two methods he could employ during his patrol. One was to drive around the side streets and hunt for crime, relying on a keen eye and the element of surprise. The other method was to park inconspicuously in an empty driveway and see what crime came his way. Either way, a lot of luck came into play. The criminals seemed to have a sixth sense that told them when the fuzz was around.

Chase chose to alternate between the two methods, not thinking that one was superior to the other. He pulled into the driveway of the old cemetery on Greenwood Avenue, and started the timer on his watch. He figured on thirty minutes of waiting, and then he would patrol the streets for a while before returning. The driveway to the cemetery was situated on the apex of a small hill with two large brick walls on either side that made the squad car virtually invisible until a person was right up on it; by the time a person noticed the black and white Crown Vic, it would be too late.

After five minutes of nothing happening, Chase looked about the cemetery in his rear-view mirror. Many boys lay in the ground from the Civil war, soldiers on both sides. Chase remembered taking a school outing there, to the tomb of General Hatton, one of the lesser known generals of that war. Off to his right was one of the things Chase enjoyed seeing most, a large white marble statue of Jesus sitting with His right hand extended in a blessing and watching over the resting. In all his life, Chase never did go see who the monument was for, but it gave him an odd peace to know that while he was on duty, Jesus was watching over him as well. He often prayed that it was true, and, in his heart, he believed it.

Fifteen minutes into his watch, Chase assumed nothing would happen. That was often the case on early, weekday shifts. Suddenly, Chase heard what he thought was a gunshot. The officer jerked back in his seat and looked around to see if a few kids were shooting at some cans. In such a rural area, it wasn't odd to find boys shooting their .22s at some empties. Chase did so when he was a youngster. He scouted the area for where the sound came once again. A lone vehicle headed down the road, and, at first, Chase thought some drunk idiot might be out shooting at mailboxes. Entertainment was scarce in the community early on a weekday.

Chase put his cruiser into gear and waited for the offending vehicle to roll past. As soon as it did, Chase pulled behind the mid-eighties, primer colored, beat up Camaro, and turned on his siren. Just as he did, the car backfired again in protest, and the young officer figured out what was going on.

“Base, this is four-fourteen.”

“Go ahead, Chase.”

“I've got a routine stop. Busted muffler, Tennessee plates 'QUM-40M.”

“Requesting backup?”

“Not at this moment,” Chase said, “Just a minor stop.”

“10-4.”

“Over.”

The Camaro pulled to the side of the road, out of the way of traffic. The brake-lights went on, and then off; Chase put his vehicle in park as well. The officer exited the cruiser, keeping his hand on the rear door release button as he was trained to do. Chase peered through the sloping rear window to make sure there were no suspicious movements while he made his way to the driver's side.

“Damn it, man! I know I wasn't fucking speeding,” the driver yelled at Chase.

“I know that, sir.”

“Then why the fuck did you pull me over,” the man ranted. “What? Just because I'm driving a beat-up piece of shit in the wrong side of town, you got to harass me?”

The phrase “no profiling” came immediately to Chases mind. “No, sir. I am going to ask you to stop using the obscenities,” Chase said sternly while maintaining his composure, which wasn't always easy for him. “I'm going to be respectful to you and that is what I expect in return.”

“Sorry, officer.” The driver took a deep breath to calm himself down. “The wife and the kid have got me all nuts. Why'd you pull me over?”

“That's a nasty backfire you got coming from your muffler. For a moment I thought someone was taking a shot at me.”

“Not me, officer. I never shoot at no cop.”

“Glad to hear that.” Chase gave an easy grin. “There are two ways we can handle this situation.”

“Am I going to like either way?” the man interrupted.

“You might. First I can write you a ticket for noise pollution, a ticket for an unsafe vehicle, and one for disturbing the peace. Probably run you in the neighborhood of four hundred bucks.”

“Damn!” The driver tried to catch himself before the curse word slipped out. “I mean, I can't afford that officer.” The driver expected maybe a little greasing of the palms might be coming up.

“The second way, which you might prefer, I write you a ticket for an unsafe vehicle, you go to Midas or wherever you choose, get the muffler replaced sometime in the next week, then show up at your leisure to the county clerk. Show them the receipt for the auto work and the ticket, and the ticket gets nullified.

“So it's still going to cost me,” the red haired man said bitterly.

“Think of it this way, a Camaro is a nice little sports car and the engine needs to breath. You get a new muffler put on, the engine runs more efficiently and you save the money at the pumps.”

“I guess you're right,” the man conceded.

“Glad you see it my way. Can I see your license and registration, sir?”

“Sure. You know what? You're alright for a cop.”

Chase took the license and registration, and walked back to the cruiser to fill out the citation. He was unsure if the “you're alright for a cop” comment was a compliment to him or a put down to his peers. Either way, he wasn't out to make life hard for people, but he didn't like hearing anything that resembled gunfire outside of the shooting range. He punched the license information and VIN number into his on-board computer. Everything came back clean. He filled out the ticket as promptly as he could. He didn't like to keep people waiting. Some officers took their time, but that just added frustration to an already tense situation.

Chase went back to the driver. “Here you go, Mr. Bergeron. Like I said, show the county clerk the receipt for the auto work and the ticket and they'll nullify it.”

“You can call me Curtis. Thank you, sir. I think I'll go right now when it isn't very busy.”

“Good call. Have a good day.”

Chase walked back to the squad car and watched as the Camaro pulled away. It wasn't a life altering event, but Chase hoped that maybe he’d accomplished something with the exchange. If anything, perhaps it would give the guy a more positive image of other police officers.

Chase picked up the microphone, informed Rebecca to contact the county clerk and let them know to expect the gentleman. He preferred the way the stop turned out, it meant that he wouldn't have to spend time in court. Court wasn't something unpleasant, but Chase preferred to be on the beat.

Speaking of the beat, Chase figured he should ride around the neighborhood a few times. His half hour would've expired fifteen minutes prior if not for giving the ticket. It was always a plus to keep a visual presence in this area.

“You know, girl,” Chase spoke to Neesa, something he only did in private. “I remember when I was a little kid, we would always play cops and robbers. I always wanted to be the cop, no matter what, just like my dad. It was fun chasing the bad guys, finding out where all the robbers were hiding. I even used my bike back then, making a siren with my mouth, ride around the park. Kids would be hiding behind the swings, or under the slides, or up in a tree. It was a lot of fun. But, boy, if I had you back then, I bet it wouldn't have been a contest. You would've been fun to have back then. Not that I don't love having you now. I mean, back then if I didn't catch someone, maybe I'd get razzed a little. Now the stakes are much higher, if I make a mistake now, who knows, I could really get hurt.”

Chase saw the large dog lounging on the back seat, sleeping peacefully, not paying much attention to her partner's reminiscence.

“It must be nice to sleep and work at the same time.” Chase laughed to himself. “Sometimes I'd like to swap places. Just get called into action when I'm needed. Don't let me disturb your beauty sleep, okay, buddy?”

Chase smiled to himself as he scouted the neighborhood. He thought being a K-9 cop was one of the best jobs in the world. He had been offered a choice between that or working SWAT. After long talks with Melissa and with his mother, he decided that the best thing for his family's piece of mind was if he worked with the dogs. Chase knew what it was like to wait up late nights with his mother when his dad was tardy getting home. He also remembered the night they got the call; he knew his mother couldn't survive getting the same call about her son.

At first, Chase wasn't too enthusiastic about taking the “lesser” position. But, he had a positive attitude when he went into training, and he knew that when he was done, he would have a badge. After the second day of training and working with his new partner, Chase was hooked and now wouldn't trade his job for any other. His wife and his mother were happy with his decision, and so was he.

Chase drove around his zone twice. He also stopped at a convenience store for a cappuccino and had time to give Neesa a few treats midway through his patrol. He went back to the cemetery, and started daydreaming about performing some heroic feat. Rescuing a baby from a fire, pulling a big, burly man from an overturned car that was about to explode, Chasing down an armed robber and exchanging gunfire, all the things they showed cops doing in the movies; in reality, he hoped none of those fantasies would come true, but in his mind, he enjoyed thinking through the scenarios.

Chase drove around his beat one last time before heading back to the station. It was customary for rookies to work half a shift, take a lunch mid-shift, then get a new assignment. Today was a quiet day, but those were few and far between. Usually Chase would answer one call and then fifteen minutes after he was done, he was heading to another. But this was a Monday, and like most Monday's, people were too busy recovering from the weekend to be breaking the law.

Jeremy's stomach rumbled again, this time more audibly. It had been almost two hours since his father left to get them some supper. Finally the sound of the backfiring muffler could be heard down the road. A few moments later, Curtis pushed the door open and came in holding a pizza in one hand and a small brown paper bag in the other.

“Where were you?” Sheila was happier to see the bag than to see the pizza.

“Out scoring dinner.” Curtis smiled. “And some desert.” He shook the bag.

“But how?” Sheila knew how, her husband's activities were no longer a mystery, but she didn't know all the particulars.

“You know that alley down the block from Sid's?”

“Yeah. You mean someone was stupid enough to walk that way.” Sheila laughed.

“Yep. A big fat guy too. God, I love those fat ones.” Curtis grinned. “They don't even try to run.”

“So what did you score?”

“A C-note and the pizza.”

“Can I get some of the green.”

“It's in the bag, baby.” Curtis shook the paper bag, indicating that all the money he stole went towards drugs. “The rest got to go to fixing the car before that dumb cop makes me pay that ticket.”

“You know, we do need stuff at home,” Sheila said for the sake of saying the words, preferring the drugs.

“Relax, the food stamps and the checks should be here tomorrow. Besides, I thought the bitch down the block had us covered.”

“She only feeds the mistake when she feels like it.”

“Shit, she only gives you what, twenty-five cents on the dollar for all the WIC and food stamps. What's she do with all of that?”

“Who knows. She probably sells it off to someone else for half their value.”

“Maybe you should find out who and cut out the middle man.” Curtis threw the pizza onto the kitchen table.

Jeremy eyed the meal in earnest.

“Has he caused you any trouble? Any accidents?” Curtis asked his wife while staring the boy down.

“No. He just sat on the floor like the lump of shit that he is, and watched TV.”

“He lucked out then,” Curtis said in Jeremy's direction.

“Maybe if you spent some time with him, it wouldn't misbehave all the time.”

“Good idea. Tomorrow, while you're cashing checks, we'll have a father and son day, like they do on Leave it to Beaver.”

“Good! I could go a day without seeing the mistake,” Sheila told him.

“I bet you're hungry. Aren't you?” Curtis addressed his son.

Jeremy nodded as he continued to eye the box of pizza.

Finally, Curtis lifted the lid of the box, tore off a piece of crust, and handed it to the half-starved child.

Jeremy grabbed the crust, afraid that it might be snatched away before he even had a taste. The child walked off to the corner with his prize, keeping the box of pizza between him and his parents. He took a huge bite out of the thick crust and worked his perfectly white teeth into it. Once the lump of cooked dough was swallowed, the child knew the pizza would end his hunger. He ate the rest of the crust methodically and when he thought his parents weren't looking, Jeremy impulsively made an attempt to grab a full slice of pizza.

“Would you look at this shit?” Curtis said in amusement as he saw the full slice in his son's hand. “He's a hungry little bastard ain't he.”

“That's all he does all day, nothing but eat. Why do you think there's never any food at home?”

On hearing that, Curtis snatched the pizza out of his son's hand. “Don't be such a fucking pig, little children don't need to eat so much.”

Jeremy nodded, even though his stomach told him otherwise.

“Get to bed,” Curtis demanded.

“Nigh', Nigh',” Jeremy said dejectedly as he trotted off to bed.

“Why can't he speak normally?” Curtis asked his wife. “God, that's so annoying.”

“Who knows? He's probably retarded or something.”

“If so, then it's your fault.”

“How the hell is that thing my fault, it was your sperm.”

Curtis stood up and slapped his wife across the face. “And it was your womb. Do you understand that bitch? Remember, you're the one who said she was on the pill.”

“Whatever.” Sheila rubbed her cheek.

“Anyway, maybe he is retarded, that would mean more money from the government, you know?” Curtis was already scheming on how to get ahead in the situation.

“I suppose. Not that I care if he is or if he isn't. Another year and he'll be in school and I can let them deal with him.” Sheila pushed her husband gently into the kitchen chair, causing him to sit and then she sat on his lap. “Let's see what's in the bag.”

“You know what you need to do first.” Curtis smiled mischievously at his wife.

Sheila knew what that meant. It meant that she had to subject herself to whatever desires Curtis had in mind. As usual, she started on her knees.

Jeremy lay still on his mat. He could hear his parents grunting and groaning and slapping and yelling through the thin walls. He pulled the towel over his head and squeezed his small, make-believe pet for all he dared. “No worry, Pipsy, it be over soon,” he whispered.

Weakened by the lack of food and lulled by the complete boredom of his room, Jeremy drifted off to sleep. Once again, the child could escape to a place where a tear was never shed, to a place where toys and games stretched as far as the eye could see. A place where his plate was always full and seconds came without asking. Sleep was the toddler’s only doorway to what he perceived as Heaven. The way he had it figured, it would be soon that he'd be there.

Chase pulled the same duty for the second day and had the sneaking suspicion he might get it for the entire week. As he was driving towards the cemetery hiding spot, Chase saw the Camaro he stopped the day before pull out of a small subdivision. The officer tipped his hat to the driver and noticed the sports car was still backfiring. The driver gave Chase a look that said, “I know, I'm going to take care of it as soon as I can, please don't pull me over.”

Chase decided to pull into the subdivision to see if anything was going on. The officer marveled that whenever he pulled someone over, he would run into the same vehicle within twenty-four hours. He figured it was because he made a mental note of the car and assumed he saw every local car and truck at least a dozen times.

The officer pulled around the bend and saw two 'gentlemen' exchanging money for a small baggy. Chase flipped the switches for the lights and sirens without even thinking. The person who had the baggy made a mad dash for the rear of the nearest house, heading towards the woods behind the subdivision. The money taker hopped into a mid-seventies Corvette that was left running on the side of the road.

“Four-fourteen to base,” Chase said hastily into the mike. “We have a possible drug deal at Summit and Crestview. One man; five foot ten, long blond hair, 160 pounds, wearing a black T-shirt and cut-off blue jeans headed towards the woods. I'm in pursuit of the second suspect, in a green and white two tone '70's model Corvette. License plate reads 'XLR8R.' Requesting backup.”

“That's a 10-4, Chase. One individual in the woods back of Crestview; male, 5'10,160, blond, black tee, blue cutoffs. Second suspect being pursued in a green and white Corvette.”

“That’s a 10-4.” Chase left his mike open so he could call out where he was going without having to take either hand off the steering wheel.

Chase took the cruiser around a corner quickly as the 'Vette exited the subdivision and drove on a main road. Though the Corvette was built for speed, without a professionally trained driver, it wasn't as quick and agile as the police cruiser. Neesa was standing on the rear seat watching, her nub tail shaking as if the animal thought this were part of a game.

A mile down the road, the Corvette attempted a hairpin turn into another subdivision, but didn't have that kind of maneuverability; especially when Chase tapped on the rear of the pursued vehicle with his reinforced bumper. The 'Vette spun around once and went down a small drainage ditch. It came to a halt, hopelessly stuck.

“Base, he wiped out at the Zips on Park and Greenwood. Going to apprehend.” Chase saw the driver reach down to the floorboard .

The officer snatched his shotgun from the holder, and then opened the door to use it for a shield.

“Come on out,” Chase shouted towards the driver. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

The driver, a tall black man with startlingly gold teeth got out of the disabled Corvette. He was wearing a yellow shirt and black jeans. The man's hands were at his side and Chase couldn't make out if the subject had anything in them as he climbed out of the ditch.

“Put your hands up!” Chase crouched behind the cruisers door and pointed the shotgun at the suspect, but the perpetrator still walked towards him. Chase moved his hand off the barrel of the shotgun and hit the door release button on his key fob. The officer heard the door pop, but Neesa wouldn't leave the cruiser until commanded.

“Stay right where you are, and put your hands up.” Chase shouted.

“Look man, I want to explain.” The perpetrator continued towards the cruiser. Chase could make out a small revolver the man was trying to conceal by keeping it close to his dark jeans. The rookie officer had never been in a situation where he had to shoot a man and didn't want this day to change that. “Neesa, disarm,” Chase said in a guttural whisper. Chase ordered the dog in German, using the phrasing he learned during training.

Neesa jumped out of the car on the passenger side and dashed at the criminal. The guy was so intent on watching Chase shielded behind the door that he didn't notice the dog until she popped out from the front side of the cruiser and was on him. Neesa leaped and seized the wrist of the hand that held the gun.

A shot fired harmlessly into the ground, grazing the guy in the shin. The man dropped the gun in surrender, but Neesa didn't heed his pleas as she wrestled him to the ground. The dog would only respond to Chase's commands. At that moment the officer's backup arrived and looked on.

“Neesa, heel!” Chase said in German after kicking the gun a safe distance away. He wanted to kick the perpetrator as well, but restrained himself. Neesa released her grip on the man's wrist and stood next to her master, keeping her eyes on the criminal who was sprawled out on the ground.

“Good girl,” Chase praised his partner. The officer patted the man down, found a vicious looking knife in the thug's back pocket, but no drugs or money were found. “As for you,” Chase said as he cuffed the man. “I can't say the same. You do, however, have the right to remain silent.” Chase went on to read the suspect the rest of his rights.

“Hey Bill,” Chase called to his backup, a balding officer who had a bit of a gut on him.

“What's up rook?” Bill had gotten out of his cruiser and kept his hand poised to grab his weapon, but hadn't interfered with Chase's. He knew better than to distract a fellow officer while they were dealing with a criminal.

“I need you to take this gentleman in for me.” Being a K-9 cop, Chase didn't have room transport people.

“Just as long as you do the paperwork,” Bill told the young officer.

“Don't I know it.” Chase smiled as Bill picked the guy up off the ground and put him in the back of his cruiser roughly.

Chase grabbed Neesa's thick red leather collar and brought her to the Corvette. Though it was in a ditch, it was accessible.

“Neesa, search!” Chase ordered in German.

Bill watched the search. “You talk that dog-German pretty good, Rook.” Nearly all police dogs were trained in German, and Chase really only spoke dog German. The only words of the language he knew were Neesa's commands.

The Rottweiler sniffed at the suspect's car. Neesa didn't have the specialized training of a big city drug dog, but she located a secret compartment beneath the center console and started clawing at it until her master pulled her away. It was a clever setup, Chase thought. It would be a good place to hide a nitrous system instead of the drugs; an assortment of marijuana, powder cocaine, and crack. Chase shook his head and wondered why people chose to ruin themselves with such garbage.

Chase placed everything in evidence bags and marked them properly while Bill looked on. While a criminal was in custody, Chase didn't mind making them wait while he finished his job. He figured they better get used to waiting, a prison sentence was coming.

“Hey, Rook!” Bill called to Chase.

“Yeah?”

“You forgot to radio for a wrecker.”

“No I didn't,” Chase protested. “I haven't gotten to that point yet.”

“Don't sweat it, I called for a county wrecker to impound this beast. I was afraid you might take it home with you. I know how much you like classics, and you know about missing evidence,” Bill teased.

“I was thinking about hiding this one in my desk drawer, but I have a 'Vette at home. One of a better vintage.”

“Funny! You did good, rook. Good thing that dog knows how to use you.”

“If she knew how to drive, I'd be out of a job.” Chase patted Neesa's head.

“Don't linger too long, you got to get back to catching them.” Bill motioned to the guy in the back seat. “Once they're in custody, you find yourself another.”

“Will do.”

Bill told Chase he would drive off once the wrecker got there. Chase said a friendly Okay and got into his cruiser after getting Neesa in the back.

“Don't tell Melissa there was a gun involved. Okay?” Chase said.

“Four-fourteen to base,” Chase spoke into the mike.

“Go ahead, hon,” Rebecca called back.

“Everything is wrapped up here.” Chase returned the shotgun to the rack.

“Good going. Bill told me it's his collar.” Even though there wasn't a quota system, the officers had a friendly competition between themselves as to who was the most productive that week or month.

“How did he come to that conclusion?”

“He said they aren't yours until you bring them in and lock 'em behind bars.”

Chase shook his head. “I guess I could strap 'em to my hood.”

“Don't let him get to you, he's only teasing. We all know who got the collar.”

“Yeah, Neesa.” Chase laughed into the mike.

“I got good news for you,” Rebecca said as an aside. “They got the other guy. The drugs were still on him, so it's solid.”

“Good deal. Do I have to do the paperwork on both?”

“No. And you know they'll try to pull that on you. You only have to do the paperwork on what you saw and who you put the cuffs on.”

“10-4 base. I'm coming home.”

“See you when you get in.”

“Four-fourteen, out.”

Chase drove back to the precinct, got a “good job” from the sarge, and sat at a shared desk to fill out the paperwork. The paperwork was the part of the job that most officers hated. It wasn't Chase's favorite aspect of his duty either, but he realized it was necessary. It took him a half hour to key everything in properly. He was glad the system was computerized; his typing wasn't up to par, and if he had to restart every time he made a mistake, he would never leave his desk. Even though he filed the paperwork properly, he checked with Rebecca to make sure it was done right. He knew the system, but it was prudent to double-check. Besides, it made a friend feel useful and appreciated.

After making the suggested changes, Chase walked to his C.O.'s office as instructed. “Hey Sarge, I'm done with my paperwork.”

“Good.” The sarge motioned Chase to the empty chair in front of the desk. “Did you get scared?”

Chase sat down. “I was pretty scared.” Chase admitted, knowing there was a time for bravado and a time to lay it on line.

“Good. The best advice I can give you is to stay scared, always. It's when you get comfortable around things, when you get a false sense of security, that's when you make mistakes and wind up getting hurt.”

“I understand.”

“I'm sure you do. I read your file, I know about your father, and you know this more than any other rookie we've got here. But I give the same speech to all of you after your first incident involving a gun.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Good.” The sarge cracked a rare smile. “Time for you to get back to work.”

“Am I going to North Side again?”

“No. You'll be back tomorrow morning. I think you proved you can be productive.” The sarge winked.

“Thank you.” Chase grinned like a schoolboy.

“Don't let it go to your head. After you grab lunch, I'm sending you to Southside Elementary. Mrs. Hoover's first grade class is set to receive a visitor. It should be right up your alley. You know the routine; don't take candy from strangers, how and when to use 911, and the sort of stuff they need to know at that age. Plus, the kids will get a kick out of your dog. You can show them the tricks you keep hidden from us.”

Chase blushed, it was embarrassing that his superiors knew of the fun things he had Neesa do just because the tricks were cool, even if they didn't serve any real purpose. “Yes, sir.”

“After that, your shift is done for the day, a good, productive eight hours.” The sarge praised. “Good and productive for a rook, that is.”

“Thank you,” Chase said with a hint of sarcasm.

Chase went back to his squad car after getting Neesa from the outdoor pen. He pulled his lunch pail from beneath the passenger seat, pulled some cut-up chicken for Neesa and ate the ham sandwich Melissa made for him. Chase thought it was nice to have someone make his lunches, just like when he was little. Melissa always put his lunch pail in the squad car for him every day when she went out for her morning run. She didn't want to be one of those nagging wives who yelled out, “don't forget your lunch!”

Despite the aluminum foil covering the window, the morning sun heated the room warmer than normal and the small child began to stir. Still in only his shirt, Jeremy made his way into the kitchen.

“'Bout time you woke up, you little dirt-bag,” Sheila said as she stumbled across the kitchen.

Jeremy looked up at her, afraid to speak, but also afraid to simply walk away. He knew not to say a word when his mother acted this way.

“You know what your problem is?” Her slurred speech was barely recognizable. “Answer me!”

Jeremy shook his head no and hoped the response wouldn't result in any physical violence.

“You're a mistake, a big, huge mistake. That's what your problem is. Your whole life shouldn't have ever even happened.” Sheila tripped over her words in the drug induced mumble she usually spoke during morning afters, but anger made her words clearer as she continued. “You ruined our lives, you little shit, and you won't never amount to nothing. No one even likes you, and who could possibly love you? You little bastard!”

Jeremy kept his focus on his mother, fighting back the tears. Though his speech was a bit underdeveloped, he could understand every word. “Momma love?” he asked as tears filled his eyes.

“Who could love you? Don't you understand?” Sheila took Jeremy by the shoulders and shook him violently. “No one could,” she answered for him. “You're a mistake!”

Jeremy zoned out for a second as he processed the words coming from the one person in the world who should love him unconditionally. He yearned for that love and his secret hope was that he could somehow be good enough to earn that kind of love. Jeremy started to sniffle as a tear rolled down his cheek.

“Don't start that fucking crying or you can be damned sure I'll give you something to cry about,” Sheila yelled at him.

Jeremy choked back the tears and wiped his nose with his forearm.

Sheila slumped down on the kitchen chair and placed her head in her hands. “I bet you're hungry,” she said with hatred in her voice. “Your dad got some cereal last night. Want breakfast?”

Jeremy rubbed his eyes and nodded yes.

Sheila staggered to the cabinet where the dishes and bowls were haphazardly stored, mumbling that if she didn't feed him, Jeremy would start whining. As she reached up to grab a bowl, Sheila's footing slipped. As she began falling backwards, she pulled the bottom shelf right out of the cabinet, causing all the dishes and bowls to fall and break with a loud crash all around her.

“See what you did?” Sheila yelled, miraculously standing unscathed in the wreckage. “You're just one huge accident. For that, no breakfast. Go to your room!”

Jeremy ran to his room, hoping he wouldn't get hit as well for the dishes breaking. He pushed his face into the balled, battered towel as he dove on the mat and cried as quietly as he could. He held onto his make-believe dog and tried to forget the hateful words that his mother had spouted. Even at a young age, hurtful words are hard to let go of.

“It's okay, Pipsy,” Jeremy spoke silently to his pet. “She really loves us. She got to, She's a momma.”

Jeremy stayed in his room for the rest of the morning, playing with his dog and trying to teach it to do tricks. So far, the plastic animal learned to sit, stay, roll over and play dead. It still had trouble with fetch and 'come here, boy.'

“Yes!” Jeremy heard his mother yell as if she hit the lottery. That always happened when she saw the welfare checks came in the mail. Jeremy didn't understand why the dark yellow envelopes made his mother so happy, but knew that since they were there, he could show his face in front of her again.

The checks sat on the kitchen table while Sheila took the booklets of food-stamps down the block to exchange for real money. This was a monthly ritual for her, exchanging food-stamps for what would boil down to as drug money. Part of the arrangement was that when the need arose, Jeremy would receive a meal. The need only came once a week, maybe twice if Jeremy was lucky and the woman made extra. It was a deal where only the child lost out. Most of the food stamps Mrs. Becky bought were used to feed the children she babysat. Mrs. Becky charged the full cost of the meals to her patrons and buying food-stamps at twenty five cents on the dollar increased her profit margin.

Jeremy sat on the sofa, petting his pretend dog as he watched the early afternoon cartoons. He heard the muffler backfire in the driveway and his head jerked towards the door in fear. The little child scurried to put his pet inside his bedroom before his dad had a chance to make it to the door. Jeremy hid the Gatorade bottle behind a stack of large black trash bags, hidden away from where his father could find the child's beloved toy. He ran back to the living room and plopped down on the floor before his father even had a chance to turn the doorknob.

“There you go. Are you clean?” Curtis asked in a sharp, sarcastic tone.

Jeremy nodded; he was clean, especially where his father was referring to. In fact, during the day, any time the child felt the need to relieve himself, he fought back the sensation. He was afraid to make a mess, but also equally afraid to bother his mother for the assistance four year olds required in the bathroom.

“Good. Where's mommy?”

“She out,” Jeremy informed.

“Where?” Curtis asked with marked interest. It was unlike Sheila to leave the house without his permission.

“Out with book,” Jeremy replied, keeping a safe distance from his father.

Curtis peered into the kitchen and saw the dark yellow envelopes sitting on the blue folding table. He put the pieces together and figured his wife was already busy doing some exchanging. He sat down and turned the television to a baseball game.

“When your mom goes to cash the checks, this is what we'll do,” Curtis said without much enthusiasm. He didn't like spending time with the boy, but felt obligated to do fatherly things occasionally, in the same way he was obligated to shack up with Sheila when they discovered she was pregnant.

Jeremy smiled impassively and watched the television. He didn't understand all the rules of the games and knew even less about the players. He knew that at times his dad liked watching the game very much, especially when his team won, or when the Padres, which Curtis held a unique hatred for, lost. A part of Jeremy hoped that if they did this together, maybe he wouldn't get hit as often.

After fifteen minutes passed by, Sheila finally arrived back home.

“It took you long enough,” Curtis said in a biting tone.

“I had to haggle.” Sheila gave her husband a dirty look; she didn't like having to give an account for her every move.

“How much did you get?” Curtis asked civilly, not wanting to get into fight before his wife handed him the money.

“Fifty-five bucks.” Sheila told Curtis the correct amount because he would always check and make sure she wasn't holding out.

“How the hell?” Curtis yelled. “That's almost two hundred dollars in stamps and that bitch is only giving you fifty-five dollars in cash. She's a much bigger crook than I'll ever be.”

“Look it's either fifty-five bucks or I can go buy milk, and bread, and shit.”

“I'm telling you, there's got to be a better way.”

“I'll go cash the checks, then we'll have more cash. I'll give the landlord four hundred for the rent and then we can party this weekend.”

“That's what I like to hear.” Curtis smiled and patted his wife on the ass. “But why can't I cash the damn things?”

“'Cause your name ain't on them.”

“And why the hell not? He's half mine, you know.”

“When I see a ring on my finger and it's official, then maybe your name can go on the checks,” Sheila said with heat. “But no, we just tell people we're married because you can't seem to make it to the Justice of the Peace or to a church or something.” Sheila felt she had the upper hand in this argument and Curtis couldn't get mad because it was all true.

“Go and cash the checks, bitch,” Curtis snapped. “And make sure you get your ass right back here. I don't want to be with him all day.”

“Sure. I'd hate to inconvenience you like I have to be all the time.”

Curtis sprang to his feet, and just as fast as he stood up, he knocked Sheila down with a blow across the face. “That's enough. You mind how you talk to me, bitch! Now get the fuck going,” he said while standing over her, almost daring her to rise so he could strike her again.

Sheila grabbed the checks off the table and cursed Curtis under her breath as she walked out the door.

“Hey, sport.” Curtis decided to get his fatherly duty out of the way early. “Let's go outside and play some catch.”

“'Kay,” Jeremy said hesitantly.

“You can't go outside naked like that, moron; people would think something was wrong with me.

Curtis followed Jeremy to the child's bedroom. The father rummaged through some garbage bags that served as the child's dresser, luckily never discovering Jeremy's 'pet,' and found a pair of green pants. The pants were ones given to Jeremy when he was two, but Curtis wasn't aware of the fact; nor did he care.

The child stepped into the pair of pants as his father helped him get dressed. Curtis pulled and tugged on the garment until it was finally around the child's waist. It was no small feat to get them to close either, but with Jeremy blowing his breath out and sucking in his stomach as best he could, Curtis was able to muster enough strength to get the button fastened. With that done, Curtis zipped the ill-fitting pants, catching Jeremy's boyhood in the process. Jeremy let out a whimper because his privates remained stuck in the teeth of the zipper.

Curtis pulled back his hand like he was about to strike the child. “Don't you dare start that shit. If you weren't such a pig and eating all the time, maybe your pants would fit. Now, let's go.”

The father and son went into the small, dirt filled, partially fenced in back yard. Curtis roughly placed the glove on the child's right hand, even though the child threw right handed, and took a few steps away from him. Curtis softly tossed the regulation sized hardball to Jeremy. Though the small boy made an attempt at catching it, he didn't have the coordination.

“Better go run after the ball, idiot,” Curtis demanded.

Jeremy ran after the ball and had to crawl under a small, leafless bush to retrieve it.

“Now throw it back,” Curtis yelled.

Jeremy tried to throw the ball just like the big boys on television, but his footwork was reversed and his coordination was worse at throwing then it was at catching, especially since he was forced to use his left hand when he wasn't left handed. The ball traveled only a few inches in the air, but it finally did trickle back to his father.

“Let's try this again.” Curtis once again tossed the ball underhanded to Jeremy, this time trying to aim for the glove. Once more, the child lacked the coordination to make the catch.

“Go on, Retardo,” Curtis yelled. “Go run after the ball.”

This time Jeremy didn't let the ball get that far behind him and he quickly retrieved it. The child attempted to throw the ball back to his father once more, but the attempt was just as feeble as his last.

“God! You're so hopeless,” Curtis said as he picked up the ball. Want to see how to really throw a ball?”

Jeremy nodded yes.

“Good.” Curtis reared back, like the pitcher he used to be back in high school. The pitcher he used to be before he graduated and got drafted by the San Diego Padres. Before he got called up to double A ball, before his drinking, drug use, and piss poor attitude caused the coaching staff to give up on him after numerous attempts to salvage the young phenom's life.

Curtis imagined he was still in that untouchable form and threw the ball as hard as he could. With a loud thud of leather striking skin, the baseball hit the center of Jeremy's stomach. The child went down in a heap, almost losing consciousness from the searing pain. He cried and tried to regain his bearings.

“What are you crying for, you big wuss? Be a man and walk it off. God, you're so worthless.” Curtis yelled, then took off his glove and threw it at the head of the slumped over child.

All the pain caused Jeremy to forget his father's archaic rules about crying and he cried even more, not only in pain, but also in fear.

“I said stop crying,” Curtis continued. “Be a man or I'll give you something to really cry about. There's no crying in baseball.” Curtis thought he was clever the way he quoted Tom Hanks from a movie he recently watched on cable. That didn't make Jeremy stop crying. The child could feel the welt forming on his stomach; add to that the pain from the tight pants and his privates and he couldn't find a way to quit crying, even though he knew that more pain would follow.

“I warned you,” Curtis said as he towered over the still prone child. The six-foot three red headed man pulled back his leg and in a quick motion he kicked the child in the stomach with his steel toed boots.

The air fully escaped Jeremy's lungs and the child didn't have any breath in him to cry with.

“See. Much better,” Curtis said proudly. “I'll make a man out of you yet.” He turned and walked back into the house.

Jeremy lay on the ground for a few moments, the pain burning in his chest from the lack of oxygen. Eventually the air began to re-gather inside his tiny lungs and, before long, he was able to stand up. Carefully, he crept back inside the house, hoping he could make it to his room and not be seen by his father.

Jeremy almost made it around the last corner, but unfortunately, his father noticed him and called the child over. “Don't worry,” Curtis told his son in an imitation of kindness, “you'll toughen up sooner or later and we won't have to go through all of that. I'm doing it for your own good. Trust me, there are people out there who are a hell of a lot worse than me. When I was a kid, I didn't have a father around to teach me the important stuff and I had to find out the hard way. You should be glad to have someone like me around.”

“Yes, Dada.”

“Now, sit down, shut up, and let's watch the rest of the game.”

“Yes, Dada,” Jeremy said again, this time in a whisper. Those were the only two words he knew he could say that wouldn't get him hurt. He sat on the floor, leaning against the rickety old sofa. Whenever his father cheered, Jeremy would clap and cheer along with him. The four year old didn't understand what he was applauding for, but he hoped that he was sharing a moment with his father that didn't involve pain.

When the game was over, Jeremy sensed it would be a good time to be relieved from the pain of the ill-fitting pants. He had thought for the past two innings of a way to get out of them.

“Dada, potty.” Jeremy said to inform Curtis that he needed to use the bathroom.

“You don't need to tell me, just go, moron.”

“Open pants, Dada.”

“Jesus! Can't you do anything for yourself? I swear you must be the stupidest bastard ever placed on this Earth!” Curtis leaned down and unfastened the button on the pants. Jeremy was relieved that he could breathe a little easier, even though there was a deep red imprint around his midsection that showed signs of chafing. As soon as he could, he ran off to the bathroom, leaving the door wide open, as is custom with most little children.

Jeremy unzipped the pants on his own with care. It hurt as he released his privates from the teeth of the zipper, paying little attention to the splotch of blood on the tip of his penis. Instead of focusing on the wound, which he had no control over, Jeremy climbed onto the bowl, aimed downward, and painfully stated to go.

A split second after the child had started relieving himself, Curtis made his way into the bathroom. The father heard the familiar sound that a male makes while relieving himself, but the position was not one that the grown man was used to seeing.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Curtis asked the boy.

“Me make,” the child informed innocently.

Curtis cuffed the child across the back of the head. “Piss like a man, for God's sake.” Curtis tore the child from the bowl and turned him to the proper stance. “What do you think you are, some sort of prissy little girl. You're a boy, you stand up when you take a piss. I catch you sitting down like that again, I swear, I'll cut it off and turn you into a girl.”

By that time, the child already finished with his duty, and didn't have anything left in him to demonstrate that he had gotten the idea. Truth be known though, Jeremy couldn't 'piss like a man,' he lacked the height to achieve such a thing.

Luckily, for Jeremy, his father didn't have the forethought to put the child back in his previous state of dress. This was a huge relief to the child, who could now recover from the ordeal. If he could get away with wearing his long T-shirt and a pair of underwear, perhaps the deep red mark around his waist would vanish soon and so would the pain. For most children, pain is an abstract concept felt only once in a rare while, but, for Jeremy, it approached the norm.

Jeremy went back to his room he had been away from his toy dog for a good portion of the day. “Pipsy,” Jeremy called out playfully after he shut the door to his bedroom, making sure his voice was nowhere near loud enough for his father to hear. “Where are you, Pipsy?”

“There you is, hiding.” Jeremy retrieved the Gatorade bottle from his hiding spot behind the garbage bags and under the towel that served as the child's blanket. Jeremy removed the towel with the speed and grace of a master magician leaving plates and glasses undisturbed as he pulled a table cloth from beneath them.

“It's okay, Pipsy. Je'my here for you. Sorry I be gone for so long.”

Jeremy playfully rubbed the dog's ears and belly. “You're such a good doggy,” Jeremy praised the dog, praise that he hoped he would one day hear from his parents; if only he could figure out how to be worthy enough.

“Oh my! It's late, you must be hungry. Je'my sorry he forget feed. No be mad, 'kay?”

Jeremy unscrewed the lid and this time placed three Lego bricks inside to feed his pet.

“See, I give extra. Piggy doggy ate it all up.”

Jeremy returned to trying to teach his little dog tricks. He often wished at night that the bottle would become a real dog; a real big dog that he could ride on and that would protect him whenever people meant to do him harm. He silently prayed that wish every night since he received the gift, but, to date, the wish had gone unfulfilled.

After his meal, Chase drove to Southside Elementary School, a wide, open campus that would've passed for a high school except it had too many swings and two jungle gyms. This was the first time the officer pulled school duty, and he was a little nervous as he stared across a sea of munchkin faces. He didn't want his presentation to be a disaster, or to lose control of the class. Chase was never strict when it came to enforcing discipline to young children. His friend Skeeter's little boy was the only opportunity to practice and that child did whatever he wanted in Chase’s presence.

His presentation to this group of first graders went better than he thought it would. The kids were respectful and paid close attention to his speech on keeping away from people they didn't know, no matter what they were promising. Chase grew more comfortable as he told them when it was okay to call 911 and when it wasn't. He even fielded questions on the matter so he could clear up some gray areas in the minds of the children.

Chase found himself consistently looking at the young faces, at the purity and innocence displayed in them. He wondered if any of them were being harmed. He wondered if he'd ever have to intervene in their lives under different circumstances, a more dire situation than a classroom lecture. The thought saddened him, but he knew it was the children for whom he performed his job the most, he couldn't fathom letting them down.

After the lecture, Chase showed the children some of the cool things Neesa could do. Neesa found hidden objects, stood perched on chairs, and did various tricks. Afterward, the kids came up two at a time to pet the large dog.

Neesa was in dog heaven. She was an animal who loved the attention of children. Some dogs, even trained police dogs, were uncomfortable around kids, but not Neesa. She was right at home.

Chase stayed until the final bell, and watched the kids as they got on buses or into family cars. He thought how one day, when he was more financially secure and settled down, he would enjoy a Chase junior running around. Chase figured he would make a great father, and so did many of the people who knew him.

After the school was clear, Chase radioed in to sign out for his shift. Rebecca told him to have a good night and maybe he could surprise his wife with flowers. “New wives love being surprised every now and then,” were her exact words.

Chase took the divorcee's advice, bought a bouquet of daisies and went home. He surprised Melissa with the flowers while she was tending her backyard garden. He was rewarded for his act of romance with a hug and a passionate kiss, and they made love in the freshly tilled soil.

Through the thin walls, Jeremy could hear his mother returning from taking care of the checks. He hoped her arms would be filled with groceries, and not little pills and powder. Jeremy opened his bedroom door and crawled to the corner of the short hallway so he could get a better look. His mother didn't have any bags with her, only a joint hanging out of her mouth.

“What do you mean, you couldn't pick up dinner?” Curtis yelled.

“Sorry. I didn't know what you wanted,” Sheila replied weakly.

“You should have guessed.” Curtis pushed Sheila down. “I'm fucking hungry.”

“Fuck You!” Sheila snapped. “Maybe you don't get to eat tonight. What money do you think you're going to use?”

“You think you're funny, bitch, don't you?” Curtis climbed on top of his wife, and started slapping her on the head and face. Sheila covered her face with her arms and deflected the blows as best she could. When Curtis felt his wife had enough, he gave her one last hard blow for good measure and stopped. He grabbed Sheila's purse from the floor and removed the money.

“Don't worry, bitch,” Curtis mocked. “I know you keep some hidden for yourself. So I guess I won't have to worry about you going without. Besides, I'll bring you back some Chinese food or something.”

With that, Curtis smiled. It was not a genuine I'm-happy-to-know -you smile, but one that said what he was thinking. It was an I-got-you smile. He then left.

Jeremy walked into the living room. His mother was slumped on the couch, still mumbling obscenities at the man she lived with as she returned the joint to her lips. Jeremy thought he should console her. It was a natural desire to ease his mother's pain. Like all children, no matter how harshly they're treated, Jeremy wanted to bring others joy.

“Hi, Momma,” Jeremy said in a tiny voice as he inched towards his mother.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Sheila barked back.

“Be happy, Momma.” Jeremy placed his small hands on hers, hoping to convey his desire.

“Fuck you!” Sheila pulled her hand away. “If you didn't come into my life, I wouldn't be so miserable all the time.”

“Sorry, Momma.” Jeremy frowned, not knowing what he was apologizing for, perhaps he was apologizing for his own existence. All he knew was that when people on television said they were sorry, everyone got happy around them, giving hugs and saying everything will be okay.

“I'll show you sorry.” Sheila slapped the child across the face with the back of her hand. “I bet you're sorry now. You make me sick, get the fuck out of my face.”

Jeremy stood motionless as the tears streamed down his face.

“So you want to cry? I'll give you something to cry about.” Sheila put her joint's lit end onto her child's bare thigh.

“Oww!” Jeremy howled and tried to pull away, but his mother had hold of his hip with her free arm as she made sure the joint was snuffed out. “I bet you're sorry now,” she said as she released the child.

Jeremy ran off to his room. Even after such treatment, he didn't slam the bedroom door, or say a word in protest. Jeremy didn't want to make the situation worse by giving his mother another reason to inflict pain.

Sheila laughed to herself while watching the child run away as fast as his little legs could carry him. “That's what you get for ruining our life,” she yelled.

With her husband out spending her money and her child crying in his room. Sheila reached into her purse, pulled out a crack pipe and began to release herself from her wretched existence. Drugs were her only escape from this world. Her escape from the man she loved so much that despite his treatment, she couldn't leave him. Her escape from the knowledge that another life depended on her for care and love, a love that was never there and never would be. The drugs were her only friends that didn't bring her pain and anguish simply from knowing of their existence.

Sheila did love the man she hoped would one day be her husband, but at the same time he had brought her nothing but pain and agony since the mistake came along. The child she was supposed to love unconditionally, she despised. She had wanted to abort the pregnancy early, but her Catholic upbringing wouldn't let her commit such treachery, no matter how fallen away from her faith she'd become.

For now, neither husband nor child existed, nor the hovel which they lived. The whole world blanked out for her, nothing existed but her own little bubble. Her eyes glazed over and though she was present in body, her mind and spirit were elsewhere.

After an hour, Jeremy peeked out of his room and noticed the look on his mother's face. He knew from that look that no matter what he did, she wouldn't know he was around. Many times his mother had that look on her face when Jeremy was hungry and no matter how hard he tried to get her to acknowledge him, it was pointless. But, there were benefits to his mother acting this way; she wouldn't inflict pain. Also, it allowed him to get to his most secret of hiding places.

Jeremy crawled to the foot of the couch. Even though he was inches away from his mother, she didn't turn her head to acknowledge his presence. The child lifted the long, coarse cloth skirt that hid inch thick dust from the rest of the world. Jeremy lay down on his stomach and crawled under the couch, trying not to cough as he breathed in the dirt. Finding the long tear in the material of the couch's underbelly, the toddler wiggled his way through. From there he crawled into the inside of the couch's back and, finally, he could remain hidden from the world. He would go to his secret place many times when he needed to get away from his family; he'd never been discovered. If his father asked where he was, his mother would reply, “He'll turn up sooner or later.”

There were times when Jeremy would spend an entire day and night in there. Even if his parents searched high and low for him, which was a rare occurrence, they never thought to look inside the couch. In this place, Jeremy was in a different world, like his mother, except his wasn't drug induced. This was his own special dream world. He hid his few remaining toys in there with him; a plastic doll that had no clothing, a toy car that had bent wheels from when his father stepped on it, and a yo-yo that Jeremy didn't know how to use even though he had fun rolling it against the back of the couch. If his mom was in her drugged heaven, he could be in his own little version.

He imagined the hiding space was a space capsule, one that would carry him off to a faraway planet, like in a cartoon. A planet where everyone was happy and nice and no child was hit or mistreated. Jeremy didn't think such a place existed on Earth, at least not for him.

Another hour passed before Jeremy heard the sound of a muffler backfiring in the driveway. The child scurried from his hiding spot. He made his way out of the rip and crawled under the end table and finally to the visible world.

Curtis came through the door with a loud crash, the smell of Chinese food fill the living room. “Honey, I got food,” he said in a loud voice.

“Oh great,” Sheila said nonchalantly, not yet out of her haze.

Curtis went into the kitchen to grab a few dishes so he could serve food to everyone.

“Oh boy. China food, I'm really hungry.” Jeremy couldn't contain the happiness of getting another meal, but knew not to look eager.

“Sheila, what happened to the plates?” Curtis asked.

“The mistake broke them this morning when he was trying to make himself cereal. Without even asking for help, mind you. I was on my hands and knees for hours picking up broken pieces.”

“Did he?” Curtis then turned his attention to the child.

“He certainly did,” Sheila said still half dazed.

“You broke our plates?” Curtis asked as he got down on one knee.

“No Dada, no break,” Jeremy pleaded

Curtis slapped the child so hard that Jeremy flew two feet backwards and hit his head against the wall before falling to the floor. “Don't lie to me you little bastard. I'll teach you.”

Curtis lifted the small child to his feet by the boy's long hair and dragged him into the living room. He sat down and pulled the child over his knee.

“Want to break my shit, do you?” Curtis told Jeremy instead of asking.

“No, Dada, no.” Jeremy pleaded once again.

“You're going to remember that after I'm done with you,” Curtis said as he undid his belt buckle. In one smooth motion, Curtis removed the thick leather belt from his pants, making a sickening slithering sound as he did, and made it into a loop. Jeremy placed his hands over his head, knowing if he covered anywhere else, he would get worse.

“This'll teach you,” Curtis said as he repeatedly swung the belt against the child's bare backside. The popping sound of leather hitting flesh echoed off the walls and was music to his ears. After Curtis thought the child was sufficiently beaten on his backside, he gave a few solid whacks on the child's back and legs.

“Get to bed! Break my shit and you don't eat my food.”

Jeremy dropped to the floor and Curtis gave a swift kick so the child would get on his way quicker. Jeremy ran as fast as he could. Once in his room, he dove on to his mat and lay on his stomach.

“Hi, Pipsy,” Jeremy said through his tears, pretending the toy dog was licking his face to cheer him up.

“Tank you Pipsy. It be okay. Dada mad 'cause Momma broke the dishes. He didn't mean it, he was just mad, that's all.”

Jeremy jiggled the dog and kept pretending he was receiving kissing from the plastic bottle pet. “I love you too, Pipsy,” Jeremy said as he gave the dog a kiss on the side of its head. “You're my bestest friend.”

Jeremy hugged his best friend as tightly as he could without making the bottle give way. He tried to pull the towel over him so he could go to sleep and escape this world, but when he did, the sting of the beating returned. Jeremy threw the towel away and rocked his pet on the bare mat. After a few minutes passed, Jeremy sung his pet a lullaby. He knew the words, but didn't remember anyone singing one to him. In his small mousy, tear-choked voice, Jeremy sang a new rendition of “rock-a-bye doggy” over and over. Each time through his voice got softer and the words came out slower, until finally the small, half-starved, fully beaten child was still and fell asleep.

After Chase and Melissa married they agreed to spend an hour every day with each other to talk; No radio, no television, no distractions. Melissa wouldn't deal with gardening or running, and Chase wouldn't work on the Corvette or look around the house for a project to tackle. Melissa told her husband about shopping and how one lady at Wal-Mart was telling a young child who was asking a ton of questions not to embarrass her. Melissa didn't like when parents did that to their children; the child wasn't doing anything wrong, only being curious, as toddlers should be. Melissa didn't know why the mother had to say something so critical.

Chase, in turn, told his wife about the drug bust, leaving out any mention of the gun. He didn't want his wife worrying about him. He spent most of the time talking about pulling school duty. They both had an affinity for children and discussed how in five years they may be ready to have their own. Parenthood was not something they wanted to rush into.

After the conversation, Chase went into the garage and put Armor-All on the interior of his black '64 Corvette Stingray. He loved working on the car, like his father used to before he died. When he was young, Chase always helped with the American classic. When Chase's dad was gunned down, the car was left to him and he kept it like new, driving it once a year when the local car show was held.

Several times during his teenage years, Chase thought he would have to sell the car to help his mother pay the bills. As a child, Chase was taught that family came before material possessions, including his beloved car. Somehow the sale never had to be made and he and his mother made do.

Chase was ten years old, he remembered because it was the last times his father taught him a major life lesson with a lecture. Most of the time, Philip Milan led by example.

“Hey Pop, why are we cleaning everything today?” The young Chase asked as he polished the chrome rims. “We never do the whole Corvette at the same time.” Chase never did mind working on the car. Truth was, Chase would love working on the car for no other reason than he got to spend time with his father.

Philip stood behind his son, waxing the fender as the boy worked beneath him. “We might be selling it this week.”

Chase stopped what he was doing and almost dropped his rag. Suddenly he burst out in raucous laughter. “Good one, Pop. You almost got me on that one.”

Philip didn't join in. “You might not like this, but I'm not joking, son. We may need to sell it, there's no other way.”

“But why?” Chase stood up and faced his father. The tears were welling up in his eyes as he searched for answers.

“We need the money. Me-maw is in pretty bad shape financially and might lose her house. The government isn't helping like it should and she's barely making it on her widow's pension. She hadn't paid taxes on the house for three years now, she's let some other bills slide too, and had been too proud to ask for help sooner. I tried to get the money from what we got in this house, but that's not looking too good.”

“Me-maw can move here.” Chase said impulsively.

“You know she's too proud for that,” Philip reminded his son. “Besides where would we put her? We don't live in a mansion. We got to sell the car.”

“But Dad,” Chase objected, “it's a Corvette.”

Philip dropped to one knee. “Son, I know you like the car. I do too. But, in the end, it's still just a car. People, especially family, come first, no matter what. What if you needed an operation, or Mom did, you think I'd hold onto this old thing while you suffered?”

“No sir,” Chase said, embarrassed he had to be set straight.

“Good.” Philip smiled. “There may be a time in your life that you have to give up something you love for someone you love. Though it won't be easy, I hope you to make the right choice.”

“Yes Pop,” Chase assured and then went back to polishing the rim.

The car, naturally, didn't need to be sold. Social security came through that Monday, sending a check large enough to cover for the years that it was lax. Chase thought it was good life turned out that way, because he learned a valuable lesson that may have gone untaught.

Melissa returned from her two mile run as Chase was finishing up. She was trying to get in top shape for a 5K run for multiple sclerosis. After her cool down ritual, Melissa took a shower. After the shower, she went into the kitchen to make dinner.

Chase helped his wife make the meal; chopping vegetables and making salad while they continued to talk. He was always ready to help with household duties. Only during a rare few times when he was completely beat from work, did Chase not help in some way. Sometimes he made an entire meal by himself to make up for the times he didn't help at all. He wasn't a world class chef, but he could make some decent dishes.

After eating dinner together in the dining room, the young couple went on the back porch, watched the clouds and the stars, vowing their life would always be like this.

The morning came too quickly for the little tyke. Jeremy hoped to sleep until he was big enough to fight back, or, at least, protect himself better. But, he was still his same diminutive self. He tiptoed out of his room, trying not to make a sound, so he wouldn't warn his parents that he was up. The child made his way to his parents’ room. The door was left open a crack, wide enough for a small child to peek in and judge the situation.

Curtis and Sheila were passed out on the bed, empty beer cans and used drug paraphernalia were scattered throughout the room. Their bare bed contained but one pillow and Jeremy’s naked parents. A foul odor lingered and made the child remove himself from the area.

Jeremy decided to head to the kitchen and found that he was in luck; half-eaten Chinese food lay uncovered on the kitchen table. Thankfully the roaches and flies hadn't gotten to it yet. The small child took the tray of chicken and rice and made his way into his secret hiding place. No one was going to deprive him of his bounty by waking up and seeing him.

Eating inside of the couch wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but was better than not eating at all. Scrunched up in his little personal version of heaven, Jeremy ate the chicken, savoring every stomach-filling bite. The stale rice served to lighten his spirits as he ate himself full.

After finishing the king-sized meal, the child listened to make sure that his parents were not stirring. Satisfied that the house was still, Jeremy returned the empty tray to the kitchen table, leaving it among other discarded bits of food. This way his parents might think they ate it last night.

Jeremy returned to his secret hiding spot, this time with his make-believe pet. It was a monumental risk to take anything he loved into the open where his father could see. Most things were taken and sold to make more money for drugs. Jeremy didn’t realize that a used Gatorade bottle didn’t hold any monetary value in the adult world. He figured Pipsy was worth a lot because to him, his pet was worth more than all the drugs in the world. He sat quietly inside the couch and petted his dog for some time before he heard his parents getting up. He watched through the coarse material as they stood between him and the TV.

“Where are you going?” Sheila asked.

“To work,” Curtis snapped.

“It’s too late to get a labor job. God, it must be past noon.”

“There’s more than one way to make a buck in this town.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Sheila reminded impassively.

“Listen, bitch,” Curtis squared off to his wife, “the only thing stupid I’ve done is stay with you and that fucking kid.”

“He’s your fault, you helped make him.”

“Where is the bastard?” Curtis took a switchblade from his back pocket. “I’ll remedy this situation.”

“Don't be dumb.” Sheila shook her head. “What do you want? To spend your whole life in the pen? He’s gone off somewhere, maybe down the block for breakfast. If we’re lucky, maybe someone will snatch him up.”

“We would never be so lucky. I got to go.”

With those parting words, Curtis went out the door and into his broken down Chevy Camaro. Sheila sat down on the couch, mere inches from her child, and passed out again with the television tuned to the afternoon talk shows.

Assuming it was safe, Jeremy crawled from his hiding spot, pet in hand, and left the couch through the side. After passing the end table, he glanced at his mother who was in a deep sleep. Feeling full and having energy in his tiny body, Jeremy figured it would be a good thing to go outside and play.

“Come on, Pipsy, let’s go out and take you for a walk.” Jeremy grabbed onto the string that served as the dog’s leash and pulled the bottle out the door.

The early afternoon sun shone on the child’s face and bare legs. It felt so warm and good that the child forgot about the pain from his welted back. He strolled down the block and paused to wince only when his shirt grazed his back the wrong way. Jeremy stopped at the house of the lady that occasionally fed him. He never could remember the lady's name, but the house was often so full of other children that he would go unnoticed until mealtime.

Jeremy found an empty plastic milk crate to stand on as he took a peek through the window. As usual, the house was packed with children. If Jeremy hadn’t stuffed himself with the leftover Chinese food, he would have knocked on the door and begged for something to eat. On days that he would ask for food and receive something, he was only given some of the leftovers that the other children didn’t gobble up. Sometimes that would be a square of sandwich or a few spoonfuls of macaroni and cheese. But, this day was not one where he needed to resort to such measures; his belly was full and he could explore the rest of the neighborhood.

Being a child and having a reasonable fear of crossing the street, Jeremy only walked around the block. Pulling the toy dog behind him, the boy was on his own, free of the agony he often found at home. Sometimes he would stop along the way and pretend his dog was making or needed a hug.

“Are you tired, Pipsy?” Jeremy asked before he reached the corner that led to his house.

“Let’s stop here and take a little rest. Is that okay?” Jeremy sat down on a step that led to someone’s doorway. He made sure to lean on his hip and not his backside; he was still unable to put pressure on his smarting posterior. He also made sure not to lean his back against anything for the same reason. After enjoying five minutes of shade, the young child decided it was time to go back home. Standing up with a little difficulty, Jeremy grabbed the leash and bent over to pet his little ‘dog’ on the head.

“You’re my bestest friend, Pipsy,” Jeremy said as he pulled on the ribbon and resumed the walk. He turned the corner and made his way to the house. His house was made distinctive by the two pairs of batteries that adorned the front driveway.

“Here we go, Pipsy, safe at home.” Though the phrase would seem a cruel oxymoron to most, Jeremy honestly believed greater harm existed in the world than did in his own house.

Jeremy looked through the window and noticed that his mother was no longer on the couch. He figured it would be safer to stay outside and out of her way, than to be in her presence and risk her getting mad for some reason.

“Come on, Pipsy, let’s see if you can roll over and play dead.” Jeremy went on with playing with his toy. He stayed out in the sun for quite some time enjoying the warmth of the day and the solitude of playing alone. He enjoyed not having people scold or hit him. Most four year olds are concerned with what they should get, but Jeremy was more concerned with being left alone so he could be in his own little world.

Lost in that world, Jeremy didn’t notice his father’s Camaro pulling into the driveway. There were no warning backfires from the muffler to tell the child of the approaching vehicle. Unknown to Jeremy, his father spent a good portion of the afternoon getting the muffler fixed to avoid paying a ticket. It was either spend seventy dollars for the muffler or a hundred fifty for the fine. Though he wasn’t the smartest man alive, Curtis knew paying less money was in his best interest.

Looking up to see the sudden arrival of the Camaro, Jeremy tried to find the quickest way to escape his father’s view, but by then it was too late. The child stood on the edge of an empty flowerbed, afraid to move or to speak, not knowing what words would keep him from trouble and what words would get him a beating. In his mind, it was better to do nothing and maybe his father would pass him right on by, like he didn’t even exist.

That miracle didn’t happen. Curtis stepped out of the beat-up Camaro, spit a big wad of chewing tobacco onto a patch of dead grass and walked directly towards the child.

“Hi there, son,” Curtis said in an unfamiliar, almost cheerful tone.

“Hi, Dada,” Jeremy said. The words came out slowly as the child quivered with fear.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Playing,” the child answered as he circled his foot on the ground and avoided eye contact.

“Playing with what?” Curtis probed further.

“Playing with Pipsy, my dog,” Jeremy said so silently that it was almost inaudible.

“Where is your dog? I don’t see a dog.” Curtis played along, knowing the child was referring to the used Gatorade bottle with the ribbon around its neck.

“Here, Dada, Pipsy.” Jeremy held up his ‘pet’ so his father could see.

“That’s not a dog,” Curtis reprimanded. “It’s trash,”

“It no trash, it my puppy Pipsy.” Jeremy knew how to discern reality from make-believe, but to him the inanimate object was something with a personality and therefore real enough.

“You love him, don’t you?”

Jeremy stood in front of his towering father and nodded.

“Bet you love him more than me. Don’t you?”

Jeremy didn’t answer. He didn’t grasp the concept of love coming in different quantities. He figured love was a constant; you either had or didn’t have love. He also didn’t know which answer would cause him the least pain.

“You shouldn’t be playing with garbage like this, you little punk.” Curtis snatched the bottle away from the child and threw it into the trash can.

“Pipsy, no!” Jeremy cried and impulsively ran to retrieve his pet. He had to stand on tiptoe to reach far enough in to get to Pipsy but once he had rescued his bestest friend, Jeremy attempted to make a run for it. He was willing to take the beating after he hid the bottle safe from harm, but he was nowhere near as quick as his father.

“Give me that.” Curtis snatched the bottle violently from the child’s hand. “If I throw something in the trash, then that’s where it’s supposed to stay. I’ll show you, you little bastard.”

“Dada, no,” Jeremy pleaded as his father walked over to the car. The child attempted to follow him, but his dad pushed him to the ground, causing Jeremy to howl as his welted back slammed against the concrete.

Curtis got into his car and started the engine. He placed the bottle on the ground behind the front tire, threw the car into reverse and backed up until the wheel was directly on top of the bottle, not only crushing the bottle, but the child’s spirit along with it. Satisfied with his success, Curtis put the car into park and let the front tire rest on what had been his child’s most treasured toy.

“No, no, no!” Jeremy cried repeatedly. The only thing that remained of his friend was half of the cartoonish face on the cap. The rest of the bottle was flattened. Jeremy looked on in horror as he sobbed harder than he ever had before. He’d been too afraid to snatch the bottle from under the wheel before his dad could drive over his pet and now Pipsy was dead. “No,” he wept. No, it hadn’t happened, Jeremy tried to tell himself, but it had.

“What the fuck are you crying about?” Curtis yelled.

Jeremy didn’t answer, as his teary eyes fixated on the remains of his pet.

“I said stop crying, or else!” Curtis got out of the car and loomed over his son.

Jeremy tried to stop crying, but he couldn’t. The pain in his heart was too much to contain.

“I warned you, you little bastard.” Curtis opened his hand and with a solid smack on the back, he sent Jeremy howling in pain instead of in grief.

“Now get your ass inside,” Curtis commanded as the child slumped on the ground, defeated by both the physical and emotional injuries. He knew if he disobeyed a direct order from his father that his dad may make good on his earlier promise to end the child's life. Hadn’t he already murdered Pipsy?

Jeremy ran inside the house and into the kitchen where his mother was. He sat on the edge of the chair sideways and fearfully watched as his father walked into the room.

“Did you know this kid has been playing with trash,” Curtis informed.

“Doesn't surprise me. Look at him, he’s a little dirt bag. What did you expect?” Sheila answered back in her customary mumble.

“I expect him not to go around in front of people half naked and embarrass me like that.” Curtis turned his to his son. “What’s the matter, I’m not good enough for you? Don’t I put a roof over your head, clothes on your back, and feed you? And what do you do? You embarrass me.”

“I tell you, the kid’s retarded,” Sheila told her husband. “You can’t get nothing through that thick skull of his,”

“I bet I can beat it into him.” Curtis gave his son a menacing look.

“That’s up to you. I’d soon enough not have anything to do with him, but if you want to waste your time on that little piece of shit, be my guest.”

“You know, he may be able to make us some money.”

Sheila rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. How?”

“Get me a beer and I’ll tell you how.”

Sheila grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and placed it in front of her husband. He opened the can, took a few gulps and placed it on the corner of the table. Jeremy looked at the can of Natural Lite; feeling thirsty and thinking it was soda, he was hoping he could sneak a taste. He hadn’t forgotten his pain, but he had learned how to survive.

“How can this little turd earn us money?” Sheila asked without even giving a passing glance towards her son.

“See,” Curtis removed a folded piece of newspaper from his back pocket, “I was looking at the paper. Look at this; some guy was arrested for offering to pay five hundred dollars to spend a night with some little girl. It was a sting though.”

“What’s your point?” Sheila asked as she looked at the article that was cut out of the USA Today. “We don’t have a little girl, only asshole boy over there.”

“Yeah, but there are plenty of guys that would be willing to pay two hundred for a night with a little boy.”

“Two hundred bucks for sex with a boy, that sounds a little sick, don’t you think?”

“Listen, you stupid bitch. They aren’t going to have sex with him. Not for two hundred dollars that is. These guys, they maybe want a little boy to sit on their lap and maybe get undressed, give them baths and shit. Besides, what is he worth to us anyway? A few bucks in food stamps, it costs us more to feed him and keep up payment on this shack than he’s worth. This way he'll be pulling his own weight around here.”

“And you can set this up?” Sheila didn't believe Curtis was capable of pulling off such a stunt.

“Sure can. I got a friend, Marquis, you remember him. He says he can hook us up with a few people, and he says I’ll make at least two hundred a night, maybe even up to a grand.”

“It’s up to you,” Sheila rolled her eyes, “it’s not like I care. Get me the fuck out of this place and keep the mistake out of my hair and I’m in your debt. But if you get caught, you're on your own and you best leave my name out of it.”

“Sure. You bet. Just leave it all up to me.” Out of the corner of his eye Curtis noticed that Jeremy was moving the beer closer and closer to himself, just a fraction of an inch at a time. Curtis watched the child move the can two more times. On the third time, he snatched the boy’s hand.

“Thirsty, are you?” Curtis asked in amusement.

Jeremy looked at his father and nodded his head yes.

“Want to be a big man like Daddy and drink a beer with me?”

Jeremy simply stared as his dad went to the refrigerator and pulled out a can of beer for his son.

“Let’s see how much of a man you are. Let’s see how you handle your liquor.”

Jeremy reached for the beer.

“No, I’ll hold it for you, make sure you do it just right,” Curtis said as he popped the top of the can and pulled the child closer to him. He held the child’s head back and began to pour the liquid down the boy’s throat. Jeremy swallowed as fast as he could to keep from gagging.

As soon as Jeremy got the taste of the beer, he knew it was something he didn’t like. It didn't taste sweet like soda, but sour and made him think of spoiled food. He tried to pull away, but didn’t have the strength. Gagging on the beer, reflexes took over and he threw up on the floor.

“Look at what you did, you little bastard. Clean it up!” Curtis yelled.

Jeremy hopped off his father’s lap and started to walk away so he could get some paper towel.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Curtis said as he threw the child’s face on the floor. “I said clean it up.”

Jeremy looked up in confusion.

“Eat it! or else.” Curtis removed his switchblade from his back pocket and Jeremy got the idea. On all fours, like a dog, he followed his father’s orders.

“That’s so gross,” Sheila commented as she turned her gaze away.

“It is, but we know he can follow instructions.” Curtis laughed.

After Jeremy cleaned the mess to his father’s approval, he was allowed to leave the room. He ran as fast as he could to the bathroom so he could return to the toilet what he had cleaned off the dirty floor. He threw up twice more then he stayed in there for quite some time flushing his mouth out with water, trying to remove the putrid taste from his mouth. When he came out of the bathroom, the house was full of the funny smelling stuff Curtis and Sheila smoked in their glass pipes.

Jeremy thought it would be best for him to head straight to his room. He lay on his mat with the towel over his head and cried, more for his lost companion than he did for his physical pain and humiliation. He cried so long and so hard that even after he had fallen asleep the tears still fell, rolling down his cheeks and soaking into the tattered mat.

Chase woke up early, just in time to see his wife return from her morning run. His eyes were still crusty as he watched Melissa do her cool down stretches.

“I don’t know how you get up at 5 a.m. and run like that,” Chase said as he admired his wife's firm figure through the tight fitting hot pink nylon shorts and matching Lycra top.

“It’s only three miles.”

“I won’t run three miles until I’ve seen the sun come up and had a good breakfast.”

“I’ve been doing this since I was fourteen. I always thought when I ran by your house back then you were up watching.” Melissa nudged her husband. “Why change now? It's a healthy habit.” Melissa followed the same routine since her freshman year of high school when she made the cross-country and track teams. She never became the world-class runner she dreamed she would as a kid, but she enjoyed running as often as she could.

“Tomorrow I’ll run with you when I’m done with work. Try not to kill me.”

“Why not today?”

“I’m going to Ray’s Classics after work and get financing on that seventy and a half Trans Am.”

“I see,” Melissa mocked, “and how much are you going to put down on another car that will sit in the garage.”

“Two grand down. But this one is to drive, not to look at like the ’Vette. I need a car. I can’t take the cruiser out for personal errands and I don’t want to keep borrowing your Le Baron and leaving you without.”

“And you have this money in your account?” Melissa asked. They each had private accounts for money they put aside that was left over from the family budget. They worked out the budget monthly, household expenses and items they were saving for together like a pool took priority; whatever was left from Chase’s check was split evenly.

“Yes it is. Unlike you, I haven’t been buying two hundred dollar running shoes and a ton of little outfits.”

“You got me.” Melissa laughed. “Make sure you get the pledge sheet for the MS run.”

“I’ll get it during my lunch.”

Chase finished his morning routine. Standing at the cruiser door in his uniform, Neesa at his side, he was ready to get back to the job. His wife kissed him goodbye and he and Neesa got into the squad car.

“Four-fourteen to base.” Chase spoke into the mike.

“Morning, Chase, isn’t it a nice day?” Rebecca asked.

“Ask me after the shift, you never know,” Chase joked.

“That’s a pessimistic way to look at things.”

“Why? You never know when a nice day is going to be a great one,” Chase said as he pulled out of his driveway.

“True.”

“I’m checking in. Am I needed at base or should I head straight to north side?”

After a minute Rebecca got back on the radio. “Sarge says you can go right there. He may come by to check in on you.”

“He probably misses real police work, stuck in that little office of his like that,” Chase chuckled into the radio.

“I wouldn’t let him hear you say that; you might pull traffic duty for the rest of your life.”

“That’s a huge 10-4.”

“Have a good day, sugar.”

“You too. Four-fourteen out.” Chase placed the mike back onto the holder.

Chase drove around his zone, wanting to change his routine from the first day so he didn’t fall into predictable patterns. This way, he figured, the criminal element would never know what to expect.

“Ready for a good day of work, girl?” Chase called back to his partner.

Neesa sat there as she looked out the window. Chase finished his drive around and then pulled into the cemetery’s hiding spot. It was another slow start to the day. Chase preferred it this way, a nice way to ease into work. He leaned back and watched an empty road. The only excitement was two squirrels playing tag around an old oak tree.

What a life, Chase thought to himself as he sank further into the driver's seat.

Jeremy woke up. It was early; the day was young, but he didn’t see much reason to get off his mat on the floor. He lay there and watched as a bit of sunshine trickled through the aluminum foil-covered window where he finally managed to dig a hole. He looked around the room, his clothes were kept in large black trash bags, and he didn't feel like digging through them in hopes of finding a replacement toy. The only other furniture to speak of was the mat that he slept on. He still lay on his stomach because of the unhealed wounds on his back.

Eventually the boy threw the worn towel off his body and opened the door. He sneaked a peek out the door, first to the left and then to the right. All he could see was a haze of smoke as he smelled its foul acrid odor. The child crept out of his room carefully. He looked out the front window; his dad’s Camaro was still there.

Jeremy didn’t feel like being seen, he didn't even want to be part of this world. On the arm of the couch, a few slices of cold pizza remained in a discarded box. Jeremy took two slices, placing them between two sheets of paper towel. He then crawled into his usual hiding space, hoping that for the day he would not exist to the outside world. He ate the first slice of pizza without making a sound and wrapped the second slice in the pieces of paper towel to keep it from getting dirty. Assuming he would get hungry later, he figured with the second slice safe, he wouldn’t have to leave this spot until the next day, if ever. He was free there, free from the yelling and the hurtful words, free from the hitting and hurtful actions.

Jeremy began to pet at the air, following the contours of a bottle that no longer existed. “I know you’re here, Pipsy. You went to doggy heaven, but I know you come back to keep me comp'ny.”

Jeremy pretended he was receiving dog kisses from his recently returned friend. “I still love you, Pipsy,” Jeremy whispered. This time he didn’t cry.

The child remained in silence with his now invisible friend for quite some time. He was glad to have the company of his longtime pet, and now his “dog” was even better, since his dad couldn’t possibly hurt something he couldn’t see. Only Jeremy could see the animal and that thought brought back some happiness to the child. Inside his private world, Jeremy smiled because he and Pipsy were both safe and could remain best friends forever.

A loud thud announced Sheila's return as she came crashing through the front door. Jeremy was surprised because he assumed his mother was still sleeping in bed with his father. Jeremy peered through the coarse material of the couch. He watched as his mother staggered through the living room. She plopped down on the couch, almost landing on the child. It was times like these when Jeremy kept the most still and quiet.

“Where is it?” Curtis barged out of the master bedroom and confronted his wife.

“Where is what?” Sheila asked.

“Where’s my stash, you stupid bitch?” Curtis lashed out as the back of his hand flew across Sheila's face.

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“Because you took it, didn’t you? You went out partying this morning and took my shit, didn’t you?” Curtis violently shook his wife.

“The mistake probably flushed it again,” Sheila slurred.

“Let’s ask him.” Curtis pushed his wife further into the couch and stormed out of the room. He kicked in the door to the child’s bedroom. Not seeing his son there, Curtis looked out both the front and back windows to see if he could locate the child.

“He isn’t here, you dumb bitch, where is he?” Curtis confronted his wife.

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Because you’re his fucking mother.” Curtis slapped Sheila across the face again. She didn't even flinch, the drugs made her numb and the blow had no effect.

“Yeah, and you’re his father, ain’t you?”

“Fuck you.” Curtis punched Sheila in the gut. “Now where is he?”

Sheila looked at him with a blank stare.

“I know what’s going on. Oh! You think you could pull one over on me. Didn’t you?” Curtis rushed back to the master bedroom, opened up the nightstand and pulled out his Glock 9mm. He casually walked back to his wife and pointed the gun at her head. “Why don't you tell me what you’ve done with him?”

“I didn’t do anything. I don't know what you're talking about!”

“Like hell you don’t.” Curtis pushed the barrel of the gun further into her forehead, leaving an impression. “I’ll tell you what you did, you stupid bitch. You went and saw Marquis, took that little bastard with you, too. Had yourself a little party with my stash, had a big joke at my expense. Didn’t you, bitch?”

“And what if I did?” Sheila slurred her reply, showing more moxie than normal.

“You stupid bitch!” Curtis pushed the gun even further into her forehead and eased back on the trigger. A loud sharp crack resonated in the room; Sheila’s body went limp and slumped off the couch falling half-way to the floor.

A look of utter shock came over Curtis’ face, the shock of someone expecting to hear one sound and hearing a completely different one instead, the shock of completely understanding the consequences of his action a split second too late.

Inside the couch, the noise caused Jeremy to flinch back. His ears rang with the noise; he didn’t know what happened but fright paralyzed him, freezing him to the spot. Unable to move, he hoped he didn't reveal his location as his mind tried to comprehend the situation.

“Holy shit, I didn’t unload the bitch,” Curtis added in a steady, monotone voice.

Curtis’ head began to swim as he thought of ways he could explain this to the cops. “No fucking way are they going to believe I didn’t know this stupid shit was loaded, I'm not even supposed to have a gun,” Curtis said to himself out loud as he staggered into the kitchen, still buzzing from last night’s high and this morning’s adrenaline rush.

The man slumped on a chair as he tried to formulate a plan. “I wish that fucking kid was here, at least I’d have a damn hostage so I could make a break for it.”

Curtis went to push away from the table, but his foot slipped on something. He looked underneath the table, sitting about two feet from him was a brown paper bag that held his stash.

“Shit, she didn’t even have it.” Curtis ran back into the living room after popping a few pills. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was loaded, I swear to God. I’m sorry! I didn’t even mean it. I love you, babe!”

The distant sound of sirens brought Curtis to a new realization of the gravity of the situation. Perhaps someone heard the shot and called the police. More likely, the sirens had nothing to do with him but they reminded him that sooner or later he would face the police. “They’re going to fry me for sure,” he said as he peeked his head from the side of the barren window to see if the cops were already there. “I can’t talk my way out of this shit, and I’m not going to the pen. No fucking way. And I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of snuffing me out.”

Curtis popped the rest of the pills, knowing they weren’t enough for him to OD on. He didn't plan on lasting that long. “Might as well go out happy.” He put the gun to his temple, closed his eyes and pulled the trigger without a second's hesitation. His dead body fell to the floor a few feet from the woman's with whom he shared his life, and now death.

Through the fabric of the couch back, Jeremy looked on in horror from his private spot. In the matter of a few minutes the people he called his parents, the people he depended on and loved despite their treatment of him, had become motionless lumps of flesh. He didn’t know they were dead; at four, he didn’t understand the concept of death yet, but he knew something dreadful had just happened.

Jeremy couldn’t move or think, he remained motionless in his hiding spot, oblivious to everything but the ringing in his ears, now doubly loud. He didn’t even hear the sirens as the police pulled up to his own house.

Chase was comfortably lounging in his police cruiser. There was no one in sight and Chase took to examining his fingernails.

“Four-fourteen, come in,” the radio squawked as it broke the late morning silence.

“Four-fourteen, go ahead,” Chase responded.

“We have reports of shots fired.”

“What’s the twenty?” Chase asked, wanting to know the location.

“1914 Palmetto, in the Briarwood subdivision.”

“10-4.”

“Chase,” Rebecca added.

“Yes, 'Becca?”

“Be careful.”

“Sure thing, just for you.”

“Thanks, over.”

“Four-fourteen, en route.”

Chase loved saying those last two words. It meant that he was doing the job he was paid for, the job that he dreamed of having ever since he was old enough to know what a badge was and what it stood for.

Chase put the cruiser into gear and turned the lights on. After all, shots fired was a driving-with-the-lights-on, sirens-blaring occasion if he so chose. It may turn out to be more backfiring, but it wouldn’t hurt for people on the north side to see a cruiser in full color and sound. He spun the tires momentarily as the adrenaline pumped through his veins.

“Wake up, Neesa!” Chase rapped on the cage. “Time for us to get in some real work,”

The large dog jumped to its feet. Neesa gave Chase’s exposed fingers a lick through the cage.

“Yeah, girl, I know you love it, too.”

Chase sped through the neighborhood. He came to the street and made sure he kept his eyes peeled. Shots fired could mean a gunman could be behind any bush, around any corner, maybe scared enough to take a shot at a cop and prematurely end a promising young officer’s career. Or it might be a backfiring car, like the gunshots he’d thought he heard a few days ago.

He read the numbers on the tattered mailboxes, following them to his destination. He came up to the number 1914, parked in the driveway was the same Camaro that he pulled over the other day. Chase chuckled to himself.

“Base, this is four-fourteen,” Chase said light-heartedly as he turned off the siren.

“Go ahead, hon.”

“I believe this is a false alarm, it’s that Camaro from the other day, but I’ll check it out.”

“Okay, take care though, okay?”

“That’s a 10-4, over and out.”

Chase got out of his patrol car; even though he thought it was a false alarm he was still cautious as he walked up to the house, keeping the release button to the back door of the cruiser under his thumb. He didn’t always have to stay prepared like this, but he got into the habit during training and didn’t think it was one he should break. One never knew when something out of the ordinary was going to happen. It’s those times when the unexpected happened when the mind thinks too quickly for the body to react properly that one finds themselves fumbling around for something they really need. This way, Chase thought, the sudden rush of adrenaline would cause him to push the button automatically.

Chase noticed the crushed Gatorade bottle and the ribbon that was attached to it sticking out from under the front wheel of the Camaro. It caught his attention as something odd, but it didn’t set off any alarms in his head. Chase reached the door and knocked loudly. He waited for a thirty count; he always did that in his head ever since he was a young boy. Knock and count, and knock again. He pounded on the door a little harder and still, no answer.

The officer peered over the window that was set high in the door. He couldn’t make out any people or movement inside.

Maybe he decided to get a ride with someone else until he got that muffler fixed, Chase thought to himself as he walked back to his Crown Victoria. Chase always kept an eye on the potential crime scene to make sure nothing suspicious happened because he was leaving. Sometimes people would make a run for it because an officer turned his back, or sometimes they may try to do worse. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that the driver was hiding to avoid getting another ticket. It wasn’t that Chase was particularly worried about being hurt or duped this time; walking backwards from a crime scene was another of those habits that he got into during training that he chose not to break.

He reached into the squad car and picked up the radio. “Base, this is four-fourteen, the scene is quiet. Who placed the call?”

“Chase, the call came from the neighbor at 1912. He appeared hesitant to give that information out.”

“I understand. I’m going to question him further, I think he heard the car backfire and got worried.”

“10-4.”

Chase walked over to the neighbor’s house. The gentleman peered through the blinds. Chase noticed him while walking up the path towards the door. The officer knocked lightly, knowing the resident was but a few feet away. The door opened a crack.

“Yes, Officer,” the graying man answered through the chained door.

“You're the one who reported that you heard a shot fired?”

“Actually two, Officer, but I don’t want to get involved,” the man said nervously as if he felt he was dishonoring some sort of code.

“I understand that it's difficult for people to do the right thing. I’m going to ask you a few questions and be on my way,” Chase said as he noticed the man looking towards his neighbors’ house.

“I guess.”

“Are you sure you heard a gunshot, Could it be that you heard a car backfiring and mistook it for gunfire?” Chase figured it was better to play it straight with the gentleman and not dance around the issues and try to pry information from the guy.

“That guy’s Camaro has been backfiring for months,” the neighbor said belligerently. “I know what I heard. Besides, he got that rat trap fixed yesterday. He pulled in and out three times yesterday and that car was purring like it just got off the assembly line.”

“Can you describe what you heard?”

“Gunshots!” the man exploded. “Listen, I was out in my back yard, building my barbecue. Then I heard a high-pitched crack. I know a gun when I hear one; I served two tours in Nam. I called the cops. It must have taken me almost five minutes to get to the phone, ’cause my leg, then crack, I heard it again.”

“Sir, who is normally in the house?”

“The guy, his wife, I and their kid.”

“Thank you, sir, you mentioned that you’ve been watching the house, did you see anyone leave?”

“No, sir,” the man was short with the officer, as if he given enough of his time.

“Thanks again.”

The door was shoved closed and Chase could hear the deadbolt latch.

Chase shook it off and jogged back to his car and popped the trunk. He pulled out a long rod with an angled mirror at the end of it. He crept up to the house, rod in one hand and his finger on the door release with the other. He made his way to the side of the front window and held the mirror out so he could get a better look. Luckily, there were no shades on the window. He saw a woman’s body lying partially on the couch, blood dripping down the side of her face. He saw a pair of legs protruding from behind a recliner, but couldn’t quite make out the torso. Chase dropped the rod in the dirt by the window and made his way back to the cruiser in a crouching position. He picked up the microphone through the window. “Base, this is four-fourteen,” he said in a rushed voice as the adrenaline kicked in another notch.

“Go ahead, Chase.”

“We have two adults down inside and a child unaccounted for. We’re going to need an ambulance. The shooter may still be on the premises. I’m going to need backup to perform a sweep. I’ll secure exits until backup arrives.”

“10-4. Remember be careful. Sarge hates losing rookies,” Rebecca tried to joke, unsuccessfully.

“10-4.”

Chase pressed the rear door release and led Neesa to the back door. He put the canine in front of the cracked glass-checkered back door. “Neesa, guard,” he commanded in German. Neesa’s body tensed as she poised herself in front of the exit, ready to pounce if needed. Chase knew the animal wouldn’t let anyone but him in or out of that door until he countermanded the order.

Chase snuck around to the front, making sure his body wasn’t exposed to any of the windows that could give a killer a fair shot at him. He stood at the side of the door, listening closely to hear if a window or door opened.

A minute and a half later, three cars pulled up. Four officers jumped out and the squad leader, John “J.D.” Lawson, from the SWAT team, approached Chase.

“What do we have here, rook?” When the job was serious, the jokes and light ribbing stopped.

“We have two people down, presumably the wife and husband. There’s a child unaccounted for by the neighbor’s account. He said he hasn’t seen anyone exit after hearing the shots.”

“Okay, rook, here is what we need you to do. Go to the back of this house, cover the rear and side exits. We may flush someone out to you, make sure that dog of yours is ready. Keep low, the suspect might expect someone there and if he comes out shooting, it’s going to be high. If he is shooting, you don’t take any risk and you incapacitate him, center mass. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Chase’s heart was pounding. He crouched down and made his way to the rear of the house. He put Neesa at one corner of the backside of the house as he went to the other. He was mildly amazed that Neesa had been in the exact position as when he left, not even adjusting herself to relieve tension from her muscles. Chase got low and ready to move in either direction if needed. “This is the police,” J.D. yelled. We’re coming in.” Chase heard the door crash in. He heard the synchronized scurrying of the SWAT team. The young officer was in awe how all four men worked as one to clear the house even though not a word was spoken. Ten minutes passed before Chase heard the all clear.

“Neesa, down. Neesa, stay. Good girl,” Chase commanded his partner.

Chase walked through the back door. The sight of the two dead bodies caused him to turn green.

“First ones, hey, rook?” one of the officers, Richard 'Skeeter' Sweet, asked.

“Yeah,” Chase said as he looked away.

“You may not think so , but it gets easier with time.”

“I suppose. What about the kid? Did you find him? Is he okay?” Chase said out of true concern.

“We haven’t found him, yet,” J.D. said. “But I don’t think he was kidnapped, this has all the signs of a murder-suicide.”

“How can you tell?” Chase asked, thinking the subject was gruesome, but knowing he had to learn if he were to further his own career.

“Look for yourself,” J.D. began his lesson. “You can tell by the way the body is positioned on the floor, no signs of forced entry either. The fact the woman is mostly still on the couch helps with the theory. If someone broke in here, they would've went for the man first, so she should've been up, trying to make a run for it. This was probably by him.”

Chase took a closer look at the red-haired man on the floor. “Damn it all to hell!” Chase said, admonishing himself internally for uttering the rare expletive.

“What’s wrong, rook?”

“I pulled him over earlier this week, for his muffler.” In the midst of all the horror around him, Chase forgot all about seeing the Camaro in the driveway.

“Don’t beat yourself up, the events are unrelated and you’re not a psychic—if you were, they would ship you to Nashville and make you a detective. We’ll call for the county coroner and a crime scene unit from the state, you get the dog and do what you guys do and hope for the best.”

Chase walked out to the back, took a deep breath of clean air and grabbed Neesa by the collar. There was no way of knowing how the dog would respond to her first homicide. “Come on, girl, we got work to do,” Chase said somberly. He led Neesa into what he supposed the child’s room was so she could pick up the scent.

“Neesa, find,” Chase commanded.

Neesa walked around the room, sniffing every corner and the mat that served as the child’s bed.

“How can someone let a child sleep on the floor?” Chase asked himself. “Come on, Neesa, let’s find this kid.” The officer pulled the dog out of the room. The Rottweiler went right to the side of the couch, lay on her chest and whimpered.

“This is Neesa’s first dead body, too,” Chase said apologetically. As he pulled Neesa back, she scratched at the side of the couch. They searched the rest of the house and came up empty.

Chase went back into the living room and reported to J.D. “The search of the house came up negative. We’re going to check the neighborhood.”

Neesa went back to whimpering and crying at the couch. Chase looked under to double-check, but didn’t see anything there but swirls of dust. The young officer gave the command and the dog followed him outside. They walked around the block. Neesa followed the same trail that Jeremy took the day before, after a half-hour of coming us empty, the pair were back at the house again.

The coroner had the bodies bagged and the on-scene investigators declared the scene a probable murder-suicide. Chase reentered the living room and Neesa, once again, was whimpering at the couch, even though the dead body was gone.

“What’s up, girl?” Chase was trying to discern the dog's erratic behavior.

“What’s that pooch doing?” J.D. asked.

“Probably some drugs or guns are hidden inside the sofa here,” Chase tried to sound convinced of his message, but it was nothing more than a hunch. “Help me turn it over so we can clear it out. Maybe then Neesa can get back to the real problem. I hope that kid is still alive.”

“Believe me, we do too. Let me help with that couch,” J.D. said as he tilted the couch onto its back exposing its bunting.

“See! A tear, it’s a common hiding spot, just like during training,” Chase said, feeling he had vindicated his partner. “Let’s tear it out and get on with life.” Chase unsheathed his Swiss army knife. He cut the bunting on three sides. Letting the cloth fall down revealed the small child still frozen with fear.

“Now we know why Neesa was crying,” Chase said while eying the half-naked child who was covered in his own waste. “We should have listened to you better, girl.”

The child cringed at the cops as they analyzed the situation. Neesa crawled on her belly toward the child and let her cold nose touch the child’s exposed foot, while the policemen looked on in bewilderment, wondering what to do. The child flinched from the sensation and turned his head so he could look down at the dog.

“Pipsy!” the child said wide-eyed as his face lit up.

“Kid thinks that behemoth is a puppy, Chase.” J.D. snorted out a laugh.

“Don’t worry, she’s good with kids,” Chase assured. “Simply adores them.”

“I bet she thinks they taste like chicken,” J.D. joked.

Jeremy threw his arm around the dog and hugged it like he had known Neesa his entire life. “Good, Pipsy, good.”

Neesa nuzzled against the small child.

“Now what?” Chase asked.

“We got an ambulance still here on the scene,” J.D. told him. “Let the hospital check him out and social services will take care of the rest,”

“I sure hope he didn’t see what happened,” Chase said, trying not to imagine the child viewing his parents’ deaths.

“The way he was acting, I don’t know,,” Officer Sweet commented.

J.D. whistled for the ambulance. “We found the kid.”

The paramedic ran in holding an orange backboard in his arm and squatted down next to the quivering child.

“Hey, little fella,” the paramedic said softly. “Want to take a ride in a nice big ambulance?”

“No!” Jeremy shouted, clinging tightly to the Rottweiler.

“It’s really fun, we’ll let you turn on the siren,” the paramedic tried to bait the child.

“No!” Jeremy shouted again, refusing to release his grip of the dog.

“We really need to go, son.” The paramedic tried to gently pry the child from around Neesa’s neck. “No one's going to hurt you.”

“No,” Jeremy cried out in a long sorrowful wail. “Pipsy, help!” he screamed.

Neesa growled angrily at the paramedic, flashing her sharp, white teeth, causing the man to back away.

“Neesa, down,” Chase said firmly, using the German command to tell the dog she was no longer on guard duty or in attack mode.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” the paramedic called Chase over.

“Sorry about Neesa, she isn’t normally like that,” Chase tried to explain even though he was at a loss for the highly trained Rottweiler's reaction.

“I’m not worried about the dog, I’m sure it’s instincts. I am worried about that kid though. The boy’s been through something traumatic, let’s not make things any worse than it needs to be.”

“What do you have in mind?” Chase asked as he looked at the child.

“Let the kid stay with the dog. We'll have you take him to Memorial General, let them check him out. Hopefully by the time they’re done and social services comes by, he’s settled down some.”

“I can clear that with the Sarge. Can I at least clean him off first, he's, you know.” Chase didn’t want his squad car soiled if it could be prevented.

“No, you just never know what injuries are under the surface. Though he looks only a little worse for the wear and doesn’t appear to have any major injuries, you can never tell. It’s procedure that they check him out at the hospital; I have some sheets in the truck, you can wrap him up in them.”

“I can do that,” Chase agreed.

Chase approached the frightened child cautiously. He didn’t want to add any more angst to an already stressful situation. Chase prayed that the child didn’t see what his father did, but he knew that in all likelihood the boy had. Chase got right next to Neesa and squatted down in front of the child.

“Hi, little guy. You like my doggy, don’t you?” Chase asked, looking for some way to communicate with the child.

“Pipsy protects me,” Jeremy said in a small voice, much softer than the screams of before.

“That’s right, she is a good doggy, and she likes to protect people who need it.”

“Good, Pipsy,” Jeremy said as he petted the dog’s head and nape while keeping his other arm wrapped under the dog's neck in case someone tried to tear him away.

“Her name is Neesa, she likes you.”

“Nee-sa,” Jeremy repeated. “Nee-sa is Pipsy.”

“Yes, Neesa is the puppy,” Chase said, thinking the child was trying to say the word puppy but getting the sounds confused like small children do. “My name is Chase. Neesa is my friend.”

“Case,” Jeremy mimicked, his speech not yet developed to make the CH sound properly.

“Yes, Chase,” the officer repeated. “What’s your name?”

“Me Je’my,” the child answered, still refusing to speak above a whisper.

As often is the case when adults try to understand young children, they get it wrong. Chase attempted to decipher the meaning of what the child said his name was. Though the child tried to say his name was Jeremy, Chase interpreted it as Jimmy.

“Okay, Jimmy, would you like to take a ride?”

Jeremy didn’t mind the mistake in name; his parents called him many other names, some that he didn’t even understand. “No leave, Pipsy.”

“No, we won’t leave her,” Chase explained. “She’ll be coming with us.”

Jeremy thought about it for a few moments, trying to see if this felt like some kind of trick. He had been raised believing cops were bad people who shouldn’t be trusted. But, at the same time, he believed his dear friend had returned to life, and as long as Pipsy was around, the dog would make sure no one harmed him.

“’Kay,” the child finally answered.

“Good, I’ll be right back, then you can ride in a real cop car.”

“No ’rest Je’my,” the child protested. “Pease!”

“Of course not. It's only a ride. I’m not going to arrest Jimmy, I promise.” Chase had to chuckle, despite the gravity of the situation.

Chase went to the squad car to inform Rebecca of the situation and waited for the anticipated approval from the Sarge. After a short minute that approval came, another officer would be called in to cover Chase's duties.

Chase called the paramedic over to the car with the sheets and towels. “I don’t think the kid is going to allow me to pick him up,” Chase explained.

“What do you plan to do about that mess then?”

“Line the back with towels and sheets and hope I don’t have that big of a mess to clean up.”

“You coax the kid into the car; I’ll have it set up for you.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Chase took a deep breath and headed back into the house. He came right beside Neesa again and squatted in front of the child.

“Jimmy, are you ready to go for a ride?” Chase asked in a soft, calming voice.

The child nodded.

“I have an idea, how about you hold Neesa’s collar and so will I and we’ll walk to the car together?”

The child nodded again, and unwrapped his arms from around the dog’s neck. He stood erect and grabbed Neesa’s thick red-leather collar. Chase got on the other side of the dog. He too held onto the collar, allowing a small buffer zone so the child felt protected by Neesa.

Though Neesa didn’t need to be led to the car, the pair walked with her anyway. The paramedic already had the sheets neatly laid down and tucked in.

“Jimmy, why don’t you get in first?” Chase told the child.

“No,” Jeremy protested, shaking his head to emphasis his position. “Pipsy first.”

“Fair enough,” Chase agreed, “Neesa, in.”

The dog jumped in and went to the far side of the car, somehow knowing that for the first time ever she would have company. Jeremy grinned at seeing the dog jump up so fast into a car. Chase gave the child a look, and motioned towards the car. Jeremy climbed into the back seat and latched onto the dog.

Chase got behind the wheel and got on the radio. “Base, this is four-fourteen.”

“Go ahead, hon.”

“En route to Memorial, please inform them of my pending arrival and explain the nature of the situation.”

“10-4, Chase. Have fun baby-sitting.” Chase could almost hear Rebecca laughing on the other end.

“Over,” Chase replied. It must be nice to be a nonparticipant, he thought bitterly.

Memorial general was the largest hospital in the area, the only hospital within thirty miles. It was also the biggest building in the city. The six-floor, red brick hospital didn’t house any fancy monuments to modern medicine, didn’t perform the more elaborate operations or have cutting edge medical technology. What it did have, however, was a caring staff and a place where everyday people with everyday ailments could get treatment.

Chase parked his cruiser in the spot designated for the third emergency vehicle. The first two spots were reserved for the county's ambulances. Chase used the remote to pop the rear door. Jeremy thought a little bit of magic was being performed, seeing the door open up before his eyes without anyone touching it was not the norm. Neesa didn’t jump out as she usually would, this time she knew to wait for her master.

“Come on, girl, heel,” Chase commanded.

Neesa jumped out of the car and stood next to Chase. Jeremy climbed out of the cruiser after her; he looked up at the tallest building he had ever seen. His eyes opened wide in amazement. He’d never ventured further than his own block; he didn’t think buildings stood more than one story high. While still staring at the top of the hospital, wondering what was up there, he took a step and tripped over Neesa. He fell to the ground, but didn’t get hurt.

Chase was surprised the young child didn't cry or murmur from the fall like most kids do. He smiled kindly as he offered his hand to the tyke. “Jimmy, do you mind holding my hand?”

Jeremy studied Chase’s large, uncalloused hand and thought for a short while. They were so unlike his father's, whose were always dirty and rough from work. He figured it would be okay, after all, Pipsy was Chase's friend; in the child’s mind that meant that the officer must be someone nice. Jeremy lifted his arm and placed his hand into Chase’s. Chase closed his hand; making sure he grip was loose, not wanting to alarm the boy. He held onto Jeremy’s hand with caring and delicacy. The trio walked into the emergency room; on a weekday it was practically empty. A nurse waited at the desk, ready for them to arrive.

“Hello, Officer Milan,” the short, curly, honey blond haired nurse said. “'Becca called us and said to expect your arrival.”

“Do we have a room already available?” Chase was familiar with the hospital, especially after he suffered a nasty sprained ankle during his police training.

“Yes, room two is available. Does that animal need to be with you? It’s not very sanitary,” the nurse said as she gave the dog a disapproving glance.

“Neesa’s the only reason the kid has walked in here on his own accord and isn’t screaming and crying at the top of his lungs. He’s had a tough day as I’m sure you could imagine, f,” Chase tried to explain without going much further into details.

“I suppose,” the nurse said as she rolled her eyes.

“Besides, Neesa promises to be on her best behavior.” Chase smiled and gave the nurse a wink even though his heart wasn't into being playful.

“Make sure you are too. You can head on back.” The nurse relaxed and smiled as well.

“Thank you.”

“And polite too,” the nurse said as if she were keeping score. “You’re welcome.”

“Come on, Jimmy, we get to go into a special room, this way we can make sure you're all healthy,” Chase said as he led the child back to a smaller inner room. The room was big enough to serve its purpose, but didn't spare an inch more than was needed. Chase closed the door behind him and allowed Jeremy to sit on the floor next to Neesa.

A few seconds later, a husky, salt-and-pepper-haired doctor came in and asked to speak to the officer alone. Chase figured that the child would be fine alone with Neesa for a little while.

“I just wanted to inform you what we’ll be doing before we start.”

“Sure thing, Doc,” Chase said.

“First we’ll test his movement, make sure everything is okay and make sure there’s no pain and nothing is broken. No need to take unnecessary x-rays until we’re certain they’re warranted.”

Chase nodded in approval. “That makes sense. I didn’t notice much except that he's messed himself, but all he's done is lean against my dog.”

“So he didn’t have any problems walking or moving his arms or neck?”

“None that I could see,” Chase answered, “but I wasn’t looking for that sort of thing.”

“He’s probably fine; looks like he’s just soiled. But, it’s always good to be on the safe side.”

“Definitely, I understand, Doc.”

“Okay, why don’t we proceed?” the doctor asked as he grasped the door handle.

Chase walked back into the room, knelt down next to Jeremy and spoke in a low tone. “This nice doctor is going to make sure you are okay, he is going to ask you to do some things, sort of like a game of Simon says. Okay?”

“Okay, Case,” Jeremy said, not understanding what he was told. He never played a game of Simon Says, but since games were meant to be fun, he supposed it would be alright.

The doctor placed Jeremy onto the table and had him stand on it.

Jeremy looked nervous being up there and away from the dog.

“Don’t be afraid, Jimmy,” Chase tried to comfort. “Neesa is watching and will make sure you are safe and secure, okay?”

Jeremy nodded in approval. His long T-shirt covered the child to his knees. The doctor had Jeremy move his limbs in all sorts of directions, checking to see if the child winced in pain or was unable to perform any of the actions. Jeremy did everything well.

“Good,” the doctor was pleased. “Let’s remove his shirt and make sure we give him a good once-over.” The doctor turned to the child. “Can you lift your arms real high for me?”

Jeremy obliged and the doctor removed the soiled and tattered shirt. Once the shirt was removed, the full extent of the child’s injuries were revealed. The doctor first saw the deep, dark purple, finger-like bruises that were once covered by the shirt's neckline. “Sweet Jesus,” the doctor said as he crossed himself.

Chase's eyes bulged out at what he saw as his soul was filled with horror. “What happened there?” Chase disregarded most of the bruising, which was extremely disconcerting and pointed at the Jeremy’s red genitals.

“Let’s take a closer look and find out for sure,” the doctor said while taking out a tongue depressor from a glass contained. He gently moved the child’s privates around, trying not to scare the child who was obviously uncomfortable, so he could discern the injury and the probable cause.

“It looks to have been pinched by something,” the doctor explained, “and remained pinched for an extended period of time. Could be anything, maybe a zipper or fingernails, or a clothespin?”

“A clothespin?” Chase said in disbelief, his anger evident.

“You would be surprised at what some children try to do to themselves, but in this case with the other injuries; I doubt it was done by him.”

Jeremy stood there, wincing at the odd touching and unsure of the situation.

“We’ll have to clean out the wound, disinfect it and I have some ointment for it, wouldn’t want that to get infected or heal incorrectly.”

“Yeah,” Chase agreed but was turning green and had to look away from the child. The officer didn’t want to think about an infection and looking at the child had him imagining what the wound might feel like.

The doctor turned the child around in order to get a look at the child’s back. He had to take a step backwards upon seeing the whole picture. “Oh my God,” the doctor exclaimed.

Chase returned his gaze back at the child and saw Jeremy’s back. He took a step backwards as well and bumped into the wall. He couldn’t say a thing, the utter shock of seeing all the welts covering the child’s lower back and backside that were oozing with a greenish-white puss made him queasier than before when he saw his first dead bodies. He picked up the small, tan garbage can and proceeded to get sick in it.

“I’m sorry,” Chase said as he wiped his mouth with a paper towel. The officer tried his best to regain his composure, but he wanted to pound the wall in rage.

“Don’t be,” the doctor comforted. “Everyone should have such a reaction to this sort of thing, especially when it happens to a child so young.”

“You wonder what someone was thinking, I mean what could he have done for a person to believe he deserved anything like this. This was more than a beating, it was torture.”

“I hope whoever did this to him really get what’s coming to them,” the doctor said bitterly.

“I think they’re already dead.”

“Then I hope they pay for it in the next life,” the doctor added. “Hell would be too good for them.”

The doctor pulled out a bottle of antiseptic and poured it on some gauze. He didn’t know of a polite way to clean out the puss-filled wounds. He dabbed the wet gauze on the child’s back. Jeremy howled in pain, Neesa barked in protest. The child attempted to run, but Chase caught him as he tried jumping off the table. Jeremy threw his arms around Chase’s neck as the officer held onto him tightly. The doctor tried to work as quickly and as cautiously as he could, while still doing a thorough job. After three excruciating minutes, that seemed to last for hours to Jeremy, the doctor was finally finished with the back.

“I better get some pictures of this, ,” Chase said as he decided it would be best to focus more on his job and detach himself from the child. The “kit” was already on the Formica counter. It was normally used in rape cases, but it contained a camera loaded with film that an officer could use in any situation. Chase waited for some of the sting to go away and for Jeremy to release his death grip. He pried the child from his neck, and placed Jeremy’s feet on the table. He took a moment to look into the child’s tear-stained eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Chase said on the verge of tears himself. “So sorry that it had to hurt so much, the doctor had to do it so the boo-boos get better and don’t hurt you more later on, I hope you understand.”

The child looked at the blurry officer, not knowing if the words Chase spoke were the truth or if they would be used later to cause more pain. Jeremy wiped the tears from his eyes with his forearm.

“I’m going to take some pictures of you. I want you to be a good boy and let me. This won’t hurt at all,” Chase pleaded, knowing that he must have lost the child’s trust.

Jeremy nodded and Chase grabbed the camera. It was a bit old, but it did the job. Chase first took a full body shot and then a close-up on the neck. The bruises on the neck were obviously caused by fingers as the child was being choked. The doctor used another tongue depressor to lift the child’s privates as Chase took a picture of that injury. They then turned the child around and took pictures of Jeremy’s back. With every click of the shutter, Chase wanted to break down and cry, or to beat the life out of the two people who were already dead.

After Chase took the last picture, he was happy the task was over; he would no longer have to stare directly at the wounds.

“All done,” Chase told the doctor and Jeremy, still feeling choked up.

“Let’s get the front taken care of, and then we can get him cleaned.”

“Uh-huh,” Chase said. Even though he didn’t want to know what was going to happen, he knew he was going to be a participant.

“I’m going to need you to hold him,” the doctor said as he put on another rubber glove.

Chase turned Jeremy around to face the doctor. The child was still in a state of shock and fear such that he didn’t realize Chase was holding him tightly. The doctor lifted the child’s privates with the gloved hand. He dipped a long q-tip into the antiseptic gel and applied it directly to the wound. The cool gel burned and Jeremy wailed and kicked his legs in protest and pain. The doctor kept a steady hand and finished the work that needed to be done.

When it was over, they let Jeremy run to the corner to hide behind Neesa and let the sting die down. After a few minutes, they lifted the child onto the examining table.

“No more burny stuff,” Chase resorted to talking child-speak to the boy. “I promise. We’re just going to give you a bath and put some Band-Aids on the boo-boos.”

Jeremy looked at the officer but didn’t nod, didn’t speak, he just stared accusingly into Chase’s eyes. Chase could feel the tears well up in his eyes at the child’s constant gaze. But Chase didn’t want to cave in; he wanted to be strong for the child’s sake.

The doctor called in a nurse to bring in a basin and cloth for a sponge bath. “We’ll try to find him some suitable clothing and a diaper.”

“Do you still wear a diaper?” Chase asked gently.

Jeremy was trying to see if Chase question was some sort of trick, like ones his father asked. Jeremy sheepishly nodded yes and waited to see if he needed to defend himself. He knew that he had a huge Rottweiler a few inches away that he believed would come to his aid if needed. But, it didn't come to that.

A short, chubby young nurse came in with a pink basin and yellow sponges a few minutes later.

“I’ll get someone to find the things that the child needs,” the doctor told Chase as he left the room.

The young nurse grimaced, more at seeing the child’s wounds then at the mess she needed to clean up. She took great care to be as gentle as possible. She cleaned every inch of the child, changing the water in the basin often, and before too long the dirt and mess was gone and Jeremy was a clean child for the first time in many weeks.

“I’ll go get the doctor,” the nurse told Chase. She dumped the last of the water in the sink and closed the door behind her on the way out.

Chase could hear the nurse crying from the other side of the door, and in a small way, wished that it was him letting go. He felt the emotions of the situation starting to get the better of him.

The doctor came back into the room and saw Chase had allowed Neesa to put her front paws on the hospital table. Jeremy was petting her muzzle. With each stoke the child gave to the dog’s nose, Neesa repaid with a lick of the child’s hand. “Let’s get the wounds dressed and get the child into suitable clothing,” the doctor interrupted. “The social worker is here, and I'm sure you two have a ton to discuss.”

“Yeah,” Chase blew out a breath. It was almost over. “They need to place him somewhere.”

“Those monsters dying was probably the best thing that could have happened to him,” the doctor said, then started arranging the dressings. “Forgive my callousness, but this is no way to treat a human, much less a child.”

“Noted.” Chase was unable to think of anything further to say. He wondered what happen mentally to a child who had been through such horror.

The doctor took great care and was exceedingly gentle as he applied the bandages. He knew the child had gone through traumatic experiences, both at home and in the hospital. The doctor didn’t want to cause any more pain to the child's life if he could avoid it. When the doctor was finished he turned to Chase. “Should I call a nurse in to dress him, or do you think you can handle it?”

“I think I should be able to handle it,” Chase assured.

“Good. My shift is done, I think I need to have a drink.”

“Have one for me too.” Chase managed a meager smile.

Chase was alone for the first time with the child at the hospital. For some reason he felt like he had let the child down for having all the evils of the world happen to him. It wasn't logical, but Chase was a cop, it was his job to protect the innocent and defenseless.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” Chase said to the child.

Jeremy looked at him; not knowing what the apology was for, the child got confused at to what to say in return, and replied “You’re welcome,” in a small voice.

Chase cracked a small smile at the cuteness of the reply. Maybe the kid would be fine once he got to where he was going. The officer put the diaper on the child, careful of the dressings. And finally, dressed the child in a light blue police T-shirt that came to the child’s mid thigh.

“That looks much better,” Chase told Jeremy as he placed the child on the floor so he could play with Neesa.

Chase walked out of the small emergency room. The hallway was clear for the time being. The officer put his head into his left hand and tried not to think about what he just witnessed. How could anyone do that to a baby? He asked himself. How could people not know? How could we not know? Why couldn’t that man next door or anybody in the neighborhood alert us of this catastrophe? It couldn’t have happened overnight? Chase felt a mix of rage and overwhelming sadness. He didn't know whether to punch the wall or cry out loud, so he decided to stand with his back against the door trying to sort his feelings out. I’ve got to compose myself, got to speak to this social worker. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, wiping away the tears that wanted to pour from them. He took a deep breath through his nose and exhaled through his mouth.

Chase walked towards the nurses’ office, keeping one eye on the examining room to make sure the child didn’t wander away. He doubted the child could reach the knob, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Chase motioned with two fingers for the nurse to come over.

“Yes, Officer?” The nurse batted her eyes at the man.

“Please send the social worker in,” Chase tried to sound official. “I don’t want to leave the child unattended.”

“Anything for you.” The nurse was overly cheerful, as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

“Thank you,” the officer said somberly.

Chase walked in front of the door that led to where the child was most likely playing with the dog. Chase could hear through the door, there were no cries or yelps and the officer assumed all was well. He decided to look inside to check and to also pull out a few chairs from the room. In the corner, the young child was balled up in the fetal position with his head resting on the dog’s midsection. Neesa looked at her master, her deep dark brown eyes had an especially sad look to them.

“I understand, girl,” Chase said in a low voice as he grabbed two chairs. “Stay put.”

Walking down the hall was a short older lady with straight, shoulder-length hair and a noticeable lack of makeup. The only ornamentation she wore was her rectangular, silver framed glasses. In one hand she held a bulging briefcase that could give at any moment and held a manila folder in the other. The papers were as disheveled as her hair.

“Officer Milan?” the middle-aged lady asked, practically out of breath.

“Chase, please,” the officer said. “You must be the social worker.”

“Yes,” the lady said, making her way to the two seats Chase arranged in front of the examining room. She placed the briefcase as neat as possible under her seat, but kept hold of the file. “I’m Mrs. Walker,” she offered her hand. “I’ll be working this case.”

“I’m new to this, where do we go from here?”

“Don’t worry, son, I’ll help you out and this shouldn’t take that long.”

“I’m not worried about the time, Mrs. Walker. I want to help and make sure things go correctly.”

“That’s good.” Mrs. Walker gave a thin smile. “It'll make this easier. Let’s see, the child we’re about to discuss is Jeremy Bergeron.”

“Jeremy?” A perplexed look came to Chase's face.

“Yes, the child whose parents had expired,” Mrs. Walker said coldly.

“Expired. I still have to get use to that word being used in this situation; it always reminds me of milk that was left sitting on the counter too long.”

“That’s the kindest way I could put it, the mess that it was.”

“Sorry. So his name is Jeremy.” Chase felt guilty for calling the little child by the wrong name. As he thought about how the toddler said his own name, Chase could see how it would be Jeremy and not Jimmy.

“Yes, I pulled the records of the mother and found out his name, they were receiving WIC and SSI.”

“I see.” Chase wanted to ask that if the child was receiving assistance why didn’t anyone bother to checking on his welfare.

“The child recently turned four,” Mrs. Walker continued, sounding official and detached. “Had his required immunizations, and that’s the extent of what we know.”

“Four?” Chase was surprised. “That child is four? I wouldn’t have guessed more than two and a half.”

“That’s why we go by the records when we can, and we try to get firsthand information from people that have interacted with him.”

“I suppose that’s where I step in?” Chase said, trying not to be nasty or bitter even though he was appalled at the lack of follow through by social services.

“If you would? I’ll need a copy of the official police report also. I heard the rumors and stories, but I’ll need the official report and to my knowledge that will come from the responding officer, which was you.”

“Yes. My shift is almost over for the day, but I’ll have it done first thing in the morning.”

“Great! I’ll also be getting a copy of the medical files, they’re being prepared now.”

“Okay?” Chase didn't know what he was supposed to do while she was telling him this.

“How did the child respond when you first saw him at the crime scene?” Mrs. Walker asked with the folder open and a pen poised in her right hand.

“He was in shock, I suppose. He didn’t move, he didn’t cry. For a while, he didn’t do anything. Then he saw the dog and clung to her for a while.”

“Dog? Which dog?” She looked up over her rectangular glasses at Chase.

“My dog, my partner, I’m part of a K-9 unit.”

“They failed to mention that to me over the phone.”

“Sorry.” Chase shrugged.

“How did Jeremy respond after that?”

“He didn’t want to be separated from the dog. He cried and yelled and put up a fight when the paramedic tried to take him in the ambulance. That’s why I was the one who brought him here.”

“I see.” Mrs. Walker jotted something down. “Has he been apart from the dog?”

“Not yet, I was trying to postpone that scenario as long as possible.”

“That gets me to my next problem.”

“What's that?”

“We haven’t located any next of kin and the child will need to be placed.”

“Where will he go?” Chase asked earnestly, picturing some sort of military camp for kids in his mind.

“You're genuinely concerned for him, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” Chase said defensively. “Someone's got to be.”

“I wonder something then.” Mrs. Walker sat on the edge of her chair and looked at her file.

“What's that?”

“Are you the same officer Chase Milan that lives on Admiral Way?”

“Yes, why?” Chase was curious as to why the lady had such information on him.

“Interesting.”

“What’s so interesting?”

“While reviewing the list of prospective temporary placements, I came across your name,” Mrs. Walker told him. “I thought it was an odd coincidence.

A light went off inside Chase's head.“ My wife and I signed up as foster parents right after we got back from the honeymoon. We've yet to host anyone.” Chase didn't mention that from the time she was twelve, Melissa was also a foster child, being shipped from one home to another.

“So soon after the honeymoon?”

“My wife saw a commercial and it was something she thought we should do. She felt so strongly about it and I didn’t have any objections, so we signed up, had the background checks and did all the appropriate training.”

“Excellent.” Mrs. Walker smiled.

“Wait a minute, I know what you’re thinking. When my wife wanted us to get involved with being foster parents, she was expecting to give teens a place to stay for a little while. She had nothing like this in mind.”

“What’s the difference between a teen and a little child? After all, it’s only a temporary placement, and we don’t have many other families in the area that are available.”

“I don’t know.”

“You're the one who said the child formed an attachment to your animal. Evidently he went through something so traumatic that we don’t know how he is going to respond to being torn away from something that he's found comfort in. I would think it would be doubly traumatic for him to lose his parents, then a few hours later lose something else that he’s come to love.”

“You really know how to lay a guilt trip on someone, don’t you?” Chase said as he thought of the possibility of bringing a child so damaged into his home and how his wife might respond.

“Remember, to protect and to serve, this way you get to do both in one action,” Mrs. Walker said with a wry smile and a glimmer of hope in her eye.

“I’m real new to this foster care; it was my wife who was interested in it.”

“It's a piece of cake. You take the child, feed him, give him a place to sleep, all the regular parenting stuff while we track down the nearest living relative. It’s really a walk in the park.”

“And, if there aren’t any relatives?” Chase asked.

“Then we find a permanent placement for him.”

“And how long would all this take?”

“Who knows, a few days, a week maybe?” Mrs. Walker said, knowing that she was being liberal with the estimated amount of time and that it would probably take longer.

“Let me call my wife. I’m sure you want to see the child anyway.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Walker produced a yellow legal pad from her briefcase. “I need to make some notes.”

“He was sleeping last I looked, but take a peek for yourself and I’ll call my wife and get things straightened out with her. Hopefully I can give you some good news, but if I were you, I’d see which family you should lay the next guilt trip on.”

“You’re a saint,” Mrs. Walker said as she walked into the room.

“Yeah a saint,” He murmured to himself as he made his way to the nurses' station. “Saint Chase, patron saint of the easily manipulated.”

“Mind if I use the phone?” Chase asked the nurse

“Sure.” The nurse smiled as she eyed the officer. “Nine to get an outside line.”

Chase dialed his house; he was usually less nervous about calling home, but this situation was nerve-racking enough.

Melissa picked up on the other end.

“Hi, hon.

“…no, I’m okay.

“…that’s where I’m calling from but it’s not because something happened to me.

“…you know how you wanted to be a foster parent and help children in need?

“…yes, it’s because of a child that I’m calling from the hospital.

“…injured yes, but nothing life-threatening.

“…no, not a teen, a four-year-old.

“…a boy.

“…they died.

“…we were on the list and I was here and the social worker saw my name on the list.

“…they’re pretty backed up and don’t know if they can find someone locally.

“…only until they locate the next of kin.

“…I already asked the social worker that, she said maybe a week, maybe less, just until they locate family.

“…if not, they’ll find a permanent place for him to live. Like I said, she said a few days to a week, nothing long term.

“…I know people lie to pull on my heartstrings.

“…he had a hard day, he's formed a bond with Neesa, it would be bad for the little guy to be pried apart and go to another strange place with another strange person. At least he’s spent time with me today and got familiar me.

“…a few hours I guess. Ever since I got him from his house. I took him to the hospital, and I’ve been by his side as the doctor patched him up.

“…yes, that’s the line she used to get me to agree to taking him in, but I said I would ask you first.

“…I don’t think he’s a behavior problem; he’s scared and probably needs a warm bed to sleep in and a few good meals.

“…I’ll get into that when I get home, now isn’t the time to go into the details, hon.

“…so you can have the guest room set up?

“…you’re a saint. Trust me it’ll be fine, and I think we’re doing a real service for this little guy.

“…my shift is up, I should be back in a little bit. I’ll see about gathering his things from the house and head home from there.

“…love you too, honey.”

Chase hung up the phone. He blushed when he realized the nurse was standing behind him, listening to the exchange the whole time.

“Everything okay?” the nurse asked.

“I hope so. Thanks for letting me use the phone.”

“No problem,” the nurse said and then turned her attention to some paperwork, disappointed that she overheard enough to learn the man was married.

Chase went back to the examination room. The child was still sleeping on the floor, his head resting on the dog.

“How bad was his back?” Mrs. Walker pointed at the bandage that stuck out from the top of the shirt.

“It was pretty bad, a lot of welts.”

“Any sign of sexual abuse?”

“We believe so.”

“A real shame for such a small child!”

“Think he can overcome it, and what he saw today? I mean, is he going to have a lot of personal problems?”

“It’s too early to tell. He’s going to need love, patience, and a lot of counseling.”

“You didn’t wake him to ask him questions?” Chase asked, surprised the child remained asleep on the dog.

“I’m not completely heartless. I see so much of this, I try my hardest not to get emotionally involved; unfortunately, it’s the only way I can be effective. This job requires a thick skin.”

“I’m still trying to develop mine,” Chase said.

“Don’t.” Mrs. Walked placed a reassuring hand on Chase's shoulder. “We need more caring people in the world. What did your wife say?”

“She’s setting up the guest room.”

“Great!” Mrs. Walker was relieved that she didn’t have to do any begging and pleading to get a place for the child to stay while she did her job.

“Do I have to sign anything or something, this is my first time?”

“All your paperwork is on file, and I’ll get right on trying to locate the next of kin. I’m sure this will be a good first experience for you and your wife.”

“I hope so. Like I said, we were expecting teenagers; this might be a little out of our league.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mrs. Walker said. “The more you concentrate on how you can’t do something, the more likely you are to make it come true.”

“You sound like one of my instructors at training, ‘positive thinking yields positive results.’”

“Now you got the ticket.” Mrs. Walker smiled and handed the officer her business card. “If you need me feel free to call, any reasonable hour and I can offer some assistance.”

“Thanks.” Chase held the door open for Mrs. Walker to leave.

Chase looked down at the sleeping child; he wondered how long Jeremy must have gone before having a peaceful nap without pain or interruption. He didn’t want to wake the sleeping child, Jeremy looked so peaceful. Chase gently shook the child, making sure he touched the boy on the shoulder and not Jeremy’s back.

“Jeremy,” Chase said in a calm, steady voice, “time to get up, time to go to a better place.”

The child’s eyes fluttered open and he looked around trying to get his bearings. He saw the tall police officer standing over him and scooted back into the dog.

“Jeremy, how would you like to see where Neesa lives and stay there for a little while?” Chase asked in desperation, trying to make the child lose his fear and actually desire to come to his house.

Jeremy looked up and rubbed his eye. “Pipsy’s home?”

“Yes, the puppy’s home. Would you like to go there with us?”

Jeremy nodded yes, and stood up. Chase offered his hand and to his surprise, the young tyke didn’t hesitate to take it. Jeremy then took hold of Neesa’s collar with his free hand.

The trio left the hospital; it was almost time for the sun to set. Chase looked at his watch and marveled at how much time had passed. He let the child and dog back into the squad car before got in himself.

“Base, this is four-fourteen.”

“How you doing, Chase?”

“I just got out of the hospital.”

“Sarge says no more playing hooky for you.” Rebecca laughed on the other end.

“Trust me, I wish I was on the beat.”

“We understand. Sarge wants you at your desk tomorrow for the day.”

“Paperwork piled up, huh?”

“That and the first one is usually draining,” Rebecca said, referring to the murder. “It’s his policy.”

“I have the kid with me still.” Chase didn't know if it was important for him to mention the fact or not.

“Didn’t social services take him?”

“Melissa and I are registered foster parents, he formed a bond with Neesa, and we figured it was for the best not to tear him away.”

“Don’t take on too much, hon.”

“I’m trying not to. I’m heading over to the scene—see about picking up some of the child’s belongings, if that’s okay?”

A few moments passed. Chase checked the back seat to see the child scratching Neesa's ear. “Sarge says that’s okay. J.D. will be there, take only clothing items, nothing else.”

“10-4, this is four-fourteen out for the day.”

“10-4.”

Chase drove to the crime scene, to the little yellow house of horrors. The drive was different emotionally than earlier. The first time going to the house, Chase was filled with adrenaline and eager to see what was going on. This drive was filled with dread, he knew what he was going to see, and he didn’t look forward to it. Unfortunately, it was necessary; the child needed clothes. If not for that, the officer would drive fifty miles out of his way to avoid the dilapidated house.

Jeremy was looking out the window as they drove through his neighborhood. He was heading back to the house where bad things happened. He looked through the cage that separated him from Chase. The child's eyes filled with tears at the thought of going back to that house, where they might be waiting. He saw his house coming into view, and fear caused him to fill the diaper he was wearing. He wanted to stop making; he thought he would be in trouble for making in his pants. He was sure the police officer was going to take him back to his parents because of the soiled diapers, and he would be punished further. Like most children, Jeremy didn’t understand the permanence of death. Jeremy scurried and made sure the Rottweiler was between him and that house.

Chase parked behind the Camaro, the other patrol car was still there and J.D. was leaning against it. Chase opened the door and got out.

“No go, no go!” Jeremy wailed in fear that he would be taken back.

“I’ll only be a minute, it’ll be okay. You stay here with Neesa, she'll keep you safe.”

Chase left his vehicle; he didn’t want to take long. By the dark, zeroed-in look in Jeremy's eyes, the officer knew the child was terrified. It was a look he never imagined he would see from a child.

“There goes the rook, back from his day off,” J.D. joked as Chase walked towards him.

“Let’s get this over with quickly. I want to get home and end this day as soon as I can.”

“Sorry, I was just trying to rib you a little, didn’t know you were having such a bad day.”

Chase blew out a long breath. “If you saw what I saw, you would be having a bad day too.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah.” Chase could barely get out the word, he was so choked up. He tried to chase the images of the child out of his head, before the tears came.

“All right, you tell me about it tomorrow.” J.D. could tell his colleague was bothered by what he saw. “We’ll make this as fast as possible.”

The two cops walked into the eerily empty house. The stillness made Chase imagine hearing things. He could almost hear the child as a belt repeatedly lashed across his back, imagined how many meals the child missed to be so undersized. What kind of words were spoken between these walls, the officer wondered, thinking of how the boy's father first talked to him while being pulled over.

“You okay?” J.D. nudged Chase.

“Sorry,” Chase said, realizing he was frozen in his tracks at the front foyer. He walked into the living room. The chalk outlines served as a grim reminder that two people lost their lives in a brutal way not that many hours ago. The mess on the wall made Chase queasy again.

“I hate to say it, but they got what they deserved,” Chase said bitterly.

“We aren’t the ones who judge, rook, that isn’t our job. Protect and serve, that's all we're supposed to do.”

“We didn't protect that boy. Sorry,” Chase said immediately after the first sentence. “I know what you're saying. I can’t shake the images of that baby out there in my car, I just can’t. But you’re right, I don’t know everything, I wish I did though, then maybe that kid wouldn’t have had to go through anything, and maybe this didn’t have to happen. I wish I knew why the neighbor didn't call earlier, maybe we could've done something.”

“And maybe you would be God,” J.D. Grabbed hold of the rookie's shoulder, noticing how emotional the young officer was getting. “But, you aren’t, so you do the best with what He has given you and you thank Him for what you have, and how you can help. Let’s get this kid’s clothes, you need to be away from here and get your mind clear bit.”

“You’re right, the quicker I’m out of this place the better. Which one is the kid’s room?” Chase feared that if he didn’t get done he would begin crying in front of his friend.

“First door on the right,” J.D. instructed.

Chase walked into the child’s room and pulled on the cord that lit the bare bulb that dangled from the ceiling. The small mat remained undisturbed and the bags of clothing laid piled in the corner.

“I didn’t know you put it together for me already,” Chase said, noticing the black garbage bags, not recalling that he saw them earlier. Too many other images from the day were vying for his attention.

“I hadn’t, I guess this is how they lived.”

“I don’t know whether to despise these people or to pity them.”

“Don’t speak ill of the dead, ,” J.D. gently scolded the young officer.

“I can’t help it. I’ll be good, promise.” Chase didn’t like being reprimanded; he knew he had to act professional at all times, even when he was off duty.

Chase grabbed a large garbage bag and opened it up. The smell of ammonia, urine and some indistinguishable odors filled the air, making both officers take a step back.

“That’s going to need to be washed,” J.D. said.

“Yeah, but in what? Do they make a detergent powerful enough?” Chase sealed the bag, tying a small plastic string around it to make sure the odors didn’t escape.

“Wash them over and over I guess.” J.D. shrugged.

“Okay. Write down that I took two bags of clothes and let’s get out of this place. The more I stay here, the more things I discover, the more and more I want to break things.”

“Yeah, let’s go, it doesn’t look good if I have to arrest a rookie.”

The two officers shut the lights off and made their way outside. “I hope I never have to see this place again. Honestly, I hope they burn it down.”

“Go home, rook, take a warm bath and spend time with the wife and relax for a while.”

“I’ll take your advice, thanks.” Chase carried the bag out as far away from his body as he could. He didn’t want any of the odors to get on his uniform. He popped the trunk release and placed the bags next to his stored riot gear. Chase looked through the rear window; Jeremy was still hiding behind the dog, quivering. The child maintained a safe buffer between him and the evil that still lingered in the faded yellow house.

Jeremy’s tense face started to ease as Chase turned over the engine, put the car into gear and pulled away. Instead of making a U-turn and having to pass the house again, Chase decided to drive around the subdivision and make his way back to the entrance the long way around. He checked the rear-view mirror and noticed the child was beginning to emerge from behind the dog. He looked out the window at the setting sun. The sky turned bright orange as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon.

“See that, Jeremy; the sun is gone, look how pretty the sky is.”

Jeremy put his face up to the wired separation, looking at the beautiful colors in the sky.

“Do you know what that means?” Chase asked.

Jeremy turned his attention to the officer, not knowing the answer. Afraid of saying something wrong, he waited for Chase to tell him.

“It means that the day is over, everything that happened is now done and behind us, never to happen again. Tomorrow will start a new day, a new life.” Chase wondered if the child could understand any of the philosophy he was being told.

Jeremy looked back at the sky as the orange turned into purple and the purple turned into darkness. The car ride was silent, as it usually was, but this time even more so. Chase would often talk to Neesa on the way home, but this time he had a passenger.

’Maybe I should talk to the poor child,’ Chase thought, ’tell the boy everything is going to be all right, that he'll be safe, that I'll never let anything bad happen to him again. I can't lie to the boy. How in the world can this child ever be okay? How can he ever put behind him the horrible things that happened to him? Who knows? Many people don't remember their early childhood. God, I hope that will be the case with young Jeremy here. Maybe whatever family he has left will look after him right and treat him like a child is suppose to be treated; with love, caring, and respect. Hopefully his family is Christian and God will bless the child.’

Chase came back from his thoughts, he looked into the back seat, once again the young child was curled up and resting on the dog’s belly. Neesa looked up at her master, and looked back down at the child and gave a soft whimper.

“I know, Neesa, it makes me sad too. But he’ll be okay now; we’ll make sure of that. His life can only get better from here on out, right?”

Chase pulled into his driveway and sat there for a few moments. He knew that a new life was about to be introduced into his household, if only for a little while. He hoped it would work out in the end, but he didn’t know how his wife would respond. The situation was tough enough on Chase; Melissa was much more fragile.

Chase popped the rear door release. Once arriving at home, Neesa would normally jump out and run to the door, but today she stayed still and waited for her master to remove the sleeping child. Chase lifted the toddler with the greatest of care, making sure he didn’t disturb Jeremy’s much needed sleep.

“Go on, girl,” Chase commanded and Neesa ran to the front door, then sat down and waited. A few seconds later, Chase made his way to the door, and then made his way in.

Melissa was sitting in the family room, waiting for her husband to return. She stood up as she saw her husband’s head pop into the room.

“Here, he is,” Chase said as he showed the sleeping child to his wife.

“Aww, he is so cute,” Melissa cooed as she looked at the child’s face, at peace while resting.

“His name is Jeremy, and I guess for the next couple of days or weeks he's ours.”

“I made up the guest room for him. I would have rather made it more for a baby. You think he can sleep in a real bed?”

“He's four, he should be old enough.”

“Four?” Melissa looked at the sleeping toddler's face, trying to make her mind work past the actual size of the boy. “That’s right you told me over the phone but he's so tiny, he looks two.”

“He probably malnourished.” Chase frowned.

“Such a shame.” Melissa combed the hair out of Jeremy's eyes with her hand. “Really is.”

“I know. But at least he's safe for now. Let’s put him to bed, he’s had a stressful day; he'll probably sleep through the night.”

“You don’t look like you had it too great, either.” Melissa put her arm around her man and rubbed his tense shoulders.

“You're right. This has been a very long and trying day, I’m glad it’s over.” Chase carried the child up the stairs and into the guest room.

“Maybe we should fire up the hot tub and soak away that tension,” Melissa said while turning down the bed, which was moved against the wall.

“It would be nice to soak and relax,” Chase replied while placing the child on the bed, making sure Jeremy's head was resting comfortably on the pillow. He couldn't shake the image of the child sleeping on the floor.

“We can have a nice long chat; you can tell me about it.” Melissa pulled the blanket over the child’s shoulder.

Neesa jumped on the bed as Chase and Melissa watched from the doorway. Surprisingly the child didn’t stir while Neesa settled at the foot of the bed.

“I think Neesa is his protector. He probably needed one for a long time,” Chase told his wife.

“We all are; we’re his guardian angels for now. I think it’ll all work out fine.”

“At least for the few days we have him; I wish we knew earlier.” Chase turned off the light.

“We should've known earlier, I should've probed further when I pulled his father over, save the child a few days of grief. 'The wife and kid are driving me nuts,' the man had said.” Those words haunted Chase. “Perhaps I should've asked him about that,” Chase thought.

The couple walked onto the porch and turned on the hot tub to get it ready. While waiting, Chase retrieved the child’s clothing from the cruiser's trunk, dumped half the smelly clothes into the washing machine and added twice the required detergent. The smell was so foul; he didn’t want his wife to get sick. He didn’t even know how much of the clothes could be salvaged. The soiled underpants and shorts didn’t bother him that much. But the bloodstained shirts and underwear made him grow angrier with each one he saw.

“Why didn't the neighbor call? Too busy trying not to get involved,” Chase lamented bitterly. “Who am I kidding? What did I do? If I searched that car, maybe I would've found the drugs, or the gun. Maybe that child would've gotten a few less beatings.

Chase waited for the first load to finish and put it in the dryer. He started the second load, making sure that every article was retrieved from the bag. He placed the garbage bag in the sink and burned them to ashes. When he was done, Chase ran the water to wash his hands and drain the sink.

Chase walked to Melissa; dinner was waiting by the side of the hot tub. Chase stripped off all his clothes and joined his wife, who was already soaking.

“Relax, Chase, this will all work out, let’s try to think of the positives of the situation.”

“Positives; what positives?” Chase wanted to cry as he leaned back and rested his head on his wife’s bosom.

“I’m sure there are some; we only have to think of them.”

Chase proceeded to tell his wife all that he saw that day, sanitizing the more gruesome aspects; from the moment he walked onto the crime scene, to the hospital stay, to the return to that house to get Jeremy’s clothes, all in an attempt to show Melissa that there were no positives at all. Melissa was appropriately shocked at the situation; she stroked her husband’s hair as she reflected on all he described.

“Think of it this way,” Melissa finally commented, “he made it out alive.”

“I suppose,” Chase said halfheartedly.

“And it’s over, some kids go through this kind of thing far into their teenage years, and probably repeat the cycle, but you caught it early.”

“Not early enough,” Chase thought.

“Maybe the cycle stops with him.”

“I suppose, but for now, I want to forget this day. If I keep talking about it, I’ll just make myself angry and have nightmares.”

Melissa kissed her husband on the forehead. “Fair enough, let’s enjoy the meal. We can talk about how much you love my cooking.”

“Best food this side of the house has ever seen,” Chase tried to joke.

“You looking forward to work tomorrow?”

“Not really, I have to play desk jockey tomorrow, Sarge wants me to catch up on my paperwork and take it easy.”

“That’s probably for the best, you know they look out for you.”

“Just as long as I’m not doing it permanently, I can handle one day at a desk. I’ll probably put in a half-day.”

“Why not call in sick then?”

“Can’t do that. The paperwork is important; maybe we'll press charges against the neighbor for not reporting the abuse. Besides, the social worker is expecting it.”

“If you do work half-a-day, maybe you can stop at a toy store, we aren’t equipped to keep a baby occupied.”

“What should I get?”

“I don’t know; whatever boys play with at four. All I remember is playing with dolls and having make-believe tea parties. I’ve never been a boy.” Melissa smiled mischievously.

“I guess I better do the shopping for toys then.” Chase smiled back, one of the few genuine smiles he showed all day. He kissed his wife and they enjoyed their time together.

Jeremy slept through the night. It was the first time he didn’t have to open his eyes prematurely because he heard yelling, or fear that someone would cause him harm. It was the first time there was something under his small body that was soft and comfortable. He slept as all children should, in a sense of security that only a warm blanket, clean sheets and a safe room could provide.

Around 9 a.m. Jeremy began to stir. He’d slept long and peacefully, perhaps trying to make up for lost years, or maybe in fear that sleep like this might not come for another lifetime. At first, he thought he could be still dreaming; such comfort was foreign to him in the real world. The child opened his eyes, rubbing them with his small balled-up hands while they adjusted to the sunlight that trickled through the blinds. Jeremy looked around, but didn’t recognize his surroundings. This did not look like the room he normally woke up in. His only memory was of the big black and brown dog that protected him during his sleep, but the animal was nowhere to be found.

“Pipsy,” Jeremy called out. “Pipsy, where you?” The child began to worry that his friend had left once again.

“Pipsy, no play joke,” Jeremy said in a demanding tone.

“Pipsy? Please no go way!” Jeremy cried. “Please.”

The door to the room opened, Jeremy expected to see the large dog lumber into the room. Instead, a tall lady, one Jeremy didn’t know, walked in. She had long blond hair and she smiled easily at him. Jeremy scooted back in the bed and put the pillow in front of him for protection.

“Don’t be afraid, little fella; I’m not going to hurt you.” Melissa tried to make Jeremy understand she was friendly as she spoke in a soft, soothing voice.

Jeremy moved towards the corner of the bed, closer to the wall, not knowing where he was or where he could hide. As Melissa took another step, the child cringed; he couldn’t move any further away.

“It’s okay.” Melissa took a step back, “I’ll just sit here, okay?”

Jeremy watched the lady as she sat in a rocking chair that was in the opposite corner of the room. She made slow, even movements, not wanting to scare the child any further.

“I’m Melissa,” the lady explained. “I’m Chase’s wife; he was the big policeman that was with you yesterday.”

Jeremy understood the words the lady was saying. He understood wife, but he didn’t see any bruises on Melissa’s body. He wondered if the word “wife” meant what he thought. This new place was confusing.

“Melissa, can you say Melissa?”

Jeremy nodded that he could, but didn’t demonstrate that he could speak.

“I want to be your friend, Jeremy. I want to see you happy.”

Jeremy stared at her, not knowing if she was telling the truth or trying to trick him. He knew what happy was supposed to be, but was unfamiliar with feeling the concept.

“Would you like to be my friend, too? I really hope you do.” Melissa tried to get the child to say something, anything that would show that she was easing his fear.

Jeremy still didn’t respond.

Melissa sat back, thinking of another way to approach the child and ease an awkward situation.

“Where Pipsy?” Jeremy finally asked.

“Where is who?” Melissa didn’t understand whom the child referred.

“Pipsy, where is she?” Jeremy looked around and then shrugged his shoulder.

“Who’s Pipsy?” Melissa asked, confused. Was the child asking for his mother, a friend, or perhaps a sibling? She didn’t know.

“Pipsy, doggy, go woof,” Jeremy explained.

“Oh, Neesa, the doggy that was with you yesterday and slept with you.”

Jeremy smiled at getting his message across and nodded his head.

“She’s working with Chase, she’s a police doggy; they’ll be back after lunch.”

Jeremy pouted, wanting the Rottweiler to be with him at all times.

“Speaking of a meal,” Melissa said, “I bet you are a very hungry little boy.”

Jeremy nodded. The growling in his belly had returned. He forgot that he hadn’t eaten anything since the stale slice of pizza he had the morning before.

“I have an idea, let’s go to the kitchen and have breakfast. It’ll help make you grow big and strong.”

Melissa led the toddler toward the kitchen; Jeremy kept a safe distance behind her. When Melissa walked through a room, Jeremy stayed in the doorway and watched until she vanished into the next. As she walked down the stairs, Jeremy watched from the top as she descended. Melissa knew what the young child was doing. It was kind of a game to her. She figured it was a game to Jeremy as well, even though the mood was somber.

She figured he was scared, being in a foreign place, so she didn’t try to lead him by the hand, or carry him or tell him to hurry up. As she got to the lower floor, she walked to the doorway of the kitchen. She waited for Jeremy to finish his descent, him taking longer because of his small legs and not dropping to the next step until both feet were firmly settled on the current one. He waited at the foot of the stairs until Melissa disappeared into the kitchen. Jeremy scurried along the floor, and made his way to that doorway as well. He used the framed entrance to the kitchen as a shield as he peeked at what Melissa was doing.

Melissa pulled the chair out from the table very slowly; a phone-book had already been placed there to serve as a booster for the small boy. She didn’t want to frighten the child more than needed. During the night Chase told her some details about how the child had been abused, so she made sure Jeremy knew he wouldn’t be hurt.

“This seat is for you.” Melissa smiled at the boy, causing him to retreat behind the doorway. As soon as he heard Melissa’s footsteps grow further away, he returned to his previous spot.

Melissa got a bowl from the cabinet, and a spoon from the drawer. She grabbed a quart of milk and placed them at the spot she had reserved for the child. “I figured we could have cereal for breakfast. Would you like some cereal?”

Jeremy meekly nodded yes. He didn’t know what his answers would bring. He didn’t understand a woman fixing him something to eat without him having to ask or beg for it.

“Let’s see,” Melissa said while reaching into a cabinet over the refrigerator. “We have Cheerios or corn flakes, nothing too exciting for a little boy. Which would you like?”

Jeremy stared blankly at her, trying to comprehend what she was doing.

Melissa took the boxes out and held them so Jeremy could see the front panels. “Would you like Cheerios?” She shook the bright yellow box. “Or corn flakes?”

Jeremy stood like a stone. He wasn’t used to having a choice, he wasn’t used to someone fixing him breakfast without him asking and crying, he wasn’t used to this place, or this lady holding the cereal boxes. He looked at the boxes, not knowing if it was some sort of trick, not knowing that if he said one or the other that both would wind up being snatched away.

“I know, I’ll give you Cheerios unless you say no,” Melissa said as she walked over to the table, poured the cereal and then added milk. She felt heart-broken that the child was too frightened to even choose a breakfast cereal.

Jeremy watched. He didn’t understand that she had fixed the cereal for him. He thought that perhaps this was her breakfast, and something less appetizing waited for him.

“Come on, it’s okay,” Melissa said softly. “Come and eat like a big boy.”

Jeremy didn’t move. He wanted to eat, but something in his mind told him that there was danger about him, that this wasn't natural. He stared at the bowl, then at Melissa, then back at the bowl.

“I think I understand,” Melissa said as she moved to the farthest point from the table while still remaining in the kitchen. She leaned against a counter-top that was a good six feet away from where the child’s breakfast lay. “I’ll stay way over here while you eat; no need to be scared, little one.”

Jeremy made his way into the kitchen. He kept his eyes on Melissa as he sat in the chair she pulled out for him. Satisfied that she wasn’t going to run towards him, Jeremy grabbed the spoon and began to eat.

Melissa marveled at how the child ate. He didn’t sit back in the chair, but hunched over his food. He kept his mouth close to the bowl, so none of the Cheerios had a chance to escape. He kept his free hand cupping the bowl poised to grab it in case someone tried to pull it away. It was a very awkward posture for one to be eating in, Melissa thought while wondering where he picked up the habit. Never did she expect any person could eat so quickly, much less a child. Jeremy finished the bowl in record time, even drinking the milk straight from the bowl as most kids do. A small amount dribbled down the side of his mouth and onto his chin and shirt. Melissa giggled at seeing it, but as soon as Jeremy realized he was being watched, he lowered the bowl and looked to see if he was going to be in trouble.

Melissa noticed the worried look on the child’s face. “Don’t worry, we all dribble some milk at times, no one's mad.”

A look of relief settled on the child’s face. To be on the safe side, Jeremy pushed the bowl away from him.

“Good boy,” Melissa praised, “you must've been very hungry.”

Jeremy nodded. Melissa made her way to the table, took the empty bowl and spoon, and placed them in the sink. It was the first time she got close enough to the child to tell that he was soiled. Jeremy watched as she finished clearing off the table.

“What we need to do with you, young man, is get you out of those dirty clothes and washed up.”

Melissa waited for a reply, but none came.

“Let’s me and you have a bath.” Melissa knelt down next to the child, surprised that he didn’t run off. Maybe he didn’t run because I provided breakfast, maybe Jeremy even trusts me, she thought. She held out her hand and amazingly, Jeremy took it. They walked back up the stairs and into the master bathroom. Melissa turned on the faucets to start filling up the tub.

“Let’s get you out of that stinky old diaper while we wait for your bath to run,” Melissa told the child while placing a towel on the bed.

Jeremy climbed on the towel as Melissa motioned to it. “It’s a good thing that Chase went shopping early this morning while you were sleeping or we wouldn’t be prepared for this situation.” Melissa undid the tabs of Jeremy's diaper, making sure not to do any quick movements. She gently lifted the child's leg and slid the messy diaper from underneath. The smell almost knocked Melissa backwards, but seeing the passive fear in the child’s face, she made sure to keep smiling. She wrapped the diaper into a ball and placed it on the side of the bed.

Melissa winced as she removed the bandages off Jeremy’s bottom, wondering how a parent could take a punishment so far. She took a moist baby wipe and cleaned the mess that remained on the toddler's body. Melissa knew the alcohol based wipes must've burned the still healing wounds, but wondered why the boy showed no signs of discomfort or crying. When done, she lowered his legs back to the towel, and then put the baby wipe and diaper into a Ziploc bag. Melissa threw the sealed plastic bag into a trash can that sat inside the bathroom while Jeremy remained on the bed wearing only the blue police T-shirt, watching all that was going on around him.

“The water is ready, let’s have a bath,” Melissa called Jeremy over. She was amazed that, for all his hiding to get to the breakfast table, he made his way in. She lifted the child’s shirt off, and for the first time saw the entirety of the damage caused by his parents. Melissa suppressed a gasp as she removed the rest of the bandages, using as much care as she could. She was horrified by the welts and the bruises she saw on the child's bottom, thinking that the beatings must have stopped there, but now she was sickened by the bruising and welts traveled up his back to his neck.

“This child was not abused and punished the way Chase said,” Melissa thought. “Look at all this, this goes beyond abuse, at least according to any definition I've known. This child was tortured. "

Melissa fought back her urge to wrap her arms around the child and tell him everything was going to be okay, that his parents would never hurt him again. But, how would he respond to an embrace?

Melissa settled herself down. “Let’s get cleaned.”

Jeremy stood still, looking at the bathtub. He was afraid of the water being too deep, or what might happen once he got into the tub. He looked up at Melissa, to make sure she wasn’t getting angry, to make sure that he didn’t need to run and hide. Then he looked back at the tub. His trust only ran so far.

“It’s not hot,” Melissa was trying to gauge what the child was afraid of. She dipped her finger in the tub. “See, just right.”

Jeremy allowed the lady to drip a few droplets of water onto the back of his hand.

“I know, what if I got in with you, and then you would know it was safe. Would you get in the bathtub if I got in first?”

Jeremy thought for a while as he stared at the clear water. She wouldn’t go in if it was something that hurt, right? he asked himself. He looked back at Melissa and nodded yes.

“Okay. I guess one can never be too clean.” Melissa undressed, placing her skirt, blouse and undergarments over a free towel rack.

Jeremy watched as the lady climbed into the tub. He noticed that something was missing, something that he had that she didn’t. The boy looked at himself and then back at Melissa, but the mystery still confounded him.

Melissa could tell that the child was confused at what he saw, probably not knowing the difference between the genders. “Don’t worry, it’s because I’m a girl and you’re a boy. Boys have wee-wees and girls don’t.”

For a young boy, that was a satisfactory enough answer to put his mind at ease. Melissa helped lift him into the tub with her and sat down, resting the small child on her lap. Slowly and gently, Melissa washed Jeremy with a soft washcloth, making sure to be extra delicate as she washed his wounds, which appeared everywhere. She could see the child wince at the slightest touch, but knew they had to guard against infection.

The bath took fifteen minutes, and after a while, the child seemed to be at ease. Melissa hoped that with a little time and some consistency, Jeremy would learn how to trust people. She felt touched that he allowed himself to be vulnerable to her. They got out of the bath and Melissa wrapped the child in a towel before putting a white terry cloth robe on herself. She led the child to the bed and laid him on the towel she had previously prepared. She placed him in a fresh diaper, not yet knowing if he was potty trained.

“What a nice clean boy you are,” Melissa cooed.

Jeremy blinked at her, still unsure of all that was going on.

“Do you remember my name?” Melissa asked, making sure she kept her voice low and even. “I told you before when you woke up.”

Jeremy shook his head no as he kept an eye on the lady that hovered over him.

“My name is Melissa, can you say Ma-liss-a,” she broke up the syllables so the child could understand the parts of her name.

“Missa,” Jeremy said. “You Missa, me Je’my.”

“That’s right,” Melissa complimented, “I’m Melissa and you are Jeremy. My, you are a smart little cutie, aren’t you?”

Jeremy nodded his head yes, causing Melissa to laugh.

“Can I get a hug from such a smart boy?” Melissa wanted to break down as many barriers as possible.

Jeremy was unsure at first, not remembering ever receiving a hug or a kiss at his old house. He reached his arms up, hesitant and more ready to pull them back to protect himself than to go forward and finish the embrace. He finally had his arms around Melissa’s neck and Melissa hugged the child around the waist, making sure that she didn’t squeeze too hard or touch his wounds.

“That was a super hug. I’m so happy that you gave it to me,” Melissa gushed. “You made my day so much better. I’m so happy.”

Jeremy looked back at Melissa as she laid him on the bed. She made some funny faces at him and used cartoon voices. At first, the child was bewildered, yet entertained. A small smirk flashed across his face. Before long, a full smile appeared, complete with laughter as Melissa blew against the child’s bare belly.

“I think it’s time to get dressed, don’t you?” Melissa made sure to keep communication going, not wanting the child to clam up again.

Jeremy stared as Melissa slipped back into her clothing. He sat still on the bed, making sure he did nothing to make the nice lady mad at him.

“Okay, I’m dressed, now it’s your turn, little one,” Melissa told the child. “Stay here while I get your clothes, Chase washed them last night.”

Jeremy nodded as Melissa walked out of the room. He looked around and made note of his surroundings. The bed had a quilt with a flowered pattern on it, along with sheets underneath which smelled clean. The floor was not littered with garbage and the air smelled a little bit like outside. Jeremy took a deep breath and tried to enjoy the cleanliness of the air. The mirror that hung over the dresser had neither tape nor cracks on it. Jeremy waved at the reflection in the mirror as he stood up on the bed. The image waved back, as it usually did, except this time the image was smiling. Jeremy noticed fancy glass bottles and an assortment of make-up brushes arranged neatly on the dresser. He glanced out the window. The bright, deep blue sky looked otherworldly from indoors. He was so used to having windows covered up or so dirty that one would barely see such colors.

Melissa returned with a few items of clothing tucked under her arm. She saw the child standing on the bed, and chuckled. Jeremy turned in surprise. A look of concern came over his face as he tried to figure out if he was in trouble for standing on the bed.

“Sorry,” Jeremy blurted out to diffuse any punishment.

“It’s okay,” Melissa said, assessing the child’s concern. “You know what’s even more fun than standing on the bed?”

Jeremy shook his head no, wondering if maybe it was a trick question.

“Jumping on the bed,” Melissa said with excitement in her voice. “Let’s see how high Jeremy can jump and bounce on the bed.”

Jeremy looked at her, thinking maybe she was being silly or trying to make him break a rule so she would have reason to punish him. Melissa gave him a look that made him want to go along with her idea. At first he bounced on the bed, not letting any air get underneath his feet. Melissa took his hand and bobbed with each of his bounces. She smiled as the child bounced harder, and laughed as he finally jumped and bounded on the bed. After a few minutes, he got tired and plopped his bottom onto the bed. The padding from the diaper and the softness of the bed kept his wounds from hurting.

“Wasn’t that fun, Jeremy?”

“Je’my went boom, Missa.” The child laughed; an almost alien sound for him to hear from himself.

“Yes, you did.” Melissa smiled. “Let’s get you dressed.”

“Okay, Missa.” Jeremy grinned as he caught his breath.

Melissa picked up a shirt from the floor. She placed it over the child’s head, it fit a little snug, but she didn’t have anything else that looked any bigger. “Chase probably shrunk your shirt in the machine, silly man that he is.”

Jeremy was used to his shirts fitting tightly so he didn’t notice anything wrong. He didn’t complain or fuss; he sat there looking at Melissa. She reached down to the floor and picked up a pair of green corduroy pants. A look of painful familiarity came across his face; he knew those pants all too well, the same pants his father had used to hurt him with a few days ago. Jeremy didn’t want to be hurt by pants anymore.

Melissa looked at the pants and then at the child's wide-eyed terror of seeing the garment. The child's look frightened her as she was in a fog over the situation.

“No hurt, no hurt!” Jeremy screamed as he rolled off the bed and ran out of the room crying.

Melissa didn’t know what caused the outburst, but thought it better that she didn’t run after the child. She realized he was going through a great ordeal and that the outburst may have been because she inadvertently did something. She thought back on the events. She then looked back at the pants and something caught her eye. The size. She took out a tape measure from a sewing kit that was kept neatly under the bed and measured the waist of the old, ratty, green pants. They matched the size listed on the pants and in a JCPenney Catalog. Chase didn't shrink them after all.

She then looked at the box of diapers that Chase purchased earlier, and noticed in the fine print what waist sizes they fit. The two numbers weren’t close. Melissa rummaged through the child’s clothing and noticed that none of the pants or shorts were bigger than these. She imagined what it would be like if she wore clothes four sizes too small and the pain that she would feel. She then remembered the wound on his privates, things added up.

“I've waited five minutes already,” Melissa thought, “I figure enough time has gone by that I can start searching for Jeremy. After all, where could he have gone? Let's see, all the doors in the house are locked, so the child has to be cowering in the house somewhere. What a mess I turned this morning into, and I was doing so good too. Stupid pants!

Melissa first went into the guest room, thinking the child might return to the place where he woke up. She looked under the bed and in the closet, Jeremy could not be found.

“Jeremy, please come out, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Melissa pleaded. “I don’t want to hurt you, never ever would I want to hurt you.”

Melissa called out those same words over, and over as she checked the entire upstairs.

She went downstairs, checked all the kitchen cabinets and the supply closet, she looked behind curtains and potted plants. She looked in the living room, and under the couch. It was there where Melissa saw two small feet at the rear of the couch. She wanted to handle the situation correctly, not knowing the child’s history and wanting to make sure that she didn’t make the situation worse.

“Jeremy,” Melissa said softly, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t know those pants were so small. I wouldn’t have made you wear them. Please come out from hiding. I really want to be your friend,” Melissa almost came to tears because she too, in some small way, caused the child pain.

The child didn’t emerge from behind the couch though. Melissa hoped with all her heart that he would know she was speaking the truth. She had visions of him crawling out of his hiding spot and once again hugging her, that years of abuse could be erased with a simple sentence. But, no matter how sincere, or truthful the words she spoke, that would not be the case. “Who are you kidding,” she thought, “you can't fix this; this is way out of your league.”

She sat down on a chair opposite the couch and simply watched and waited. She didn’t want to pull out the couch and hunt the child down. She didn’t want to frighten Jeremy any further.

“If you want, I’m sitting right here, whenever you’re ready,” Melissa felt sad that perhaps all that was built between the two throughout the morning was lost. “All because of a stupid pair of pants,” she mumbled to herself.

A half an hour passed and the child didn’t emerge from behind the couch. Melissa could sometimes hear a small voice say something, but not loud enough for her to determine what it was. All she knew to do was wait, and that's what she did.

Melissa heard the police cruiser pull into the driveway. The patrol car’s engine had a unique sound and Melissa always knew when Chase was home, which was good because she didn't have any success getting Jeremy from behind the couch. A moment later, Chase came through the door with his arms full of bags from a toy store. Neesa lumbered in behind him.

“That looks like a week’s pay.” Melissa was amazed at all the things Chase was carrying.

“No, this is great. Each one of the guys brought something for the little guy. They heard how I took him in and they knew how much of a softie I am, and they beat me to the punch. Some of the stuff is slightly used. But hey, it’s new for him, right?”

“Yeah.” Melissa's voice didn’t portray excitement.

“What’s wrong? Where is he?”

Melissa pointed to the couch and mouthed the word “hiding.” “I know;” she said out loud, “let’s get Neesa to find him. I know Jeremy loves the doggy, and I know the doggy loves Jeremy.”

Before Chase could say the word, the child appeared from behind the couch. Jeremy’s face looked as if he was under a lot of stress and once again, he was afraid of the world around him. Then he saw the dog standing behind Chase. Ignoring the bags of toys and goodies, Jeremy ran to Neesa.

“Pipsy, you home!” Jeremy beamed. “You keep Case safe.”

“How was your day?” Chase asked his wife as he watched the child hug and pet the dog.

“I don’t know,” Melissa said as she gave her husband a hug and soft peck on the cheek.

“Tell me about it,” Chase said as he sat down on the couch and pulled his wife onto his lap.

“It started out good. He had a decent breakfast after getting over the initial shock of being here. Then things got better in leaps and bounds. We took a bath together and had fun upstairs. I let him jump on the bed, he loved it. Then I wanted to dress him. Things went downhill fast.”

“You saw them?” Chase referred to the child’s wounds.

“I saw them before then. I almost passed out. Those monsters! You should've told me how bad he was hurt.”

“I did.”

“you said he had some welts, you didn’t say his back resembled a road map.”

“Those are welts,” Chase protested. “What else could I say?”

“I don’t know. But, that’s not the point.” Melissa wanted to avoid a fight. “Jeremy has an aversion to pants that are four sizes too small.”

“Four sizes?”

“Yes. Why those,” Melissa held her tongue, if she unleashed the anger she felt towards Jeremy's parents, she might not be able to reign it in. “Why they even still owned the pants is beyond me, but when he saw them he got scared and hid.”

“He’s out now. Maybe you can get back to where you were before the pants incident. Besides, he seems okay with Neesa.” Chase pointed to the small child as Jeremy rubbed the dog on the belly.

“I don’t know,” Melissa said questioningly. “We may have gotten ourselves into something over our heads.”

“I don't think it's that bad. We have to refuse to allow emotions to overwhelm us.” Chase knew his wife could be sensitive to certain situations. “It’ll be a few days and things will get better as he grows to trust us.”

“Speaking of a few days, have they located anyone yet?” Melissa asked.

“Not yet, but I bet they’ll look in earnest on Monday, you know how it is towards the end of the week.”

“I guess.” Melissa shrugged. “What's one weekend anyway?”

“That’s the spirit, honey.” Chase flashed a smile. “Let me change out of my uniform and take the boy out in the yard. I think I saw a ball and glove in there.”

“You know why you like this? It’s because you’re still a kid and now you have someone to play with. Get going, you silly boy.” Melissa kissed Chase on the cheek and gave him a playful smack on the bottom as he made his way up the stairs.

Jeremy, on the other hand, stayed with the dog as Melissa looked on. Jeremy looked genuinely happy, like when they were drying off. She wondered what his life was like a week ago. What words were spoken, what games he played and with who. She sat on the floor next to him and the dog.

“You really like Neesa, don’t you?” Melissa asked, making sure to be cautious in the way she approached him.

“Yes, she bestest friend.” Jeremy smiled.

“How long as she been your best friend?” Melissa petted the dog on its big square head.

“All life. She need find me.” Jeremy gave the dog a big hug as Neesa licked his face and panted heavily.

“Neesa is a good dog and good at finding people.”

“Yes, good, Pipsy.” Jeremy smiled.

“I would like to be your friend too.” Melissa made another attempt to break through.

Jeremy gave Melissa an odd look. “But you no doggy,” he finally said.

“That’s right, I’m not a doggy. But big people can be friends with little people if they want.”

“Okay,” Jeremy said in a confused whisper, not knowing why a big person would want to be friends with a child.

Melissa held her arms open, hoping the young child would get the idea. Jeremy knew what she was expecting; he had seen children hug bigger people. It just wasn’t a practice he participated in, especially twice in one day. He stood up and put his arms around Melissa. She hugged him back.

Jeremy looked up; a tall man was heading straight for him. He did not recognize who it was, and he began to worry. He squirmed in Melissa’s arms, wiggling to break free. Melissa felt the child struggle and assumed the embrace scared him, and she let go. Horror fell on the child’s face as he looked at the approaching figure. The look scared Melissa; she glanced behind her expecting to see something wrong. She jumped in fright and let out a yell, not expecting her husband to be a few steps behind her watching. Jeremy hid behind the dog.

Chase moved to the foot of the couch. “What’s wrong, Jeremy?” he asked softly.

The voice sounded familiar, but the body did not. He never saw Chase in plain clothes and associated the uniform with the man.

Jeremy was frozen with fear, saying nothing.

“Jeremy, it’s me, Chase. We spent all day yesterday together, remember?” Chase pleaded for the child to withdraw from his fears. “I’m the one that has Neesa, remember?”

“You no Case! no Case! No! No! No!” Jeremy whimpered as he used Neesa as a shield.

“Sure I am, don’t you remember?”

“Case cop, you no cop,” Jeremy accused.

“Sure I am, I only changed my clothes. I can’t play with Jeremy with my uniform on. It would get dirty and I would get in trouble,” Chase tried to explain but the child wasn’t buying it. He reached in his back pocket and took out his billfold. He flipped it open to reveal his spare badge and he held it up to his chest, where it would be displayed on the uniform. Jeremy’s face lit up at recognizing the officer.

“Case! Sorry, Case!” Jeremy apologized.

“It’s okay. Sometimes I don’t know people if they dress differently.”

Chase showed Jeremy the badge a few times and hid it away a few times. He wanted to get Jeremy to relate to him without the shield. After a few minutes of making a game out of it, Chase was satisfied that the boy would never be afraid of seeing him out of uniform again.

“Would you like to go outside and play with me while Melissa gets lunch ready?”

Jeremy nodded and Chase let him out the back door into the yard. Chase told the child that he would join him in a little bit and that he could run around and do as he liked as long as he didn’t stomp through the flowers.

“See,” Chase said to his wife, “little things that need time and patience to work through them.”

“I don’t know, Chase,” Melissa replied. “He scares me.”

“Think of how he feels.” Chase rummaged through the bags looking for a glove.

“I said I can last the weekend, but…” Melissa trailed off.

“But what?”

“I’m hoping we do more good than harm.”

“The damage has been done; we can only make his life better at for the time being.”

Melissa sighed. Is this even fair to him, she thought, to allow him to get close when we know this is only temporary? I hated when I got settled into a home, got comfortable and then had to pick up and leave.

“I’ll try,” Melissa gave in. “Only because it's so important to you.”

Chase found the glove in one of the bags. He gave a huge, dopey smile to his wife while he showed her the pint sized mitt and the big yellow Nerf ball.

“I wonder who's the bigger kid,” Melissa chuckled. “You or the four-year-old?”

“This is what men do with little boys, we teach them baseball. When I was Jeremy's age, I remember waiting by the window for my dad to get home. I'd have both his glove and mine with me because after he spent a few minutes with my mom, he'd take me out into the back yard and play catch. That's how a father shows his son that he loves him. This'll be good practice for me for when Chase Jr. gets here in five years.”

“What if you're cursed with only having girls?” Melissa asked mischievously.

“Then I'll have to find a mistress, one that makes boys.” Chase stuck his tongue out. “Come on, Neesa, let’s play,” he called to the dog and went outside.

“Hey, Jeremy,” Chase knelt down next to the small child. “Do you like baseball?”

Jeremy shrugged, remembering that he watched it with his father, but not knowing what response Chase wanted to hear.

“That’s okay, you’ll love it. Look at what the guys at work got for you, your very own baseball glove. Isn’t that great?”

Jeremy looked down at his hand while Chase placed the glove firmly on it. He placed the ball in his free hand and took a few steps backward.

Jeremy stood still, a scene recently familiar to him. His knees shook a little as he eyed Chase, but he was unsure if he was looking at the officer that rescued him or the father that beat him. In his mind it could go either way.

“Come on, throw it right here,” Chase encouraged while squatting down and patting his fist into his left hand.

Jeremy awkwardly threw the ball making it travel halfway to Chase before having the ball roll the rest of the way.

“Good job; that was a very good try.” Chase praised to build the boy’s confidence. “I bet you’ll be an all-star when you grow up.”

Jeremy didn’t hear the words; his mind was elsewhere. “God, you’re hopeless,” were the words Jeremy heard over and over in his head. “Want to see how to really throw a ball?” echoed in his memory as he focused only on the ball being held by a hand.

“Try to catch the ball,” Chase instructed. He lobbed the ball easily at the small child. Jeremy didn’t move; for some reason he couldn’t. He was frozen where he stood as the spongy ball hit him gently on the shoulder. Jeremy didn't even react as the ball struck him. His body remained still while his mind relived the past.

“Nice try.” Chase was confused by the child’s lack of action. He walked over and picked up the ball. “Watch what I do.” Chase tossed the ball in the air, cupped both his hands and caught it. “Now you try.”

Chase once again lobbed the ball at the child, this time trying to center it on the boy. The ball barely fluttered to the toddler, but to Jeremy it was coming as fast as a bullet. The boy waited for the pain to set in as the ball touched his chest. He could feel the pain in his mind, even though the physical pain didn’t exist. He watched as Chase approached, wetting his diaper in the process. Chase was saying something, but Jeremy didn’t hear a word that was spoken. As Chase knelt down next to the child, Jeremy fell to the ground and balled up into the fetal position.

“Jeremy? Jeremy, are you okay?” Chase stood over the child in a state of disbelief.

“No hurt, no hurt!” Jeremy cried over and over. Chase backed away from the child, wondering if he inadvertently hit the welts on the child's stomach, but was certain he hadn't.

“I won’t hurt you. I’ll never hurt you,” Chase said softly as he created more distance. Neesa walked over to the child, glancing at Chase every few steps. Her cold nose gently nuzzled the child’s neck. It was Neesa’s cold nose and whimpering that brought the child back to reality.

Jeremy opened his tear-drenched eyes and saw the dog staring him in the face. He received a few more licks from the dog and then looked over at Chase.

Melissa who had been watching through the kitchen window came jogging out. “Did he get too rough with you and that ball?” she asked the child as she gave her husband a stern look.

“Me okay,” Jeremy responded.

“Why don’t you go to the bathroom where we took the bath, and I’ll wash your face and change you, okay?” Melissa said after noticing the stain on the front of Jeremy’s Pampers.

Jeremy finally saw Chase for who he was, no longer picturing his father. He walked through the open door and made his way to the master bathroom.

“Yeah, we can handle this,” Melissa said sarcastically as Chase stood dumbfounded.

“I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

“Now you know how I feel.” Melissa knew she was being nasty and even though she didn't want to be rude, the situation was getting the better of her.

“We will figure this out,” Chase said with conviction. “I know we will.”

“We only have a few days, you said so yourself. Let’s just get through them.”

“Okay.” Chase watched his wife walk back into the house.

“I only wanted to have some fun and play catch,” Chase added to himself.

Melissa walked up the stairs. “This is so much over my head,” she said to herself, “I don’t even know where to begin. That poor child is probably hiding behind the couch again. I hope Neesa can lure him out. I wish I could help, really I do. But I don’t know how. I hope I have the strength to make it through these few days without having an emotional breakdown. This is too much for me.”

Melissa took a deep breath and walked into the bedroom. Jeremy, as she expected, was nowhere to be found. She took a quick peek under the bed to see if she could see any little feet. None were there. She then heard a small voice coming from the master bedroom.

“Itsy bitsy spider, sat on the toilet bowl,” Jeremy sang to himself one of the silly songs he must have heard on television yet changing the words for his own amusement. Melissa stood by the door amazed at the clarity with which he spoke. It was the first time the sentences weren’t broken or short. Melissa knocked on the door; the singing came to an abrupt halt.

“There you are, I was looking for you.”

“Me here.” Jeremy returned to his regular speaking pattern.

“I didn’t know that you could use the potty like such a big boy.”

“Je’my big boy.” The child gave a toothy grin.

Melissa smiled down at him. So here is the boy that was with me earlier, she thought. Where is that other side that’s scared, that’s crying and hiding? What causes this Jeremy to appear, and the other one to retreat? How close is he to being a regular, normal child?

“All done,” Jeremy announced as he hopped off the bowl and inspected its content.

“Let me clean you.” Melissa took a baby wipe and cleaned the child’s rear. She’d much rather clean this mess than the disaster that the diaper caused.

“Tank you.” Jeremy smiled as Melissa put him in a fresh diaper.

“You’re welcome, sweetie. How about you go downstairs and grab a bite to eat. Then maybe a nice fresh apple for desert. Then you can have a little nap.”

Jeremy nodded as he eyed Melissa, looking as if he wanted to ask something.

Melissa picked up on the cue. “You want something else?”

“Je’my up,” he said while lifting his arms in the air and giving a cutesy look, wanting to test how far he may trust this lady.

“You want me to pick you up and carry you downstairs?” Melissa smiled while confirming his request.

“Yes, yes, carry,” Jeremy said excitedly.

“Okay.” Melissa lifted Jeremy from under his arms and placed the toddler on her hip. She re-situated her hands so that one forearm was under his bottom and the other was gently on his back for balance. She carried the child down the stairs, making sure that he didn’t get scared. She looked at him the entire time and occasionally made a funny face that Jeremy would mimic and then laugh. Melissa walked into the kitchen; Chase was amazed at how much like a regular kid Jeremy was behaving. Melissa placed the child in the seat next to Chase, and he looked as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Who is this young man?” Chase asked in mock surprise.

“It me, Je’my,” the child said with all seriousness.

“So it is.” Chase let his eyes grow bigger, “I almost didn’t recognize you. Are you sure you're Jeremy? Do you have a driver’s license I can see?”

“But, I no drive!” Jeremy burst out in a fit of laughter at Chase's joking.

“I’ll let it go this time. Are you ready for lunch?”

“Yes, yummy, yummy, yummy in my tummy.”

Chase and Melissa gave each other a look that asked, “What is going on here?”

Melissa set a sandwich in front of Jeremy that had the crust cut off and it cut into four even squares. The meal went smoothly. Other than when Jeremy blew bubbles in his chocolate milk and Chase followed suit, it was basically quiet. Chase told Melissa about filling out paperwork and how he would rather have been out on the beat.

The meal was finished, and Chase was ready to clear off the table. Jeremy sat back in his chair, kicking his feet in the air.

“Jeremy, can you please hand me your dish?” Chase asked.

The small child attempted to hand Chase the plate, but somewhere in the exchange, the plate slipped off Chase’s wet hand and fell to the floor with a loud crash.

“Chase!” Melissa yelped as she saw the shattered pieces scatter on the floor.

The child also looked at the broken pieces, his eyes glazed over and though his body was still in the Milan’s kitchen, his mind was in the past again.

“The mistake broke them.”

“You broke our plates?”

“Want to break my shit, do you?”

“This will teach you.”

Only Jeremy heard those voices. To Jeremy it was as if his dad was standing in the room, right on top of him again.

“Jeremy? Jeremy?” Chase saw the look of terror in the child’s eyes.

“No break, no break,” Jeremy said as he stared at Melissa cleaning up the mess. He then bolted out of the room and the adults listened to the patter of his feet as he ran up the stairs.

“Don’t run after him,” Melissa said coldly.

“I know.” Chase frowned. “I know.”

Melissa got on her knees with a hand broom and dustpan and picked up the broken pieces of the dish that she swept into a pile. “Shattered,” she said pointedly, “like that poor child’s soul.”

“Thanks. Thanks a lot.” Chase slumped in his seat putting his head in his hands. Not only was he worried about the child, but about his wife; Melissa was never so defeated or short with him before. It wasn't like her to give in easily, and, with the child, it was like she wasn't even willing to try.

“Enough time has gone by,” Melissa said, more relaxed and even toned. “Go check where he is, put him down for a nap. When he wakes up, we should get him some pants.”

“Pants? Why?”

“Nothing you brought over fits, plus they are all dirty and disgusting, even after washing. They are beyond cleaning.”

“Okay. We’ll go shopping after his nap. Let’s hope he's okay.”

“Go check on him and then we need to talk.”

“Yes, dear.” Chase stood up and headed upstairs. “Come on, Neesa,” he called, hoping the canine could help. He walked into the child’s temporary bedroom and could hear sobs coming from the closet. Chase gently rapped on the closet door.

“Jeremy, can I open up the door?” Chase asked calmly, trying not to let his frustration show.

Only silence replied. Chase slid the closet door open and looked at the child cowering in the corner.

“No hurt, no hurt!” Jeremy cried as he wrapped his arms around his head in a defensive posture.

The officer's heart broke. “Jeremy,” Chase said in a whisper as Neesa lay in the closet next to the child. “It’s me. It's Chase. I’ve never hurt you and I’m never going to hurt you in the future.”

Jeremy sniffled, “But me bad.”

“No, you are not bad. You are a very good boy. I let a silly little plate fall and break, not you.”

“Not me?”

“No. My hand was wet and the plate fell. No one wanted it to fall and break, but it did. It’s okay, though, plates come and go, and we can replace them. But little Jeremy can’t be replaced.”

“I can’t?”

“Nope. You are very special; you can never, ever be replaced.”

Jeremy tried to comprehend that his life had worth. It was a new concept and he didn't know if he believed what he was being told.

“How about you lay in the bed, and you and Neesa can take a nap? She looks real sleepy and I know she can’t fall asleep without someone sleeping with her. Can you do that for her?”

Jeremy nodded as he stood in the closet. He dragged his feet over to the bed and climbed in after Chase turned down the covers. Chase tucked the toddler in and allowed Neesa to snuggle next to him.

Chase backed out of the room, leaving the door open so if an emergency arose he would hear the child. He walked downstairs; his wife was waiting for him in the living room.

“We need to talk, and we need to talk now.” Melissa stood in the middle of the family room with her hands on her hips.

“I know this is rough, but…”

“Rough?!?” Melissa cut Chase off. “Sandpaper is rough! This is more than rough. What were you thinking taking him home with you?”

“I was doing what's right. I know this is difficult, but it is the right thing to do. What else could I do?”

“That’s the problem Chase, you mean well but you took on too much this time.”

“How did I take on too much? It’s one little kid for a week, it’s not like we’re converting the house into a prison block.”

“Because you always have to save the world, it’s noble but not practical.”

“I’m not trying to save the world, just one little kid,” Chase was trying to remain unemotional.

Jeremy heard the raised voices and made his way to the foot of the stairs to see what was going on. He knew raised voices led to fighting and fighting led to hitting, and then hitting led to crying. Jeremy knew they were talking about him and considered the result of this fight would be his fault.

“That’s just it,” Melissa continued “you're trying to help him, but how? What can you do? He is broken, Chase, and I don’t think he can be fixed.”

“So we don’t even try? Is that what you’re saying? We give up without even making an attempt? Is that what this child’s life is going to be like? Filled with people not willing to try because they think they’re going to fail or because it’s too difficult? Like that neighbor of his, not willing to get involved, because, God forbid, we pay attention to anything outside ourselves. That’s no way to go through life.”

“I’m not saying everyone will give up. I’m saying we’re not equipped to make an attempt,” Melissa argued back. “We’re grossly unqualified for the job. Why can’t you see that? You’re brave, and caring, and want to fix things; that’s one of the reasons why I love you. But with him you’re only going to get hurt, and I don't want to see your feelings crushed.”

“I’m not going to get hurt,” Chase said firmly. “How can you say something like that? Why are you acting like this?”

“Because it’s going to happen, but you refuse to see the obvious.”

“How can you say that? You’ve never been pessimistic like this before.”

“Because I know,” Melissa's voice had grown heavier. “That’s all.”

“How?”

“Can’t you see he’s breaking my heart?” Melissa started crying. “Each time I’ve seen him today my heart was breaking a little more. Every time he hides or I see those wounds, I want to break down and cry. Every time he yells or zones out—like the recent past is a beast that’s going to devour him—I want to tear out my heart if only to keep it from hurting! I can’t take that kind of pain; it hurts too much for me to bear!” Tears ran down her cheeks.

Chase blinked back tears himself as he struggled to make his case. “So you won’t try to help because it hurts you too much?”

“I know it sounds selfish, but that’s the way I feel.” Melissa wiped away tears with her fingertips.

“What about him?” Chase plowed on relentlessly. “Doesn’t it count how he feels?”

“Yes, it does. That’s why I’m willing to wait the week, this way he doesn’t have to keep being uprooted. The next place he goes with should be family, or something permanent.”

“Thanks for being so understanding and gracious,” Chase said bitterly.

“Don’t be like that. Why do you care so much, more than most people would it seems?”

“Because I do,” Chase said defensively as he crossed his arms.

“That’s not an answer; it’s a cop-out.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want to hear the truth,” Melissa's compassion returned and the edge was out of her voice. “There’s something going on here that you're not telling me. I can see it in your eyes—there’s something more.”

“Why can’t I be more caring than the average guy and that be the end of it?”

“Because I know you, this is beyond your normal level of caring. What do you see when you see that boy? What aren’t you telling me?”

Chase stewed in his thoughts, knowing eventually he would have to tell his wife but not liking the prospect of doing it on her terms. “Failure,” Chase blurted out. “Okay? I see failure,”

“Failure?” Melissa was shocked by the answer. “Who’s failure?”

“Mine.”

“How?”

“Because I didn’t stop what was happening to him,” Chase said.

“You didn’t know about it. You aren’t God, you know. How could you think like this?”

“You don’t understand. Before all this happened I pulled his father over. Remember, I told you about the busted muffler that I thought was gunfire? That was Jeremy's father. I should've known something; I should have done something different. But instead I played the good guy, I didn't press. I wrote the guy a ticket and sent him on his merry way.”

“What should you have done different?”

“I don’t know, something, anything.”

“Jeremy was getting beat and abused long before you ever pulled that…” Melissa wanted to use a word that she didn’t often use but trailed off instead.

“Most beatings I don’t blame myself for. But the last one, those welts on his back and backside, those are mine. Every time I look at him, I see how small he is and how much hell he must've gone through, and I think I kept him there longer because of my inaction. Every time I see his back and I see those welts, I think to myself, you might as well have been the one who put them there.” A scalding tear made a trail along Chase’s cheek as he trembled with anger and shame.

“So you’re trying to make it up to him?”

“That’s my penance,” Chase choked out.

“But you couldn’t have known,” Melissa sympathized. “How can you blame yourself?”

“Logically I know that. I can intellectualize that it wasn’t my fault at all. But here,” Chase pounded his fist against his heart. “Where it counts, I blame myself. It’s a cancer eating at me and if I turn him away, it would only gnaw at me more.”

“You weren’t going to tell me all of this.” Melissa joined her husband in crying. “You were going to let it eat you alive and not tell me. Why? I would have understood; I would have been behind you more. I know your heart, why didn’t you say something?”

“I figured having him here would be enough.”

“You’re right. He's here and that’s plenty, but that’s beside the point. I can hold out until the social worker finds the family, I can live with the pain. We can do this together. I wish you didn’t keep all that pain to yourself.”

“Come here.” Chase opened up his arms wide and the two embraced, crying in each other’s arms. “We’ll do okay. We can do it; it’s only for a short while.”

“We can do it,” Melissa echoed, sobbing against Chase’s shoulder as their first official fight as a married couple came to an end.

Jeremy looked on, not understanding what happened or what was said. Did they have a fight? There was no hitting, but they were crying. He knew the argument was about him, exactly what the details were escaped the child, but he felt responsible for the tears. He walked down the stairs and tugged on their clothing.

“Me sorry,” Jeremy said in his small voice as the adults looked at him.

“What are you sorry for?” Melissa asked as she got down on one knee next to the child.

“Me make fight. Me sorry.”

“You didn’t make us fight, sweetie,” Melissa said. “We needed to talk about adult things between us. We aren’t mad at each other or nothing.”

“Talk ’bout Je’my,” the child said firmly.

“Yes, we were talking about you,” Chase said. “But it was nothing bad and we aren’t mad at Jeremy at all. We needed to say things to each other so we know how to make everyone happy. Okay?”

“’Kay.” Jeremy didn't really understanding but hearing that things were all right put his mind at ease.

“Let’s get you a nap, and then we can go shopping for brand-new pants.”

Jeremy nodded as Melissa picked him up. She carried him upstairs as Chase followed. The adults laid him down in the bed, next to the lounging dog.

“Good job, Neesa,” Chase said. “I’m never letting you baby-sit again.”

“Get a good nap, then we’ll go to the store and then we’ll get something fun for dinner.” Melissa tucked the child in and gave him a small kiss on the forehead.

Jeremy turned and snuggled up to the sleeping dog. His eyes fluttered for a few seconds, and he drifted to sleep.

“Maybe we can handle it, despite the pain,” Chase said.

“Maybe.” Melissa put her arm around her husband’s waist as they both looked on.

“He looks peaceful,” Chase remarked. “Like a little angel sleeping there. I don’t know what those people were thinking or how they could hurt such a child.”

“Some people are evil, I guess.”

“I hate to say this, but I’m glad how they met their end, even though I could imagine better fates for those two.”

“Chase, what they did is terrible, but let’s not stoop to their level. Okay? Let’s go downstairs and you can put away the toys.”

“Thanks,” Chase said as he kissed his wife on the forehead, just as she did to Jeremy.

Two hours passed and Jeremy began to stir. He came to consciousness, but didn't want to open his eyes right away. He feared that the morning had been a fantasy, that the people who he thought rescued him were angels in his dreams. Perhaps if he opened his eyes he would find himself on a ratty blue mat covered with a faded green towel. With his eyes still closed, he inhaled deeply, trying to detect foul smelling smoke. The fresh air greeted him like an unfamiliar friend. Jeremy decided it was safe to view his surroundings and he opened his eyes. To his relief, he was still in a clean room lying on top of a real bed, and he realized he wasn’t dreaming at all.

Chase was lounging against the arm of the couch with Melissa leaning against his chest as they watched a movie. Jeremy made his way into the room with them. He climbed onto the couch and sat in the midst of the couple.

“Hey there, Jeremy, have a good nap?” Chase asked.

Jeremy nodded as Melissa put her arm around him.

“After the movie is over we’ll go to Wal-Mart and get you something to wear around your bottom.” Chase patted the toddler on the side of his leg, one of the few spots where he didn’t have bruising.

“’Kay.”

The movie finished a half hour later, with no interruptions from the little boy who was content to be exactly where he was. Melissa stood up and fetched a pair of sandals from his room. The sandals were old and had some green and blue mold on them that concerned her, but it was the only footwear the child owned. She dressed the boy and carried Jeremy to her car. She put him in the back seat, fastening the seat belt and making sure he was comfortable. Both she and Chase were concerned that there wasn’t an appropriate car seat, but it was the best they could do at the moment.

“It's amazing how calm he is after those outbursts,” Melissa told her husband.

“It shows he isn’t all gone. It’s a sign that there’s hope.”

The two got into Melissa’s Le Baron. Chase, as he usually did when they were together, drove his wife’s car. Often he joked that he missed the siren when he got behind a slower driver.

“Don't worry,” Melissa reassured, “they can feel your beady little cop eyes on them, that's why they’re behaving.”

Chase pulled into a parking spot, a fair distance away from the mega-store. He took the child by the hand and the group walked towards the store. On the way in, a beat-up Camaro caught Jeremy’s eye. Chase also noticed the vehicle and prepared for the worst. Though Chase knew it wasn’t the exact vehicle as Jeremy’s father, the similarity was unsettling. Jeremy cringed and stumbled into Chase’s leg.

“Don’t worry, they aren’t here,” Chase tried to ease Jeremy’s nerves.

Melissa looked on in confusion as she watched Jeremy’s face grow tense.

“We’re here to protect you. Come on up.” Chase stopped and let Jeremy jump into his arms. “No one will hurt you while I’m holding you.”

Jeremy buried his head into Chase’s chest. He didn’t want to see the car; he didn’t want to be reminded of his parents. He didn’t even look at the Camaro. If he didn’t see it, it didn’t exist.

“We’re inside now,” Chase told the child as the sliding door shut behind him. Jeremy lifted his head and watched what was going on around him.

“I think boys’ clothes are in the middle of the store, next to the socks,” Melissa said.

“Right next to the men’s stuff.” Chase smiled mischievously. “They make it obvious. They need to make it fun, like a treasure hunt.”

“It’s going to take us an hour as it is with all the people. I don’t want them to keep us here all day because you want to play a game.” Melissa shook her head and chuckled.

“Sorry, I like to have fun every now and then. Excuse me.” Chase gave Melissa a playful pinch.

“Behave!” Melissa gave him a serious look.

They made their way to the boys’ section. Melissa pulled out a tape measure and checked the child’s waist. She consulted a sizing chart that she removed from a JCPenney’s Catalog.

“Let’s go to the toddler section.” Melissa headed towards a rack of clothing.

“Now don’t go to town on me,” Chase pleaded. “Just a pair or two of pants and a few shirts to get us through the next couple of days.”

“You’re such a spoil sport,” Melissa teased.

“A poor spoil sport.”

“This looks nice.” Melissa held up a pair of dark blue jeans.

Chase placed the child onto the floor so Melissa could hold the pair of pants against him. Jeremy looked at them uncomfortably. Melissa measured the waist of the pants to make sure they were the right size. She didn’t want anything to fit tight, especially after seeing the clothes the child arrived with.

“Don’t these look nice?” Melissa asked.

Jeremy looked worried.

“These will look nice on you, let’s try them on,” Melissa continued.

“No!” Jeremy shook his head.

“Please,” Melissa said without the hint of frustration. “You’ll look so handsome.”

“No!” Jeremy was determined.

Melissa looked at Chase, asking for help without saying a word.

“Jeremy,” Chase lowered himself to the child’s level, “why don’t you want to try on such a nice pair of pants?”

“Pant hurt!” Jeremy backed up as if he was prepared to run.

“Those pants you used to wear were too small,” Chase said. “That’s why they hurt. These are the right size and they’ll feel good and you'll look like a big boy.”

Jeremy stood and stared at Chase, not fully understanding. He wanted to trust the man who rescued him, but the past was a more permanent teacher.

“Honey, give me the pants.” Chase grabbed the pair of pants from his wife’s hand, and opened the waist for the child to step into.

“No hurt! No hurt!” Jeremy wet himself.

“You can’t walk around with nothing on your bottom, big boys wear pants” Chase tried to explain while noticing they drew a crowd of spectators.

“No pant, no pant, please!” Jeremy pleaded.

“Okay,” Melissa said, trying to put an end to their angst. “Perhaps we can find something else.”

Both Jeremy and Chase quit arguing and wondered what she had in mind.

“Jeremy, if we find something for you to wear on your bottom that isn't pants, will you try them?”

Jeremy nodded.

“Even if it’s girls’ stuff?” Melissa paused as the confusion settled in on the child. “You can either try the pants or we can try a skirt. You get to pick.” Melissa thought he would pick the pants and since it was his choice, he wouldn’t be scared.

“I know I would pick pants,” Chase led. “No big boy would ever wear a skirt.”

Jeremy thought about it a few seconds. “No pant, skirt.”

“Okay, let’s find a nice one,” Melissa said in shock over the boy's choice.

Chase scrunched his face and gave Melissa a quizzical look as he picked up the child and dried Jeremy's eyes with a handkerchief. Jeremy wrapped his arms around Chase’s neck and buried his head on the officer’s shoulder. Melissa threw the pair of pants in the cart in case the child changed his mind.

“It’s okay for you to say no, we aren’t mad at you,” Chase tried to comfort the child; perhaps Jeremy was sensing the embarrassment the outburst may have cause.

“Perhaps you should try discipline instead of letting the child get away with everything,” a huge man grumbled as he passed the trio. Chase wanted to stop and give him a piece of his mind, but he didn’t want to upset Jeremy even further.

Chase put Jeremy down in the girls’ section. Jeremy looked at all the different colored clothing and explored the different types of fabrics that he wasn’t used to.

“Are you sure about this?” Chase asked.

“Sure about what?”

“About putting Jeremy in a dress.”

“I didn’t say dress,” Melissa corrected, “I said skirt.”

“Six in one hand, half dozen in the other.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“It's a boy in girls’ clothing and I don’t know if that’s a hot idea. Some people might not understand.”

“I didn’t think he would pick girls’ clothes. I figured any boy would rather die than have that happen. He must really have a phobia about pants.”

“I still don’t know,” Chase said.

“He’s four and with long hair, who could tell. Anyway, for kids that age, they don’t even know the real difference between boys and girls. Let him get comfortable and used to wearing something. I bet in a day or two he’ll be back in pants. He probably needs that trust to be built again. If someone squeezed you in pants that didn’t fit, I bet you wouldn’t want to wear any for a while. Once he trusts us, he'll go back to pants.”

“You think so?” Chase was unsure of the scenario playing out like his wife described.

“Trust me.” Melissa held up a plain blue skirt that had small white flowers embroidered at the hem. “This looks neutral.”

“It’s a skirt, how can you say neutral?”

“It isn’t pink and frou-frou like the other clothes.”

“I suppose.” Chase looked around, noting the bright pinks, lace and frills. “I think I’ll find some shirts for him.” Chase said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He looked at the sizing chart and Melissa pointed to the correct size.

“Jeremy, look at what we picked out for you to try on.”

Jeremy was feeling the nightgowns against his face, enjoying the cool feel of the silky material. He turned around, walked over to Melissa, and inspected the item.

“Would you like to try this on?” Melissa asked as she held out the skirt.

Jeremy felt it, and scrutinized it closely. He noticed that there weren’t any legs and it didn’t have a zipper. He was satisfied that the item wouldn’t cause him any pain and nodded yes.

Melissa opened the elastic band of the waist and let Jeremy to step into it, sliding the skirt to the child’s midsection, just above the diaper. She checked the snugness, it fit fine.

“How’s that feel?” Melissa asked.

“Feel good.” Jeremy smiled.

“I’ll grab a black one too, in case this one gets dirty or we go out.”

“’Kay.” Jeremy looked in the mirror. He was paying more attention to the funny faces he was making than what he was wearing.

Melissa found a shirt that she thought was cute, and wasn’t that bad for a boy. It was white and had glittering butterflies on it. Jeremy agreed it was pretty when Melissa showed it to him and she put it in the cart. Chase came back holding three shirts he picked out himself: one shirt had a picture of a dump truck, another looked like a baseball jersey and the last one was a black muscle shirt.

Chase looked into the cart. “Do you notice the difference in the things we’re buying?”

“He’s four, he doesn’t know the difference. He’s in the skirt and he isn’t traumatized.”

“I'm not sure this is a good idea. He's supposed to be a boy.” Chase knew if he continued, an argument would start so he dropped the conversation. “Let’s check out and go to the McDonald’s on Main, it has a play place.”

“Good call. Let’s get him something for his feet to replace the science experiment he's wearing.”

“Not Mary-Jane's I hope.” Chase tried to pass up the opportunity to make a point, but his impulsiveness got the better of him. His wife didn't answer.

The trio went to the shoe section, Melissa had the child sit down and place his foot on the sizing chart she'd been carrying in her purse. She picked out a pair of black sandals and checked that they fit; she was satisfied and threw them into the cart.

Melissa then took the skirt off Jeremy and the group went to the registers. The cashier looked at the items and Chase thought she looked at the boy suspiciously. She didn’t say anything but Chase wondered if she made a disapproving face or if she was only bored with her job. Chase handed the girl his credit card and waited. After the transaction, he took the bags as Melissa carried the child back to the convertible. Chase was glad that the Camaro that was there when they arrived was gone and that Jeremy didn’t seem to remember its existence from before.

Melissa placed the child in the back seat and had him lie down. She was glad that she had extra diapers in the car and changed the child. She put the blue skirt on Jeremy and changed the old police T-shirt with the butterfly shirt she had just purchased.

“You're enjoying this, aren’t you?” Chase asked his wife.

“At least he’s dressed and everything fits,” Melissa put the new sandals on the child’s feet.

“This goes back to when you were little and played with dolls.”

“It does not,” Melissa protested.

“Sure it doesn’t,” Chase laughed.

“Jealousy, jealousy that’s all I hear from you.” Melissa stuck her tongue out at Chase. She then fastened Jeremy’s seat belt, pushed the seat to its normal position and got in herself.

Chase drove his wife's car to McDonald’s; he ordered Big Mac value meals for him and his wife, and a Happy Meal for Jeremy. He felt people were giving him dirty looks when they saw Jeremy, a boy, was dressed in girl’s clothing. He tried to dismiss the idea as being too self-conscious for his own good as the group walked to the outside play area.

“After you eat, you can go and play,” Chase told the child as they sat down and enjoyed the late afternoon sun.

Jeremy didn’t need to be told to eat. He was not used to being fed so well, but wasn’t about to complain. The child pulled the food out of the cardboard box and kept it close to him. He hovered over his food, guarding it with his forearm.

“Have you ever seen someone eat like that?” Melissa wanted to teach the child how to eat more naturally, but didn't think she had the time.

“I have,” the worry was evident in Chase's voice.

“Where?”

“During training, that is what’s called a prison stance.”

“Prison stance?”

“It’s the way inmates eat in jail, this way no one steals their food from them.”

“How did he learn such a thing?”

“Maybe his dad ate like that, and he picked it up that way. Maybe he learned it by himself, maybe his parents made a habit of removing food from him before he was full,” Chase said, knowing that the latter scenario was most likely.

“Who would do that to a baby?”

“Who would beat one with a belt?” Chase made his point.

Melissa frowned as she watched the toddler as he ate. She wanted to shed a tear but didn’t want to create a scene. She wanted to tell Jeremy his parents were no longer around and that he was safe. She wanted to tell him that she and Chase would make sure that wherever he went would be caring and how they would remain a part of his life forever. But she didn’t say a word; she remained quiet and watched the child devour his food.

Jeremy finished his meal. “Tank you,” he said in his small voice.

“You are very welcome, honey,” Melissa answered.

“Me play?” Jeremy asked.

“Yes.” Chase smiled. “But take off your shoes first and then you can have a good time.”

Jeremy ran over to the empty play area. He kicked off his sandals, walked up a few hard plastic steps and climbed a rope ladder that led to a tube maze.

“He is very polite for his age,” Melissa said.

“I wonder where he picked it up,” Chase said sarcastically.

“In his case, I would say television. Programs designed for little kids stress politeness.”

“How would you know?” Chase joked. “I thought you watched soap operas all day.”

“We do have friends with kids; J.D. and Karen, Skeeter and Diane, and their kids are all they want to talk about.”

“I know! They ramble on and on about the littlest thing, don’t they?”

Jeremy poked his head out of the side of one tube. He waved at Chase and Melissa. When they waved back he laughed and disappeared inside the tube to hide.

“He seems happy,” Chase said.

“At times.”

“It makes me glad to see a smile. He has a much tougher road ahead of him than we do. We’re only going to be around for a few days, he’s going to need years, maybe a lifetime to work things out.”

Melissa nodded in agreement. “When I see him like this, I think he will make it. In a weird way, maybe it was good it happened to him so young. Maybe he can forget most of the abuse and move on.”

“I’d rather it didn’t happen at all.”

“Me too,” Melissa took her husband’s hand. “Me too.”

Jeremy emerged from the tubes and found his way to the ball pit. He hopped in and laughter filled the air. He rolled around in the pit and giggled. He kicked some of the balls around and felt them under his feet. He threw some against the mesh netting and tried to catch them, even though he consistently missed. Sometimes he would get bonked on the head and then giggle like mad. He then buried himself under a thin layer of balls.

“Je’my go bye-bye,” he shouted and then laughed again.

Chase and Melissa let him play for a half-hour, each enjoying that the child was having a good time.

“You know what? I think you were right, he doesn’t even know he's in a skirt,” Chase told his wife. He didn’t mention that seeing the boy in girls' clothing made him uncomfortable.

“I told you so.”

“You were right and I was wrong.” Chase smiled or grimaced, his wife couldn't tell which.

“Get used to it.” Melissa laughed and gave her husband a peck on the lips.

“Let's hope he breaks out of this phase quickly. I would hate for him to grow attached to wearing skirts and dresses.” Chase decided not to pursue the conversation in public and changed topics. “I think it’s time to go. I rather let him have fun forever, but how about we head for home?”

“Good idea.”

Chase thought that it might take some prodding or bribery to get Jeremy out from the play palace, so he was ready to do some haggling. “Jeremy, it’s time to go back home.”

“’Kay,” Jeremy said and made his way to the exit.

Chase was amazed at how well behaved the child was, most children would make an attempt to squeeze in a few more moments of fun out of the day. Jeremy stood in front of the entrance and opened his arms. Chase picked him up and grabbed the discarded sandals with the free hand.

“You’re a very good boy, Jeremy,” Chase told the tyke while giving him a hug.

They went back home. Chase and Jeremy went through the bag full of toys. The toddler found some little people and was intrigued. He and Chase played out their day with the little people, going shopping then to McDonald’s, then venturing into other areas; Chase was making sure not to probe into Jeremy’s past. He didn’t name any of the little people mom or dad or anything related to family. He didn't know what would trigger an outburst. Chase was happy that Jeremy was out of his shell, and he didn’t want to send the child right back. Neesa spent most of the time lying behind the boy; often Jeremy would lean back and use the dog as a chair.

It was around eight o’clock when Melissa made her way into the room. “I think someone had a full day and needs to get ready for bed.”

“Okay,” Chase said. “Jeremy, it’s time to go to sleep, we can have more fun tomorrow.”

“’Kay,” Jeremy said.

“Come on, I’ll help you get ready,” Melissa said as she picked up the small child and carried him upstairs. She washed his face and hands and put a pea-sized bit of toothpaste on his toothbrush. She pulled off his shirt and asked if he needed to use the potty before he got into bed. He sat on the bowl and took care of his business; once again, Melissa helped him wipe. He pulled up the diaper when he was finished and Melissa put a clean T-shirt on him.

She held his hand as they walked to the room where Jeremy was staying. She tucked him in, and read him a bedtime story, making sure to use funny voices when appropriate. She gave the child a small kiss on the forehead and allowed Neesa to get up on the bed. She left the door partially open, this way some light from the hallway could get in, in case the child was afraid of the dark.

“Honey,” Melissa said as she walked into the living room, “I think I noticed something odd.”

“What’s that?”

“I think he is potty trained.”

“How do you figure? He's been in nothing but diapers; he’s used them several times here.”

“Just to tinkle, not to do the other thing.”

“Huh?” Chase was confused.

“He’ll use the bowl in order to poop, but not the other. Isn’t that weird?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember that far back.”

“With most kids they know about going in the front before they know about going in the back. It’s a muscle thing, I think.”

“He has those pinch marks and he’s been under a lot of stress,” Chase said. “Who knows? Maybe his parents didn’t teach him. Let his relatives take care of that; it might put some unneeded pressure on him right now.”

“You’re probably right, but I noticed it and thought you should know.”

“I’ll make sure the social worker knows.”

“Yeah.” Melissa made a chair of her husband’s lap.

“You think this will be what it’s like when we get our own kids?”

“Something like this, but without the emotional baggage that Jeremy is carrying. You’ll make a good dad, our kids will be lucky.”

“Lucky, sure, because they’ll have a mom like you. Most of the time, I’ll just be playing with them. You know me, perpetually a child.”

“That’s what I love about you; you’re young at heart. It makes things fun.”

“Speaking of fun.” Chase stood up, keeping his wife in his arms. He carried her upstairs to their bedroom and they spent some quality time alone.

A few hours passed, Chase and Melissa looked at the stars out of their window, enjoying each other’s company once again.

“I think it’s time to turn in,” Melissa told her husband.

“Sure thing, I’ve got to do something first, I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, but don’t keep me waiting or I’ll doze off.”

Chase walked down the hall and into the child’s room. Neesa looked up and when seeing it was her owner, returned her head to the child’s hip. Chase put his finger over his mouth, trying to convey to the dog to keep still. He got down on his knees, and hovered over the child. He placed his elbows on the bed, close to the child’s side and interlaced his fingers.

“God,” Chase said softly as he began to pray, “I’ve always tried to do the best I could with what you’ve provided. I've always taken the trials and tribulations that came my way as a blessing in disguise. As your way of molding me into the man you want me to be. Now you’ve entrusted me with this small boy, even for the short time that he’ll be in this house under my care.

"I know there is a reason and purpose in this. A lesson to be learned, or to show me how important my job is. I also have faith that you let him go through what he did as part of your master plan, and even though I can’t see that plan, I trust in you enough that it’ll work out for the best. But, Lord, I’m at a loss for what to do. What is my role in this child’s life? Help me to see what my role is and strengthen me to deal with this situation. I feel inept and unqualified to deal with such a child as Jeremy, give me wisdom and knowledge to help his life the best way I can.

“Please, Lord, heal this child’s pain; physically, mentally and emotionally. He’s a good child; he should lead a good life. Don’t let the actions of those who raised him interfere with the greatness he could achieve. If possible, pass his wounds to me; I’m much better equipped to deal with the pain. Every time I see him suffer, it hurts me as much as it does him. Isn’t it better that only one be in pain and not let both suffer? He is so scared, Lord, take away that fear, and mend him.

“I pray for the souls of his parents as well. I’m angry for what they have done, but I forgive them, as you forgave. Judge them as you see fit, for I am unequipped to do so. Take away my bitterness towards them; I cannot do it myself.

“Be with this child for all his life, God bless the child and bless Melissa as well. Let them know your love, let them know mine, in Jesus’ name.”

Chase stood up, dried the tears from his eye and looked down at Jeremy. Again, in sleep the child looked angelic. Chase covered the child’s shoulder with the blanket and gave Jeremy a small peck on the cheek before returning to his wife.

“Have a good prayer?” Melissa asked knowingly.

“Yes, I feel better.”

“So do I.”

Chase joined his wife under the covers. The two lay there and talked softly to each other until they drifted off to sleep.

“Good news,” Chase said as he arrived home after a long day of work. “The social worker found one of Jeremy’s relatives.”

“Thank goodness.” Melissa had a look of relief on her face. “He had one of his attacks again. He’s been behind the couch since lunch.”

“What started it?”

“The food, something I said, something I did, something he thought of?” Melissa said in frustration. “I don’t know, I wish I did,”

“It’s okay.” Chase opened his arms. “Come here.”

Melissa received the embrace, and shed a few tears. “I feel so inadequate. He’s a good kid when everything’s normal. It breaks my heart when he zones out. It’s not like he’s violent or throwing tantrums. He gets that look of fear in his eyes and then he hides. All I know is that I made him a peanut butter sandwich, popped open a bottle of Snapple, and he was gone when I turned around.”

“Neesa is probably fetching him as we speak; at least she has the magic touch.”

“Thank God, because I certainly don’t.”

“It's almost over. Mrs. Walker has to run some background checks on this uncle character and, if all goes well, Jeremy will live with someone he knows, someone who is blood.”

“Do me a favor?” Melissa asked. “Check this guy out for yourself. You probably have access to information that the social worker has no idea about.”

“I can do that. I guess I owe it to him. I want to make sure he goes somewhere safe. This uncle is local. If anything is up, I can ask around.”

Melissa walked into the living room with her husband. Like they suspected, Neesa fetched the child from behind the couch. Jeremy was scratching the dog’s ears and laughing, oblivious that he spent the last four hours cowering behind the sofa.

“Jeremy,” Melissa called the child to her, “it’s so nice to see you again. Mind sitting down here so we can talk?”

Jeremy nodded yes, jumped up and sat on Melissa’s lap.

“Jeremy, can you tell me about your uncle,” Melissa probed, “did he visit you a lot?”

Jeremy looked at to the ceiling. “Me no have no uncle,” Jeremy declared.

“Did your Mommy or Daddy ever talk to you about having an uncle?”

Jeremy shook his head no.

“Okay?” Melissa scrunched her forehead in deep concentration. “Did any big guys ever come over to visit with you and play?”

“No, just Momma and Dada. No one else.”

“Never?”

“Nope, not never, ever,” the child proclaimed.

“We were just curious,” Chase added. “Melissa and I have aunts and uncles, and we wanted to know if you had any?”

Melissa gave Chase a concerned look and then turned her attention back to the child. “It looks like you need your diaper changed, let’s go upstairs together and get that taken care of.”

“So much for sending him to someone he knows,” Chase thought as he followed his wife's lead.

Melissa carried Jeremy up the stairs and to the bedroom. She laid out a towel as she had every other time and grabbed the supplies from the side of the bed. She kept everything organized and didn’t mind this task the child needed performed on him every so often. Melissa lifted the skirt that Jeremy was wearing for the day unfastened the tape of the disposable diaper and opened it.

Chase’s mouth dropped open as he saw the child’s genitals. “What happened there?”

“I caught him pinching himself. It was like he was trying to do some major damage to. I told him to stop and he did. It was scary because it wasn’t like he was in one of his zone-outs. He kept mumbling something but I didn’t quite make it out, something about bad boys, bad boys over, and over again.

“Jeremy, what happened there?” Chase pointed to the wound.

Jeremy didn’t answer; he looked down at it and pouted.

“Is it hurting you?” Chase asked, trying to figure out if a rational, medical reason led Jeremy to take such action. “Did you do that because you wanted it gone so it wouldn’t hurt anymore?”

Jeremy paused for a second. “Want gone, want gone,” he finally said.

“We can let a doctor look at it to see why it hurts you, but if you pinch it you’ll make it hurt more. You mustn’t hurt that area or it can make things very bad.”

“Je’my bad?” the child asked.

“You’re not bad, but it would hurt you a lot.” Melissa wanted to clarify so the child received the correct message. “You mustn’t do that.”

“Me be good,” Jeremy said. “Me no do more,”

“We know you are good. We want you to be safe and happy, okay?” Chase said. “Give us a hug to seal the deal.”

Jeremy hugged both Melissa and Chase, giving them each a sloppy kiss on the cheek. He smiled and giggled as Melissa powdered his bottom and put him in a fresh diaper. When she was done, she returned the skirt to its original place, lifted the child’s shirt and blew against his stomach. Jeremy giggled and begged Melissa to stop tickling him. Each time he begged, Melissa would pause for a few seconds, let the child catch his breath and then return.

“Me love yummy belly,” Melissa would say in a monster-style voice and begin again.

After ten minutes of play, Melissa quit and carried the child downstairs to help her make dinner. As with most young children, Jeremy was eager to help. She had him shake the salad dressing and help wash off the vegetables for the salad.

The night was peaceful from then on and Jeremy didn’t suffer from any more attacks. At night, Chase tucked him in and read him a story from a book of children’s Bible stories. The same book his father read from when Chase was a little boy. He remembered that a night didn't go by that his dad didn't read to him from that book.

“A few more days?” Melissa asked her husband anxiously as he joined her in the living room.

“It looks that way.”

“Back to normal then,” Melissa said with noticeable relief.

“I don’t think it’s been that bad.”

“Not bad, but challenging. I kept my end of the bargain.”

“That you have.”

The next morning Chase was back on the job; delegated to the factory section known as East Gate where Dell computers made a bulk of its desktop models. During his lunch break, the officer went into the precinct. He sat down at the small desk he shared with another rookie cop. A photo of that officer on top of some mountain with a group of his friends sat at one corner of the desk. On the other corner of the desk, Chase had placed the wedding picture of Melissa in her gown. The two officers never worked the same shift, but Chase couldn’t wait to be promoted to a “have your own desk” officer. He dialed Mrs. Walker’s number, hoping to catch her while she was still in.

“Mrs. Walker, this is Chase,” he said, thankful he didn't get her voice-mail again.

“Hi, Chase,” The woman said in her tired, overworked voice. “How are you holding up?”

“It’s going as good as can be expected. Melissa is at the end of her rope. It's not easy for her to see Jeremy suffer his terror attacks.”

“It’s a shame that she's having difficulty handling it, empathy an important quality we look for in families.”

“Maybe she can learn to deal with it more effectively, we're still young.”

“How can I help you today?”

“I was hoping to get information about this uncle. This way I can check some things out.”

“That’s an odd request, usually one we don’t typically grant. But, since you are the law, I’m not stretching the rules by much.”

“I figured you would help out,” Chase said.

“First, the gentleman isn’t Jeremy's blood uncle; instead, he’s a close friend of the deceased. His name was found on the father, and according to him, he's the closest thing the boy has to family. He said that he and Mr. Bergeron had a verbal agreement that if anything were to happen he would take care of the child.”

“That explains why Jeremy didn’t know of an uncle. Did he know about the abuse?”

“He said he did, and that the father was supposed to be in counseling for it and that’s why he didn’t come forward sooner. He also added that he was unaware of the severity.”

“And this is the guy that’s going to get Jeremy?”

“He's all we have for now. We've yet to find any other family and unless there’s someone to refute his claim, it looks like it. Of course, we have to do the proper paperwork, check out living conditions, employment, criminal history, all that stuff.”

“Sounds like a drawn out process.”

“Not really,” Mrs. Walker assured. “If no red flags are raised, it should take but two more days. I’ve already put in for the background check and I’m waiting for a call from his current employer.”

“Can I get a name? I promised Melissa that I would check it out for myself.”

“Certainly,” there was the sound of paperwork being fumbled through over the line. “His name is. Marquis Turner, 409A South Greenwood Avenue.”

“Does he know my name or where I live?”

“No, he knows nothing about you, unless you know each other in some other capacity. We keep our placements confidential.”

“Thanks.”

“If something comes up, let me know,” Mrs. Walker said.

“Will do. Goodbye.” Chase hung up the phone.

Chase jotted down the name. Even though he lived and worked in a small city, he didn’t know everyone in town. He walked down the hall and entered a small office that was kept severely air conditioned.

“Hey, Joe,” Chase greeted.

“Hey, rook,” a husky man with wire-rim glasses answered back. “How can I help you?”

“I need you to run a name for me, if it’s okay?”

“For business or pleasure?”

“A little of both,” Chase admitted, “it’s for Jeremy.”

“That’s the little rug rat that you brought home with you, right?”

“One in the same. I want to make sure the person trying to get custody of him checks out. I promised Melissa I would.”

“And you want to know for yourself, right?” Joe gave a knowing smile.

“You got it.”

“What’s the name?”

“Marquis Turner, on South Greenwood.”

“Let me punch it into my friend here.” Joe patted the computer. “It might take a minute or two to search all the data banks and compile the report, but think if you did this work in the old days.”

“Thank God for technology.”

“Yeah, this baby can do anything you ask except apprehend the criminals itself. That’s why we still have jobs; they haven’t taught the computers to walk and arrest people on their own.”

“Let’s hope that day never comes, not ’til I retire, at least.”

“It’s something I don’t want to see. Not unless it’s in a movie or something, something with cool special effects.”

“You can play the lead,” Chase nudged.

“Here we go; it’s bringing up the report.” The computer screen cleared and brought up the information.

“What do we have on this guy?”

“Let’s see,” Joe pushed some keys. “We got a drug possession charge that was dropped about two years ago.”

“That’s it? Doesn’t seem horribly bad, got to allow for people making some mistakes,” Chase murmured with a grudging amount of hope.

“There’s more, you always have to remember to hit page down.”

“Are there any other charges?”

Joe bit his upper lip as he thought on the best way to break the news. “It's not good; he was picked up on child porn fifteen months ago. That charge was also dropped.”

“But that charge should keep him from getting Jeremy.”

“I don’t know, rook, it’s not like he was proven guilty and went to prison. He’s clean otherwise in here.” Joe patted his computer monitor again. “I think it’s going to be up to the people placing Jeremy if they want to hold dropped charges against him.”

“It would be insane to allow that to happen.” Would it really, Chase wondered, or was he being particularly inflexible because this was Jeremy he was talking about?

“Don’t blame me,” Joe said, “I don’t call the shots.”

“And neither do I, but I can see what I can do about it.”

“You know what, we got this guy flagged.”

“Flagged, what’s that mean?”

“It means someone from this department has pulled this file because of an investigation. We always make a note of that down here so two officers don’t investigate the same person independently. Better to pool the resources, combine two investigations into one. I don’t think I’m the one who flagged this guy though, I would've remembered.”

“How can I find out?”

“Ask the CO, he should know.”

“Thanks, you’ve been a great help.”

“It’s what we do down here in the crypt, we help.” Joe smiled.

Chase made his way to the sergeant’s office. Technically, the chief of police commanded the local force, but that gentleman had been politically appointed and held his office in City Hall. He dealt mostly with public relations, the city council and liaisons with other police forces. When an officer said, “CO,” he meant the duty sergeant. Chase knocked on the frosted glass door.

“Enter,” the Sarge called out in his abrupt no-time-for-nonsense voice. Chase entered the spartanly furnished room, a desk, an old brown leather chair, a few file cabinets, no personal touches, save a model of a space shuttle and a large picture of the Sarge’s family that sat prominently on the desk. Before becoming a police officer, Sgt. Oliver S. Oatman dreamed of joining NASA and becoming an astronaut. He enlisted in the Air Force out of college and became a pilot. But after dropping a lot of bombs on people who never did him any harm, his conscience bothered him.

He finished out his enlistment, retired from the military, and began sleeping soundly at night again. Having been a genuine commissioned officer, a captain with silver bars on his shoulders, he took a backwards pride in his police sergeant stripes. On a larger city force, he would have had captain’s bars again, but after twenty-five years on the Lebanon police force here, no one called him anything but “The Sarge.”

“Shouldn’t you be out chasing bad guys, making me proud of you, earning promotions?” the Sarge joked with Chase, but said the line straight-faced.

“It’s my lunch; I’ve got fifteen minutes before I need to go back out.”

“And you figured you would spend your lunch with your boss, what an interesting career move.”

“I needed to know something and I was hoping you can help.”

“This isn’t about wanting a vacation or a raise already, is it?”

“No, it’s about who pulled Marquis Turner’s file. I need to find out what’s up.”

“Why would you need information on someone else’s case?”

“He’s the guy claiming to be Jeremy’s uncle and I promised Melissa I would check this guy out the best I could.”

“Using the wife as an excuse? It wouldn’t be terrible to say that you want to know for yourself.”

“That too.” Chase blushed, knowing the Sarge was the second person to see through him.

The Sarge opened a drawer and peeked at a file. “J.D. is the lead on that case; he can help you out and give you the information you need.”

“Thanks, Sarge,” Chase said as he backed out of the office.

“Don’t let this interfere with your duties,” the sergeant ordered.

Chase went to Rebecca’s little hovel of an office. The room was filled with computers and radio equipment that didn’t leave much room for the five foot five woman to move around, but she still found places to stick pictures of family and friends wherever possible.

“Rebecca, got a second?” Chase asked.

“Sure, hon, whatcha need?”

“I need to know where J.D. is.”

“He's on patrol, sugar.”

“Can you have him meet me somewhere?”

“Let me see,” Rebecca picked up the lollipop microphone. “J.D., what’s your twenty?”

“I’m in the Bi-Lo shopping center parking lot finishing up lunch,” J.D. said over the radio.

“A young rook here wants to talk to you. Can you stay there and let him meet you?”

“Tell him he better hurry, and not to get lost. I know these rooks; you might want to draw him out a map on a napkin.”

“He’ll be there soon, over.” Rebecca then turned her attention to Chase. “You got all that?”

“Yeah, and don’t worry, I don’t need a map.” Chase smiled. “Is this what gets said about me behind my back?”

Rebecca nodded. “I usually defend you.” She smiled, and her eyes sparkled.

“Thanks, Becca. I better get going before he gets impatient and leaves.”

Chase retrieved Neesa from the outdoor kennel and got into his cruiser. It was a short drive to get to the Bi-Lo, but he managed to hit every red light from the precinct to the parking lot. He saw J.D.’s patrol car and pulled up alongside of it so the two drivers’ side windows were parallel.

“What’s up, rook?” John David asked after rolling down the window.

“I need to know about one of your investigations.”

“Which one?”

“Marquis Turner.”

“That's an interesting name for you to bring up. Did you find something I should know about?”

“Maybe. He's trying to get custody of Jeremy and I wanted to make sure everything checked out.”

J.D.’s face grew cold and hard. “You don’t want that to happen.”

“What’s up?”

“You have no clue as to what the investigation is about, do you?”

“No, but by your response and what I do know I guess it's one of two things. I’d rather hear the answer from you, though.”

“We’re looking at him for trafficking.”

“Drugs?” Chase asked, relieved it wasn't his first hunch.

“No. Kids.”

“Kids?” Chase was at a loss.

“Yes, production of child pornography and he’s pimped a few.”

“Social services should know about this, right? I mean, they’d never turn Jeremy over to someone like that.”

“It’s not on his record yet, at least not this offense. We’ve been compiling evidence against him, but he’s a slippery one, watches his back carefully.”

“What can we do?”

“Officer Kevin Dillon from Nashville is working undercover on this; he’s made some headway getting close to this creep. We’ve been waiting for a good time to set up a sting.”

“If he gets Jeremy before the sting, he can vanish! Then what?” Chase began to get angry and worried at the same time.

“We make sure not to let that happen.” J.D. kept his tone flat and steady.

“I don’t see how social services can turn Jeremy over to this jerk. I don’t care that the first charge was dismissed, how can they do that?”

“It’s the whole innocent until proven guilty. They wouldn't have the legal legs to stand on and they aren’t going to risk a costly lawsuit.”

“So this kid has a chance to go through more hell? It’s not going to happen; I’ll make sure of that.”

“Chill out, Chase,” J.D. could see the rookie’s temper flaring, “I’ll talk to Kevin and see if we can do the sting before he is scheduled to get the kid. We don’t want anything bad to happen to the kid. But, you got to keep your cool. Call the social worker and buy us some time.”

“You can be sure of that. I better get back to patrol. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“You got it, and remember, just do your job, don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t,” Chase said and put his car into gear. He nodded a goodbye to J.D. and drove to the interstate on-ramp. It was early in the week and as usual the only things to look for were the occasional speeder or a help call from the other units. If there were ever a question of drugs or if someone decided to run into the woods and hide out, Chase would field the call. But, during the day shifts, those calls were few and far between. Chase did get a search call late in his shift that turned up a joint hidden under the seat and a bag of marijuana tucked in the fuse panel. Other than that, it was a boring afternoon.

Chase didn’t mind the doldrums, he knew that he had to cover the weekend and that he would be busy enough then. It was common practice for officers to have weekends off one week and two weekdays off the next. Most found it a fair practice. Before long, Chase’s shift ended; he felt like he hadn’t accomplished much. Most of the shift had been spent worrying about what would happen to Jeremy. When he wasn't worrying about that, he wondered what he would tell his wife.

Chase drove back to the precinct, wanting to make another phone call to Mrs. Walker but not wanting to do it in front of Melissa. With Neesa following him on an invisible lead, he walked into Rebecca’s office first, telling her that he was now officially off duty. She nodded, too busy on the radio to speak. Chase walked over to his desk. When he sat down, Neesa lay comfortably at his feet.

“Hello,” Chase said into the phone, “I’m trying to get in touch with Mrs. Walker.”

“This is she. Is this Officer Milan?”

“Yes. I wanted to tell you about this Marquis Turner character.”

“Something tells me this isn't good news,” Mrs. Walker said. “Go ahead.”

“Two years ago he was arrested on drug possession charges and last year on child pornography charges.”

“Any convictions?” Mrs. Walker asked blandly.

“No, both charges were dismissed.”

“I see.”

“Why don’t I like the sound of that ‘I see’?”

“Unless he was convicted on the charges, we wouldn’t be able to hold it against him. Even if he was convicted, he could fight for custody in court and since there are no other claims to the child, he could conceivably win.”

“You would let Jeremy go to someone like that, someone who could abuse him even more?”

“I don’t send anyone anywhere,” Mrs. Walker said sharply. “Unfortunately it’s an imperfect system. My hands are tied in situations like these.”

“Can you delay the placement?”

“It depends why and for how long?”

“Until the end of the week, place him Monday or something. There is an investigation on Mr. Turner, maybe it’ll be wrapped up by then.”

“Are you sure Melissa won’t mind having him for the few extra days?”

“I’ll take care of that end of things, she’ll understand the circumstances.”

“I can delay my final report until late this week; that means my supervisor won’t approve placement until Monday. After that, if this guy isn’t facing serious charges then it’s out of my hands, and into God's."

“I understand, I’ll call you Friday and tell you what’s going on.”

“Have a productive week, Officer Milan,” Mrs. Walker hung up the phone.

Chase wasn’t feeling positive about the situation as he walked back to the squad car with Neesa. He let the dog in the cruiser and made his way to the driver’s seat. He wondered what he should tell his wife. He wondered what he should do about this situation. Most of all he wondered why all this evil was happening to such a sweet little kid.

“Sometimes I don’t understand life, girl,” Chase said to Neesa. “Here you have a perfectly fine boy, one who isn’t misbehaved or a brat and the world is hell-bent on hurting him. I mean, I’m not saying brats deserve to have this stuff happen to them, no one should have to go through this kind of garbage. But, somehow it’s different; this time I’m involved. Maybe it wouldn’t mean as much if he were just a headline in the paper. Then maybe I wouldn’t care as much. That bothers me too. That if I weren’t personally involved that I could turn a blind eye. Maybe it’s human nature? Maybe the world's sane and I'm crazy. Here I am; the weight of a child's life on my shoulders and I'm talking to a dog.”

The dog didn’t answer, but Chase continued thinking out loud as he pulled out of the police lot and made his way home. “I don’t want to see this kid get hurt anymore. Someone has got to take responsibility and it might as well be me, right? I’ve got to explain this to Melissa. She’ll understand that there’s a good reason for keeping him around longer. Maybe I shouldn’t tell her the whole truth though. If they don’t make this bust, if he winds up going to this creep, it would break her heart. It’ll break mine if it happens, but why put her through that kind of guilt? Maybe I’ll tell her they need to check him out further, that's not really a lie, is it?”

Neesa lay quietly in the back seat with her nose just resting on the window. Chase kept going over the same points, again and again, rather like the way the dog worried the big rawhide chews Chase bought for her on their days off.

Without realizing it, Chase arrived home and parked in his driveway. He got out of the car, still rehearsing how to tell Melissa the news. He hit the back door release and watched as Neesa trotted to the door. A moment later Chase caught up with her and they both went inside.

“We’re in here, Chase,” Melissa called out from the dining room.

“How was your day?” Chase knew he was stalling for time.

“It was a little rocky this, morning but not as bad as the past few days.” Melissa sat with Jeremy in the midst of a giant plastic coloring sheet, more than five feet on a side. They started coloring at two edges and worked their way toward the middle. Both were surrounded with crayons; Melissa’s were neatly in rows while Jeremy’s were more haphazardly grouped. Still, the child mostly had blues with blues, yellows with yellows and reds with reds.

Jeremy wore his diaper, the blue denim skirt and the blue top with the flower trim Melissa had picked out for him that morning after unsuccessfully trying to get him to wear a pair of jeans and black muscle shirt. The boy's raggedly cut hair went oddly well with the clothing, much to Chase’s angst.

“That’s good. I see you have been busy.” Chase had to smile despite his worries; the two artists looked very cute in the middle of their work. He wasn’t the only grown-up child in the family, he noted.

“I found this coloring thing with the toys and we’ve been busy with it since lunch,” Melissa explained.

“Hi, Case,” Jeremy chimed in as soon as he had the chance to not talk over the adults.

“Hi, Jeremy. You’re doing a good job of coloring,” Chase praised.

“Color us, Case?” Jeremy held up a handful of crayons and offered them to Chase.

Chase smiled at the choice of wording. In places, it already looked as if Jeremy tried to color himself. “I will in a little bit. I need to talk to Melissa for a little while.”

“’Bout Je’my?”

“It’s kind of about you, but nothing you should worry about.” Chase tried to minimize the child’s concern.

“Je’my bad?”

“Not at all. You did nothing wrong, it’s about something else.”

“Je’my good,” the child said triumphantly with both arms raised high.

“Jeremy is very good.” Chase shook the child’s hair playfully.

Jeremy gave a toothy smile and went back to coloring. Melissa stood, careful to not step on the coloring sheet or the crayons. She had the idea of what Chase meant and walked into the living room where they could talk without Jeremy over hearing too many details. Chase followed her, still trying to figure out the best way to say things.

“What’s wrong?” Melissa asked.

Chase noticed that she still had a teal blue crayon tucked behind one ear. He tried to buy himself more time but didn’t mention the wayward crayon. “What makes you think there’s anything wrong?”

“It's obviously not good news, not the way you’re acting. It'll be better to just come out and say it.”

“It’s this uncle character,” Chase said, without revealing much of anything.

“What about him?”

“He isn’t a stand-up guy.”

“Are you sure?” Melissa asked. “You're not focusing on trivial stuff, are you?”

“No, this is serious. Dangerous too.”

“So they aren’t going to place Jeremy with him, right?”

Chase didn't know if he noticed frustration, anger, or concern in his wife's voice, but figured it was a combination of the three. “They might.”

“What do you mean they might? I thought you said it was dangerous?”

“It’s because it isn’t on his official record, and what is on his record isn’t enough to keep him away from Jeremy.”

“What’s on his record?” Melissa was getting testy.

“A child porn charge.”

Melissa blinked hard. “Shouldn’t that be enough?”

“He beat the rap.”

“How?” Melissa asked, disgusted, either over the system or its willingness to endanger a child.

“I don’t know how, his record said that the charges were dismissed.”

“Maybe it was an accident,” Melissa said hopefully, “and he didn’t do it. Things like that happen all the time. Don't they?”

Chase shook his head. “I don’t think so. He’s under investigation right now, same stuff, a little worse.” The conversation wasn’t going as planned. He already told Melissa too much.

“What are we going to do?”

“I’m going to see if they can make the bust before the week is done. If so, then this uncle won’t get him.”

“Then what happens with Jeremy?”

“I don’t know.” Chase sighed. “I guess we go from there when we get to it.”

“I understand we’ve got to keep him safe, so I won’t say anything. But, you better make this bust and they better find someplace permanent for him.”

“That’s cold.” Chase was surprise at his wife's callousness.

“I don’t mean to sound that way. I do care about him,. But, I told you before; this is too much for me; for us. Today was a good day more or less, but he’s going to need a lot of things we can’t provide. The more comfortable he grows around us, the harder it'll be for him to go. For all of us.” She put a hand to her face to keep her chin from quivering.

Chase hugged Melissa. “Don’t worry; it’ll be okay, just a little while longer. I know you can handle it a few more days; you’re stronger than you think.”

After Melissa calmed down and dried her eyes, they joined the child in the dining room. They moved the coloring mat to the dining room table and colored for an hour without any outburst from Jeremy. The child was content to color and they had a pleasant time. After the hour was over, Chase carefully folded up the plastic sheet and placed it on the buffet in the corner.

Jeremy helped Melissa prepare dinner as Chase got out of his uniform. He came back down in time to help get the meatloaf and potatoes into the oven. Jeremy then helped Chase get the table ready; his face tensed when Chase grabbed some knives. Chase had gotten used to that face and understood what it meant, a terror attack. Chase decided to let Jeremy put butter knives on the table instead of the sharper ones. This relieved Jeremy’s and avoided an uncomfortable situation.

They all sat down together and talked while eating salad and rolls as the meat finished cooking. When the timer went off, Chase went into the kitchen and split the potatoes, adding sour cream and chopped green onions while the meat cooled. He cut the meat out of Jeremy’s view, and then he served everyone. The meal went off without further incident.

As dinner was ending, the phone rang. Chase got up from his chair and answered the phone.

“Milan residence,” Chase said.

“Yeah, Chase, this is J.D.,” the voice on the other end of the line said.

“Hey, J.D. what’s up?”

“I talked it over with Sarge, come to the Knights Inn tomorrow, off exit one-forty-four. Don’t take the patrol car or the dog.”

“Okay?” Chase was wondering why all the secrecy.

“I’m going to have you meet up with Detective Kevin Dillon. That’s where he’s holed up, doing the sting.” The local force doesn’t have a full-time detective for undercover work. Detective Dillon was borrowed from Nashville specifically for this investigation.

“I suppose no uniform either?”

“You catch on quick.”

“What time?”

“Show up around 9 a.m., but be casual about it.”

“See you then,” Chase said and hung up the phone.

“Who was that?” Melissa asked as Chase came back into the dining room.

“That was J.D. I have a different assignment tomorrow and he needed to let me know.”

“What kind of assignment?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll be filled in when I get there, but I’ll need to take your car in the morning.”

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere, but don’t wreck it, it doesn't have the crashing bumper the police cruiser does.” Melissa smiled. The Le Baron was a gift from Chase’s mother when she went away to college, a telling sign that the woman knew her son's relationship with her would survive the two kids heading to different colleges. The car was in good shape but almost six years old. “If you would've picked up your sports car, you could have taken that.”

Chase shrugged. “We got busy. I figured I can get it after this is over. This way my attention won’t be divided.”

“It’s got a full tank of gas, so you're covered on that end.”

“Thanks for understanding, just for that I’ll clear off the table and you can get Jeremy cleaned up.”

“Sounds like a plan to me, after I get a kiss that is,” Melissa said playfully.

Chase happily gave Melissa a peck on the lips and a light pat on the tush.

“Me too, Case, me too,” Jeremy chimed in.

“Certainly,” Chase said as he gave the child a peck also and then blew against Jeremy’s cheek. Jeremy laughed wildly and then ran to the master bathroom when Chase put him down.

“At least he’s having one of his good days,” Melissa said easily while following the child.

Jeremy stood in the bathroom, squeezing his legs tightly together as he did a weird kind of dance in front of the sink.

“Are you okay, Jeremy?” Melissa was curious as to what the child was doing.

“Me ’kay.” Jeremy was still swaying back and forth, side to side.

“Jeremy, do you have to make a tinkle?” Melissa assumed that was why the child was doing his strange little dance.

Jeremy nodded and stood there looking at Melissa.

“Do you want me to leave so you can use the potty bowl?”

Jeremy shook his head no as a worried look came to his face, as if he would get in trouble for being defiant.

“Why not use the bowl like the big boy I know you are?” Melissa wondered why the child was so afraid to use the toilet for that bodily function.

“Me no can reach,” Jeremy proclaimed, hoping that his honesty wouldn’t be rewarded with a slap across the face.

Melissa laughed at the answer. She hadn’t thought the problem would be something as trivial as height. “You don’t have to go standing up, silly; you can sit on the bowl and go.”

“Go like girl?” Jeremy asked in surprise.

“I guess like a girl.” Melissa was caught off guard by the analogy. 'I hope Chase isn't eaves dropping, she thought. He already hates the skirt, if he heard that I told the boy he could make like a girl, he’d flip. But, what else could I have said. '

Jeremy looked at her skeptically, not knowing if she wanted him to perform that feat or said he could to have an excuse to hurt him.

“Let me help you, okay?” Melissa offered.

Jeremy nodded his head yes, still uncertain where this was going. He allowed Melissa to pull down his Pampers and lift him to the bowl. His skirt draped around him and kept him covered so he could maintain a certain degree of modesty.

A look of fright came over Jeremy's face and Melissa knew she had to act fast. “I’m going to leave you to yourself,” Melissa said in a calming tone. “I’m going to close the door and no one can get in unless you call us to come in. Okay?”

Once again, Jeremy nodded as the tears filled his eyes. Melissa knew there wasn’t much she could do but keep her word. She left the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She sat on the floor in front of the door, and as she listened for the child, a tear came to her eye.

“God,” Melissa said in silent prayer, “I can’t deal with this. I wish I could but I can’t. Please help.” She put her head in her hands and cried, “Why can’t I break through? Why can’t I break those bonds that they still have on this child?”

Jeremy opened the door after he finished in the bathroom and saw Melissa crying on the floor. It wasn’t the first time he had seen a woman cry and though he remembered what happened the last time he tried to console a person; he felt compelled to try again. “Be happy momma,” he had said in the last place before being burned with the yucky smelling cigarette. He placed his small hands on Melissa’s hands, wrapping his fingers around her fingertips. He gently pulled her hands away from her face, revealing Melissa’s red and tear-filled eyes.

Melissa stared at the child; wanting to say something, to tell him everything would work out in time, but the words never materialized.

Jeremy stared back, wondering what caused the tears. Did someone hurt her when he was in the bathroom? “Missa,” Jeremy said cautiously, “be happy.”

Melissa continued to stare at the child, trying to regain her composure and grant the child’s request. She thought how it was such a sweet gesture; he didn’t demand her to be happy as most kids do for their own benefit. He made an honest request, in his soft voice that was a little shaky, because he wanted her to be happy for herself. This only kept the tears coming more as she thought of what the child had endured most of his life.

“Pease,” Jeremy pleaded as he wiped away the tear that rolled down Melissa’s cheek.

“I’ll try,” Melissa said as she managed a small, weak smile. She reached for the child, causing Jeremy to flinch. He didn’t run away though, even though something from his past told him that he should. He stood his ground, and for that bravery, he was rewarded with a hug. Melissa pulled the child into her lap and Jeremy put his head on her breast. He tried to wrap his small arms around Melissa’s body but could only make it to her sides. Melissa stroked the child’s shoulder-length hair as the last of her tears wet the top of his head. The tears stopped and Melissa kissed Jeremy on the top of his forehead, causing the child to look up.

“Thank you, Jeremy,” Melissa said. “Thank you for making me happy.”

“Welcome.” Jeremy smiled and gave Melissa a big kiss on the cheek.

Chase, who was silently watching from the hall, made his presence known. “Is everything okay?”

“Just one of those moments,” Melissa answered as Chase helped her get to her feet. She still held Jeremy in her arms. Jeremy, not wanting Chase to feel left out, leaned over and gave him a kiss on his cheek also.

“Thank you, oh so very much,” Chase said as Jeremy wrapped his arms around Melissa’s neck. 'At least some kind of bond is forming,' Chase thought. 'This is so difficult on her, she's so tenderhearted. I hope she sees the necessity of keeping Jeremy a little longer. I know this is breaking her up inside. I know if she could, she'd wave a magic wand and heal the poor kid. Maybe Melissa's right, considering all Jeremy went through; maybe she doesn't have the strength to help. I bet her knowing she doesn't have the strength hurts her most of all. I wish I could spare her the pain, but what choice do I have?'

The group spent the rest of the evening working on the coloring sheet and watching a Disney movie. Jeremy fell asleep halfway through the movie and Chase decided to put him into bed. The couple was able to have some alone time, then.

“I see he is growing on you,” Chase said as his wife rested her head on his chest.

“How could he not? But that’s not what the problem is, is it?”

“I understand. We aren’t ready for a kid full time and you’re right.” Chase frowned. “We aren’t equipped to handle his needs.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Melissa told him in an apologetic whisper.

'It's terrible that I can't deal with Jeremy's needs,” Melissa thought. 'It's not like he's a bad kid. At times he can be a real sweetie. But, he's got a long emotional road ahead of him and I can't deal with that kind of pain, it's not in me. It'll be better for Jeremy if he's around someone who's stronger emotionally, someone who wouldn't break down and cry when he was going through his things. Hopefully his being here is only for a few more days.'

The husband and wife went up to bed and spent some time snuggling with each other. They could hear the murmurs coming from Jeremy’s room and knew that he was having a bad dream. The two adults thought it would be best to let such things run their course and not wake him in the middle of them.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The alarm clock went off at 6:30; and Chase shut it off it could wake anyone else. His wife, who got up about a dozen times during the night to check on Jeremy, was still sleeping, missing her morning run. Chase took a shower and did his normal morning ritual silently. It felt weird to him to dress in civilian clothing while going to work. He put on his favorite pair of blue jeans and a red polo shirt.

He looked in on Jeremy; Neesa shared the bed with the child through the night. The dog opened her eyes and waved her nub-tail, but seeing Chase in civilian clothes she did not get up to follow him.

Chase went back to the master bedroom, walked over to the nightstand and unlocked it. He’d been keeping his gun locked in the drawer since Jeremy started staying with him, erring on the side of caution. He took the gun and made sure his spare badge was still inside his billfold. He grabbed his wife’s keys off the kitchen table and walked out to the squad car. He sat behind the wheel with the door open and turned the radio on.

“Base, this is four-fourteen.” Chase spoke into the radio handset.

“Go ahead, Chase,” Rebecca said.

“I’m on duty. To my knowledge I’m supposed to meet up with J.D.”

“That’s right, sugar. Sarge told me about it this morning.”

“I guess I won’t be at the radio for a while. I’ll call in as soon as I can. Four-fourteen out.”

“Hear from you then, hon.”

Chase got into his wife’s car. It was so foreign, being on duty and not being in a police cruiser or having Neesa with him. He swung by a McDonald’s drive-thru and ordered breakfast. Then he hit the interstate and drove to the motel he’d been told about. J.D. was waiting in front of his Grand Am as Chase pulled into a parking spot.

“Been waiting long?” Chase asked as he walked to his colleague.

“Nah, I just got here about five minutes ago.”

“Okay, so where to now?”

“Follow me.” J.D. led Chase to the far side of the motel, up a flight of stairs and directly to room two-forty. J.D. knocked on the door and a big burly man with a mustache and long scraggly beard opened the door. He was wearing only a pair of boxers and a stained T-shirt. Very unofficial for an officer, Chase thought, but perfect for undercover.

“Come on in,” he said in his deep resonating voice, “welcome to my hell away from home.”

“Kevin, this is Officer Chase Milan, he’s the one that has the boy I was telling you about.” J.D. continued the introduction. “And, Chase, this is Officer Kevin Dillon; he’s the undercover agent I mentioned yesterday.”

The three sat down at a small round table that was bolted to the floor. There was little time for chitchat and a lot of information to get across.

“We’re all here for the same reason,” officer Dillon began, “to get that jackass off the streets and uncomfortably behind bars.”

“And hopefully before this week is through,” Chase added.

“I heard about your predicament,” Officer Dillon said, “and we’ll do our best to make the bust a go in the next couple of days, but our sleaze-ball has to cooperate. We got most of the leg work done, so it's not messing up our time frame. Pretty much all that's left to decide is when and you solved that for us. I rather not put another kid in his clutches.”

“Why don’t you catch me up to speed and explain my role,” Chase said.

“Fair enough,” Officer Dillon said. “I’ve been on this assignment for the last four months, collecting evidence and getting close to this sucker. We’ve formed some sort of friendship.” Officer Dillon made air quotation marks while saying the last word. “I think he trusts me enough to make a mistake.”

“What kind of evidence are we trying to get?”

“We’ve been trading child pornography with each other for the last three months.”

“He was already arrested for child porn and nothing happened with it.”

“He got off because the moron judge said the pictures were non-pornographic, that even though it was in poor taste, the pictures were considered ‘artistic’ nudes.” Once again, Kevin made air quotation marks.

“That’s ridiculous,” Chase said in frustration.

“We’ve worked up to stuff that’s more than ‘artistic.’ He traded some really nasty shit.”

“So why haven’t you arrested him on that, isn’t that enough?”

“We were about to, but then he made an interesting comment. Says that he can get me a kid for the night for five hundred bucks. So now, we can get him on something far more than child pornography charges.”

“So you’re going to place a kid in danger so you can make a bigger case. Isn’t that just great?” Chase said sarcastically.

“I know you're personally involved and if it wasn’t for J.D.’s insistence, I wouldn’t be telling you jack. Do you know the penalty for trading child porn? It’s possible on the first offense that he can get out with probation. Think about all the kids in danger then, he’ll be back on the street and the connections he has will go to someone else. I’ve spent four months on this one guy. Can you grasp that? I haven’t seen my wife or daughter since this started; do you know what that’s like? Do you know what it’s like going through the FBI database for seized photos of kids being abused because we need to give him stuff that isn’t readily available on the Internet, so it looks like I have some kind of connections elsewhere?

"I’m real close to this bust and you know what, he'll plead down, he'll roll on his friends and he'll still get ten to fifteen years in a high security prison. Then all those kids in his cache will be safe. The people abusing them will join him behind bars and when he gets out, he’ll have nothing to start this shit over with. Though it’s noble that you care about this one kid in your custody, why don’t you think about all the others and check your self-righteous crap at the door?”

Chase was taken aback by the detective’s tirade. “Sorry, I didn’t know the scope of everything. But, imagine if the next person he was going to harm was your daughter? What...”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been doing every day since I got involved with this jerk,” Officer Dillon cut Chase off. “I know, you don’t want to see that kid get hurt. So, we make this happen this week. The seeds have been planted, the soil tilled and now it’s time to reap the harvest. J.D., show him the rest of the operation.”

J.D. led Chase clear around the motel, to the front side, room 201. He knocked on that door and another officer let him in. The room was full of surveillance equipment; a half-dozen television monitors sat on one wall, revealing the motel room that Chase had just left. A digital recording machine sat on the dresser and two notebook computers were on the table.

“Welcome to command central,” the shorter officer said, “I’m Trooper Lenny Sharp, on loan from the State Police.”

“Looks like there are enough toys in here to keep you busy for a while.”

“Usually it’s a two-man operation in here, but with nothing going on, my partner decided to file some paperwork.”

“Why are you so far away from the other room?” Chase wondered out loud.

“We aren’t that far away, we have a door that connects the two rooms. The reason we don’t go next door to two-forty is we don’t want someone peaking in and seeing all this equipment; being here means that the target won’t pass us and get suspicious. We take every precaution that we can.”

Chase shrugged. “He’s signaling for something.” Chase pointed to the monitor.

“We need to tape this call he’s about to make.”

Chase watched as Kevin picked up the phone, and Trooper Sharp hit a few buttons on the digital recording equipment. Chase could hear the dial tone, and then the sound of the number being dialed.

“Hello, ’Quis, this is Kevin.”

“Hey, man, what’s up?” a rough voice said from the other end of the line.

“Remember a few weeks ago you mentioned I can get something for five hundred bucks?”

“Yeah. I figured you would take me up on the offer sooner or later,” Marquis said. They could almost hear him smiling through the phone. “What do you need?”

“I got this lady friend coming down this weekend and I told her I would have someone for her son to play with.”

“Nice, how old is her son?”

“I think he’s ten or somewhere about there.”

“Think she will be willing to make some money with him?”

“Possibly. She is interested in the lifestyle,” officer Dillon played his role flawlessly.

“I can get you a nine-year-old girl, she’s sweet too, and hasn’t been popped yet.”

Chase felt sick. He glanced at the other officers; they both looked as grim as he felt.

“No boys? I led her to think I had a son even though I don’t think I exactly said it.”

“Sorry, not on such short notice, but this girl can be tomboyish if you want her to be.”

“Okay, I need her for the full weekend, Friday to Sunday morning.”

“Fourteen hundred and she’s yours.” Chase’s interest heightened, he knew the law and they now had a taped solicitation; a felony but not the biggest charge possible on this case. He changed his mind; Chase wanted Marquis guy to go down for the maximum charge they could hit him with.

“I only got eleven.” Kevin played the part of slime-ball to the hilt; imagine bargaining over such a thing?

“This time I’ll let you slide, but you got to convince her to let her son explore other options.”

“I'll try. See you Friday, eight o’clock.”

“Have the money in an envelope waiting.” Marquis hung up.

“What a jerk,” Chase said. He clenched his hands into fists to stop trembling.

“A real winner,” J.D. said. “Want to come here Friday around six and help us nab this sucker? We can rescue the little girl, too.”

“You bet.” Chase's blood still made boiling noises in his ears from overhearing the phone conversation.

“Listen, go back to the precinct. Catch up on your paperwork and see what good you can do for the rest of the day. We don’t want this guy seeing you on the street and then hanging around here. We don’t want him getting spooked.”

“I don’t like being a desk jockey but for this I’ll gladly make that sacrifice.”

“See you Friday.”

“Should I wear my uniform?”

“Nah, stay plain clothes, feel how the big boys do. I already cleared everything with Sarge anyway. You got two days off coming up and then the bust; it’s green lights all the way.”

Chase drove back to the precinct and unbelievably put in a boring half-day of filing reports and running little errands. It seemed impossible after such a start to the morning. Sarge sent him home after only half a day and told him not to be back on duty until it was time for the bust.

The two off days flew by. Chase and Melissa spent time shopping for more clothes for Jeremy, had a picnic in the park and played in the back yard with Neesa. Chase managed to spend some time alone with his wife and they enjoyed each other’s company, as always. At those times, Jeremy kept to himself, either playing in his room, coloring, or occupying Neesa.

Friday rolled around, and even though the two days whizzed by, the individual days themselves dragged. It was an odd sensation to feel as if two days flashed by even though the hours in those days lasted an eternity.

Friday morning was spent washing the cars and waxing the Corvette, which everyone chipped in to help. Jeremy called the '60's muscle machine the “pretty car.” Even with that moniker, Chase hoped to build a masculine bond with the boy through cars, as Chase had done with his father. Maybe if Jeremy saw the cool side to being one of the guys, Chase thought, he'd give up the skirts and long hair. Jeremy loved feeling useful, fetching cloths and “keeping Neesa out of the water.”

The little family had an early barbecue dinner that Chase prepared himself and before he knew it, it was five-thirty and time to drive back to the motel. Chase tried not to think about what was going to happen, but now that it was time to leave, he felt his blood begin to boil again and the adrenaline started to build in tiny increments throughout his system. He spent two days fighting back the urge to go to this creep’s place and pistol whip him into oblivion. He hadn’t told Melissa what was going down but she felt his anxiety and unrest. They both hid it from Jeremy, but now the confrontation was mere hours away.

Chase opened the door, pushed the passenger seat forward and let Neesa in the back seat of the Le Baron. The Rottweiler didn’t seem confused that Chase wasn’t wearing his uniform and they weren’t using the cruiser but Chase missed the buttons controlling doors and windows that came with his patrol car. He kissed Melissa and Jeremy on the cheek and told them that he would be home late.

“I wish I didn't have to work into the night,” Chase thought. “I hated when dad came home late, always waiting up with my mother, feeling her anxiety. It’s so unfair to put people through that.”

Chase was twelve years old. The clock was creeping up on eleven o'clock, well past his bedtime. He sat on the couch with his mother, no TV, no radio, only the two of them. “I bet he stopped off to get ice-cream,” Chase tried to sooth his mother's worry over the fact that his father was a half an hour late. “I hope he gets fudge ripple.”

Victoria squeezed her son's shoulder and smiled. “Knowing your father, he stopped to help someone who broke down on the side of the road; he can't help playing the Good Samaritan.”

“That's it.” Chase beamed with pride. “I hope while he's helping the ice-cream doesn't melt.”

It was a game that mother and son played. Trying to figure out who can guess why the man of the house was late, as he usually was. Whoever was right won a nickel from the other and it helped the time go by.

It was when the doorbell rang, that a real sense of dread came over the house. No one ever rang the bell, especially at night. When they answered the door, Captain Miller and Pastor Earnest were standing on the porch.

The two men didn't need to say a word, their faces said it all. Victoria Milan broke down and cried, and Chase knew he lost his father.

Chase double-checked the glove box to make sure that both his gun and badge were with him. Neesa rested her nose on the back of the passenger seat and cut her eyes toward him as he started the Le Baron. Chase watched Melissa and Jeremy wave goodbye from the edge of the driveway as he pulled away.

Chase got to the motel five minutes before six. He put his gun in the back of his pants, after making sure the safety was on. He didn’t want to have any embarrassing incidents to be teased about and he put his billfold in his front pocket. After letting Neesa out, he led her to the surveillance room.

“Hey, rook,” J.D. greeted.

“I made it,” Chase said. The other officers didn’t know he meant he controlled his anger for two and a half long days. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing much,” Trooper Sharp answered. “We’re performing a systems check, this way we capture everything, would hate to have a lack of evidence. The important thing is we follow procedure and get what we need. J.D. will clue you in on everything. I need to finish the system’s check.” He didn’t introduce his partner, a technical officer who worked steadily with several consoles and looked younger than Chase.

“What do I need to do?” Chase asked J.D. as they moved into a corner and out of the way.

“Look over here.” J.D. showed Chase a white board that hung where some painting once stayed on the wall. “This is the layout of Officer Dillon’s room.” The arrangement mirrored the room they currently occupied.

“I got that and here is the entrance, right?” Chase pointed to a small half circle on the board to show that he was awake on the day of training when they went over such things.

“And this is where we’ll enter at the appropriate time.” J.D. pointed to another area on the board and then toward a door in the inner wall of the motel room, one of a pair of doors connecting the two rooms.

“When is that?”

“This is very important; you only go when Sharp gives the signal. I know you're emotionally involved but we need you to hold those emotions back. That means you don’t go crashing through the door until you hear the orders. He needs to present the girl and say certain things so we have a rock solid case against him.”

“No problem. I know the deal; this is my job,” Chase reassured J.D. He sounded coldly professional and even impressed himself.

“I’m glad to hear that. Kevin will send the girl off to the restroom, this way she can’t be used as a hostage. If the guy pulls out a gun, use your training. If he decides to run for the door, we have backup covering from outside; they have a room downstairs. So use your head, be smart.”

“I think I got it. What do we do in the meantime?”

“That’s the worst part of the job, we play the waiting game.”

The wait seemed longer than the hour and a half that passed, perhaps even longer than the two days off. Chase clipped his badge to his belt and adjusted it a dozen times. He spent time checking out his gun, making sure he had a full clip and that the safety was set. A simple twitch of his thumb would release the safety if he drew the gun. He watched the bank of video screens and pictured in his mind the events that were about to unfold. Each time he envisioned a different scenario playing out in his head. Finally, there was a knock at the door of the other room and Chase watched the screen intently.

Kevin opened the door. “Eight P.M. on the dot,” he said as he looked at his watch. He also stated the time for the recording cameras.

“I don’t like to keep clients waiting.” Chase couldn’t see Marquis well because Officer Dillon blocked the view. He checked a monitor with a different view. He felt relieved to know that he had never seen this lowlife scum before in his life.

“I appreciate that.” Kevin played the role, his voice low and suitably slimy with implication. “I’m expecting my company around nine and I’m sure I can find some way to pass the time.”

“You got the cash?” Marquis said shortly as he checked out the room.

“Yeah. Where’s the girl?”

“First, I get the cash and then I bring up the girl. That’s the way this works.”

“I get you. What are the other limits?”

“For eleven hundred, keep it down to fondling, you want more, you pay more. I can’t afford to send out damaged goods and not make money.”

“I understand.” Kevin walked over to the dresser and pulled out a plain white envelope. He opened it; double-checked the amount and then handed it to Marquis.

Marquis opened the envelope and pulled out the cash. He thumbed through the money, making sure that all eleven bills were hundreds. “Everything's straight, wait here and I’ll be back in half an hour with her.”

“Don’t try to stiff me, or I’ll come looking for you,” Officer Dillon threatened.

“Stiff you over eleven bills, please, this is nothing, I make more off of others than this.”

“All right, half an hour. I don’t have to be nowhere ’till later.”

Marquis left the hotel room and Kevin sat down and turned on the television, just in case Marquis decided to spy on him through the partially open curtain.

Chase paced in front of the monitors, once again trying to keep his anger from boiling over. He looked over to the trooper. “Do you have enough?”

“Yeah, when he comes back and we get the kid out of the way, I’ll give you the signal,” trooper Sharp informed.

“Good, I’m ready. So is Neesa.” Chase took out his gun and again made sure that all was ready.

“Make sure you wait for the sign, don’t make things a mess. Remember J.D. is the lead in here, not you.” Trooper Sharp could see the young officer getting antsy.

John David looked at Chase for the tenth time. The senior officer figured it was time to settle the rookie down again. “Look, kid,” J.D. said with his hand Chase’s shoulder. “I know you want to nab this guy, but let us do it right. I brought you here so you get the satisfaction of seeing it go down. You aren’t expected to do much except to be another set of eyes and ears. So relax, keep it under control or go home.”

“I’m okay, I swear.” Chase took a deep breath and settled easily by the door. The older officer simply shrugged.

Moments later, Sharp announced, “We got action.” He pointed at J.D. then to the connecting door. “On my go.”

On the monitors, they watched as Kevin let Marquis in, followed by a blond, blue-eyed little girl. She kept quiet and didn’t make any eye contact with the adults.

“This is Amy; she will be your guest for the next few days. Isn’t that right, Amy?” Marquis said in a falsely cheerful voice.

“Yes, sir,” Amy answered shakily.

“See,” Marquis said, “she’s well trained and totally submissive to your demands. Keep it in the limits we discussed. I’ll eventually find out what happened from her, and if you took things further then we’ll have problems.”

“I understand,” Kevin said impatiently. “I got it the first time you told me.”

“Sometimes I have to make sure people get it, no insult intended.”

“Hey, Amy,” Officer Dillon got on one knee and addressed the child, “why don’t you run some water for a bath and I’ll be in there in a minute.”

“You don’t waste any time, do you?” Marquis noted while Amy shuffled her feet to the bathroom. “I like your style. If you had waited a week, I would have had a nice piece of four-year-old ass you could have played with. A real nice boy, like you were looking for.”

“Go, go,” Trooper Sharp yelled. Within seconds, J.D. burst through the doors with Chase behind him. “This is the police, nobody move,” J.D. yelled but Marquis already turned to make his way for the door. Before anyone realized it, Chase jumped over the double bed in a single bound and slammed Marquis' head into the door, forcing it to close. Neesa followed her master’s lead, and stood next to him, growling at the perpetrator and waited for the command to tear into him.

“Want to hurt him some more, do you?” Chase yelled as he kneed Marquis in the back of the knee causing the criminal to fall to the floor.

“Him who! Who the fuck are you talking about?” Marquis spit back at Chase. “I didn’t bring a he!”

“You know who I’m talking about.” Chase screamed. “Like he hasn’t been through enough.” Chase put his gun to Marquis’s head and his thumb clicked the safety off. Neesa looked on, still growling at the man on the floor.

“Back down, rook,” J.D. yelled as he and Officer Dillon bracketed Chase.

Chase didn’t hear, or didn’t listen; he kept the gun to Marquis’ head as he imagined what life Jeremy might have had if this person was able to get custody of his 'nice piece of four year old ass.'

“Come on, Chase, he isn’t worth it.” J.D. spoke intensely. If he had to take the gun away from Chase, the rookie’s career would be over as surely as if he pulled the trigger.

“He wanted to turn that kid’s life into a living hell!” Sweat poured from Chase’s brow, stinging his eyes. Marquis said nothing and did nothing but move his eyes from the dog, to J.D., to Chase’s gun.

“Yeah, he did,” J.D. said in his regular voice, “but now he can’t, we got him dead to rights. There’s no way this guy will see the light of day for a long, long time. Why waste your life and career over someone like this?”

“You’re right.” Chase pulled his gun away, thumbing the safety back on.

“But boy if I had the chance—”

“Holster your mouth, too.” J.D. stopped the rookie from saying something he might regret later.

Chase gave J.D. a sour look. “I’ll be good.” He put the gun away and spoke to Neesa, indicating the prisoner. “Neesa, guard!” he said in German.

“Let’s get down to business,” J.D. said. “Mr. Turner, guess what? You have got the right to remain silent; anything that you do say can be used against you in a court of law….”

J.D. finished reading Marquis his rights and took him away in handcuffs to a waiting police cruiser after Chase commanded Neesa to allow Marquis to move again.

Chase sat down on the bed; the little girl that had been brought in spoke to Trooper Sharp. A policewoman who appeared from somewhere quietly listened, reassuring the girl with her eyes.

Kevin Dillon, the undercover cop from Nashville, scratched his beard and muttered, “Going to be good to get a shave.” He sat down by Chase on the motel bed, his weight making it sag in the middle. “You know what? You saved more than the kid you’re foster parenting.”

“I know. But, I lost control, that can’t be good.” Now that it was over, Chase felt shaky about how close he had come to blowing the perp away. If J.D. hadn’t known what to say…

“Listen you’re a rookie, you have a lot to learn on how to control your emotions, we all did at one point. The worst thing that could happen is you get a write up, but no one in here is going to say you did anything wrong. You succumbed to the heat of the situation. That means you’re human. But you didn’t lose it. You had your gun out when you came in the room, he made a break for it—you could have blown him away then and you didn’t.” Dillon slapped Chase on the shoulder.

“I really wanted to do some damage to him.”

“We all wanted to do damage to him, and you know what, we did.”

“He gets to be a guest of the state and in a few years who knows,” Chase said, frustrated at the system for the first time since he started wearing the badge.

“You aren’t seeing the big picture, are you, rook? That kid in there,” Kevin said, referring to the little girl, “we caught her father right after he gave her to Marquis. She was taken away from her mother almost a year ago; think how much pain has ended in her life. That and there are about a dozen other kids that he had in his stable that he’ll turn on, people like him always do.”

“Yeah, this way he gets some kind of deal,” Chase said. The word left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Yes, he’ll get a deal, but instead of life without parole, he’ll just get life. Would you rather it was only him in trouble or that all who are involved get punished and the kids go somewhere safe?”

“I want them all to get caught, but I wish they all served the right amount of time. People like that, who use kids, shouldn’t see the light of day.”

“You don’t know about prison justice then.”

“Prison justice?”

“Yep, the inmates make sure the right amount of justice is distributed, violently. They don’t take well to his kind, and for some reason the guards get busy elsewhere and things tend to happen. Most convicts love their kids, same as any dad. No matter how long he’s behind bars, it’s going to seem much longer.”

“I guess I've been short sighted.”

“Don’t worry, you learn as you go. We need you to make a statement about tonight. Don’t embellish; keep things simple. You saw what you saw, you heard what you heard and then you came in and J.D. made the bust, you got that.”

“I catch you; let me get the form and something to write with.” J.D. had put the cuffs on; the bust was his.

Kevin handed the rookie officer the proper form and a pen. Chase sat at the table in the room and to the best of his recollection wrote down what he saw and heard. He left out the part where he almost lost it, and he felt sure the other officers were doing the same. After it was completed, he handed the form back to Detective Dillon and was told to go home. After all, he was on duty the next morning.

Neesa followed him to the Le Baron and he helped her into the back seat. Chase felt numb at first, but after he drove halfway home, he began to feel pride in the job he’d done. For the second time, he had come to the rescue of a child he felt genuine affection for. He knew that other children had been in similar situations were now safer.

“We did a good thing tonight,” Chase said to Neesa who again sat so her nose and eyes appeared over the passenger side seat. “That guy won’t be hurting any more kids, at least not for a long time. I can see why I got mad. If I had to do all again, perhaps I wouldn’t have lost my temper. You know what? I’m not upset that I did what I did. It’s not like I pistol-whipped the guy or nothing, not saying that he didn’t deserved it. Now we’ve got to see what will happen to Jeremy. He does kind of grow on you.”

Neesa made a noise that Chase chose to interpret as doggy agreement. He grinned over at her.

“That kid deserves the best,” Chase continued discussing things with the Rottweiler as if she was human. “We need to make sure he goes someplace good. You’ll lose your sleeping buddy, but we knew that this was going to be temporary.” Neesa whined then lifted her head and woofed at the sight of Chase’s house. The noise startled Chase and he laughed.

Chase pulled into his driveway; he locked his pistol in the patrol car on his way to the house. It was the latest that Chase got home from work. He was often on the morning shift so it was foreign for him to arrive home with the stars and moon shining above. He walked in; the house was dark and quiet. A small glow emanated from the television in the living room. Chase walked in and saw his wife watching the news.

“Hey there,” Melissa said as she saw her husband standing in the doorway.

“Did you miss me?” Chase asked slyly.

“Every moment you’re away.” Melissa laughed as she hugged Chase and then gave him a kiss.

“Anything interesting on the news?”

“I didn’t see anything about you, what happened?”

“The TV news won’t be covering it. We don’t invite camera crews to undercover operations. Without pictures, television doesn’t want to cover it. There will be something in the newspaper tomorrow morning, but nothing big. The dominoes still got to fall.”

“Dominoes?”

Chase nodded. “This guy has connections with a lot of people I think. We don’t want them getting wind of things and skipping town. So they’ll keep it quiet and only make a statement that there was an arrest.”

“How did it go?” Melissa asked.

“It was okay. We got the guy that wanted to take Jeremy. I don’t see him getting out any time soon,” Chase said, even though he didn’t know for sure. “It wasn’t anything special; we caught him doing something and we arrested him, no gun battle, no running him down, just J.D. reading him his rights and taking him away in cuffs. We also found a girl who was kidnapped by her father and she will be reunited with her mother soon.”

“That’s good,” Melissa said.

“It’s real good. I’m happy.”

“So Monday you’re going to call and get Jeremy permanently placed somewhere. A few days have quickly become two weeks. It’s not that I mind him here but we had a deal and it would be cruel if we let him get attached. Besides, you know it’s been tough on me.”

“I made a promise; I’ll call Mrs. Walker first thing on Monday.”

“It’ll be the best thing for him, he needs to have some stability in his life and if he gets comfortable here, it’ll make it harder for him to leave. Don’t you think?”

“You’re right,” Chase admitted. “Monday, I’ll call Mrs. Walker and set it up.”

“Thank you,” Melissa said as she walked up to the bedroom with Chase, knowing that he had to get up early for his shift tomorrow morning.

They lay in bed, snuggling without saying a word as each envisioned a childless home, with varying emotions.

Chase woke up on Monday morning at 6:30 a.m.—he was still tired from the weekend, but duty called. The sun had risen and birds sang outside his window; all things indicated that this was going to be a beautiful, joyful day. And it probably was going to be, for everyone but Chase that was. Chase had a chore to do that he was dreading and it tainted everything about life. He made a promise to his wife on Friday and he always kept his promises, even when he didn't want to. Most people didn't see that as a character flaw, but Chase did.

“Morning, honey.” Melissa stood near the foot of the bed, doing her stretching exercises.

“Morning.” Chase stared out the window, ignoring the sight that was his wife, and wondered what the day might bring.

“I guess I don’t have to remind you what you need to do today.” Melissa didn't want to make her husband feel bad but she still thought that it would be best for all concerned if the child went to a more permanent setting.

“I’ll make the call during lunch and ask Mrs. Walker to place him somewhere else,” Chase said in defeat.

“Chase, we did our part, it’s time for him to have a solid foundation somewhere.”

“But, why can’t he have that solid foundation here?”

“Because we aren’t ready yet, especially for a child like him.”

“Why not,” Chase asked, “What makes people ready?”

“We’re too young and we don’t have the training to meet his needs.”

“Who does? It’s not like everyone who keeps a child has a Ph.D. in psychology.”

“Chase, that’s not fair. When you first asked me about letting him stay here, it was only supposed to be for a few days, a week tops. Do you remember that? The only reason I haven’t lost it and broke down is because I knew it was only for a short time.”

“Aren’t you going to miss him?”

“Of course I’m going to miss him. He’s a sweet and lovable boy. But he gets those panic attacks all the time and he keeps hurting himself down there every now and then.” Melissa felt her emotions well up by simply talking about the issues the boy had. “I can’t deal with that. He didn’t deserve what happened to him, but we can’t fix him, we aren’t capable and it's not fair to him.”

“I wish you'd change your mind,” Chase said with a glimmer of hope that she would just for him.

“I know you’ve grown attached to him, and so have I in a sense. That's the danger of taking in a child his age in the first place. That's why I wanted to deal with teens. We don’t have to be out of his life completely. But, this isn’t the best place for him. It’s selfish to think of yourself and how much you’ll miss him. We’ve got to do what is best for him and we know what that is. That’s the end of it.”

“I was hoping that you'd reconsider. I made a promise, and maybe you’re right, maybe I'm being selfish. Like I said, I’ll call Mrs. Walker during lunch and make the arrangements.”

“Thank you. In the end you’ll see I’m right on this.” Melissa got up to go to the kitchen and put a lunch together for Chase.

“What's the use in arguing,” Chase thought. “We've been through this a dozen times and I'm tired of it. Melissa isn't going to budge; nothing I've said these past two days had even an effect on her. If I could somehow fix what was wrong with Jeremy, make him whole; then Melissa wouldn't object to keeping him around. But, I have no clue how to fix the boy. Plus, I see the look of despair on her face when he has one of his attacks, I can't deny that. She's right, it's too much for her to handle. Heck, it may be too much for both of us to handle. That's no excuse though. We should still try. My dad would've tried if he were in my place. I hate feeling that I'm letting him down.

Chase finished his morning routine in silence. The joy of going to work and doing the job he loved was missing from this day. He didn’t pose in the mirror, or make his muscles do any tricks. He didn’t talk to himself as if he was in a movie and there was a voice-over. He washed up and looked at himself in the mirror and wondered how could he make things right and how could he could stop his heart from aching.

Chase put on his uniform, making sure everything looked okay. It was the first time he looked in the mirror and didn’t feel thrilled to see the young man with the badge staring back at him. He wanted to take the day off, maybe the week. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go to work, but that smack dab in the middle of his shift he had to make a phone call that went against his better judgment.

Chase dragged his feet as he walked to the child’s room. He pushed the door the rest of the way open and looked in. Jeremy was still sleeping peacefully. Neesa lifted her head off his side.

“Come on, girl, time for work,” Chase said in a soft whisper.

Neesa gingerly jumped off the bed, careful not to alert the child of her departure. She strolled out of the room and down the stairs, not waiting for her master. Chase stood at the door for a moment more, looking at how angelically the child slept, how comfortable Jeremy felt being in this house. A tear came to Chase’s eye as he thought how in a short time, the child would no longer be a part of his household. He decided that he’d best leave right then, instead of getting worked up.

Melissa had been standing behind him. She didn’t say anything. “I’ll see you after work and tell you what Mrs. Walker said,” Chase told his wife as he kissed her goodbye for the day.

Chase popped the door to the squad car, letting Neesa get into her proper spot. The dog jumped in and lay down to continue her rest. Chase got behind the wheel and picked up the mike.

“Four-fourteen to base, checking in for the day,” Chase said into the radio.

“Hey, Chase, how you doing?” Rebecca asked.

“I guess okay.” Chase didn't want to go into details.

“You don’t sound like your enthusiastic self today, hon.”

“One of those days, I suppose.”

“We all get them, from time to time, hon. You know where you’re patrolling today?”

“Yeah, Greenwood, from Leesville to the interstate.”

“You got a good memory. Keep in touch when you need to.”

“Ten-four. Four-fourteen out.” Chase put the microphone into the clip holder.

How could I forget Greenwood? Chase thought to himself. It was where I was patrolling the day I found Jeremy. It’s such an odd coincidence that I would be here the day that I have to call Mrs. Walker. I found Jeremy patrolling here and I’ll lose Jeremy patrolling here, what irony.

Chase drove to the cemetery so he could hide out and see what action came his way. Again, he saw the statue of Jesus overlooking the cemetery. Oddly though, Chase didn’t feel the same sense of security he normally did with the statue above him. Instead he felt convicted, as if he wasn’t doing something right. He didn’t feel like he committed one of the seven deadly sins; he felt like he was letting someone down but had no control over it.

“What would Jesus do?” Chase read off a bumper sticker from a van that passed him. The bumper sticker said WWJD, but he knew what the letters stood for and felt more convicted. “Yeah, what would He do in this situation? He wouldn’t abandon that kid. I don’t know, maybe He would if it meant Jeremy would get all the help he needed and all the love he deserved. Why does it have to be so difficult, whatever happened to the easy questions in life? Whatever happened to vanilla or chocolate? What happened to all those no-matter-what-you-choose-it’ll-be-all-right questions? Maybe Melissa is right, maybe we aren’t ready. I mean, whether or not to keep him at our house isn’t even a clear-cut decision. Each answer has so many contingents that I can’t even keep it straight in my own mind. Then you add on to that the fact that he’s been psychologically scarred and I can’t even begin to know where to address those issues.”

Chase decided it might be better not to think about it and get all worked up while he was on patrol. He watched the road, but nobody was on the street. He looked back at Neesa; she was curled up on the back seat, not paying much attention to anything. He flipped through a little spiral bound notebook that he kept with him to remind him of errands. Other than being on patrol and making the phone call to Mrs. Walker, the page for Monday was blank. He flipped back a couple of days and reviewed what he did over the weekend. He had written a few tickets on Saturday as the college students were heading out on summer break. Now that the college was empty, there was even less to do than usual.

Chase put the car into gear and decided it was time to drive around for a while. He drove down Greenwood Avenue, and turned into the subdivision where he found Jeremy a few weeks earlier. He drove directly to the block where he’d answered the call. There was a work van in the driveway of the child’s old house instead of a Camaro, the same van that bore the WWJD bumper sticker. Perhaps it's a sign, Chase thought. The Camaro had been towed a few days after the incident, impounded and getting ready to be auctioned off.

Chase parked in the street in front of the house, just as he did that fateful day. He made his way toward the wide-open front door. Chase first knocked and after a few seconds, he walked in when no one answered. Classic rock was blasting from a boom box that sat in the far end of the living room; other than that, the room was empty. The walls had fresh paint and the only remnant of the blood that splattered them existed only in Chase’s mind. The old torn up linoleum had been replaced by new, dark green, plush carpet. It seemed odd that even though it was the same room, it didn't resemble the scene that he had walked in on. Even the smell of the house was different. The things the couple had let go to ruin could be repaired, and even improved upon, Chase thought to himself. A startled man jumped as he entered the room and saw Chase standing there.

The handyman quickly turned off the radio when he realized Chase was a cop. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t know you'd come in.”

“I knocked, but no one heard me when I did.”

“Sorry if the radio was too loud, I didn’t know the neighbors could hear it,” the handyman tried to explain, assuming that perhaps he was in trouble for disturbing the peace or noise pollution.

“No, the radio was fine; I didn’t hear it until I was right up to the door. Besides, the neighbor isn't the kind of man who'd go out of his way to get involved.”

“Oh. Okay, um,” the guy fumbled for words.

“I was here on a call a few weeks ago and I wanted to check out how the place was coming along.” Chase tried to put the guy’s mind at ease.

“Oh, yeah, it was some mess.”

“It’s coming along nicely,” Chase said, referring to the paint job and repairs.

“Still got a lot of work to go. I've been installing the new cabinets and all. Those people let this place go to the crapper.”

“I suppose they had their reasons,” Chase said.

“Whatever reasons they had, they lived like pigs. It took a week to clean up the place just to get to the repairs and painting. I didn’t think it was even possible to get the stench out of some of these rooms. But, in another week the owner is renting it out to me. He’s giving me six months’ rent free plus the money on top of doing the repairs because no one wanted to touch this place.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine here. With all the repairs, it’s not a bad little place.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

“I’ll let you get on with your work, like I said I was only checking it out.”

“All right, um, see you around, I guess?” the handyman said as Chase left.

Chase sat in the front seat of the police cruiser. He remembered the last time he was here, how he’d had a small child cowering in the back seat as he drove off. But now, the day was peaceful; the house didn’t resemble the chaos it had been a short time ago. Not even the old car batteries that bracketed the driveway remained

Chase drove back to the cemetery as he thought back to how the house used to look. Hopefully this new guy moving in there will do much better with his life than the couple who lived there before.

Chase sat on top of the hill, hidden in the cemetery’s driveway. Again, he looked at the statue of Jesus, but still didn’t sense the peace he normally felt. He thought that he should be closer to it for a reason he couldn’t quite understand. He felt as if something were calling him closer, something beyond the physical realm.

“Four-fourteen to base,” Chase said into the microphone.

“Go ahead, hon,” Rebecca called back.

“I’m going to check something out for a second, so I won’t be near the radio.”

“Is everything okay? Do you need backup?”

“No, I don’t think so. It’s nothing major, just need to look at something. I should be about ten minutes or so.”

“I got you on a timer,” Rebecca joked. Chase didn’t feel in a joking mood. But she didn’t know that, he reminded himself.

Chase turned off the engine to his cruiser and got out. The sun warmed his face as he walked towards the large marble statue of Jesus. It was further away than he expected as he walked up a slight incline. Finally he stood in front of the statue. Jesus sat over him with his left hand outstretched and his right hand cupping his visible heart. Chase felt a mixture of peace and shame as he stood in the presence. He looked down at the base of the statue; lettering was carved into the marble. “God bless the children,” Chase read out loud and felt doubly convicted.

Chase bowed his head. “God bless the children and God bless the child that’s currently in my care.” Chase barely spoke the words aloud. His faith told him that people didn’t need to shout to the sky for God to hear their prayer. A small tear trickled down the side of his face as he sought for answers that were beyond him.

“God, Lord Father,” Chase began his prayer again as he composed himself. “You’ve brought this child into my life, and I feel blessed for the opportunity to know him. If it were Your will for me to raise him, I have no objections. But Melissa does object and it’s hard on her to be around such a wounded child. It breaks her heart to be around one so small and yet so broken. If it’s Your will for us to raise this child as our own, then change her heart. I have tried but I failed, I believe no one on this Earth can change her mind. You’re the only person left who can accomplish such a feat, Lord.

If it’s Your will that he stay with us, then she must agree as well. I cannot go against her wishes on this. But please hurry, and may Your will be done. Amen.”

Chase wiped his eyes as he made his way back to the patrol car. His mind frantically searched for a way to convince his wife that keeping Jeremy was the proper thing to do. He hoped the prayer would reveal to him the exact words to say that would change his wife’s mind, but nothing new came to him. He sat in the seat and tried to figure out this problem, for all his intelligence, for all his savvy, he couldn’t come up with a solution. It frustrated him as nothing else ever had; he ached with it.

“Four-fourteen to base, I’m back.”

“I got that, Chase,” Rebecca answered.

“I’ll be in for lunch in an hour. I have to make a personal phone call.”

“That’s not a problem, as long as it’s during your lunch.”

“Ten-four, I’m out.”

Jeremy was playing in the living room, still working on the large plastic coloring sheet. He spent most of his play time working on it, and it was almost done. Melissa dressed him in a cotton skirt and T-shirt; he still refused to wear pants and would cringe any time Melissa recommended them. She’d given up trying to convince the young boy that pants weren’t going to hurt him, but each day she always asked what he wanted to wear. Without fail, Jeremy always picked the skirts, as if by offering him pants she were offering him poison. That frustrated her. Not the fact that he picked the skirts, but that he hadn’t gotten to the point where he trusted her to just wear what she offered. In a few days, it wouldn’t be her problem; she tried but failed and she was willing to accept that. They did have a bond, but that bond wasn’t strong enough to heal Jeremy of the emotional wounds he had. The demons of the past were stronger than Melissa’s love and every time she saw the child, she was reminded of that and felt worse.

“Missa?” Jeremy pulled on Melissa’s hand as she sat on the couch reading a book.

“Yes, Jeremy.”

“Go potty, Missa,” Jeremy said. The way he asked bothered Melissa, not that he used baby talk but that she had heard him speak like children his age were supposed to. He didn’t even trust her enough to show his true intelligence, and she didn’t know why. Usually kids got praised for showing how smart they were; maybe this was something Jeremy used to keep from getting too close.

“Okay, Jeremy, let’s go up to the bathroom.” Melissa got up and carried him to the master bathroom. At least Jeremy trusted her enough to be carried up the stairs, and to undress him. It confused her that the child would allow himself to be vulnerable that way, but not in others. She thought it should be reversed and the last thing the child would choose to reveal was his body.

She walked into the bathroom and helped him pull down the skirt and the pull-ups. Melissa was happy that the child graduated to training pants and away from diapers, at least she made some progress during his visit. Accidents were down, except at night, but that was to be expected from a child his age. She lifted him onto the bowl; he could do it on his own but asked for help. Melissa had decided that any time the child asked for help, no matter how menial the task, she would grant his request in hope of building trust. Perhaps the trust she built now would rub off on the next family that had contact with the toddler.

Jeremy sat on the bowl, swinging his legs as he tapped his feet against the porcelain. “Je’my girl,” he stated as he smiled and took care of business.

“I see Jeremy is going like girls go,” Melissa said, remembering that she had had to tell him that was all right for him to use the toilet like he was.

“No, Je’my girl,” he corrected, figuring she had misunderstood what he meant.

“No, Jeremy is a little boy. He’s just too small to stand up and go like the really big boys. That doesn’t make him a girl though.” Melissa tried to figure out what the child wanted to convey. Was he thinking that sitting to go to the bathroom was making him a girl? She understood that gender wasn’t a concrete concept to young kids. She remembered that her friends’ kids thought that anyone with long hair was a woman and anyone with short hair was a boy. Though it made for some humorous and sometimes awkward incidents, Melissa could see how Jeremy could make a similar mistake.

“No!” Jeremy shouted as he shook his head adamantly. “Me girl, me girl, me girl!”

The outburst scared Melissa. This one wasn’t like the other incidents that he had. When he got into a mental conflict, Jeremy turned inward; he got quiet and tried to hide from the world. This time he was outgoing, and vocal, as if he was staking a claim and this was the first time he attempted to do such a thing in front of Melissa. Often when Jeremy got introverted, Melissa would let him be and allow him to work things out in his own mind. But now he was being the opposite, maybe he wanted conflict. Melissa thought that perhaps by creating a conflict, he was seeing how far he could go without getting hurt. Perhaps in his old family, taking a stand would have gotten him hit or reprimanded. Melissa decided that she would let him test the boundaries, but had to set him straight about the facts. Maybe he was using an obviously wrong statement to see how she would correct him. Maybe he really was confused about whether he was a boy or a girl; after all, he’d gone a couple of weeks in skirts and maybe that was all it took to be a girl to a little kid.

“Jeremy,” Melissa got on one knee to try to explain the facts of life to the child. “You aren’t a girl. You’re a little boy.”

“Me girl,” Jeremy shouted again, contradicting Melissa again. He wasn’t angry, only emphatic.

“Jeremy, little boys have wee-wees like you do and girls do not.” Melissa tried to explain anatomy in a way that a child Jeremy’s age would understand.

“Wee-wee go bye-bye,” Jeremy said as he stood up.

“Jeremy, it’s right there, we can both see it.” Melissa pointed out the child’s anatomy to him.

“No! No! No! It go bye-bye!” Jeremy screamed and then dug his nails into his privates like he was trying to gouge it out.

“Jeremy! No!” Melissa raised her voice for the first time at the child, grabbed him by the wrist and removed his hands from his privates.

Jeremy stood still and looked at her in shock as tears filled his eyes.

“Jeremy, hurting yourself like that isn’t going to make you a boy or a girl. It’s only going to hurt you real bad.”

“But Je’my need be girl,” the child said, this time in a different way. He didn’t shout it or say it nasty, he said it like that was how life was supposed to be; like saying the sky should be blue.

“But Jeremy has a wee-wee,” Melissa said, trying to state the obvious so the child would understand this truth about life.

“But it fall off soon,” Jeremy said, once again as if he were stating fact.

“How will it fall off?” Melissa asked; she would have been amused at how much conviction the child had about this, if she weren’t so frightened.

“Je’my make fall off.”

“Jeremy, you got to listen to me on this one.” Melissa decided to take a different route. “If it’s going to fall off and make you a girl then it has to fall off on its own. If you try to make it fall off it will stay on longer.”

Jeremy looked at her, letting the information settle in. “It fall off by self?”

“Yes, so you have to promise not to hurt yourself like that ever again, or it’ll hurt very much.”

“Okay, Missa,” Jeremy agreed. “Fall off soon,” Jeremy addressed his private, as if it would listen to his command like Neesa obeyed Chase. Jeremy then pulled up the pull-ups and the skirt that he was wearing.

“Thank you very much. I’m counting on you to keep your word. Can I trust you to do what you said you would?” Melissa asked him to drive the point home.

“Yes, Missa.” Jeremy sealed the deal with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Good, now I need you to go downstairs and meet me in the kitchen, I’ll be there in a little while.”

“Okay, Missa,” Jeremy said. He skipped out of the room.

Melissa put her head in her hand and then shook it. “I don’t know how much longer I can last,” she said to herself. A small tight knot built up in her stomach as she thought of what disaster might have happened if Jeremy pinched a little harder or worse yet, if he had a knife or a pair of scissors in his hand. She tried to shake off such an image, but it wasn’t easy. When she regained her composure, Melissa walked downstairs and joined the child in the kitchen.

Jeremy was very helpful in the kitchen and would fetch anything Melissa asked him for. He placed cheese on the slices of bread that Melissa put on the counter and topped each sandwich off with another slice of bread. Today they were making one of Jeremy’s favorite lunches, grilled cheese sandwiches.

Chase pulled into the precinct a few minutes after noon. He hit the door release and allowed Neesa out. There was a small fenced area in the back of the precinct; Chase let the Rottweiler out there, not knowing how long he would be on the phone with Mrs. Walker. He opened the package of cut up chicken that Melissa packed with his lunch and left it for the dog. Chase didn’t even look at his food; his appetite was gone. Instead, he walked to his desk and stared at his phone for ten minutes.

Maybe I could tell Melissa I tried to call and couldn’t get through, Chase thought. Maybe with another night I could come up with something to convince Melissa to let Jeremy stay. The problem is she always knows when I’m lying and if she catches me in this one we’re going to get into a fight, and she'd be in the right.

For the first time in a long while, Chase felt reluctant to pick up the phone. It was as if he were an awkward freshman in high school and didn’t want to call a girl because he feared getting rejected. Something in his stomach gnawed at him as he dialed the social worker’s number.

Come on, be busy, Chase thought, but the phone rang on the other end. Maybe no one's there, he hoped. Maybe they’re out to lunch. No such luck.

“Hello, Child Services,” a voice said.

“Hello, this is Officer Milan, I’m trying to get in touch with Mrs. Walker,” Chase said in a shaky voice, not wanting any part of this conversation.

“One second I’ll see if she is in,” the voice said.

“I’ll wait,” Chase hoped Mrs. Walker stepped away from her desk or, better yet, had to go away this week on business.

“Hello, Officer Milan, how are you today?” Mrs. Walker asked in an unusually chipper mood.

“I’m okay. I’m sure you heard about the bust of the guy that was trying to get Jeremy.”

“I got the message you left on Saturday. It was a good thing too, his residence was in good shape, his employment history was stellar and he had impeccable recommendations.”

“I’m glad I could help. We did a lot of good that night.”

“You certainly did. I’m glad it worked out the way it did. How can I help you today?”

“It has to do with Jeremy,” Chase said. “You said a few days and you would have him permanently placed.”

“I did say that, and we almost did, but with what happened, the time line got off track.”

“The thing is, Melissa is having a hard time, and we need you to hurry up and place Jeremy elsewhere. I’m sorry but she can’t handle dealing with him, so I need you to do this immediately.” Chase nervously wrapped the telephone cord around his fingers. Now that he had committed himself to this, he wanted it done and over with.

“Officer Milan, you have to understand, I can’t place someone permanently on short notice. It has only been half a day since we got the new information and these things take time.”

“I understand that, but Melissa is about to lose it. I can’t have my wife go nuts on me. She’s tried, but she doesn’t have the heart to watch Jeremy when he goes through his panic attacks; it’s tearing her apart inside.”

“Can she last a few more nights? I have a few options, but they need at least two days to pan out,” Mrs. Walker said, practically pleading.

“I’m sorry, but I must insist you place him somewhere tonight. You know my wife was anxious when it was only going to be for a few days.” Chase tapped his fingers against his desk. “Perhaps if it were different circumstances she would be able to take it, but this is beyond her.”

“And there’s no way to talk you out of this?”

“I’m afraid not. I wish there was. I’ve been trying all weekend and nothing has worked.”

“I give up,” Mrs. Walker said with frustration in her voice. “I’ll come by tonight to pick up the child, make sure his belongings are ready.”

“Thank you, and I’m sorry this didn’t work out.”

“Sorry doesn’t help the situation, does it?” Mrs. Walker hung up on him.

“Damn it!” Chase yelled. With the phone still in one hand, he drew back the other and punched the wall. Even with all the anger and frustration that Chase put into the punch, the solid concrete wall didn’t budge. With the adrenaline flowing through his system, the punch didn’t have much effect on Chase either. He saw his hand starting to turn red but it didn’t hurt; he wished it would.

Chase looked around and noticed most of the officers turned their attention to the rookie’s outburst. Often when Chase would embarrass himself, he would make a joke and let it slide. Today Chase was not his usual self. “Don’t you people have work to do? Isn’t there something more important for you all to be doing other than looking at me hitting the wall?” Chase stormed out of the room and retrieved Neesa to get back to his shift.

“Four-fourteen back on duty,” Chase spat into his mike.

“Ten-four,” were the only words that Rebecca said back. Chase assumed she saw his outburst. That was just fine with him.

Jeremy finished drinking his milk; a small chocolate mustache decorated his upper lip. He walked to Melissa, who was at the sink, and handed her the empty glass.

“Thank you, Jeremy,that was very responsible of you.”

“Welcome, Missa,” Jeremy replied.

Melissa rinsed out the glass and placed it in the drain as Jeremy looked on. When he behaved like this, there were no problems with Melissa and she wanted to keep him indefinitely. But those other times, like earlier, caused her much alarm.

“Jeremy, are you ready for your nap?” Melissa asked.

Jeremy nodded yes and took Melissa’s hand so she would lead him to his room. Melissa was happy to accommodate, but had a stop in mind along the way.

“Jeremy, would you like to have something to sleep with while Neesa is working with Chase?”

“Yes, Missa.”

Melissa led the child into the master bedroom and lifted him the bed. Jeremy watched Melissa open the large walk-in closet and turned on the light.

“Give me a moment, sweetie, it’s in one of these boxes,” Melissa called out as she searched through a few boxes in the far corner. “I found it,” Melissa called out as she pulled the item from an old cedar chest and hid it behind her back.

“Show me! Show me!” Jeremy was as impatient as any other four year old.

“I need you to close your eyes and hold out your arms.”

Jeremy did as commanded. He closed his eyes tight, afraid that if Melissa thought he was peeking, she might take back what she was going to offer. His hands reached out as far as he could reach.

“Here it is.” Melissa placed something in Jeremy’s open arms. The child could feel the delicate item and made sure not to grab at it too roughly, but instead, allowed it to rest in the crook of his arm.

“Can open eyes?” Jeremy asked, wanting to look at what he’d been given, but afraid to act prematurely.

“Certainly.” Melissa laughed, forgetting how literal young children could take instructions.

Jeremy opened his eyes slowly, as if the surprise were of equal importance to the gift. He looked down, and a small ceramic face stared back at him. Curly blond hair flowed down the doll’s back. A fine red satin and lace dress covered the soft cloth body and a pair of black Mary Jane’s peeked out from the bottom. Jeremy cradled the doll and brought it to his chest.

“Her name is Maggie,” Melissa explained. “She was my best friend when I was your age. I used to pretend she was my baby and my job was to watch her and take care of her and to love her. Now, I would like you to have her, but only if you promise to do the same things.”

“Je’my promise love Maggie,” Jeremy said with a huge smile on his face as he rocked the doll in his arms.

“Then she is all yours, she will always love you as long as you love her.”

Jeremy remembered hearing those words before, but it seemed like such a long time ago. He remembered having something that he loved and was supposed to take care of. His face got that worried look on it as Jeremy tensed up. Melissa got nervous and wondered what she did wrong this time.

“Missa love Maggie, too?” Jeremy asked in a shaky voice.

“I still love her.”

“Then Missa take Maggie?”

“But why? I can see Jeremy loves Maggie too, and it makes me happy to see that you do.”

“But Maggie break.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie, she doesn’t break easily—you won’t hurt her as long as you take extra special care of her.”

“No, Missa break Maggie,” Jeremy said straight-faced.

“Why would I break Maggie?”

“’Cause, Je’my love Maggie, so Missa break.”

“Oh no, baby, I would never break something Jeremy loved. I promise with all my heart that I won’t. I want you to be happy and I want Maggie to be happy and I know you will be happy together.”

“Missa tell truth?” Jeremy was skeptical.

“Of course, I am. I would never break something you loved.”

“And Case no break either?”

“No, Chase won’t either. He wants you to be happy too and would never hurt you that way.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise,” Melissa said, finally understanding at least one event in Jeremy’s life before she got involved.

“Good, ’cause Je’my love Missa too,” Jeremy said as he hugged her tightly.

“And I love Jeremy back. Now let’s take a nap.” Melissa lifted Jeremy into her arms and carried him into his room. She laid the child on the bed and covered him and the doll with the blanket. Jeremy kept hold of the doll as Melissa gave him a kiss on the forehead. She backed out of the room as tears filled her eye.

How terrible, Melissa thought, that child had something he cared about and had it taken away and broken. What monsters his parents were. God, I hope it wasn’t a little brother or sister or something living. It was probably a toy, but why would anyone want to destroy something a baby cherished. It's so sad that he’s now scared to get attached to anything else.

Melissa walked down to the living room and read a magazine as she wound herself down from another emotionally draining experience with the toddler. Jeremy was upstairs, starting to drift off.

Jeremy found himself opening his eyes as he woke from his nap.

He looked down and saw that he was lying in a dirty shirt that barely covered his midsection. He pushed the frayed green towel covering his legs off to the side and stood up from his sleeping mat. He looked around the room to see if the large black and brown dog was anywhere to be found. Neesa was nowhere to be seen, and the house was eerily quiet. Jeremy walked out of the room; a foul-smelling smoke filled the air.

“Missa,” Jeremy yelled, thinking something was wrong and he needed help.

No one answered. Jeremy went to search for Melissa or Chase or the large dog that was his protector. The toddler walked down the hall and went into the master bedroom. The bed was barren of any linen, and the bottles that were neatly placed on the dresser earlier were in disarray; some were even broken.

“Missa? Case? Pipsy?” the child called out again, hoping someone would answer his calls.

The only answer was silence, and Jeremy became anxious. He walked into the bathroom, but it was empty as well. He made his way downstairs, and walked into the kitchen, perhaps Melissa and Chase would be there making dinner. The kitchen was void of people; it was empty of most things that Jeremy expected. The cabinets had no doors and a pile of broken dishes sat in front of the sink. Jeremy decided to check the refrigerator, and maybe grab a juice box. The refrigerator was bare, except for a case of beer and the smell of old Chinese food. The child tried to close the refrigerator door, but the broken hinge kept him from closing it correctly.

“Missa? Case? Come out, come out. Pease,” Jeremy yelled as loud as he could, his voice echoed through the empty house.

The child knew of only one more place to look for the missing household. He made his way to the living room. The smoke was thickest here and in front of the sofa was a large wet red puddle. In the corner where the child expected to see his folded coloring plastic, lay a crushed Gatorade bottle with a ribbon tied around it. Jeremy shuffled towards it, expecting to see a cartoonish face on the cap, but the cap was not there, only the crushed bottle.

“Missa? Case?” Jeremy cried out. “Pipsy?”

Suddenly, he heard a loud bang from the driveway and Jeremy felt his heart pounding in fear. He scurried and crawled under the couch. He searched for the tear in the cloth under the couch, but there was no tear in this couch. Jeremy rolled into a ball and hid as far back behind the couch as he could while heavy footsteps approached. The toddler looked out from under the couch; a pair of dirty, black work boots rested in front of him and Jeremy smelled fresh dirt and old sweat. The child tried to be as quiet as he could, but his breathing was louder than it had ever been before and Jeremy could not control its volume. Without warning, the couch was thrown from on top of him, and the red-headed man towered over the boy.

“Hi, Dada.” Jeremy immediately recognized who it was. Trembling, he scooted so his back was against the wall.

“Don’t ‘hi, Dada’ me, you little bastard.” Curtis removed his belt from his pants in one motion. It made a sick, slithering noise.

Jeremy saw the black leather strap and decided to make a run for it. He bolted out of the living room, barely escaping a lash as his father snapped the belt towards him. Jeremy ran up the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him.

“Think you can escape me? Well, you’re wrong, you little bastard.” Curtis ran after the child.

Jeremy ran into his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Soon after, the door caved in as his father kicked through it. Jeremy curled up in the far corner of the room and had nowhere left to run.

“You can never escape me, and no one will help you.” Curtis yelled as he lifted the child up by the throat. “You worthless piece of garbage!”

Jeremy tried to wiggle loose; he started to feel his lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. His arms and legs weighed too much for him to lift them and his father’s strength, even one-handed, couldn’t be resisted by Jeremy’s frail body. Curtis reached into his back pocket with his free hand and pulled out a switchblade. He flipped the switch and exposed the three inches of steel.

“Now it’s time to do what I should have done a long time ago, you little punk! We weren’t good enough for you, were we? You think these people are going to save you? Where are they now?”

“Missa, help! Missa, help!” Jeremy yelled as loud as he could repeatedly.

Melissa was halfway through an article about decorating ideas when she heard the commotion coming from the child’s room. She sprang to her feet and sprinted up the stairs. She opened the door to the bedroom and saw Jeremy wrestling with the covers for all his worth. It frightened her and she wondered what she should do. Perhaps if he slept through the nightmare, he would forget about it and it wouldn’t be as traumatic?

Jeremy sat up, opened his eyes, and yelled, “Missa, help!” right in her face.

Melissa jumped back, not expecting that reaction. She saw Jeremy look at her in disbelief then he looked around the room for whatever monster he was battling.

“I’m here, sweetie, I’m here.” Melissa sat on the child’s bed allowing him to wrap his arms around her neck. Jeremy sobbed uncontrollably as he buried his head into her shoulder.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” Melissa comforted, stroking the child’s hair. “It was just a bad dream; nothing is going to hurt you here. You’re safe.” She pulled him into her lap and rocked gently, back and forth. It made both of them feel better.

The small child’s sobs lessened and the tears faded. He wiped his eyes with his forearms and his heart rate went back normal, Melissa could hear it slow down from bird-rapid to child-rapid as she held him close. Finally, he was able to lift his head and let the rest of the world come into view.

“Are you okay, honey?” Melissa asked when she was satisfied that the child was calmed.

“Dada try hurt Je’my,” the child tried to explain.

“Your daddy can never hurt you here; he can never hurt you ever again.” Melissa didn't really want to explain to the child that his father was dead and what that meant.

“But, Dada here, want hurt,” Jeremy continued explaining. “Je’my call Missa! Missa! But no Missa come, Je’my scared no Missa.” Tears filled the child’s eyes.

“That was just a dream, and dreams can’t hurt you.” Melissa wiped the tear from the child’s cheek, still trying to comfort him. “Even though some dreams are scary, they can’t really hurt you. I’m here now anyway, you’re safe, nothing will hurt you now.”

“Tank you, Missa,” Jeremy said as he rested his head against Melissa’s shoulder. Melissa cradled the child and gently rocked him in her arms. Jeremy could hear Melissa’s heartbeat and his breathing slowed down. Soon the small child had fallen asleep, feeling comfortable in Melissa’s keeping.

Melissa felt touched, and as soon as she was sure the child was back to sleep, she placed him back in the bed. She found the doll she gave him earlier on the floor. She picked it up and placed it at the child’s side, instinctively Jeremy grasped and snuggled closely with it. Melissa covered the child with the blanket and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She pulled a chair from the other corner of the room up close to the bed. She sat down and watched as the child slept, making sure the nightmares didn’t return. As Melissa watched the child sleep, tears once again fell, this time they were hers.

“I guess it's already too late,” she said to herself.

Chase stopped his squad car, lights flashing, behind the pulled over Dodge Daytona. This would be his last ticket of the day. He had three others since lunch, and was glad his shift was over in a half-hour. There were more important things in life than sitting around and writing citations.

“Four-fourteen to base. Got a traffic stop at Greenwood and Forest. Gray Dodge Daytona, Tennessee plates, MDX-49D,” Chase called in according to procedure.

“Do you need backup?” Rebecca asked.

“No. I can handle this on my own.”

“Ten-four, Chase, keep me posted.”

“Four-fourteen out.” Chase replaced the microphone to the holder.

Chase got out of the squad car and walked to the vehicle. He made sure to keep his eye on the driver as he made his way to the driver's side window, a young girl who was probably on her way to a party or some school function was behind the wheel.

“Hi, Officer,” the bright-eyed teen girl said. “Did I do something wrong?”

“I was wondering if you can answer a question for me?”

“Yes, Officer, anything you want to know,” the teen said uneasily.

“That octagonal red thing there at the end of the block, what is that called?”

“A stop sign,” the teen answered nervously.

“And what are you supposed to do at those octagonal things?”

“Stop.”

“Then why in the world did you only slow down and roll right through the sign when you obviously knew what the sign was for?”

“I made sure no one was coming and I was barely moving, and when I saw that the road was clear I made the turn.”

“I think you know what is going to happen now.”

“You’re going to write me a warning ticket?”

“You’re partially right. You got the ticket part correct.”

“No!” The teen started to cry. “My dad is going to kill me. I’ve never been in trouble before. What am I going to tell my parents?”

“Quit it, I don’t want to hear the crocodile tears, save it for the judge,” Chase said coldly, even though he figured no judge would ever be involved. “License and registration, please.”

The girl handed Chase her paperwork. The officer walked back to the squad car and filled out the ticket. Five minutes later, he walked back to the car and handed the girl her license, registration and the ticket.

“You can pay this at the courthouse,” Chase said. “If you want to fight the ticket you can appear at court on the date that’s on the back. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Officer,” the girl answered as she sniffled.

Chase made his way back to the squad car; annoyed that the teen tried to cry her way out of a ticket. Like there weren’t important things in life more earth shattering than her parents having to pay fifty dollars because she couldn’t follow the rules of the road.

“Four-fourteen to base,” Chase said into the microphone. “I’m done for the day,”

“Before you go home for the day, Sarge wants to talk to you in his office,” Rebecca said.

“Great,” Chase said sarcastically. “I’ll be right in.”

“Ten-four.”

Chase pulled into the precinct and walked with Neesa directly to the Sarge’s office. The sergeant sat back in his chair and motioned Chase to sit down in the chair opposite him.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”.

“Yes,” the Sarge said coldly. “Yes I did.”

“What’s up?”

“I noticed at lunch you had yourself an unsettling phone call and worked yourself into quite the frenzy.” Sarge didn’t smile; he wasn’t amused.

“Sorry, sir, it was a bit upsetting.”

“I think it was more than that. I can see your hand is still red from when you punched the wall.”

“I didn’t mean to let go of my emotions like that, it won’t happen again.”

“It also affected your work.”

“How so, sir?”

“Look at these tickets you wrote today; minor stuff. Things we normally let slide.”

“These people broke the law.”

“Your job is not to write tickets,” the Sarge raised his voice. “Especially not for this kind of stuff. You let something get to you and it shows.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry. Chase, you’re one of the most promising rooks we’ve had in here in quite some time. Is there something you need to talk about? If so I’m here for you, and so are most of the people out there.” The Sarge motioned to the main room.

Chase felt like crying but his eyes were dry and he forced his voice to stay level. “It’s the kid—Melissa wants to send him away and I had to call the social worker to arrange it.”

“That’s a tough spot. I know you've grown attached and I can see why you’re upset. You should have told me, and not let it eat you up inside.”

“But there’s nothing you can do.”

“About the choices you and your wife make about things that effect your life, no. There's nothing I can do. But I wouldn’t have sent you out there. You know that if you’re emotional, things can go bad in a second. We need Officers level headed on the street, in a state of mind where they can help the public and not harass it with meaningless tickets.”

“I should have told you earlier,” Chase conceded.

“Now you know, I expect you to never have to be reminded again. Get out of here, come in tomorrow and we’ll have you help out in here some.”

“Yes, sir, I understand.” Chase backed out of the office. He didn’t have the swagger in his walk as he went back to the patrol car with Neesa. The ride home was dreadful and with every inch closer, Chase felt more sick to his stomach.

Though it felt like an eternity had passed, Chase was finally parked in his driveway. He chose not to get out of the squad car right away. He wanted to postpone the inevitable for a little while longer.

Chase looked at his watch. “In an hour and a half she’s going to come and take Jeremy away from us,” he said to Neesa. “I wonder how he’s going to handle that.” The dog watched him patiently; if she wondered why he hadn’t opened the door and let her out, she gave no sign.

I can already see how this is going to play out, Chase told the dog. After dinner the doorbell is going to ring. I'll answer it and standing in the doorway will be Mrs. Walker, ready to take Jeremy away from me. Like a fool, I'll lead her to him. Jeremy wouldn't be expecting a thing, so I'll have to explain to him why he can’t live with us. Who am I kidding? All I'll do is tell him that Mrs. Walker was there to take him to his new house, no reason given. Jeremy will cry; he likes living with us. He'll probably cling to you, Neesa, and beg you to protect him. Jeremy might even beg to be allowed to stay. He'll promise to be good. It's so unfair, he didn't do anything wrong, it's me and Melissa who are inadequate. Mrs. Walker will have to remove Jeremy kicking and screaming from the house, my home and put this child into her car. She is going to take him to another place, to another family and more than the guest bedroom will be empty.

Chase wiped the tears from his eyes, he wanted to break down and cry like a baby. There would be plenty of time to do that later. Chase got out of the squad car. The Rottweiler trotted ahead of him as he walked into the house, and looked for his wife to tell her the news.

Chase entered the living room; his wife was on the couch reading a magazine. Jeremy was sitting on a small chair near her rocking a doll in his arms and cooing to it. The doll perplexed Chase, but it was not the time to press matters. Melissa turned to face her husband, looking at him like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t speak.

“I’m home,” Chase said so he could break the silence.

“Hi.” Melissa put her magazine down.

“Hi, Case,” Jeremy said. He turned his attention from the doll and started to play with Neesa.

“I talked to Mrs. Walker today,” Chase said, trying to lead into a conversation he didn’t want to have.

“I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“I know. She'll be around here after dinner and place Jeremy in a new home.”

Jeremy turned his attention to the conversation as soon as his name was mentioned. He didn’t understand what the adults were talking about, but knew it affected him.

“You can’t,” Melissa said abruptly, almost breathless.

“What do you mean I can’t? You’re the one who told me to make the call. No matter what I said, you said you wanted Jeremy to go somewhere else,” Chase said with his voice raised.

“Je’my go?” the child asked, picking up a few of the words being spoken.

“I’m afraid so.” Chase was choked up.

“No!” Melissa said strongly, denying what her husband had said simultaneously.

“No go! No go!” Jeremy cried loudly as he ran up the stairs and into the guest bedroom.

“See what you did,” Melissa scolded Chase.

“What I did? Weren’t you the one who wanted me to make the call and have Jeremy placed elsewhere?”

“If you wouldn’t have jumped in…” Melissa collected herself; this was not going as she planned. “If you’d let me explain myself maybe Jeremy wouldn’t have become upset.”

Chase was clueless, did his wife expect to trick the child into leaving. “What do you want to explain?”

“I don’t think it's a good idea to let them take Jeremy away from here,” Melissa said evenly.

Chase's head about spun. “That's what I've been saying all weekend, but you keep saying you're unable to deal with him.” Chase still couldn't figure where Melissa was heading. “You said that it was breaking your heart.”

“I know what I said the other day, and I was wrong to react so rashly. This is today, and I see where I made my mistake. I think he should stay.”

“Why?” Chase wanted to make sure the reason was valid and not something that could change on a whim. He didn't want to relive the emotional roller coaster that was that afternoon ever again.

“Because he needs us.”

“I know, that’s what I’ve been saying all this time. You were the one who didn’t want to hear it.”

“There’s more,” Melissa interrupted her husband.

Chase cocked his head like a dog who'd heard an unfamiliar sound. “What else?”

“I think we need him too.”

“Sometimes you amaze me, do you know that? You make me go through the pain of making that phone call and wondering what was going to happen to him. Then I come home and you change your mind.” Chase shook his head in disbelief.

“Sometimes things happen that you can’t explain. Believe me, before lunch all I could think about was having him go where other people could deal with him and give him the support he needs, so I wouldn’t have to go through all of the pain with him. I realized I was being selfish, not you, and I didn't want him going through any new pain, especially if it's in my power to prevent it.”

“I can understand that,” Chase conceded. “Jeremy does grow on you, doesn’t he?” He smiled at her, beginning to feel relief from the anxiety he had been suffering.

“I’m surprised to hear myself say this, but I think I love him,” Melissa confessed.

Chase pulled her close to him and kissed her tenderly. “What do we do now?”

“The first thing you need to do is call Mrs. Walker back and tell her the news.”

“I knew that much, I mean in the long run with him.”

“First, we need to tell him that he isn't going anywhere. That he's wanted here.”

“What about future attacks?” Chase asked.

“I think if we keep things steady and consistent, and he grows to trust his place in the real world, the attacks will lessen. And, hopefully, someday, they won't even be a problem.”

Chase couldn't keep from grinning. “I'm glad to hear you say that. Let me call Mrs. Walker and tell her the good news. I'm sure she'll be relieved and save herself the trip.”

“Great.” Melissa smiled. They hugged and kissed again, relieved to have their first serious marital fight over and done with.

Chase reluctantly let his wife go, her fingertips lingering on his cheek as he stepped away. He walked to the phone and dialed Social Services. Unfortunately, Mrs. Walker had already left, planning to stop by the Milan's early. Just then, the doorbell rang; Mrs. Walker was at the door.

“I was just calling your office,” Chase said as he opened the door.

“I didn’t forget about our conversation,” Mrs. Walker said. “I keep a very organized day planner.”

“Please, come in. Join me and Melissa in the living room.” Chase led her into the room where his wife was sitting and looking anxious.

“Hi, Mrs. Walker, I’m Melissa.” She stood up and shook the social worker’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you from my husband. Please sit down.”

Mrs. Walker accepted the invitation and sat down on a recliner as Chase and Melissa sat down on the couch. “I’m here about the child, Jeremy Bergeron.”

“Yes, Melissa said. “That’s why my husband was about to call you,”

“I know, he mentioned that at the door. I assured him that I kept my appointments”

“Is it possible that you not take Jeremy?” Melissa asked.

“What?” It was Mrs. Walker's turn to be dumbfounded by Melissa's one-eighty.

“I know Chase called you earlier to have him removed. But, we’ve discussed it and we believe it would be best for everyone concerned if he stayed with us.”

“I’m very pleased to hear that. To think I had my ‘A’ material planned to try to get you to keep him.” She grinned, suddenly looking years younger. Then she continued, serious again, “Fact is, if you didn’t agree to take him, I’m afraid I would have placed him in a facility with a few dozen children. That wouldn’t have been in the best interest for a child that’s gone through what Jeremy has.”

Chase and Melissa turned and caught each other's eyes. In that instant, it was all too clear what the overall outcome should be; what it would be. To fight it would be like trying to forget how to breathe. The right course of action was a simple, natural progression.

“What if we wanted to adopt him?” Melissa asked for the both of them.

“That’s one way to go. Of course, we have to do an exhaustive search for any surviving relatives. So far, our search has been futile. I don’t see any problems arising from there, but we do have to allow for the proper amount of time to go by.”

“Great,” Chase said. “I’m sorry we wasted your time and had you make the trip out here.”

“Oh, no,” Mrs. Walker said. “It’s never a problem to make a visit when good people like you decide to keep a child. Plus it gives me a chance to see what kind of house you have, and a very nice home it is.”

“Thank you. If you can get us more information on the adoption procedures it would be appreciated,” Melissa said as she walked with her husband and Mrs. Walker to the front door.

“I’ll get something to you shortly. Enjoy your evening.” Mrs. Walker smiled as she walked out the door. Part of her feared that if she lingered another change of heart may occur.

“Bye,” Chase and Melissa said in unison as Mrs. Walker got into her station wagon.

“I guess that takes care of that,” Chase said as his wife hugged him around his hips.

“Yes, it does.” Melissa kissed her husband and grinned. “We may hold the record for the quickest turnaround ever in the history of foster parenting.”

“Should we go upstairs and tell Jeremy the good news?” Chase asked.

“Definitely. He went upstairs so upset before we had our little talk.”

The couple climbed up the stairs and walked into the child’s bedroom. A small lump under the covers revealed Jeremy’s hiding place. Chase and Melissa could hear the child crying and sniffling, it broke their hearts. The couple looked at each other, wondering what would be the best way to approach Jeremy, and each hoping their partner had the answer.

Chase shuffled his feet to the bed and gently sat down, making sure he didn’t sit on the child. He pulled the cover off Jeremy, only to find the child with his head buried in the pillow as he continued to sob. Melissa knelt down beside the bed and rubbed the child’s back, trying to comfort the toddler.

“Jeremy,” Melissa spoke softly. “We need to talk,”

The child lifted his head and looked at the couple through his reddened eyes. “No go bye,” Jeremy said, not yelling a demand but saying it in a whisper like he was afraid of an inevitable rejection. “Pease.”

“We don’t want Jeremy to go away,” Melissa said.

“Then no send Je’my ’way,” the child responded plainly.

“We aren’t going to send Jeremy away,” Chase said. “We want you to stay, if you want to.”

The tears came to a trickle and then stopped as the child processed what Chase was saying. “Je’my stay,” he said as a toothy smile came to his face.

Chase and Melissa couldn't tell if the child was making a statement or asking a question. “Yes,” they said together. “Jeremy gets to stay.”

Jeremy couldn’t contain his happiness and he hugged both the adults at the same time. In turn, they hugged him back, each giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Jeremy,” Melissa said. “We wanted to ask you something else, but the answer is all up to you,”

“’Kay,” the child said, wondering what could be more important than him staying.

“Chase and I would like to be your new mommy and daddy. That is if you would like us to be.”

Jeremy was confused by this question. Like most children, he didn’t understand the concept of adoption or foster parenting or anything else like that. He wondered if they would be like his old parents, or if they were asking him for the permission to treat him in the same way. Another part of him wondered if these were the parents he was supposed to have all along, and that the other pair were given to him by accident and maybe that’s why they didn’t love him like they were supposed to. He also worried what would happen if he said no, would they then send him away, like Chase said downstairs, a scenario that Jeremy did not want to happen. The answer didn’t come quickly as he thought hard about the question, weighing the good and the bad that could come from his answer.

“Je’my like that,” the child finally said, still curious what affect his answer would have.

Once again, he was embraced and kissed. “You made us very happy,” Melissa said as a tear came to her eye.

“Then why sad?” Jeremy traced the tear with his finger.

“I’m not sad,” Melissa explained. “I’m very, very happy and sometimes when you’re very, very happy you cry.”

“Oh,” Jeremy was as confused by the explanation as he was the tear.

“How about we all go downstairs and prepare dinner for tonight,” Chase said.

“What’s the plan?” Melissa asked.

“How about some barbecue?”

“Sounds good,” Melissa said. “Speaking of the barn fire you’re about to create, you know there’s still that bag of clothes in the closet.”

“I think I know where you’re coming from; that stuff never did get deloused, did it?”

“No, and I think it’s getting worse,” Melissa told her husband. “You need to burn those clothes,”

“I’ll take care of it after we eat,” Chase said as they made their way to the back yard.

Chase got the grill out of the shed and set up the charcoal in a small pyramid. Next, he sprayed a small amount of lighter fluid and threw in a match. Letting the fire burn itself out, Chase joined his wife and Jeremy in the kitchen.

Melissa was handing the child balls of meat and Jeremy was smooshing them down into burger-shaped patties and placing them on a plate. Chase stood back and watched until the plate was full. He took the raw food out to the yard; by then, the charcoal had turned a bright white and he cooked the meat. Chase always loved barbecuing, ever since he was eight and his father allowed him to use the spatula. Maybe he would have a similar experience with Jeremy. After Chase flipped the burgers, Jeremy arrived with a package of hamburger buns.

Chase lifted the child, so Jeremy could see the meat on the grill. Jeremy was amazed by the sounds and smells that came from the contraption. Chase placed the boy on a chair so he could watch the finishing touches. Jeremy clapped as Chase flipped the burgers in the air and made them fall squarely on individual buns. It was a small trick that Chase practiced when he was younger, but for the child looking on it was quite a feat. Only Neesa was disappointed by Chase's accuracy

Meanwhile, Melissa set up the picnic table; a red checkered tablecloth, some paper plates and plastic cups and she was done. Chase put the burgers on the table and Melissa brought out some corn on the cob, and a pitcher of lemonade; the meal was all set.

The group ate their meal happily. Jeremy mentioned that he never had had barbecue before he came to live with them as butter from his corn on the cob drooled down his face and onto his shirt. Melissa laughed, and Jeremy followed suit. The dinner was a huge success and Chase mentioned that he was willing to do it every night of the summer. Melissa teased that she might hold him to that offer. After the meal, the adults cleaned up the table as Jeremy ran around the yard chasing and being chased by Neesa.

“All right,” Chase said as he wiped off his hands, “I’ll start the fire and you get the bag of clothes.”

Melissa went to retrieve the bag of completely ruined clothes. Chase got a fire barrel from the shed, after he returned the grill. He placed the rest of the bag of charcoal into the barrel, and liberally doused it with lighting fluid. By the time he was done, Melissa was back with the large black garbage bag of old clothes that no longer fit Jeremy and would not be fit for any other child to wear. Chase threw a lit match into the barrel and a small fireball caught the Jeremy’s attention. The child looked on as he saw his old clothes being consumed by the fire. Most children would have cried at seeing something of theirs destroyed, but Jeremy was ecstatic at seeing these clothes tossed into the flames.

Chase saw the boy looking on, and made sure he kept the child a safe distance from the fire. “You don’t need these anymore,” Chase told him.

“Bye-bye boy clothes,” Jeremy sang like it was an old nursery rhythm that he memorized a long time ago.

“Yep,” Melissa chimed in. “Goodbye and good riddance.”

Chase burned the rest of the clothes and the bag as well. The group watched as the fire consumed all the material things that came with Jeremy. They could only hope that the physical and emotional scars would be removed as easily. Chase watched the fire burn itself out. As soon as the barrel cooled down, he dumped the ashes into a lawn bag and put it out with the trash.

Once back inside, Melissa put a Disney video into the VCR as they started to wind down for the night. Before the movie started, Jeremy ran upstairs and grabbed the doll from the bed. When he came down, Chase and Melissa were snuggling on the couch, but that didn’t stop him from jumping in the middle of the couple so he could cuddle with both of them.

“A doll,” Chase said mockingly at his wife, but loud enough for the child to overhear. “I think Jeremy would be much happier with one of the big army men. Wouldn't you, Jeremy?”

Jeremy shook his head emphatically no. “Je'my love Maggie.”

“Don't be so old fashioned, Chase,” Melissa gently scolded. “It's a new world since we left the caves. Things like this are alright now.”

Chase frowned and gave Melissa a disapproving look, but decided not to press the issue.

After the movie, Melissa gave Jeremy a bubble bath. Jeremy made shapes on his head with the bubbles, sometimes making a pyramid, and other times making a thick soapy mustache and beard. No matter which he did, he laughed and smiled as Melissa helped him wash. He even laughed as the water drained from the tub. Melissa dried him off; his welts and bruises were all but healed, the only problem that she was concerned about was the area that he chose to injure himself. After he was fully dried, Melissa put him in a fresh pair of pull-ups and a long white and pink nightshirt. “I know Chase doesn't approve of this,” Melissa thought, “but I've tried to get Jeremy to wear something from the boys section to appease my husband. But Jeremy refuses to wear anything from there. I don't mind him choosing to wear the girl's clothing. After all that he's been through is it really a big deal that he wants to experience the softer side of life. It won't be a problem until he starts school, but he'll outgrow this phase, I hope. I'll have to take it up with Chase, but not tonight. Enough has happened in one day. Besides, I already know what he thinks, we can save this argument for another night.” She carried Jeremy into his bedroom and lay him down for the night.

Jeremy gave Melissa and Chase a good night kiss and snuggled up with the doll Melissa gave him as a present earlier that day, which, even to the child, seemed like ages ago. Neesa jumped on the bed to join the child for a long night’s rest. Within minutes, Jeremy was sound asleep, a smile on his face as he sighed deeply.

Chase held Melissa as they watched the child sleep.

“We did the right thing,” Melissa told her husband.

“I know so.” Chase kissed his wife.

“Look at him; he looks so peaceful.”

“Yeah, like a little angel, don’t you think?”

“I think our family has gotten more complete,” Melissa said as the couple retreated to their room.

“You know,” Melissa said as she lay in Chase’s arms, “you won’t be able to get your little sports car.”

“Why not?"

“You’re a family man, you can’t tote the family around in a sports car and my little convertible isn’t going to cut it.”

“Hmm, so you’re not going to get rid of your puny Le Baron in order to drive around in a cool T/A.”

Melissa giggled at her husband's machoness. “You know I don’t trust them, too much power, too much testosterone. Besides, I don’t know how to drive a stick.”

“That’s okay, I think Jeremy is worth the sacrifice.”

“Think about it, you can get yourself a minivan, just like you always wanted,” Melissa teased.

“Um, no.” Chase laughed.

“Then whatever will you drive? I know you'll never get a station wagon.”

“I was thinking along the lines of an SUV. The new Hummer comes to mind.”

“Yeah right, and what bank are you going to rob?”

“Maybe a nice Blazer, they’re good cars, like all GMs are.”

“Why do I feel like you just put my car down?”

“Because I did,” Chase said and then tickled his wife.

They spent the next hour talking about the day and how, when they least expected it, their life drastically changed.

Chase checked in on Jeremy before heading to work. The child slept soundly with the doll clutched to his chest. For a moment, Chase considered prying the doll out of the boy's arms and replacing it with a rubber mallet, or a toy soldier, or a ball and glove, anything more masculine than Maggie the doll. He decided against it, assuming he would figure out a better way to convince Jeremy to act more like a boy.

Neesa was lying at the foot of the bed, looking curiously at her master. “Come on, girl, it’s time for work,” Chase told the animal.

Neesa jumped off the bed carefully and sprinted down the stairs. Chase followed her and led the dog out of the house and into the front yard.

“You going to be okay?” Chase asked his wife who was waiting at the front door.

“More okay than any other day,” Melissa said. “How about you, looking forward to paperwork?”

“Not really, but I let my emotions get a hold of me yesterday and this is my punishment.”

“Maybe they’ll let you come home a early. Just make sure you’re on your best behavior.”

“Yes, dear.” Chase smiled and kissed his wife goodbye. Melissa watched her husband as he let the dog jump through the cruiser's window and then drove off.

Melissa went upstairs and sat next to Jeremy as he slept. When she got up earlier in the morning for her run, the child was tossing and turning. She tried to make out what the dream was about by the mumbles, but couldn’t figure it out. It was like listening to one side of a phone conversation, except this time the important pieces were missing. But now the child was at peace, holding his doll with one hand as he sucked his thumb. Melissa figured she would watch him for a little while longer before she started her day.

A half an hour passed and the child began to stir. Except this time the child wasn’t beginning a nightmare, but was starting to wake up.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Melissa said to the waking child.

Jeremy looked around the room trying to get his bearings. He fixed his eyes on Melissa. “Mornin’, Missa.” Jeremy smiled seeing he was still safely in their care. During his dreams he often wasn’t.

“What does Jeremy have planned for this day?” Melissa asked, trying to improve the child's communication by engaging him in conversation like a recently read magazine article recommended.

“Play, play, play all day,” Jeremy rhymed and laughed.

“Is that all?”

“And hug!” Jeremy stood on the bed and wrapped his arms around Melissa’s neck.

“What a great big hug you gave me. It makes me feel so special.”

“Missa is spec’il.”

“And so is Jeremy.”

Jeremy smiled even more at hearing that.

“Let’s see if you had any accidents during the night,” Melissa said as she checked the child’s pull-up. Unfortunately, he didn’t make it through the night without wetting himself.

“Je’my bad?” The child looked down and turned his face away from Melissa.

“Of course not,” Melissa reassured, letting the child know that he wasn’t meant to be infallible. “You’re still little and little children have accidents during the night, it’s natural.”

Jeremy was happy being told he wasn’t bad. He was surprised that other kids had done the same thing, and that information also eased his worry.

“We’ll go to my room and get you cleaned up.” Melissa lifted the child and carried him off.

Chase arrived at the precinct fifteen minutes early; he let Neesa into the outdoor pen and then went to his desk.

“Milan,” a loud voice called for him; it was the Sarge.

“Yes, sir,” Chase said as he walked into the C.O.'s office.

“Have a seat, let’s talk.”

“Yes, sir.” Chase sat down ramrod in the brown leather chair feeling uncomfortable.

“At ease.” The Sarge laughed at seeing the rookie officer squirm in his seat.

“Sorry, sir. I just know yesterday I didn’t have one of my better days.”

“It's understandable, everyone has an off day every now and then. The key is to know when you’re having one and how to deal with it properly.”

“And I guess I didn’t deal with it properly yesterday,” Chase admitted.

“Let’s see? You are the one who punched the wall and about broke his hand, aren’t you?”

“That was me.”

“How’s the hand feel?”

“Sore, but I don’t think it’s broken.”

“You lucked out; I did the same thing and broke my third metacarpal.” The Sarge winked at the young officer.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to fly off the handle.”

“I’m sure you are. How about we talk about what was bugging you and deal with it together?”

“You know I had to call Social Services to have Jeremy removed from my home.”

“That’s rough, it must have been tough seeing him leave. How did it go?”

“It didn’t.”

The Sarge shot him a look “What do you mean?”

“Melissa had a change of heart and we decided to keep him. If he doesn’t have any other family, we’re thinking of adopting him.”

“Really?” The Sarge was surprised.

“We’ve grown attached to the little guy.”

“Let me get this straight? You got yourself into a frenzy, about tore down a wall and everything turned out like you wanted it to.”

“I guess it did.” Chase nervously chuckled.

“And what lesson did you learn?”

“Don’t count your chickens until they’ve hatched?” Chase answered with a question because he had no clue if there was a lesson.

“Something like that,” the Sarge answered. “More like don’t go flying off the handle until you’re sure you have something to be angry about.”

“Lesson learned.”

“Good! I’m glad. Make sure that I don’t have this conversation with you again. Now, go and help Rebecca with filing, it’s mostly your tickets anyway. Figure out which ones should be conveniently lost.”

“Yes, sir.” Chase stood up and walked into the filing room where Rebecca was waiting for him.

Melissa played dress up with Jeremy. He had helped her clear the breakfast dishes and helped dust some of the furniture he could reach. Melissa was surprised at how much Jeremy wanted to help do even the most menial task. Now was time for the child to play and Melissa didn’t see any reason why she shouldn’t join in. First Jeremy dressed in one of Chase’s dress shirts and a spare police cap. Jeremy looked in the mirror and laughed at seeing himself. He then dug in the closet and found an old evening gown that Melissa helped him get into, they completed the look with a strand of fake pearls and a flowery hat that Chase bought Melissa as a gag gift.

Jeremy didn’t realize the hat was gaudy, and walked around the room modeling it proudly. Melissa laughed at seeing how much fun the child was having. Then Jeremy removed the outfit and placed it as neatly as he could on the hanger. The two then danced with each other, Jeremy on the bed so he could be somewhat on level with Melissa. The morning was filled with a lot of laughter, and Melissa was happy the child was coming out of his shell.

The rest of the day went without a hitch. Chase stayed in the precinct the whole day, helping with the phones and running various errands. Melissa fed the child lunch and put him down for a nap. She finished straightening the house, which didn’t take long and then read some articles on various aspects of parenting. She made sure she didn’t venture too far from Jeremy, guarding him in case the nightmares returned. Melissa didn’t want the child to wake up crying and screaming and she not be close at hand.

When the child woke, he played in the living room. Jeremy was either coloring or playing with the doll that Melissa gave him a day earlier.

Chase came home much happier than he had the day before. “I’m home,” He called out.

Jeremy dropped his crayon in mid-stroke as he heard Chase’s voice. He sprang up and ran towards the door, bypassing the dog and jumped into Chase’s arms to give him a hug. “Case is home, Case is home, happy, happy Je’my,” the child sang and then kissed the officer on the cheek.

“This certainly is a delightful way to come home.” Chase smiled as he carried the child back to the living room.

“Isn’t it though?” Melissa returned the smile and then hugged her husband and gave him a small peck on the lips.

“How long did you work on the little song with him?” Chase asked his wife.

“I didn’t work on the song with him at all; he came up with it himself.”

“That certainly was a great song,” Chase told Jeremy and set him down so the child could spend some time with Neesa. He let them out into the back yard and sat down on a lounge chair with his wife on his lap.

“How was your day?” Melissa asked.

“I spent most of the day answering phones and helping people who walked in off the street.”

“Sounds fascinating,” Melissa teased.

“How about you, how was your day?”

“Pretty good, just as eventful as yours.”

“No outburst or hiding from Jeremy?”

“No, that has been steadily happening less. He is starting to have more bad dreams though.”

“I’m sure in time they’ll go away also,” Chase said.

“There’s another thing, too.”

“What’s that?”

“He keeps insisting that he’s a girl and acts like it more and more. The other day he literally tried to pull his thing off so he could be one.”

“That could be a problem.” Chase frowned. “Giving him that doll didn't help. You know he’s going to have to start school in a year or so. It also doesn’t help that we dress him in skirts.”

“You know why we dress him in skirts,” Melissa said defensively. “He hasn’t gotten over the pants phobia yet. As for the doll, that was a chauvinistic thing to say, plenty of boys play with dolls and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Relax,” Chase said calmly. “I wasn’t trying to place blame, I was just trying to figure out why, that’s all. We have no clue what garbage his parents filled him with. Besides I think I know a way we could fix this.”

“And how is that?”

“Since he’s been here he hasn’t spent time around other kids. For all we know he didn’t at his other place either. He might not know how a boy is supposed to act and so he’s winging it. There’s a daycare that the officers send their kids to. I’m sure that as soon as he is around other boys, he’ll figure it out. Like I said, God knows what kind of garbage his parents filled his head with. They weren’t the best of people.”

“You think by being around other kids, he’ll figure out the difference between boy and girl behavior?”

“Isn’t that how we all learn?”

“I suppose, I don’t want to press him into anything too fast. He’s still fragile.”

“He’ll do fine. I’ll set it up now and I bet he’ll love being around kids his own age.”

“Yeah, give him a break from the big kid.” Melissa hugged her husband.

Chase laughed and went into the kitchen to make a few phone calls. First, he called J.D. and asked him for the number of the daycare center. Right after he got off the phone with his friend, Chase called the business. Luckily, the last child was leaving the establishment in a little while, but the lady who answered the phone was willing to wait around for a new patron.

“Guess what?” Chase called out to his wife.

“What?”

“The lady at the daycare is willing to meet us tonight if we can make it there in a half-hour.”

“We can do that, and then maybe we can take Jeremy out to McDonald’s. He enjoyed the ball pit.”

“Yeah, sure,” Chase agreed. “We can make an evening out of it,”

“Jeremy,” Melissa called the child over to her.

“Yes, Missa,” the child said as he ran up to her.

“We’re going to go to a fun place and then go out to McDonald’s so you can play.”

“’Kay.”

“Let’s get you washed up first. You can show Chase what you learned today.”

“’Kay, Missa.” Jeremy dragged Chase by the hand into the kitchen. “Watch Case, watch,” Jeremy said as he pushed a small stepladder to the sink.

“Okay, I am.” Chase was amused by Jeremy’s enthusiasm.

Jeremy climbed the two steps so he could reach the faucet. He pushed the lever straight up so the water would come out at the right temperature. Melissa had warned him that if he pushed it to the side it might burn him and not to turn on the water if an adult wasn’t around. The child ran his hands under the water and soaked them before grabbing the bar of soap. He had the lather going an inch thick and kept making sure that Chase was watching as he did a good job of cleaning his hands.

“See!” Jeremy held his hands out to Chase, making a small puddle on the floor.

“Yes, I see.” Chase smiled. “Those are the cleanest hands I ever saw.”

“Hands first, then face,” Jeremy recited the mantra and then returned his attention to the water. He wiped his wet hands against his face and then applied an equally thick layer of suds as he did on his hands. He worked hard to get the soap off his face, but needed some help completing the task. Chase grabbed a dishrag and helped the child finish.

“Tank you, Case,” Jeremy said.

“You’re welcome. You did a very good job of getting yourself clean.” Chase helped the child dry his face and hands then carried him to his wife’s car. Melissa followed closely behind. Chase put Jeremy into the car seat they acquired over the weekend and fastened him down before getting into the driver’s seat.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Melissa asked.

“I think I know this town well enough.” Chase laughed, knowing sometimes his wife forgot what he did all day.

Chase drove three miles on the town’s main road before making a turn down one of the many lonely side streets. A quarter mile down the road was a small building with a large sign that said “Tiny Tots Daycare.” The building was in sharp contrast to the conservative white houses that surrounded it. It was painted a rainbow of colors, with each side painted a different color. The only thing the colors had in common was that they were bright. A five-foot high, red picket fence closed in a large play area that was filled with equipment like slides, teeter-totters and a big sandbox. Chase pulled into the driveway and everyone got out.

Melissa carried Jeremy to the door and Chase knocked. A tall blond haired lady answered the door that looked no older than her mid-twenties.

“You must be the Milans,” the lady said in a delighted voice. “Please come in.”

“Thank you,” Chase said as he followed the lady into a small corner office.

“And who is this?” the lady referred to the toddler.

“This is Jeremy,” Melissa answered.

“Hi, Jeremy.” The lady spoke to the child who was taking in the new surroundings. “I’m Mrs. Angie, pleased to meet you.”

“Hi, Mrs. An-gee,” Jeremy said in a small voice.

“Perhaps Jeremy would like to play with some of the toys we have outside,” Mrs. Angie said. “Would you like to do that, Jeremy?”

The child meekly nodded yes. Mrs. Angie opened a sliding glass door and Melissa put the child down so he could examine what was available.

“Most kids are shy when they meet new people in new surroundings,” Mrs. Angie explained.

“We understand,” Melissa said. “He moved in with us a little while ago, we’re foster parents.”

“That’s not a problem,” Mrs. Angie said. “Is this going to be a long-term commitment?”

“We’re hoping so,” Chase answered, ready to take over the conversation.

“Great, and who referred you to us?”

“J.D.’s daughter Christine comes here, he’s the one who told me about you.”

“Ah yes, good ol’ J.D., and how do you know him?” Mrs. Angie scribbled on a form.

“He’s our friend and we work together.”

“So you’re in law enforcement?”

“Yes,” Chase answered.

“Great.” Mrs. Angie scribbled on another line. “When was the last time the child has been to a pediatrician?”

“That I couldn’t tell you,” Chase answered. “He’s only been in our custody for the last couple of weeks.”

“Before Jeremy can be allowed to join us, he will need to have a complete once-over. Here, you can call this doctor.” Mrs. Angie handed Melissa a business card. “He’s pretty good at seeing new patients right away.”

“We’ll set the appointment first thing in the morning,” Melissa said.

“o you know if he has all his immunizations?”

“Yes, yes he has,” Chase said.

Mrs. Angie went down a list of other common questions one would expect: any allergies, favorite games, medicines, potty training and the like. All checked out to her satisfaction.

“One last thing I was curious about,” Mrs. Angie said, “is there any particular reason why he is wearing girls’ clothes?”

“You have to understand,” Chase started explaining, “He came from an abusive home. Right now he has a severe aversion to dressing in boys’ clothes and we’re trying not to push him.”

Mrs. Angie sat back in her chair and thought for a second. “Many kids who come from abusive homes are violent,” she finally broke her silence, “I need to be sure that Jeremy is not.”

“Oh no,” Melissa said, “He’s very mild-mannered. A very sweet child.”

“If he does get violent or if we can’t control him, we may need to terminate his placement.”

“We understand,” Melissa answered for both of them.

“As soon as he has that physical, we would be happy to have Jeremy join us on a trial basis.”

The group discussed arrangements for what days Jeremy would be at the daycare and the cost that would incur. Melissa and Chase chose the three days a week that would work best.

The couple walked into the play area to have a closer look at what was offered and to collect Jeremy. The child was sitting on the edge of the sandbox drawing pictures in the sand with his finger.

“Time to go, Jeremy,” Chase told the child.

“’Kay.” Jeremy quit what he was doing and walked over to Chase. The child lifted his hands high in the air so he could be carried.

Chase carried the child to the car, and put him back into the safety seat. He drove to McDonald’s and the family had a nice night out. The night went without a hitch, for the first time since Jeremy had come to live with the Milans there were no tears.

The next morning, Melissa called the doctor after Chase left for work. She was surprised that he could fit them in that very evening. Chase would meet them there after he got hold of whatever medical records he could find.

At four o’clock, Melissa put Jeremy into the car and drove to the doctor’s office. The small window-lined building looked like any other doctor’s office she had been to. Inside, a fair-sized waiting room greeted them, with black leather benches on all four sides. In the middle of the room were a large section of foam mats and a bunch of toys scattered about. Jeremy chose to sit quietly in the corner, taking care of his doll instead of abandoning her for other delights.

Melissa walked to the glassed-in receptionist and informed the nurse of her presence. She was handed a small mountain of paperwork, some of which she feared she couldn’t fill out due to lack of information. She filled out whichever forms she could, mostly those that asked her information about her or Chase.

Halfway through her task the front door opened, Chase came strutting in with a thick manila folder. Jeremy was the first to notice his arrival, and immediately made his way to the officer.

“Case, Case,” Jeremy said as he jumped in stride into Chase’s arms.

“Hey, Sprite, how are you today?” Chase carried the child to his wife.

“Me good, you?” Jeremy smiled.

“I’m doing very good now that I see you.” Chase gave the child a tight squeeze and then set him down.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Melissa said exasperated. “I don’t know half the answers to these questions.”

“Then I’m your knight in shining armor, I got his immunization records.”

“Great. And what do we put down for insurance?”

“Use ours like you always do.”

“He isn’t on the policy yet,” Melissa objected.

“As of lunch time today, he is. Sarge helped pull a few strings to get it through quicker.”

Melissa was relieved she could finish filling out the grueling paperwork.

“He’s getting to be ours more and more every day,” Chase commented.

“Yeah, but let’s ease him into it. I know his parents weren’t that great, but we might not be able to replace them so quickly. They had him for four years, we haven't even had him four weeks yet”

“I know,” Chase said, “but it is nice having him.”

Melissa didn’t answer; “He's so eager to make everything perfect,” Melissa thought. “I hope Chase doesn't think that because we decided to keep Jeremy that 'poof' all his problems are suddenly gone. Life doesn't work like it does in the movies, Jeremy still has a long, hard road ahead of him, and the most important thing we can give him is time. I'm glad that, if it came down to it, we decided to keep him as ours. Chase was right; it's the right thing to do. But, we can't force it on the kid, or make an issue out of it. He's got enough on his plate as is.” Instead of letting Chase know her thoughts, she opted to hand in the paperwork and sit quietly next to her husband as they watched Jeremy play.

Ten minutes passed until a rosy-cheeked nurse popped her head out of the door and informed the group that the doctor would see them. Chase carried Jeremy into an exam room and Melissa followed close behind.

Chase couldn’t help but remember the last time he had Jeremy in a similar room, how the child had been wounded, dirty and soiled and spent most his time hiding behind the protection of Neesa.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Shaffer,” a portly middle-aged man in a blue gown said as he entered the room.

“Hi, we're the Milans,” Melissa returned the greeting.

“I was reviewing the child’s information, it seems like he had a few injuries about a month ago.”

“Mostly welts along his backside and back,” Melissa answered. “Also some bruising on his throat and abdomen.”

“I’d like to take a look at those in addition to the routine exam and explore any other areas of concern.”

“That’ll be fine.” Melissa stood by the side of Jeremy in case he was afraid.

“You must be Jeremy.” The doctor turned his attention fully to the child.

Jeremy nodded shyly.

“I’m a doctor; do you know what doctors do?”

Again, Jeremy simply nodded.

“Doctors help people so they stay strong and healthy. You want to be strong and healthy, right?”

“Yes,” Jeremy answered quietly.

“Good, because it makes me very happy to keep you healthy. I have to do some things to make sure you stay that way, but none of it will hurt, I promise” the doctor reassured. “The first thing I need to do is have you put on this special gown, would you like me to leave as your parents help you change?”

“Uh-huh,” Jeremy said.

“I’ll be right back.” The doctor went over to Melissa and informed her that the only thing he should be wearing is the gown so it didn’t create an awkward situation when he checked the child’s other injuries. He left the room and waited a few moments, writing some things on the child’s chart. Melissa helped the child strip down to his birthday suit and placed the colorful gown over him. Unlike adult gowns, it let the child keep his dignity and was decorated with giraffes. When she was done, Melissa knocked on the door to let the doctor know they were ready for him.

“Look at you, all ready to be real healthy.” Dr. Shaffer smiled. “The first thing I need to do is look in your ears, eyes and mouth to make sure they work properly. What I’ll be using is this light with a little glass on the end and it won’t hurt a bit. Take a look.” The doctor handed the instrument to the child.

Jeremy had the light shine on his hand and then on Chase’s. Then he looked through the small glass circle and saw everything get bigger. Satisfied that the item wasn’t going to hurt him he handed it back to the doctor.

Dr. Shaffer looked in Jeremy’s ears, eyes and mouth and saw that there was nothing wrong. He then had Jeremy track the light with his eyes, and even though the child would move his head, he was able to check what he wanted to.

“This next thing lets me listen to your heart, and lets me know that it’s beating strong,” the doctor said. “It may tickle at first because it’s cold.” Dr. Shaffer placed the stethoscope on the child’s chest, causing Jeremy to flinch. After hearing the heartbeat, he allowed Jeremy a chance to listen to it also.

“Now I have to check your back,” the doctor informed, “but I need to lift up the gown in order to do it, okay?”

“’Kay,” Jeremy said as the doctor lifted the gown and felt the cool metal against his back. When the doctor instructed him to take a deep breath, he took the deepest breath possible.

As Dr. Shaffer checked for congestion, he also gave the child’s wounds the once-over and was satisfied that they were healing nicely. “It seems the marks have mostly gone away,” the doctor told Melissa as he scribbled down some notes. “He seems to be a healthy young boy.”

“There may be a problem up front,” Chase interjected. “We’ve caught him pinching himself there.”

“Hmm,” Dr. Shaffer said in deep thought. “He’s young yet; perhaps he was exploring or trying to figure out sensations from that area.”

“At four?” Chase said shocked.

“Don’t be surprised, it functions the same way all through life, being a bit of a curious piece of equipment that it is.”

“So you’re saying he was exploring,” Melissa jumped in.

“I’m saying it’s a possibility, and exploring the details could be traumatic for a first doctor's visit. I say for now you chalk it up to exploration and if he hurts himself again I can put you in touch with a specialist.”

“I suppose we can do that,” Chase said.

“As for everything else, I think he is pretty healthy and should come in for another checkup in a couple of months.”

“We'll do that,” Melissa said as the doctor left them to dress the child back into his regular clothing. The doctor hadn’t asked why Jeremy wore a skirt and neither she nor Chase had volunteered information about that. Perhaps Ms. Angie had told him.

After Chase left for work, Melissa got Jeremy ready for his first day of daycare. She and Chase were hoping the place would be fresh in the tot’s mind and if Melissa hung around for the first couple of days, he wouldn’t suffer any separation anxiety.

Melissa dressed the boy in a long, baby-blue skirt and a white shirt that had a picture of a friendly, cartoon giraffe on it. Despite Chase's pleading and attempts at bribery the night before, Jeremy wouldn't budge from his peculiar choice of attire. The only positive, as Chase viewed it, was that Jeremy wore “big kid” underwear for the first time since he arrived at his house. It was a minor victory, Chase thought, because the boy refused the offered batman and superman Funderoos and settled on the less than masculine, my little pony pair. Melissa didn't care; her hope was the child would continue using the potty like he had been. A blue pair of canvas sneakers completed the ensemble and Melissa thought he looked cute for his first day around other children.

The drive to Tiny Tots Daycare was uneventful at best. Jeremy would call out names of things as he saw them. When he saw an airplane overhead, he called out, “Plane!”

Melissa encouraged him by saying, “I see the red plane up in the blue sky too, good job.” She could see Jeremy brighten every time he received praise, and this caused her to smile. As soon as they pulled into the driveway of the daycare, Jeremy grew quiet. His smile was replaced by a look of apprehension. He'd been told of the loads of children he could play with, but that wasn't a new concept. He remembered the lady at the end of the block of his old house, the one where he had to beg for food. There were kids that he could play with there as well, but they treated him like an outcast, as a plague to be avoided.

“Here we are, Jeremy, a lot of new friends for you to meet,” Melissa said as she retrieved the child from the car seat. She took his hand and led him into the house; it was set up the same as when they first visited, except now it was filled with children and a lot more noise.

“Hi, Jeremy,” Mrs. Angie said, “we’re happy you could join us today.”

Jeremy looked up at her and tried to grin, but remained quiet.

“Feel free to join in any of the games the other children are playing,” Mrs. Angie told the child.

Jeremy looked at her and then decided it would be safer if he stood behind Melissa’s leg.

“This is why we encourage the parents to be here the first few times a child attends. It helps them get rid of those jitters and grow comfortable with the surroundings. I wouldn’t be concerned. I think eighty percent of the kids who come here go through it, and the remaining twenty percent usually know the other child from elsewhere before they came.”

“I figured it would take him a little while to adjust and warm up to everyone,” Melissa agreed.

“If you like, why don’t you take him outside? Most of the boys are out there and he might be more comfortable with them.”

“Okay,” Melissa said, “last time here he liked the sandbox and maybe that would get him out of his shell.”

“Great! If you need anything, feel free to call me.”

Melissa walked to the outside play area holding Jeremy by the hand. The walk, which was only a few dozen feet, took a good five minutes. Once outside, Melissa sat on a patio bench; Jeremy stood beside her. He backed up cautiously to the wall of the house; this way no one could walk up behind him and frighten him, or worse. He wished he remembered to bring his doll, Maggie, but Chase convinced him not to bring her. Something to do about there being so many boys to play with and the possibility that the doll would be lost or misplaced because he was having so much fun made leaving Maggie behind seem like a good Idea. Now Jeremy wasn't so sure, if he brought the doll he would have something to comfort him. But no, she was resting safely on the bed where he thought he should be now.

Jeremy saw a group of boys running around the yard playing some sort of game that the child didn’t quite understand at first. He watched intently and soon figured out the rules. The idea, as he saw it, was not to get hit by one of the boys. If you did get hit, then you had to run after someone else and hit them. Most adults remember the game as being called tag, but a child’s interpretation is often different from someone with more experience.

Jeremy saw that all the boys were having fun and that perhaps he would join in the fun with them. He eventually made his way to the area where the boys were playing and hoped he would be invited to join in. As they ran around him, one boy stopped and hid behind Jeremy.

“Can me play?” Jeremy asked in a low voice.

“Yeah,” the slightly taller brown haired boy said, “just stay away from Mikey, he’s ‘It.’”

“’Kay,” Jeremy said, even though he didn’t understand what being “It” meant. He noticed which boy everyone was running from and knew to stay away from the redheaded kid with the dots all over his face.

Jeremy ran around for five minutes, a few times being chased by Mikey and a few times hiding behind trees and other objects like the other boys were. Melissa looked on and smiled to see the child interacting with other children. When Jeremy’s attention was diverted by a passing butterfly, Mikey slapped him square on the back and shouted, “You’re ‘It.’”

“Oww,” Jeremy screamed and cried. Tears poured out as the boys surrounded him. Melissa looked on, but not knowing the child's cry was one of pain, she figured to let nature run its course. After all, she thought, this was the way boys play.

“See,” Mikey said, “we should have never let a girl play with us.”

“I didn’t know she was going to be such a crybaby,” the boy who invited Jeremy to play said.

For a fleeting moment, Jeremy thought he should mention to them that he was a boy. But he didn’t care that they didn’t know, in some way he thought it was better to let them think that he was a girl and then he wouldn’t have to play this game anymore, one that he no longer cared for. He felt a little confused about the situation, anyway; after all, he told Melissa that he was a girl. He shuffled away from the group and towards Melissa. After he got a few feet from the group, the boys restarted their game. By general agreement, the boy who had invited Jeremy to join the game became ‘It.’

“Are you okay?” Melissa asked as the child stood in front of her.

“Back owwie.” Jeremy placed his head on Melissa’s knee.

“Aww,” Melissa ran her fingers through the child’s flowing hair. “It’ll feel better soon.”

“Dada hurt,” Jeremy said, referring to his back, Melissa almost instinctively knew what the child was talking about.

“I know, baby, one day soon it won’t hurt from that anymore.”

Jeremy stayed at Melissa’s knee for a few minutes, enjoying being consoled. He felt safe with her there and as each stroke of her hand went through his hair, Jeremy felt increasingly better.

“How about we go inside and see if there’s a game in there you like?” Melissa said when she felt enough time had passed.

“’Kay,” Jeremy answered and then let Melissa lead him by the hand back inside.

Jeremy watched as a small group of boys were pushing cars around a makeshift racetrack that was made with wooden building blocks. The activity didn’t appeal that much to him. In the corner of the room, a table, much lower than ones Jeremy was used to, contained coloring books and hundreds of crayons. Jeremy found a spot next to a pudgy boy and found a picture of a bumblebee to color.

Jeremy looked at the picture for some time deciding which colors would be best. He decided that the flower with the smiley face should be red like the roses in Melissa’s garden and that the ground should be green like the grass and the bee should be yellow, choosing to stick to the realistic over fantasy. He reached for a yellow crayon to start on the dominant image on the paper.

“Mine,” the pudgy kid shouted as he tore the crayon from Jeremy’s hand.

Jeremy looked at the kid in surprise. Jeremy didn’t want to cause any problems, so he looked in the large plastic container and found another yellow crayon that was just as good as the first.

“Mine,” the pudgy boy shouted as he tore the second crayon out of Jeremy’s hand.

Jeremy once again looked at the child a little shocked, but Jeremy's passivity let the kid have that crayon as well. Jeremy decided to look for a red crayon instead, maybe the other kid needed all of the yellow ones for something important. Jeremy fished a red crayon from the plastic container and looked at his picture to figure out where to start now.

“Mine,” the pudgy kid shouted, he grabbed at the crayon but Jeremy was not about to let go.

“No!” Jeremy yelled back.

“Stupid,” the pudgy kid said as he pushed Jeremy off his chair and onto the floor. As Jeremy sat on the floor stunned, the other child climbed on top of him and attempted to wrestle the crayon from Jeremy’s hand. Quickly, two of the caregivers, as well as Melissa, came to pry the children apart.

“What’s going on here?” one of the workers asked.

“He’s taking my crayons,” the pudgy kid explained.

“Shawn, you know full well that those crayons are for everyone and are not only all for you.”

Shawn looked at Jeremy in anger.

“Now apologize to Jeremy and be nice, he’s new here. If not, we’ll have to put you in time out for five minutes.”

“Sorry, stupid,” Shawn spat out.

“That’s not the way we apologize, is it? You apologize the right way or it’s straight to the time out room.”

“Sorry, Jeremy, for taking the crayons from you,” the child huffed.

“That’s better, now let’s go over here and play with something different,” the worker said as she took Shawn into a different room.

“You okay, Jeremy?” Melissa asked as she got down on her knee.

“Me fine,” Jeremy said as he looked at the crumpled picture on the table sadly. It must have gotten ruined in the scuffle, which was a shame because he was looking forward to coloring it.

“Maybe we can find another picture you could color,” Melissa said as she noticed the child’s downcast mood. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to bring him to a place with so many children.

“It ’kay, me no want color,” Jeremy said as he looked down at the floor.

“Okay.” Melissa felt sorry for the little guy; this experiment wasn't going as planned. “You can do anything you want to.”

Jeremy chose to sit down at the table and kick his feet under the bench. Melissa found a recliner in the corner and watched as the child did nothing in particular.

Fifteen minutes dragged by and Jeremy decided to look around the room. In the corner opposite of where Melissa was sitting, he noticed a decent sized toy box and he decided to check it out. The toy box was filled mostly with cars and blocks and army guys, none of which appealed to Jeremy. He shuffled through the items some more and at the bottom of the toy box, he found a doll that was just calling for him to play with it. Jeremy pulled it out and noticed that the poor thing didn’t have any clothes, but that didn’t stop him from cradling it. He walked over to the bench and began to rock the doll, pretending that it was time for her to go to sleep.

“Want to play?” a voice asked from behind Jeremy.

Jeremy turned around to see who was there; standing in front of him was a blond-haired girl holding a similar doll. Jeremy figured that since they liked the same toy maybe he would give it a try. “’Kay,” he finally said after he fully assessed the situation.

“Good, there are too many dumb, stinky boys here and there was no one else for me to play with,” the girl said as she sat next to Jeremy and cradled her doll in the same way as Jeremy.

“My name is Christine,” the pigtailed little girl introduced herself. “What’s yours?”

“Je’my,” Jeremy said.

“Nice to meet you, Jenny.” Christine took Jeremy’s hand and gently shook it. “I bet we have lots of fun.”

It wasn’t the first time someone got Jeremy’s name wrong; in fact, he didn’t even mind being called Jenny, it sounded about the same to him. Melissa looked on in piqued interest at the exchange. “Nice meet you, Kiss-tine,” Jeremy replied.

“Want to see a cool room?”

“’Kay,” Jeremy agreed.

Christine took him by the hand and skipped along to a room on the far side of the daycare. When they went in, Jeremy saw a pint-sized kitchen. A mock stove, refrigerator, dishwasher, washer and dryer all made of wood were placed neatly to imitate a kitchen. A sink that was not hooked up to any pipes held various plastic dishes, bowls and utensils.

“This room is just for girls,” Christine explained. “If a boy comes in here all the other boys laugh and make fun.”

Jeremy nodded and looked around the room to see all it had to offer.

“It’s so cool you’re here, not a lot of girls come here and I got to play by myself.”

“Uh-huh,” Jeremy said, not wanting to stay completely quiet.

“Let’s dress our babies and then we can play house,” Christine said as she placed her doll on a wooden changing table and then led Jeremy to a small toy dresser in one of the corners.

Jeremy looked through the clothes in the toy chest, trying to find the best outfit for his doll to wear. He located a yellow dress and thought that it was nice enough to put on his doll. He very carefully put the dress over the doll’s head and pulled the arms through the appropriate holes. Jeremy treated the doll as if it were a real baby, as much as he knew how.

“I found a dress like yours,” Christine said as she held it up for Jeremy to see. “They can be twins.”

“Yes, yes, twins.” Jeremy clapped excitedly as he watched Christine dress her doll. “Goodie, goodie,”

“See a pair,” Christine said as she held up her doll next to Jeremy’s.

Jeremy smiled relentlessly as he playfully wiggled the doll in the air, pretending that it was dancing.

“Let’s feed them,” Christine said.

“Yes, babies hungry.”

Christine took her doll and placed its head against her chest, imitating how her mother fed her little sister. Jeremy looked on a little confused, but decided it was best to imitate what his new friend was doing, even if he didn't understand.

The children sat on a bench, kicking their feet underneath them. They looked out the window and could see the boys chasing each other and throwing around a ball. Every now and then one boy would tackle another and then there would be a scrum for the loose ball. Jeremy was happy he was not a part of that mess.

“Stupid boys.” Christine finally broke a few moments of silence. “They don’t know how to have fun except if they hurt each other.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy agreed. “Dumb boys.”

“Do you do any ballet or dance class?”

“No,” Jeremy answered, “no dance.”

“Me either, you gotta be five to go to the dance class. I’m four, how old you?”

“Four,” Jeremy answered as he held up the appropriate number of fingers, even though he was unsure of exactly how old he was. Since birthdays were never celebrated at his old house, the concept of age held no significance for the child.

“Maybe when we five we can do ballet.”

“Ballet fun?” Jeremy didn't even know what ballet was.

“Ballet is lots fun, and you get to be pretty like a princess.”

“Je’my princess?”

“Yeah, you can be Princess Jenny and I’m Princess Christine,” the bigger girl said, thinking Jeremy was changing the game they were playing. Christine stood up, held her arms to the side and curtsied. “Princess Jenny, I presume,” she said in a funny voice.

Jeremy watched what Christine did closely, and when she sat down, he got up to imitate her performance. He put his arms out to the side and crossed his left foot behind his right. But, when he went to bend at the knee, he lost his balance and plopped to the floor.

Melissa, who had been watching from the door, giggled at seeing Jeremy fall in his attempt.

Christine helped Jeremy get back on his feet. “It okay, Jenny, I fell a lot when I first learned how to bow, too. And my mommy laughed at me when I fell, too.”

Jeremy smiled sheepishly and sat down on the small bench. He picked up the doll that he was playing with and began to rock it.

“Do you do tumblin’?” Christine asked after a few more seconds of silence.

“No, what tumblin’?”

“It’s fun, Mommy takes me to a class. Watch.” Christine stood in front of Jeremy and then turned to the side. She lifted her arms high into the air and then performed a front roll. Jeremy clapped and laughed as she completed the maneuver.

“Maybe your mommy can take you to tumblin’, too, it’s mostly girls and it’s lots fun.”

“I ask later,” Jeremy said, unsure if he would really ask. He wasn’t used to being granted wishes.

“Story time,” an adult voice called out throughout the daycare.

“It’s story time,” Christine said excitedly. “Story time is lots of fun; they make funny voices for all the people in the story. Then after that is lunch and nap time.”

Christine took Jeremy by the hand and skipped out of the room, Jeremy decided to mimic her and he skipped, too. Christine led him to a large rainbow-colored rug and the two got a good seat up front because most of the boys were lax in coming in from their outdoor play.

Mrs. Angie had a large easel by her with a large blank piece of paper on it. “Today, boys and girls,” Mrs. Angie started as soon as everyone was settled, “we’ll read The Three Little Pigs.” With the introduction over, she flipped the blank page over on its spiral binding to reveal the title page with its large illustrated drawing.

Mrs. Angie read through the story slowly, so the children who could recognize certain words could keep up. Each character had a distinct voice and the children were mesmerized by that ability. Towards the end of the story all the kids would say, “I’ll huff and I’ll puff and blow your house down,” on cue.

As soon as Mrs. Angie said, “The End,” the children lined up to receive a peanut butter sandwich, a cup of milk, and several slices of apple. Jeremy and Christine sat by themselves in a quiet corner of the room, eating and talking and laughing together. Melissa watched, feeling very happy and proud of Jeremy.

“Okay,” Mrs. Angie said when she saw everyone had finished eating, “nap time.”

Jeremy went up to the lady boldly, as bold as Jeremy could get. “Could me and Kiss-tine nap time toget’er?” he asked in a small voice.

“Certainly.” Mrs. Angie was happy that the new child found a friend during his first day there, “but you must promise to take a nap and not play and talk with each other.”

“’Kay,” Jeremy answered and then went with Christine into a large room that had a bunch of blue mats laid around the floor that Jeremy eyed suspiciously. The two children found a pair of mats in the corner and decided that was the best place for them to rest.

Christine lay down and pulled a cover up so Jeremy could get under it with her. Jeremy had no objection and joined his friend under the cover. Christine hugged him, and Jeremy returned the hug as both their heads rested on the same pillow.

“Maybe we can dream together and play in our dream,” Christine whispered.

Jeremy nodded at her. Christine then gave him a peck on the lips and Jeremy returned the favor. Both children smiled at each other and hugged a little tighter.

“You’re my best friend, Jenny,” Christine said quietly.

“You best friend, too,” Jeremy said and then closed his eyes for his nap.

Christine followed his example, hoping she would see her new friend in her dreams.

“Looks like Jeremy found himself a friend,” Mrs. Angie said to Melissa as they watched through a glass window.

“It sure does. That’s good, I don’t think he had any friends where he was.”

“That’s a shame; he’s quite a lovely child.”

“Yeah, too bad his parents didn’t see him that way,” Melissa remarked coldly.

“So he was abused badly?” Mrs. Angie asked.

“My husband and I don’t know the complete story, and I have a sneaking suspicion that Chase hasn't told me all he knows, but he probably went through more than a child his age, or any age should.”

“He’s in good hands now, I can tell.”

“Thanks. We just wanted to get him around other children and let him interact.”

“He’ll get plenty of that here. I can tell you that much.”

“Chase and I were hoping that he would play with other boys and discover what being a boy is supposed to be like.” She sighed and shook her head but smiled while doing it. The day had gone remarkably well, so far, despite Jeremy’s rough start, choice of toys and playmates.

“I wouldn’t worry that much about it, most kids find out those roles in the middle of elementary school, right now they do whatever is fun and comfortable. What’s important is that he is interacting with someone else his age. He couldn’t have picked a better someone for a friend; that Christine will look out for him. That and with what he went through, you probably want someone who’s gentle. That’s not going to happen with a group of boys; they’re more rough-and-tumble at this age. He probably isn’t ready for that at the moment.”

“I suppose you’re right, you have more experience at this than I do. Besides, they look cute together sleeping in each other’s arms.”

“They all look cutest when they’re sleeping.” Mrs. Angie laughed.

“How long is nap time?”

“Most kids sleep for forty-five minutes to an hour. If they don’t wake on their own after an hour then we wake them.”

“Then what goes on?” Melissa asked.

“After nap time we do some kind of craft. Today they are making beaded jewelry.”

“With a bunch of boys,” Melissa said, surprised by the choice of activity.

“The boys love to give them as gifts to their mothers. For all of their rough-and-tumble activity, they still have an attachment to mommy.”

“Interesting.” Melissa looked into the colorful room with all the sleeping toddlers. Jeremy slept soundly, still being held by Christine, his normal tossing and turning absent for the moment.

The hour passed uneventfully for Melissa, Mrs. Angie and the other caregivers took their lunch at this time but she chose to sit and watch Jeremy sleep through the open door to the nap room. Eventually all the children woke. Jeremy looked happy when he saw Christine still there after he opened his eyes.

“Craft time,” Mrs. Angie called out.

“Come on, Jenny,” Christine said, “craft time is lots of fun.” Christine took Jeremy by the hand and led him to the room where they ate lunch. On the tables were various colored beads and string. The two friends sat down at a table in the far corner of the room to keep from sitting near boys. In a few seconds, the room filled with loud talking and laughing. The adults walked around to offer assistance wherever it might be needed.

Jeremy looked at all the choices of beads in front of him; some were red hearts, yellow smiley faces, or various colors of round beads.

“Let’s make a friendship bracelet for each other,” Christine said.

“’Kay, how?” Jeremy asked.

“You take a baby string,” Christine held up a short length string, “and you make a knot here,” she tied a small knot a quarter inch up the string, “this way the beads don’t fall off.” Christine had obviously done this before.

Jeremy followed his friend’s instructions and made a tight knot where he was supposed to. He looked at Christine when he was ready for the next step.

“Now, to make a friendship bracelet you need to put a red heart and a blue hug,” Christine instructed as she put the string through a heart-shaped bead first, followed by a round, blue bead. “Then you do it four more times and you’re done.”

Jeremy followed the example to a T and though it took some time, soon they had identical bracelets. Christine tied the finishing knot in hers and Jeremy followed suit. Then they exchanged the bracelets in a sign of friendship and tied them onto each other's wrists.

“Tank you,” Jeremy said and gave Christine a hug.

“Now we make one for our mommies,” Christine said as she handed Jeremy a long piece of string to make a necklace with. Jeremy understood that when Christine said mommy, she meant Melissa.

Jeremy thought that as long as he was good enough, behaved his best, and didn't make even the tiniest of mistakes maybe Melissa would keep that position. He looked at the string long and hard, and decided which design Melissa would like best and would send the proper message. Jeremy took the string and threaded it through all heart-shaped beads, except one lone smiley face bead that sat in the direct center.

“Done,” Jeremy said as he held it up to Christine to get approval.

“That’s pretty, look at mine,” Christine said as she held up her creation.

Christine’s was a series of red hearts, and white and purple beads in succession.

“Pretty,” Jeremy said.

“It’s almost time to go,” Christine said as she saw the first set of parents come in to retrieve a child.

“Oh,” Jeremy said a little downcast.

“Don’t worry, we play tomorrow, okay?” Christine smiled.

“’Kay,” Jeremy said.

“I got to go, my mommy’s here. Bye, Jenny.” Christine gave him a hug.

“Bye, Kiss-tine,” Jeremy said as he hugged back. Jeremy watched as his new friend ran towards a tall, light-haired lady. He waved goodbye as Christine was carried off to a waiting minivan.

“It’s okay,” Melissa said as she knelt down next to the child. “You’ll see her again tomorrow and you’ll have another full day to play with her.”

Jeremy knew for that she was telling him the truth and that eased his concern. “Missa, for you,” Jeremy said as he handed the necklace to Melissa and smiled.

“For me,” Melissa said in mock surprise. “It’s the most beautiful necklace ever made, thank you.” Melissa put the necklace on right away, to show to the child that it was something that she really liked. She then gave Jeremy a great big hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Hearts Missa love,” Jeremy explained. “Smiley Je’my happy.”

Melissa understood what the child was saying all too well. A tear welled up in her eye as she hugged the child tightly and then started to cry.

“Sorry,” Jeremy said, thinking he did something wrong. He still couldn't understand that people didn’t only cry when they were sad.

“Don’t be sorry,” Melissa said, “I’m not crying because I’m sad, I’m crying because I’m happy.”

“You are?” Jeremy asked, confused by the situation.

“Yes, I am and I love you very much. You gave me the most wonderful gift that anyone ever had.”

Jeremy smiled, thinking the gift that Melissa was speaking of was the beaded necklace. He was too young to realize that she was referring to a gift of far greater importance.

“Let’s go home, Chase should be there soon,” Melissa told the child.

“’Kay,” Jeremy answered as he was carried out to the car and placed in the car seat. As he was being driven home, he made sure to mimic every movement that Melissa made. When she shifted the car into drive, Jeremy imagined that he was doing the same thing. When Melissa turned the steering wheel, Jeremy turned an imaginary one in front of him.

The imitation continued in the house as well and Melissa was flattered by the game. When she sat on the couch and crossed her legs, Jeremy did it in the exact same way. When Melissa made a kissy face, so did Jeremy.

An hour passed before Jeremy quit the game on his own and decided that it would be much better to cuddle up next to Melissa instead of mimicking her.

“Did you have fun today?” Melissa asked.

“Yes, lots.”

“And you made a new friend too, I see.”

“Yes, Kiss-tine bestest friend,” Jeremy smiled.

“She calls you Jenny,” Melissa pointed out.

“Yes, me like,” Jeremy said strongly.

“You like to be called Jenny?” Melissa asked, a little surprised and concerned.

“Yes, me Jenny,” Jeremy said and then smiled.

Melissa didn’t want to go into the whole argument that he was a boy and that Jenny was a girl’s name. She figured that he had gone through enough in life and that he would sort out the difference between boys and girls on his own. She heard Chase pull up in the police cruiser and that gave her perfect opportunity to end the conversation.

“Hi, I’m home,” Chase said as he opened the door and let the dog go barreling through the house.

“Case, Case,” Jeremy said as he jumped into the officer’s arms.

“Did you have a good day at daycare?” Chase asked.

“Yes, yes, very good day,” Jeremy said and then gave Chase a peck on the cheek.

“That’s good. Want to go and play with Neesa in the yard?”

Jeremy nodded and Chase let him down and opened the door to the back yard.

“Hey, honey,” Chase said, turning his attention to his wife.

“Hey, stud.” Melissa grinned and kissed her husband hello.

“So how did it really go today?” Chase asked, figuring he could get a more accurate story from his wife.

“Pretty good, he made a new friend,” Melissa informed.

“Great, who is he, is he nice?”

“Her name is Christine and she is nice,” Melissa said as she emphasized the female pronouns.

“Let me guess a blond, blue-eyed little doll with huge dimples?”

“Yes, how’d you guess?”

“That’s J.D.’s daughter. I met her once.”

“Cheater,” Melissa laughed.

“I was hoping he would play with the boys and make friends with them.”

“He tried, but he didn’t fit in with them.”

“Oh,” Chase said a little dejected.

“It’s okay, so he isn’t one of the guys, yet. He had a lot of fun with Christine and that’s what’s important. Right now he’s more comfortable playing with a girl and…” Melissa trailed off.

“And?”

“And, acting like one, but you know that. He even lets his friend call him Jenny.”

“I don’t know if that's a good idea.” Chase was disturbed and doubtful.

“Why?” Melissa asked.

“Because he’s a boy and he, he should be doing boy things.”

“He isn’t ready. Besides, there are plenty of girls that act like boys, so why not let it work the opposite way?”

“Because it’s different.”

“How?”

“Because they’re girls, that’s how. It’s different with boys.”

“There you go with that ancient thinking again,” Melissa reprimanded.

“I don’t know any other way to think on this subject.”

“Just accept the fact that he’s a little different right now. With all he’s gone through, wouldn’t you expect that? Let him live how he wants to and I’m sure when he’s ready he’ll outgrow this phase.”

“I don’t know,” Chase said, thinking it through. “Maybe for the summer as he gets accustomed to things.”

“It’s for the best, this way we don’t have to fight him tooth and nail about it,” Melissa pointed out.

Chase chose to yield. “Let’s not press him on it, but don’t go telling him he’s really a girl. We’ll let him think what he wants for now, but if he asks, you tell him the truth that he’s a boy.”

“Definitely. I won’t even pick out the clothes we buy. I’ll let that be his decision.”

“As long as we understand each other,” Chase said pointedly.

“We do.” Melissa smiled.

Chase was back on duty, another day serving the public. He helped with a domestic dispute earlier in the day and finished giving a stranded motorist a jump. For lunch, he was to meet J.D. at the Bi-Lo parking lot. He pulled in ten minutes after noon. J.D. was already parked in the far corner of the lot, facing the street.

“Hey, rook,” J.D. greeted as Chase climbed into the front seat of the patrol car.

“Hey, J.D., you know you could have come into my car, at least the A/C works,” Chase said as he noticed the stifling heat.

“Hate to break this to you, but your car smells and I don’t want that dog slobbering all over me while I eat.”

“Neesa keeps to herself. Besides, Melissa cooks her chicken every day and she’s eating it right now.” Chase left the engine running on his patrol car, the A/C on and Neesa comfortably enjoying the cut up poultry in the back seat.

“What’s up?” J.D. asked his young friend, dismissing the idea of changing to the other car.

“Nothing much, I figured since our kids are such good friends we could talk.”

“They are?” J.D. asked.

“Didn’t she tell you about it? All Jeremy could talk about was Christine this and Christine that.”

“The only thing she’s been talking about is a new girl she’s playing with.”

“That would be Jeremy, she calls him Jenny.”

“I see. I think? Are you sure that’s a good idea? It might make him confused.”

“It’s not my idea. Believe me I've been trying everything; begging, pleading, bribery, underhandedness; my whole repertoire. Nothing works. Melissa says we should let him figure it out on his own.”

“You’d think he would have done that by now.”

“You saw how he was living; who knows everything that went on in that house. Right now we’re trying to get him accustomed to living with us and we figured we wouldn’t push the issue one way or the other. At least not while Melissa is lurking around. He's still fragile so I haven't pulled out the big guns or put my foot down and, for the time being, I'm letting it slide.”

“For what it's worth, I don’t mind him playing with Christine. I’m a man of the times, I guess. But, some of the guys might take issue with it if word gets around.”

“I don’t see why it would get around. Mostly it’s the wives who pick up the children and they don’t know anything, I hope.”

“I know Karen doesn’t,” J.D. said of his wife. “She thought Jeremy was a girl.”

“He still has that aversion of pants so we’ve been dressing him in skirts and stuff,” Chase said uncomfortably.

“That could be one reason/ he thinks he’s a girl.”

“I don’t know that he thinks he’s a girl, he’s just doing more feminine things. For God’s sake he’s four; don’t all kids do similar things at that age. I don't know what else to do. He's not interested in cars or sports and I won't dare give him a toy gun considering what happened to his folks.”

“I’m not the one to judge, never have been. But, you might want to consider telling him the difference between boys and girls.”

“He knows the physical parts. He knows what boys have and girls don’t. Melissa had that discussion one time when they took a bath together.”

“That didn’t help?” J.D. was surprised.

“No, and he tried to hurt himself there.”

“Ouch!” J.D. grimaced.

“I don’t know what to do. When I first thought of Jeremy staying with us permanently, I pictured us playing ball, working on the Corvette; and things like that. With him acting the way he does, I don’t see it happening.”

“Before Christine was born, I had a lot of the same thoughts. I was expecting a son, praying for one in fact. I figured with a girl I wouldn’t be able to do any of the cool stuff. But, now that she’s bigger, we are doing those things. I don’t think it matters whether the kids are boys or girls anymore. If he wants to act like a girl for now, it doesn’t mean he won’t do any of that stuff. Christine likes watching wrestling with me and helping me as I do my woodwork.”

“It’s still strange. My wife says it’s like having a tomboy but in reverse.”

J.D. laughed. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

“But, you know it’s different. Once he starts school, the other boys are going to tear him apart, he’d be teased constantly.”

The officers reflected on that idea silently, both knew the truth; teasing might be the least of it.

J.D. shrugged. “School’s over a year away. You’re putting the cart before the horse, aren’t you?”

“I don’t see this being a quick fix.”

“I have an idea,” J.D. said. “I work this weekend and I know your sorry butt has those days off.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Karen has a sick aunt in the hospital and that isn’t a place for a four-year-old to spend the day.”

“So what are you proposing?” Chase was beginning to catch on.

“Why not let Christine spend the night with you tomorrow and then Saturday. This way Jeremy could find out how girls really are and discover the difference for himself?”

“And how do you suppose that would happen? Should I encourage them to play doctor?”

“No. Put them in the tub for the nightly bath and they should figure it out themselves.”

“Are you’re sure about this?” Chase wasn't that sure himself.

“They’re four; they aren’t going to do anything wrong or damaging. They’ll just figure out the difference between the sexes and then get on with playing the way kids do. Now if this were to happen when they were sixteen—then I’d have to shoot him.” J.D. grinned.

“You're saying leave them in tub and let nature take its course?”

“It’s that easy, and Christine needs to know this stuff, too. The way I figure it, I can let you and Melissa answer all the fun little questions.”

“Gee thanks,” Chase said sarcastically.

“The way I see it, Jeremy needs the knowledge more than Christine does.”

“Let me run it over with Melissa, she makes the decisions on this type of thing better than I do. I’ll let you know, but the sleepover sounds like a great thing.”

“Give me a call tonight and let me know. Karen will be fine with it; we already had this conversation.”

“Will do. I got to get back to my area; talk to you later.”

“See ya later, rook,” J.D. said and then jokingly pushed Chase out the passenger side door.

Chase jumped into his car, hastily ate the sandwich that Melissa made for him, drove back to his own patrol area and waited for his shift to end.

After picking up pizza on the way home, Chase walked through the front door with Neesa close behind.

“Case, Case,” Jeremy shouted as he latched onto the officer’s leg.

“Hey, Jeremy, how are you today?”

“Jenny,” he firmly corrected as he let go of Chase’s leg, ready to run if a hand were about to fly his way.

“Oh I see, Jenny, my mistake.” Chase decided to play along. Part of him was glad the child asserted his individuality, but another part was worried with the way he was doing it.

“Goodie.” Jeremy smiled at the fact that Chase accepted his new identity.

Chase put the pizza on the kitchen table. “Jenny,” Chase said even though he had an issue with the girl’s name, “would you please bring in some napkins?”

“Yes, Case,” the child said politely as he skipped away.

Chase shook his head in disapproval. “Where did he learn that?”

“The skipping? From his new friend of course,” Melissa said as she rubbed her husband’s shoulders. “Those two really make a cute pair, and they’re practically inseparable.”

“And I notice you aren’t doing anything to discourage things.”

“Why should I? We already had this conversation, remember? He deserves to have a nice little friend that cares for him. Shouldn’t he?”

At that time Jeremy came skipping back into the room with an armful of napkins and the discussion the adults were having ended. Melissa went into the kitchen to fetch soda and glasses; Jeremy went in with her to help. Chase lay out a few slices of pizza on open napkins and finished by the time they came back.

“So, Jenny,” Chase again felt uneasy at using the name, “what did you do today?”

“Had fun, fun, fun with Kiss-tine,” the child said as he chewed on a bite of pizza.

“That’s good. What did you do for fun?” Chase asked, wanting the child to know he was interested in his life.

“We play house with our babies, we paint with hands, and I make something, Case,” Jeremy said.

“What did you make?”

Jeremy hopped out of his chair and ran into the living room. A few seconds left he came back hiding something behind his back. “Close eyes, close eyes,” Jeremy sang.

Chase closed his eyes and held out his hands, curious with what Jeremy was about to offer. He felt something placed in his hand but was afraid to grasp it because it might be breakable.

“Open, open, open!” Jeremy yelled.

Chase opened his eyes; he saw a hand-sized ceramic star sloppily painted yellow. Glued in the middle of the star on one side was a four-leaf clover. On the other side of the star, a heart-shaped piece of construction paper had been carefully glued on.

“Wow, it’s very nice,” Chase praised. “Thank you very much.”

“It Case lucky badge,” Jeremy beamed as he explained the creation. “Kiss-tine said lucky flower,” Jeremy said as he showed Chase the four-leaf clover. “This side love, ’cause Jenny love Case and want Case know always come home.”

“Thank you very much,” Chase choked on his words, “I’ll always keep it with me in the cop car.”

“’Kay,” Jeremy said.

“Oh, you big macho man,” Melissa teased. “It’s okay to cry, you know you want to.”

“Happy cry?” Jeremy asked.

“Yes,” Melissa answered as she saw her husband wipe the tear from his eye.

“I’m okay,” Chase played it off as he regained his composure.

“Are you sure?” Melissa teased.

“Yes.” Chase grinned as he returned to his slice of pizza. Jeremy was back on his chair finishing up his second slice, swinging his legs under the seat as he mimicked Melissa.

“Would you like to play with Neesa?” Chase asked when he saw the child finished his meal.

“Yes, pease,” Jeremy answered.

Chase was more than happy to lift Jeremy off the chair and give him a piggyback ride to the back door. Chase opened the door and Neesa barreled out of it, looking forward to the warm early evening sun and the playtime that would accompany it. Jeremy ran after the dog, giggling like crazy.

Chase sat back down at the table, ready to pick up the conversation where it left off. “As I remember, we decided we weren’t going to bring up how boys and girls were supposed to behave different, but I figured we would encourage him to act normal.”

“Normal!?!” Melissa huffed. “What is normal? What that child went through wasn’t all that normal, and I think he’s doing just fine I’m not encouraging him to act like a girl, but whichever way he chooses to act doesn’t decide whether or not he’s normal.”

“You don’t have to bite my head off. All I’m saying is that you don’t seem to be discouraging him from acting like a girl, and I don’t know if that’s the best thing to do.”

“I’m letting him act the way he wants. Look how sweet and well behaved he is. It’s not like he’s becoming a behavior problem or causing any harm.”

“Except when he tries to claw his privates out, that is,” Chase knew it was a low blow but wanted to make his point. “I don’t want him getting hurt, either by himself or by the other kids. You know children can be cruel and if they see that someone is different, they’ll use that to make fun of them. Think how hurt Jeremy would be if everyone starts making fun of him because he acts like a girl.”

“I don’t know what else to do except let this run its course and let Jeremy decide how to live his life. The teacher at the daycare said that gender doesn’t come into play until third or fourth grade.”

“J.D. said we should let his daughter Christine sleep over this weekend and let him see the difference between boys and girls by letting them take a bath together.”

“And you think that will help?” Melissa asked.

“At least he would know the real reason he isn’t a girl and it might help him figure it out by himself.”

“I suppose that could work. I don’t mind; she’s a lovely child to be around.”

“Good, then I’ll call J.D. and let him know. This way they can have a bag packed and make whatever arrangements they need. I know his wife’s aunt is in the hospital so she can go visit and he can work Saturday without having to hire a baby-sitter.”

Chase walked over to the phone and called J.D. to tell him that everything was set for his daughter to visit. Chase also wanted to know if she was allergic to anything or afraid of big dogs. He didn’t want Christine to come to spend the night and have something go wrong and have to cut the evening short.

“Jeremy,” Chase called into the yard as he saw the child petting Neesa on the belly. Jeremy didn’t answer though, refusing to be called by that name. Chase called him again, and again Jeremy didn’t acknowledge the call.

“Jenny.” Chase finally figured out why the child wasn’t answering. Even though Chase didn’t like calling the boy by a girl’s name, he was willing to appease Jeremy through this stage.

“Yes, Case,” Jeremy answered as he skipped over to the door where Chase was standing.

“Would you like your friend Christine to come over and spend the night with you tomorrow?”

It only took Jeremy a split second until his face lit up. “Yes, yes, yes,” Jeremy said excitedly.

“Great. I already asked her dad and he said it was all right. Tomorrow you and Christine can have a sleepover.”

“Goodie, goodie, goodie,” Jeremy sang as he danced around Chase.

The sky was dark and gray and the rain came down steadily.

Melissa kissed Chase goodbye as he left for work, and she headed upstairs to get the child ready for daycare. This would be the last time Melissa would have to spend the day at Tiny Tots; Jeremy had a friend and was comfortable around the adults who worked there.

Melissa gently shook the child. “Wake up, sleepy head.”

Jeremy woke up from an unpleasant dream and tried to untangle himself from the blanket. He got himself free and double-checked to make sure Maggie the doll was still safely in his arms. She was and Jeremy smiled. “Mornin’, Missa,” Jeremy said as he wiped some gunk out of his eye with his fist.

“Good morning to you, too. Are you Jeremy or Jenny today?” Melissa asked, wanting to make sure she didn’t cause any problems so early.

“Jenny,” Jeremy stated strongly. “Jenny always!”

“Did any of the bad dreams come back last night, Jenny?” Melissa asked, remembering she had to calm the child late in the evening.

Jeremy nodded.

“You should have come and got me, I wouldn’t mind.”

“No wake.”

Melissa was unsure if the child meant he couldn’t wake up from the dream or he didn’t want to wake her up. “If you’re ever scared, you can wake me up and I’ll be happy to help you.”

“’Kay.” Jeremy hugged Melissa and let her lift him out of bed.

“Are you ready for another day at daycare and playing with your friend Christine?”

“Yes, yes, play all day and then play all night,” Jeremy said excitedly as he was carried to the master bedroom.

“That’s right, Christine will be our guest tonight and you’ll have lots of fun.”

Jeremy nodded in agreement as he was placed on Melissa’s bed to be dressed.

“What do you want to wear today?” Melissa asked.

“Make Jenny pretty,” Jeremy said in a non-demanding tone.

“Yes, very pretty.” Melissa played along; she didn’t mind having a child who liked to dress pretty. Now that she was used to this quirk, she found it quite fun, even though she would never admit that to Chase. Melissa held up a yellow overall dress that had embroidered flowers at the bottom for Jeremy to see. His clapping told her that he approved.

“Pretty dress for Jenny.” Jeremy smiled as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Let’s get you changed and then have breakfast. Then we can meet Christine at the daycare and have a fun day.”

“Yes, yes, yes, hurry, hurry, hurry.” Jeremy clapped.

Melissa gently pulled down the child’s pull-ups while leaving the nightshirt on so the child could retain his dignity. “You didn’t have an accident last night, what a good boy you are,” Melissa complimented.

“Jenny girl,” Jeremy corrected.

Melissa paused, wondering if she should do as Chase suggested and correct the child on his obvious errors. But Jeremy was so firm on his convictions of being a girl that Melissa expected something deeper was going on. Something that they could not penetrate and that the child would have to reconcile himself internally. “My mistake. What a good girl you are,” Melissa said as she put the child in a pair of white cotton panties. Jeremy refused to wear anything that came from the boys’ section of Wal-Mart and Melissa hadn’t had the chance to go shopping without him. She figured the boy had discovered the difference between boys and girls underwear anyway. Next, Melissa removed the nightshirt and playfully blew against the child’s belly.

Jeremy laughed loudly, playfully kicking his legs and waving his arms in mock protest. He then stood up and lifted his arms so Melissa could place a white T-shirt on him, followed by the dress. Jeremy plopped down on the bed after his top portion was dressed and let Melissa put a pair of ruffled socks on his feet. The previous day he noticed Christine always wore a pair and had pleaded with Melissa to get him a pair just like those. Right after they left the daycare yesterday, Melissa made a brief stop at a discount shoe store to purchase a package, much to Chase's disapproval. Lastly, she put on a pair of canvas shoes on his feet, perfect for running around and playing.

The time at the daycare wasn’t as pleasurable as the last two for Jeremy. The rain forced all the boys indoors and that meant he and Christine didn’t have free run of the house as they were accustomed. Even the room with the play kitchen was filled with boys. Jeremy and Christine played house, but had to include some boys in the role-playing. Where Jeremy and Christine liked to talk and play, the two boys that joined their play felt it was their duty to boss the two friends around. While Jeremy and Christine were trying to change their baby dolls, the boys were demanding to get fed.

“Where’s my food?” the pudgy boy which Jeremy already had problems with demanded while clanking his plastic fork and knife against the table.

“The baby comes first,” Christine answered back. Even though Jeremy’s friend took control of the situation, Jeremy felt uneasy and backed away from playing.

“What wrong, Jenny?” Christine asked.

“No play with dumb boys,” Jeremy answered.

“Yeah, you’re right, let’s play something for only us.”

The two children found a quiet corner of the daycare, which on this day was next to impossible. Christine taught Jeremy how to play patty-cake and some of the songs that went along with it. When they got tired of that, Christine retrieved a package of jacks from Mrs. Angie and taught Jeremy that game as well. Before long, it was story time and the daycare got quiet as Mrs. Angie read a Curious George story that seemed to go on forever. Jeremy was happy it was story time though; he knew that the day was almost over. They would have lunch after the story then nap time, and finally it would be time to go home.

For Jeremy, they couldn’t arrive home fast enough. After choosing to forgo crafts after they woke up from nap-time, Melissa placed both the children in the back seat of her car.

Jeremy was happy to see Christine in the car, he spent part of the day worrying that everyone would forget to bring her and he wouldn’t have the fun he intended to have that night.

As soon as they got to the house, Jeremy took Christine by the hand and led her to his room. He found his doll resting on the pillow where he had left her.

“Kiss-tine, this is my dolly, Maggie. Missa gave her to me.”

“She's pretty,” Christine she rocked the doll her friend handed to her.

Jeremy smiled as he watched his friend take good care of his most cherished possession.

“Why do you call your mommy, Missa?” Christine asked.

“’Cause Missa better than Momma,” Jeremy said, like it was a fact that everyone in the world must know.

The explanation was enough for Christine. At four, she was unaware of the pending adoption or the abuse Jeremy suffered at the hands of his biological mother. She figured that Jeremy had always been Melissa’s child and that Missa was only a title. Some kids call their mother’s mom, or mommy, or momma and she figured Missa was another alternative.

The two played in Jeremy’s room until Chase came home, but as soon as Chase announced his arrival, Jeremy ran down the stairs to greet him. Christine ran after him and watched from the foot of the stairs as Jeremy jumped into the officer’s arms, giving a hug and a kiss.

“And who is this little angel?” Chase asked as he turned towards the little girl.

“That’s Kiss-tine, she my bestest friend in the world,” Jeremy said with a toothy smile.

“Nice to see you again, Christine. I hope you’re having fun.”

Christine nodded shyly as she hid slightly behind the banister.

“You two kids have fun,” Chase said as he let Jeremy down. “Dinner will be in an hour.”

“’Kay, Case,” Jeremy said and then ran back upstairs to his room with his friend while Neesa lumbered behind.

“Your dad is big,” Christine told Jeremy.

“That Case. He very nice.”

The two children talked and played with their dolls and Neesa while the adults prepared dinner. It was the first night Jeremy didn’t help with the meal's preparation in some way. He was too busy entertaining his guest.

“Dinnertime!” Melissa called after a while.

Jeremy and Christine left their dolls on the bed and walked down the flight of stairs. They sat next to each other at the table and each enjoyed the chicken nuggets Melissa prepared for them.

“Thank you, Missa.” Christine giggled.

Jeremy noticed that his friend laughed. He figured it was because he didn’t call the adults around him by the standard names that other children used. He decided he would ask them about it at another time, when he didn’t have a friend over.

After they finished eating, Melissa helped them make their own sundaes. Each child had a choice of which flavor of ice cream and type of toppings; the children used them to excess, of course. Jeremy and Christine took their giant sundaes back to the table and dove in. Within fifteen minutes, the ice cream was finished and Melissa wondered if more ice cream ended up in the children’s mouth or on their shirts.

“Was it good?” Melissa asked.

“Very yummy,” Jeremy said and Christine nodded in agreement.

“I think it’s time for you two to take a bath and get in your jammies.”

“’Kay, Missa,” Jeremy said. The two children followed Melissa to the master bathroom. Melissa set the stop plug in the tub and ran the water. She made sure the temperature of the water was not too hot for the children. When the tub was half full, she turned off the water.

“I’ll let you two play in the tub for a while and then I’ll come in and make sure you get clean and get all of the ice cream off you.”

“’Kay,” Jeremy said.

Melissa helped Christine get out of her clothes first and lifted the girl into the tub. Then she did the same for Jeremy and then left the bathroom, keeping the door open so she could listen from the bed to make sure there were no problems. After all, she didn’t know how Christine would respond to finding out her friend was really a boy and she didn’t know how Jeremy would react when he figured out he wasn’t really a girl.

The two children sat in the tub, each at one end of the tub as they playfully pushed each other’s feet with their own. Jeremy looked at Christine and noticed that she didn’t have something that he did. Christine noticed it too, and noticed that Jeremy was looking and that her friend was worried.

“Your thingy hasn’t falled off yet,” Christine announced.

“I know,” Jeremy said downcast.

“It’ll fall off soon,” Christine said, certain of the fact.

“It will?” Jeremy was surprised.

“Yes, my baby sister's didn't yet and hers is still blue and ugly.” Christine didn't know she was actually describing the newborn's remaining umbilical cord, “but mine fell off.”

“It did?”

“Yes, when I was two it falled off, I remember.” Christine spoke as if she were a teacher at school.

“How?” Jeremy wanted to know what he could do to make the same event happen to him.

“I don’t know, it just did. All girls are born with one and one day it falls off and leaves a line.”

“But mine not gone,” Jeremy said sadly.

“You’re still littler than me; maybe you need to get bigger so it can fall off.”

“’Kay, I can’t wait.” Jeremy was pleased with the explanation that his friend gave to him and; it eased his worry that he'd never be a girl like Melissa or Christine was.

As with most children, after something is sufficiently explained to their liking, Jeremy and Christine moved on to more pressing matters. The more pressing matter in this case was blowing bubbles in the water and splashing around. Melissa, who had been listening near the door in amusement, came into the bathroom to help the children finish cleaning up.

After the children were clean, Melissa helped them dry off with a huge fluffy towel that wrapped around both of them. Then she put the children in clean undergarments and the nightgowns they were to sleep in. She then let the children go into the living room with their dolls to watch The Little Mermaid.

“How did it go?” Chase asked as his wife came into the kitchen.

“They’re clean,” Melissa answered slyly.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I know. The subject didn’t come up,” Melissa said, not wanting her husband to know his plan backfired and that Christine might have reinforced the notion to Jeremy that he was actually a girl.

“What do you mean the subject didn’t come up?”

“I mean, they didn’t talk about it so I don’t know what either of them thought.”

“But he did see her and the difference, right?”

“I would gather so; I washed her right in front of his eyes.”

“That should be enough; I didn’t expect them to have a philosophical conversation about it. As long as Jeremy saw all of her then he probably figured out the difference.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Melissa said, even though she knew better.

The adults joined the children as they watched the Disney video. The night was spent in relative quiet, considering there were twice as many kids as usual. After the movie, Jeremy and Christine went back up to the bedroom. Chase brought up a flashlight and taught them how to make simple shadow puppets. That kept them busy for a full hour. Afterwards, they had a tea party with Melissa. Christine thought it was a treat because they were allowed to use real china. By the time they were done, it was time for bed. Melissa tucked both children into the bed and read them a bedtime story.

In the morning, Melissa took the kids shopping at Jeremy’s request. It was more like begging, and Melissa didn't have it in her to deny any reasonable request that Jeremy made. While getting dressed, Christine noticed her friend was missing some of the necessities that all girls should have. That led to the trip to the store. At the store, Christine helped her friend pick out a handful of dresses, which were the items she saw missing from Jeremy’s wardrobe. Most of the clothes picked out were pink or purple, the favorite colors of both four-year olds. Jeremy was happy he had more clothes like Christine and enjoyed trying everything on. Each time he walked out of the dressing room, he modeled the new outfit like Christine taught him to.

After shopping, Melissa took the children to McDonald’s and then drove Christine to her house where J.D. was patiently waiting. Jeremy said goodbye and the kids gave each other a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Christine thanked Melissa for the great time and Melissa said that they could have another sleepover again some time.

It was early in the evening, an hour after the child had been tucked in when Jeremy came into the master bedroom, obviously something was on his mind and Melissa could tell. She patted the bed and invited the small child to rest between her and Chase.

“What’s wrong, sweetie, a bad dream?” Melissa wondered if the child’s nightmares returned.

“No,” Jeremy shook his head with the answer.

“What’s wrong?”

“Want ask question,” Jeremy said in a whisper.

“you can ask anything you want,” Chase said as he propped himself up.

“Me no wanna say Case and Missa,” Jeremy stated, instead of asking.

“Okay?” Chase was mildly confused, “What do you want to say then?”

“Daddy, Mommy?” Jeremy's voice was barely audible.

“You want to call us Mommy and Daddy?” Chase clarified.

Jeremy nodded.

“We would be very happy if you called us Mommy and Daddy,” Chase said as he gave Jeremy a hug and kiss.

Jeremy smiled and a tear came to Melissa’s eye. “Case daddy, Missa mommy, and Jenny baby girl.”

“But, you aren’t a baby girl,” Chase said as nicely as he could, “you aren’t a girl at all.” Chase clarified the last part because he didn't want the child to think he was saying Jeremy wasn't a baby. Since the toddler brought up the subject, Chase figured it was about time to nip this 'I'm a girl' foolishness in the bud.

“Jenny girl!” Jeremy said emphatically in a raised voice.

“Did you notice something in the bath with Christine?” Since he was committed to resolving the issue, he wasn't going to retreat. “That you had something that she didn’t, maybe?”

“Uh-huh,” Jeremy agreed.

“The thing that you have different means you’re a boy. The reason Christine doesn’t have one is because she is a girl.”

“No, no,” Jeremy protested. “Mine didn’t fall off yet like Kiss-tine’s.”

“It doesn’t fall off. It stays where it is because you aren’t a girl.”

“No, Jenny girl!” Jeremy climbed off the bed and stormed out of the room.

“Nice going, big shot,” Melissa said coldly and then elbowed Chase in the chest.

“Me? What did I do?”

“Whatever happened to letting him figure things out on his own?”

“How confused was I going to let the boy get? It wasn’t me that spent nearly a hundred bucks on pink dresses and stockings.”

“It was only forty dollars, and there were no stockings,” Melissa corrected.

“Oh? That makes it better.”

“He’s going through a phase, let him be.”

“If we let him be, he’s going to get hurt, and I hurt bad.”

“I think you’re blowing things out of proportion,” Melissa said.

“I don’t think so. if he wants to go through a stage where he’s a sissy, that’s fine. He went through a lot and deserves time to have things gentle. But if we reinforce the notion that he’s a girl then it’s going to be harder on him when he finds out that he’s not.”

“I’m trying to let Jeremy be happy, why not let it rest and not tell him one way or another? We had a nice moment before you had to bring this up. Why ruin it?”

“Because not telling him the truth is the same thing as lying.”

“There goes that church upbringing coming out again.”

“It has nothing to do with my background, and as I remember, you had a similar upbringing.”

“I’m only asking you to be flexible. Things aren’t black and white with Jeremy and we need to accept that.”

“I accept that things aren't black and white, but do they have to be pink? And I am being flexible. I’ll let him pretend that he’s a girl. But, I’m not going to confirm that he is one and if he asks me I’m going to tell him the truth.”

“Fine,” Melissa huffed and crossed her arms.

“He left here a little upset. I’m going to make sure that he’s okay.”

“Yeah, a little upset,” Melissa said sarcastically.

“Don’t be like that,” Chase said as he got up from bed.

Chase slipped his feet into a pair of slippers and walked down the hall to the child’s room. He pushed the door open and as the light from the hallway hit the child’s bed, Chase noticed Jeremy wasn’t there. Chase flipped the light switch, but the child wasn’t in the room, not even in the closet. Chase walked downstairs and noticed a light coming from the kitchen; perhaps Jeremy was getting himself a drink of water. Chase walked into the kitchen, unprepared for what he was about to see.

Jeremy was standing on a step stool that was pushed beside an open junk drawer. His nightgown was thrown on the floor and his pull-ups were around his ankles. In his right hand, he had pulled his privates as far out as he could, and in his left hand he held a large pair of scissors that were poised to make a decisive cut.

“Jeremy!” Chase said loudly, his veins filled with ice.

“No Je’my,” the child corrected.

“Okay, Jenny,” Chase said, trying to get the child to stop what he was doing before he caused some major damage, but not wanting to frighten him into action.

“Me make girl,” Jeremy said.

“You can’t cut that off and become a girl,” Chase explained. He took a step closer to the child.

“I can’t? But me need be like Kiss-tine,” Jeremy said strongly.

“No, um,” Chase said, searching for anything to use so the child didn’t hurt himself. “It has to fall off on its own or you won’t become a girl,” Another step.

“Jenny girl?” Jeremy sought confirmation from Chase.

“Yes, yes, Jenny is a girl. Anything you want to be but please, please don’t hurt yourself or I’ll be very sad.” Chase inched a bit closer.

Jeremy thought for a short time, weighing everything that was said. “How Jenny ’come girl?”

“We’ll take you to a doctor, he’ll help, I promise.” Chase felt pains in his chest; he was almost close enough to snatch the scissors.

“Okay, Daddy,” Jeremy said with a big smile on his face as he dropped the scissors back into the drawer.

“Good girl,” Even though Chase didn’t like lying to the child, he rather do that than have Jeremy maim himself. Chase helped Jeremy put on his nightgown after the child lifted the pull-ups back into place. He carried the child back to his bedroom and placed him into bed.

“Now be a good girl and go to sleep. I’ll talk to a doctor tomorrow and see when he can see you.”

“Okay, Ca—Daddy,” Jeremy said, catching himself and using Chase’s new title.

“Be a good girl?” Melissa flashed Chase a look when he came back into the room.

“Something’s definitely wrong there, he was about to cut it off with a pair of scissors. It was the only thing I could do to get him to quit.”

Melissa didn't know if she was more confused or worried. “What do we do now?”

“I’ll call the urologist Monday and we can get to the bottom of this. Something’s got to be wrong and maybe that’s the only way Jeremy can deal with it.”

“Jenny you mean,” Melissa teased.

“Don’t start. I can’t wait for this phase to be over or at least know what’s really wrong.”

“We will, give it time. You’re doing the right thing; he’s happy thinking he’s a girl anyway.”

“We’ll figure this out soon enough; I don’t feel like talking about it right now. Let’s get through tomorrow and then leave it for the doctors to handle.”

The couple decided to talk about other things, mostly Chase’s work, the facilities the daycare provided and the friendship between Christine and Jeremy.

After work on Monday, Chase dropped Neesa and the squad car off at his house. Melissa met him at the door and the two got in her car to drive to the daycare to pick up Jeremy.

“Jenny,” Chase called as the child waited at the door of Tiny Tot's daycare for them. Chase felt silly calling Jeremy by his chosen girl’s name in front of other people, but figured who would know that the cute kid in a pink dress and ponytail was a boy.

Jeremy skipped over to the car and got into the car seat. “Hi, Mommy. Hi, Daddy,” Jeremy said as he was buckled in.

“Hi, Jenny,” Melissa said, “how was your first day at daycare by yourself?”

“Good, good,” Jeremy smiled. He told them about his day as they drove to the doctor’s office. Mostly the conversation was about him and Christine, it was evident the two were becoming inseparable.

The urologist’s office was different from the pediatrician’s. The waiting area was smaller and less kid friendly. Luckily, the doctor was able to see Jeremy right away.

Chase and Melissa looked on as the doctor lifted Jeremy’s dress and pulled his panties down. Chase felt even more foolish that someone knew he was allowing a boy to dress like a girl. Thankfully the doctor didn’t make a comment as he examined the child’s privates; Jeremy squirmed in discomfort as the doctor manipulated his privates but didn’t mention anything hurting.

“Nothing appears out of the ordinary,” the doctor said as he completed his thorough examination. “But, I would like to take an ultrasound to make sure, if you don’t object.”

“Not at all,” Chase said. “We want to be sure every thing's okay.”

The doctor took the group into another room and placed Jeremy on a special chair. He took some gel into his hand and applied it to the child’s privates. The urologist took the curved scanning device, placed it where he wanted to look, and viewed the results on a monitor, occasionally capturing the screen. The whole process took ten minutes and afterwards the doctor let Melissa clean the child, as he examined the results.

The adults waited fifteen minutes before the doctor entered his private office. Chase and Melissa were eager to hear the results as Jeremy sat on the floor drawing pictures on a sheet of typing paper.

“I looked at the ultrasound very carefully,” the urologist said. “The good news is that there’s nothing wrong with the child physically.”

“Then, what is wrong?” Chase motioned towards the boy in the dress.

“My assumption is that the problem is psychological. I have seen something like this once before and it’ll do some good to see someone who specializes in this sort of thing.”

“Who might that be?” Melissa asked.

“Dr. Eagan, she's the one who helped a patient with a similar problem,” the urologist said. “Here's her card, she specializes in child psychology and is a good friend of mine.”

“Thank you,” Chase said as he put the card in his shirt pocket. “I’ll set up an appointment.

“Good luck.” The doctor watched the family leave his office.

Chase and Melissa arrived at the psychologist’s office a little after three on an overcast Tuesday. Fortunately, for them, Dr. Eagan had a cancellation and Christine’s mother was willing to look after Jeremy for the afternoon. The couple walked into the doctor’s office, an obvious addition to the back of her house. The waiting room was decorated with artwork made from crayon, resembling more a proud mom’s refrigerator than a place occupied by someone with a PhD. Chase looked at the pictures while Melissa read a new book on parenting, searching for anything to help Jeremy with his nightmares, panic attacks, and the child's other issues. As his wife buried herself deeper in the book, Chase noticed each picture was a self-portrait of a happy child, with crudely written names and some with the added words “thank you.” Perhaps this some sort of advertising. The waiting area was free of toys, and Chase wondered why a child psychologist wouldn’t have something for waiting children to play with.

“You must be the Milans,” a voice said from beyond an open door.

“We are,” Melissa answered as the psychologist walked into the waiting room.

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Dr. Eagan,” the short robust woman with graying brown hair said in a northern accent.

'Great,' Chase thought, 'another shrink who thinks she can fix things by finding things that aren't there.' “I'm Chase.” He flashed as good of a smile as he could muster. The officer extended his hand. “And this is my wife Melissa.”

Melissa also shook the doctor's hand; she didn't share the same misgivings as her husband.

They were led to a small room down the hallway. The room was stereotypical of psychiatry. Two leather chairs were by the side of the desk, presumably one for the doctor and the other for the patient. A brown leather couch was placed by the window; Chase thought he walked into a cliché.

If ever I imagined a head shrinker’s office, Chase thought, this would come to mind. Look at this, diplomas on the wall, pictures in silver frames on a cluttered desk and a bookshelf that no doubt holds the latest text on child psychology that were probably never read. Not kid friendly though.

“Please have a seat,” Dr. Eagan instructed.

“Let me guess,” Chase snapped, his voice bordering on sarcastic. “On the couch.”

“If that makes you comfortable, feel free. But it isn’t necessary.”

'Like I have much choice,' Chase thought. 'Whatever makes me comfortable? There is no comfortable in this office. Comfortable is me walking out the door and sitting in my cruiser. Nothing I can do now, I'm in a shrink’s office and I'm expected to sit on the stupid couch. Who knows what she'll label me if I didn't do what was expected; would it be MPD, OC, ODD, ABC, PHQ, QED. There's a whole alphabet to pick from.'

He sat down on the couch, keeping a strict posture as Melissa sat calmly next to him. Dr. Eagan turned one of the brown leather chairs towards them and sat across from the couple.

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” Melissa said, covering for her husband’s callousness.

“Do you see a lot of children in this office?” Chase asked in disbelief as he looked around the stuffy room.

“No,” Dr. Eagan said. “I have another room for the children that’s more appropriate.”

“That’s good, a child would be uncomfortable in a room like this,” Chase said.

“Why is that?” the doctor asked. “Do you feel uncomfortable?”

“Please don’t start that psychological stuff on me,” Chase snapped and quickly regained his composure. “I’m perfectly fine here. I was only thinking of Jeremy.”

“Since he’s the reason we’re all here, why don’t you tell me about Jeremy then?” Dr. Eagan steered the conversation towards the goal at hand.

“We’re in the process of adopting him,” Melissa took over. “He came from an abusive home, to what extent, we can only guess, but we think it was pretty severe.”

“How long have you had him?”

“About a month.”

“You say he came from an abusive home,” Dr. Eagan said. “Do you think he acts out or is he violent because of the abuse?”

“He isn’t violent at all,” Melissa said. “He is very well behaved, surprisingly so. He's one of the sweetest children I’ve ever known.”

“Did child services remove him from the home because of the abuse?”

“No,” Chase answered.

“How did it come to pass that the child was rescued?” Dr. Eagan continued her questions.

Chase scrunched his face in concentration and pursed his lips. He didn't want to state his answer in a way that the physiologist would use against him or give him a label that would endanger his career. “His biological father killed his biological mother before committing suicide. It was a violent affair.”

“Okay, Dr. Eagan asked and made some scribbles on a pad that Chase couldn’t quite read, even though he almost got a crick in his neck trying to. “What problems does Jeremy have?”

“He has a lot of nightmares. Rarely a night goes by where he doesn’t wake up screaming.”

“That’s to be expected if he came from an abusive home, especially considering how his parents expired. Do you know the nature of the nightmares?”

“Not really. He mumbles a lot and even when I can make out a word or two, it's all one sided.”

“Even from the one side,” Dr. Eagan said, “can you fathom a guess.”

“The only thing I make out with regularity is that it's something about his father, something violent, but I couldn't tell you exactly. Oh, and something about Pipsy.”

“Pipsy?” Dr. Eagan made another note.

“He calls Chase’s Rottweiler Pipsy. He may have had a pet of his own by that name or he could be calling for Neesa to come help and maybe Neesa gets hurt in the dream.”

“I take it Neesa is Chase's dog?”

“Neesa is my partner,” Chase said. “I'm a K-9 unit. At home Neesa is a family pet, more or less. She spends a lot of time with Jeremy when we're home.”

“The problem we're worried about most is his hurting himself in a sensitive area,” Melissa said.

“When you say hurt, how do you mean, does he hit himself or run into things on purpose?”

“He has a habit of pinching himself on his privates, hard. Chase caught him the other night with a pair of scissors ready to cut it off.”

“I see,” the doctor said and scribbled more notes.

“He also thinks he’s a girl, or will become one,” Chase blurted out.

“Does he act that out?” Dr. Eagan asked.

“He won’t wear anything that isn’t a skirt or a dress, he plays with dolls, his best friend is a girl and he insists on us calling him Jenny. So yes, he acts it out.” Chase's frustration was showing.

“Are you accommodating him in this fantasy?”

“Melissa has been,” Chase said. “I didn’t want to at first and was more blatant in my attempts to get him to quit, figured he would come around, but since he threatened to sever his privates I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want the little guy getting hurt.”

The doctor continued writing. “I would be interested in seeing Jeremy. I charge seventy-five dollars a session and would like to see him weekly. Are Wednesdays at four good for you?”

“That would be fine,” Melissa said without hesitation.

“What do you think is wrong with him?” Chase asked so abruptly he about spoke over his wife.

“I couldn’t say for sure,” Dr. Eagan said.

“But you have some ideas, don’t you?” Chase sat at the edge of the couch.

“It would be premature to give any kind of diagnosis to a child I haven’t met yet.”

“Do you think you can fix him?”

“He isn’t a broken toaster or a flat tire,” Dr. Eagan said. “He’s a child, who may be working through things. My job is to find out what he is working through and help him find the answers for himself. I can give suggestions on avenues we could take, but the solutions are all up to Jeremy.”

“Thank you,” Melissa said, cutting off Chase before he could say anything else. “Would you like tomorrow to be the first day that you see Jeremy or next week?”

“Tomorrow will be fine,” Dr. Eagan said.

“We’ll see you then,” Melissa said and then pulled on Chase's arm, forcing him to leave before he had the chance to object.

Chase and Melissa walked to the car in silence. Melissa jumped into the driver’s seat, making Chase the passenger for once.

“I can’t believe you,” Melissa said as soon as Chase shut his door.

“What did I do?”

“I have never seen you be so rude to someone like that before.”

“I wasn’t being rude, I was only asking questions.”

“Rude questions,” Melissa said.

“Questions she didn’t feel like answering. Don’t you find it weird that she danced around the issues?”

“I didn’t see her dance around anything. She said she couldn’t diagnose a child she hadn’t met. That makes perfect sense to me.”

“She had some idea what the problems are. I saw her making little notes every time we said something.”

“Maybe she was taking notes about us. Did you ever think of that?”

“Why would she do that?” Chase said. “She's supposed to be evaluating Jeremy.”

“He wasn’t there today so she couldn’t. And maybe she does have an idea what’s wrong, she might have a dozen ideas at the moment and any one of them may be right.”

“So why can’t she tell us? What’s she hiding?”

“You’re ridiculous. Maybe she needs to narrow down the possibilities. When she knows something for sure she’ll tell us.”

“I don’t trust them,” Chase said.

“Them? Them who? She’s one person.”

“Shrinks, that's who. I don’t trust them; they’re a manipulative bunch.”

“How did you come up with that?”

“You know when I went into law enforcement they made me see one of those quacks. Always trying to make something bigger than it actually is. Trying to make me say I resented my father for dying and that I wanted to join law enforcement to show him up. Little twerp was lucky I didn't turn him into putty. You know they try to get into your head, make you think something is wrong with you when there’s nothing there.”

“That was one guy. Are you going to damn the whole profession because of one experience?”

“Until I see proof otherwise, yes, I am.”

“I want you to remember that next time someone doesn’t like you because you’re a cop,” Melissa said.

“That’s different. People don’t like cops because they are usually doing something wrong and we caught them.”

“I think you’re worried because she might find something wrong with you.”

“No, she won’t. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Sure, you are,” Melissa said mockingly and then dropped the conversation.

Melissa picked up Jeremy from the daycare. He looked happy as he ran towards her with his blue cotton dress bouncing with every step until he jumped into Melissa’s arms. Melissa gave him a hug and put him into the car seat.

“Do you remember what we have to do today?” Melissa asked from the front seat.

“Doctor day,” Jeremy said.

“What kind of doctor?”

“Talking doctor.”

“Very good. You are very smart.”

Jeremy smiled and clapped his hands at the praise. On the way to the doctor’s office Jeremy serenaded Melissa with “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.”

Melissa pulled into the doctor’s driveway and carried the singing child into Dr. Eagan’s office.

“This must be Jeremy,” Dr. Eagan said upon seeing the child.

“Jenny,” Jeremy corrected and then buried his head into Melissa’s shoulder.

“I see, you like to be called Jenny instead of Jeremy?”

“Uh-huh,” Jeremy murmured.

“I can call you Jenny, if you like,” Dr. Eagan said. “Would you like to go into a special room, one that has toys in it?”

Jeremy nodded his head and Dr. Eagan led him and Melissa to a room down the hall. The room was painted with bright blue and pink stripes on the wall. A toy chest sat in the corner and held educational games. On a shelf, a family of dolls sat looking out towards the room. Some toy cars and planes were on another shelf. In the corner, an easel was set up with various colored paints stored in jars underneath. A small desk sat in another corner with a stack of construction paper and a large tin full of crayons on top of it. On one of the walls, a large mirror caught Jeremy’s attention.

“Feel free to look around and play with anything you wish as I talk to Melissa,” Dr. Eagan said.

“’Kay,” Jeremy said as he walked over to the mirror.

Dr. Eagan led Melissa into an adjoining room. “You can watch the session from here, this way you know everything that goes on.”

Melissa looked through a shaded window and could see the child making funny faces at her.

Dr. Eagan chuckled, “He can’t see you. It’s a one-way mirror. I tape the sessions so I can make notes later, without the child’s knowledge.”

“That’s fine with me,” Melissa said as she sat down in a recliner.

“Let me go and spend time with Jenny,” Dr. Eagan said as she touched a button on the video recorder. “This first visit is more of a get to know you session.” She left the room and Melissa watched as the doctor walked into the room where Jeremy was playing.

“Hi, Jenny,” Dr. Eagan said as she pulled a chair to where the child was sitting and sat down. “I see you found one of the dolls. Do you like her?”

“Uh-huh,” Jeremy said as he cradled the doll.

“My name is Dr. E, I help little people with their feelings.”

“Jenny feelings fine,” the child said as he returned his attention to the doll.

Dr. Eagan gave a thin smile. “Did Chase and Melissa talk to you about why you're here?”

Jeremy shook his head no.

“Chase and Melissa are worried because they say you hurt yourself sometimes.” Dr. Eagan's philosophy was to lay everything on the table and confront issues head on instead of resorting to psychological back-dooring or other trickery she had available unless it became necessary.

“Only my thingy,” Jeremy said quietly.

“How come? Why do you hurt yourself there?”

“It supposed to go away but don’t.”

“I see. You want it to go away?”

“Me girl, me no have thingy,” Jeremy said sternly.

“Hmm.” Dr. Eagan gathered herself, making sure she knew exactly where she wanted to go with before speaking. “How long have you been a girl?”

“Forever,” Jeremy answered without even having to think of his response.

“We’ll talk about that some more at another time. Tell me about living with Chase and Melissa; do you like it at their house?”

“Yes, yes, they very nice. They new mommy and daddy,” Jeremy said proudly.

“They told me they are trying to adopt you. They love you very much.”

“Jenny love Mommy and Daddy.”

“and that makes you happy also,” Dr. Eagan led.

“Very, very, very happy,” Jeremy sang as he rocked the doll.

“Who else is at the house with you and Mommy and Daddy?”

“Pipsy,” Jeremy said as his face lit up.

“Pipsy, who is that?”

“Pipsy cop doggy, go woof and keep Jenny safe.”

“It must be nice having a dog.”

“Yes, Pipsy love Jenny, Jenny love Pipsy.”

“I understand you go to daycare.” Dr. Eagan changed directions.

Jeremy nodded his head yes.

“What do you do there?”

“I play with Kiss-tine, do story time, do nap time, do craft.”

“Who is Kiss-tine?”

“My bestest friend.”

“That's nice. Do you have any other friends at daycare?”

Jeremy shook his head no.

“Oh? Why not?”

“Rest boys. Boys dumb and stinky.”

Dr. Eagan laughed. “I’m going to talk to your mommy. Is it okay if I leave you here to play with the dolly?”

“’Kay,” Jeremy said and then pretended to be breast-feeding the doll like Christine taught him.

Dr. Eagan joined Melissa in the other room and watched as Jeremy gently took care of the doll. “A very sweet child you have on your hands.”

“I know,” Melissa agreed. “Do you think you can help him?”

“I think I can help him help himself. Today was for me to get to know him and see how he handles himself. That's why I didn't dig deeper and also why I didn't bring up his biological parents. He isn't at the stage to express the emotional pain that comes with abuse, but there are methods to bring that to the surface so he can begin to deal and assimilate those feelings. Otherwise, he’s very well spoken for someone his age and background. He also has issues with his gender identity that may be related to the abuse, but it's too early to discern. The main concern is that he mentioned the desire to get rid of his genitalia.”

“Can you help him with that? Can you get him to start acting like a boy?”

“I can help him discover some of the underlying causes of why he feels the need to be feminine. Whether or not he acts like a boy is up to him and what the driving forces behind his actions are.”

“What do you think causes it?” Melissa asked.

“It’s still too early to tell. It can be a number of factors and those may be wide and varied. With his history of abuse there are a lot of dynamics that come into play; It could be early life training, dissociative disorder or a number of other things. No two minds work alike. But, given some time and understanding we can figure it out and figure out how to deal with it.”

“Should we let him continue to act like a girl?” Melissa asked.

“Unless he chooses not to, I think you should let him do as he desires when it comes to gender roles until we get a clear picture of the situation,” Dr. Eagan said. “If you force him to act against his will, he may carry out on his wish to remove his genitals.”

“We don’t want him hurt.”

“If he makes any attempts at something, even if he isn’t successful, you need to notify me right away.”

“I will,” Melissa said.

“I’ll see you next Wednesday, that’s when we’ll start the real therapy.”

“Thank you for starting so soon.” Melissa then retrieved Jeremy from the other room, causing the child to give up playing with the new doll.

Several weeks went by; Melissa was bringing Jeremy to therapy on Wednesdays routinely even though Chase doubted their success. Though there wasn’t any noticeable changes in the child’s behavior, Melissa marveled at how the psychologist was able to peel back the layers and explore different aspects of the child’s life. Some weeks Dr. Eagan discussed Jeremy’s life before he came to live with the Milans, even though she went about obtaining the information in an indirect way. Other weeks she focused on the present and Jeremy’s gender identity issues.

. Melissa brought Jeremy to Dr. Eagan’s office once again. Jeremy went skipping into the playroom like he hadn’t a care in the world and found the doll he played with the weeks before. Melissa and Dr. Eagan were in the adjoining room, out of earshot.

“How has the week gone?” Dr. Eagan asked.

“It’s been going alright, the social worker exhausted her resources and it looks like no one will stand in our way of adopting Jeremy. All we have to do is fill out a mound of paperwork.”

“That can be a daunting task, but I’m sure you and your husband are up to the challenge.”

“We would like to get it out of the way and get on with our lives and let Jeremy get on with his.”

“How has Jeremy been behaving this week?”

“An angel like usual. He's still having nightmares. I wish there were a way to get rid of them.”

“Nightmares are common at this age. The more comfortable he gets with his surroundings; he should have bad dreams less frequently.”

“I hope so,” Melissa said.

“I see he’s still in a dress, how's that going?”

“He still insists on being called Jenny and doing girl things. Chase bought him a remote control car, one that looks like his cruiser, but Jeremy hasn’t given it a second glance.”

“That must hurt Chase,” Dr. Eagan said.

“Chase and his father bonded through their love of cars, he used to help his father work on their Corvette. Chase has tried to get Jeremy involved in the Corvette as well, but Jeremy isn't interested. When Chase mentions going to the garage, Jeremy finds something to be busy. I think Chase wants to create the same masculine bond with Jeremy like he had with his father, but their bond is different.”

“Different how?”

“I didn’t tell Chase this, because even though he goes along with it, he’s opposed to Jeremy acting like a girl, but, Jeremy reminds me of how I used to be with my father at his age.”

“Does that bother you?”

“I think it bothers Chase, I find it curious. It’s like Jeremy really is a girl, sometimes I have to remind myself that he isn’t.”

“If Jeremy were a girl, how would Chase react? Would he love Jeremy any less?”

“He wouldn’t love him any less if he were a girl, only differently. Chase is concerned with appearances and how people view him. He gets uncomfortable if people view him as doing something wrong.”

“Like letting a boy act like a girl?”

“That would count,” Melissa said. “You have to admit it’s out of the ordinary. In Chase’s defense, he really does love Jeremy. In fact, he was the one who first wanted to keep Jeremy even though I was hesitant.”

Though there appeared to be issues there, the psychologist knew her primary focus was the child. “We’ll talk about this more at another time,” Dr. Eagan said, “perhaps set up a separate time for you and your husband.”

“Thank you, I’ll ask him about that,” Melissa said, even though she doubted Chase would comply.

Dr. Eagan started the recording equipment and joined the child in the therapy room.

“Hi, Jenny,” Dr. Eagan said. “How are you doing this week?”

“I good, Dr. E.” Jeremy smiled.

“That’s nice to hear. Would you like to help me with something?”

“Uh-huh.” Jeremy nodded.

“I’m wondering if you could draw a picture for me.”

Jeremy nodded and Dr. Eagan led the child to the desk that contained the construction paper and the large tin of crayons atop.

“This picture I want you to do special,” Dr. Eagan instructed. “Do you remember the people you lived with before Chase and Melissa?”

“Momma and Dada?” Jeremy gulped. The look in the child's eyes suggested that there was no way he could forget them.

“I would like you to draw a picture of you and them. Can you do that for me?”

“Me try,” Jeremy said with uncertainty in his voice. The child adjusted himself in the small chair as Dr. Eagan looked on. He pulled a yellow piece of construction paper out of the pile and placed it in front of him. He looked into the bin of crayons and pulled out a black Crayola, ready to use.

Jeremy looked at the empty paper long and hard, considering the best way to draw a family portrait of him and his biological parents. The child decided to start with his father, drawing a big circle in the upper left hand corner of the paper. Jeremy then drew two smaller circles to serve as eyes, the black crayon made them look dark and cold as he filled them in. Jeremy drew another circle larger than those representing the eyes, which served as the mouth. Jeremy added sharp jagged teeth followed by a stick figured body.

Jeremy ended the caricature by adding two dark balls at the end of the arms, pressing the crayon down so hard that it broke. Jeremy looked up at Dr. Eagan, surprised that the crayon broke and remembering someone was watching him.

“Sorry,” Jeremy said as he held up a half of the broken crayon in each hand.

“It’s okay, crayons break all the time,” Dr. Eagan said. “Can you tell me who this is?”

“Dada,” Jeremy choked on the word.

“Go on,” Dr. Eagan instructed, wanting the child to finish before commenting on the drawing.

Jeremy searched the crayon bin and found a dark green one to use next. In the middle of the page the child drew another circle to serve as the head, this one was not as big as the one he drew for his father. He drew two vertical lines to serve as eyes and a half circle to draw a sad face. He continued by drawing a sideways triangle for a dress and two legs sticking out of the end.

“And who is that?” Dr. Eagan asked to keep the child in reality.

“Momma,” Jeremy said, almost too silent to hear.

“I see, go on.”

Jeremy pulled out a blue crayon from the bin and in the extreme lower right corner he drew a small blue circle with two dots for eyes and a huge frown. He continued to make the rest of the stick figure body. Jeremy then found a red crayon and proceeded to mark through the stick figure body.

“Is that the family you used to live with?”

Jeremy nodded.

“Is that you?” Dr. Eagan pointed to the minuscule character in the far corner.

Jeremy nodded again.

“Why is Momma like that?”

“Sleepin’, Momma always sleepin’.” the sadness in Jeremy's voice was evident.

“Your dad looks very big and scary, was he big and scary for real?”

Jeremy nodded once again, refusing to speak unless necessary.

“What are these red marks for?”

“Owwies,” Jeremy whispered.

“That’s a lot of owwies. How did he get all those owwies?”

“From Dada.” Jeremy pouted.

“That must have hurt.”

Jeremy nodded.

“I see a sad face, but with all those owwies I wonder why he isn’t crying,” Dr. Eagan asked.

“No cry,” Jeremy said loudly.

“How come?”

“Get more owwies.” Jeremy's eyes filled with tears, but he fought letting them shed for all he was worth.

“I see. So if the little boy cries he gets more owwies,” Dr. Eagan clarified.

Jeremy nodded.

“But doesn't he want to cry?”

“No cry, no cry, no cry,” Jeremy shouted in a panic, as if not only discussing the boy in the picture, but instructing himself as well.

“Poor little boy,” Dr. Eagan said sympathetically.

“Jenny hate boy,” Jeremy said and then scribbled all over the picture with the red crayon. The child wasn’t happy with that kind of destruction; he took the picture and crumpled it tightly.

“No more Dada,” Jeremy shouted. “No more Momma!”

Dr. Eagan sat back and watched the child vent what may have been a lifetime of heartache.

Jeremy's eyes were deadly focused, like his anger. “No more Je’my!” He said in a low volume, but the words were steel, cold and hard. “They all gone. All gone” Jeremy dropped the paper on the floor and started to cry. As soon as the first tear fell, he withdrew to a corner, keeping his back to Dr. Eagan.

Dr. Eagan motioned to Melissa to stay put as she watched the toddler's shoulders heave as he kept his face covered. The doctor made her way to the child.

“It’s okay to cry,” Dr. Eagan comforted.

“Jenny need cry, Jenny sad.” Jeremy turned around to be embraced by the doctor.

“Let it out, it’s okay. We won’t draw any more pictures today.”

Jeremy cried for five minutes, and suddenly stopped. Jeremy turned inward and silently began to play with the doll again. Dr. Eagan watched him carefully, with her trained eye she noticed how gentle he treated the toy and figured he was never treated that way. She let him alone and joined Melissa in the hidden room.

“Is he okay?” Melissa was concerned; it took a lot of self restraint for her not to tear out of the room and comfort the child when he first broke down.

“He’s going to be fine. Jeremy had a ton of penned up sadness that he needed to release.”

“I saw. Anything you can tell me about that?”

“Nothing yet, it’s still too early. We’ll have to deal with issues of the past before we get to issues of the present. In this situation it has to work that way, unfortunately.”

“I understand.” Melissa was starting to question if having the child relive his past was a good decision for someone so young and so recently removed. “I guess same time next week.”

The doctor picked up on Melissa's concern. “It can be a long process, but by the end you’ll say it was worth it.”

“I’m hoping.” Melissa gave a faint smile.

Melissa went into the therapy room, Jeremy was more than eager to drop the doll and give her a hug. She carried the child to the car and drove home in unusual silence. She occasionally looked in the rear view mirror to see what Jeremy was doing. Melissa was heartbroken that the child focused on the floor and avoided looking at the outside world. It was as if he were trapped; whether inside himself, in the past, or both, Melissa would never know.

Melissa arrived at the doctor’s office a few minutes early. She let Jeremy out of the back seat and he skipped to the door while holding Melissa’s hand.

“Hello, Melissa. Hello, Jenny,” Dr. Eagan greeted as the duo walked into the office.

“Playroom?” Jeremy was familiar with the routine.

“You may go into the playroom and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Jeremy ran to the therapy room and searched for the doll he had usually played with. It took a few seconds, because the doll wasn’t in its usual place.

“How has it been this week?” Dr. Eagan asked as they entered the adjoining room to watch Jeremy through the one-way mirror.

“Next Friday we go before the judge to get the adoption finalized. So that’s something that we’re looking forward to.”

“I’m sure Jeremy is very happy. How has he been?”

“Still insisting he’s a girl. We enrolled him in gymnastics so he can spend more time with Christine, they’re inseparable.”

“Christine, remind me who that is again,” Dr. Eagan said.

“Christine is Jeremy’s friend from daycare; he wants to be just like her.”

“Now I remember, that would be Jeremy's 'Kiss-tine'. It’s common for children to emulate their friends at this age. Peers are the second greatest influence on a child’s life, right after parents.”

“I see.”

“Let me talk to Jeremy for a while. By the way, congratulations on the upcoming adoption,” Dr. Eagan left to join Jeremy in the other room.

“Hi, Jenny,” Dr. Eagan said.

“Hi, Dr. E,” Jeremy said while cuddling with the doll.

“I see you found your favorite doll. You must really care for her.”

“Jenny is good mommy.” Jeremy smiled and then placed the doll in a shoe box filled with tissue paper meant to serve as a makeshift crib.

“I can see that. How are you feeling today?”

“Jenny good, I got new stockings,” Jeremy said as he lifted his legs to show off a pair of white stockings with a rose print on them.

“Very pretty, does Christine have a pair like that also?”

“Uh-huh,” Jeremy said and nodded at the same time.

“Did you ask for them because Christine had them?”

“No,” Jeremy said. “I got ’cause pretty.”

“I see. They are very pretty indeed.”

“Jenny pretty?”

“Yes, Jenny is very pretty too,” Dr. Eagan chuckled.

Jeremy smiled and kicked his legs under the seat.

“Do you remember what we did last week?”

“We drawed picture,” Jeremy said.

“That’s right. You have a good memory,” Dr. Eagan praised.

“Jenny draw?”

“If you’d like. Last week you drew the family you used to live with. Today, I would like you to draw the family who you live with now. Can you do that for me?”

“Jenny can.” Jeremy sat at the desk with the construction paper.

Dr. Eagan pulled up a chair next to the child as Jeremy pulled a white piece of construction paper from the pile. He chose a blue crayon out of the tin and drew a big circle in the upper left corner that was to serve as a head. He then drew two eyes and a big smile. Jeremy finished with a stick figured body and then grabbed a yellow crayon and drew a star on the chest of the stick figure.

“Who is that?” Dr. Eagan asked.

“That Case, Daddy,” Jeremy answered as he looked at his creation.

“And what is that?” Dr. Eagan pointed to the star.

“That Case’s star, his badge; Case is cop.”

“That’s right; Chase is a cop. Okay, go on.”

Jeremy looked into the bin and pulled out a pink crayon. He drew another circle a few inches away from the first and drew another set of eyes and another smile. Jeremy then drew a triangle for a body and two arms and two legs protruding out of the triangle. He made the left arm of the second figure meet the right arm from the first. Jeremy found the yellow crayon, which had rolled to the floor, and drew spirals on top of the head of the second figure to serve as hair.

“And who is that?” Dr. Eagan asked when she assumed the child was finished.

“That Missa, Mommy,” Jeremy said, satisfied with his artwork.

“I see, and she is holding Chase’s hand.”

“They love,” Jeremy said.

“And she has pretty hair.”

“Yes, Missa Mommy very pretty.”

“That’s true, go on.”

Jeremy put the crayons back into the bin and searched for black and brown ones. When he found them, he drew a large horizontal oval to the right of the last figure with the black crayon, and a smaller oval right on top of it. He drew a small smile facing the first two drawings. Then with the brown crayon he made an eye and then four legs extending out from the bottom oval.

“Who is that?” Dr. Eagan asked about the figure after Jeremy put the crayons back in the tin.

“That Pipsy.”

“Your dog.”

“Yes and Case, Daddy’s. They work ’gether.”

“He looks very big,” Dr. Eagan said.

“She is very big doggy, but nice, nice, nice.” Jeremy smiled.

“She has no tail?”

“No.” Jeremy shook his head. “Pipsy dogs have no tails.”

“Do you know what kind of dog it is?”

Jeremy gave the question some consideration. “It good dog.”

Dr. Eagan laughed. “This kind of dog is called a Rottweiler,” she explained.

“Rott-willer,” Jeremy repeated.

“Very good. Okay, finish the drawing.”

“Jenny done,” he said.

“But where is Jeremy?”

“He no more,” Jeremy said coolly without emotion.

Dr. Eagan gave pause as she thought on what the child said, his denial of existence was worrisome. Her mind flashed back to the last session when the boy said the same thing with steely exactness. “Where is Jenny?”

“She not theirs yet.”

“When will Jenny be theirs?”

“Next Friday.”

“I see,” Dr. Eagan said. “When they talk to the judge.”

“Uh-huh.”

“They look happy in the picture. Why are they happy?”

“’Cause Jenny coming to be with them forever and ever.”

“And how does Jenny feel about that?”

“Jenny very happy.”

“I suppose Jenny should be very happy?”

“Yes, Jenny love now.”

“You're right, your new mommy and daddy love you very much.”

“Jenny love Case-Daddy and Missa-Mommy very much back.”

“I’m going to talk to your mommy now; can you play in here while I do?”

“Yes, Dr. E,” Jeremy answered.

Dr. Eagan had planned on having a short, light, non-emotional session with the child. It could've been detrimental to Jeremy's treatment if she kept bringing the child face to face with the pain of the past. Though she knew children appeared resilient, she didn't need Jeremy associating therapy with only bad emotions. She gleaned the child was anxious about the upcoming adoption and that discovery was sufficient. She didn't plan on easing Jeremy's anxiety because the child didn't appear adversely affected, and learning to cope with life's twists and turns was important for him to learn.

Dr. Eagan joined Melissa in the hidden room. Chase was there as well, he had come in while the doctor was seeing Jeremy.

“Hello, Mr. Milan,” Dr. Eagan greeted. “I didn’t know you were going to join us today.”

“I was able to get off my shift early and figured I’d see what was going on,” Chase said.

“From what I gather, he is eager to be a part of your family,” Dr. Eagan said.

“He is a part of the family,” Chase said shortly.

“We all know that. There has probably been a lot of talk about the adoption,” Dr. Eagan tried to diffuse the situation, noticing Chase’s defensiveness, “and Jeremy figures that once that’s done he will be officially part of the family. There may be some anxiety that something will happen and the adoption will not go through, but that’s normal.”

“I can see that,” Melissa jumped in. “Chase and I have been nervous about it; since we’re so young. Maybe he picked up on that or overheard us talking.”

“That’s also a possibility,” Dr. Eagan said.

Chase retook control of the conversation. “We’re also worried because we dress him like a girl and maybe the courts will view that as wrong.”

“That probably won’t come into play,” Dr. Eagan said. “Especially considering his case history and the prior abuse he suffered. Add to that the fact that he's getting counseling. Has the social worker said anything to suggest otherwise?”

“No, she’s been by a few times and is quite understanding. She’s supporting our petition for adoption.”

“In my limited experience most children are adopted if they have a government official backing it.”

“We’re crossing our fingers,” Chase said. “We were also wondering if you discovered why he insists he’s a girl.”

“Right now that’s what he associates himself as. He may identify himself as a girl for a few more days or for the rest of his life.”

“That’s a wide range, can you be more specific?”

“I can’t. The key is to get to the underlying issues. Understanding the causes dictates treatment.”

“Treatment for what?” Chase was tired of the doctor playing what he perceived as head games.

`“Jeremy is displaying classic signs of Gender Identity Disorder.”

“Gender what?”

“It’s more commonly referred to as being transsexual,” Dr. Eagan explained.

Chase was shocked by the diagnosis. “Isn’t he a bit young to be gay?”

“This has nothing to do with sexual preference. It deals with how he views his inner self. He views his inner self as female and then tries to project that image on the outer shell.”

“How do we fix him?” Chase was growing impatient by the psychological jargon.

“The age-old question,” Dr. Eagan said. “The first thing to do is discover why. There may be a dozen reasons why and there are hundreds of theories trying to explain the phenomena. Some theories try to explain it psychologically and others medically, but right now there are no clear-cut definitions.”

“What do we do?”

“First, I would like to discover if he was indeed sexually abused. From the files I read, that question has never been sufficiently answered, but I need specific permission to enter that realm.”

“Permission you have,” Chase said. “But when do you plan to do that?”

“I have been laying the foundation,” Dr. Eagan explained. “I’ve been getting information from the pictures he’s drawn. A child’s drawing offers a lot of information if you look close enough. I have also built some groundwork of trust so we can move forward into other areas of play.”

“Play? I thought we were here for counseling?”

“With children the play is the counseling. They don’t have the capacity to convey their feelings in words. But, in play, their emotions come out.”

“I hope so,” Chase said.

“Trust the process; you’ll see that it works wonders if you let it.”

“I will, for now. All we want is for him to be happy.”

“I understand—that’s my goal, too. I’ll see you next week at the same time.”

“Goodbye,” Melissa said apologetically. “We’ll be here next Wednesday.”

Chase and Melissa took Jeremy from the therapy room. Melissa was just as uncertain about the sessions helping, but was willing to be more patient and open minded then her husband.

“What was that all about?” Melissa asked as they got into the car, keeping her tone conversational so Jeremy wouldn't know they were arguing.

“I was trying to get answers.”

“By being rude?”

“I only wanted some straightforward answers and not psychological runaround.”

Melissa sighed. “I understand that you haven’t had good experiences with psychologist, but I think she’s doing a decent job.”

“A transsexual? How much money are we paying a week for that?”

“So it isn’t something you wanted to hear, but it’s the truth.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to hear it,” Chase said. “I want her to fix it.”

“And what if it’s a lifetime thing, what if Jeremy goes through life thinking that he’s a girl?”

“Jenny is girl,” Jeremy spoke up from the back seat.

Chase ignored the child's declaration, though his eyes betrayed his frustration. “Then we deal with it.”

“You say deal with it, but something tells me you wouldn’t deal with it very well.”

The remainder of the ride was spent in silence.

Chase brought Jeremy to the psychologist, it was the first time he would view a session. He lifted Jeremy out of the back seat of the red Le Baron convertible and carried him into the doctor’s office.

“Mr. Milan and Jenny, hello,” Dr. Eagan said in her customarily cheerful way.

“I had off today,” Chase offered the explanation even though it wasn't asked for. “Melissa recommended that I come and see a whole session before jumping to conclusions.”

“That’s fine,” Dr. Eagan said and then turned her attention to Jeremy. “Would you like to go into the playroom? I’m sure the dolly misses you.”

“Yes, yes,” Jeremy said and was let down. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he ran to the therapy room and found the doll still lying in the shoe box where he left her the week before.

“Come,” Dr. Eagan said as she led Chase to the adjoining room. “Let’s talk for a while and let Jeremy play alone for a bit.”

“Sorry about last week,” Chase said. “I guess I didn’t come off that good.”

“You were fine.” Dr. Eagan took a seat and motioned for Chase to do the same. “We all have our concerns and issues.”

“I really want him to be happy, but your diagnosis took me by surprise.”

“I can understand that, in a perfect world there would be no need for psychologists, or doctors—or cops,” she added with a grin.

“I guess so.”

“What’s been going on this week?”

“Friday we go before the judge; the social worker assures us that it’s just procedure. Thank you for the letter, by the way. She says there’s nothing to worry about and everything will go through fine.”

“That’s good. You must be relieved.”

“Yes, and Jeremy is doing well with his friend. He’s taking a tumbling class now. Still insists that he’s a girl, but we’ve gotten used to it.”

“That’s good that you're letting him work this out, the worst thing you could do is scold him. He needs to know he’s accepted no matter how he lives, as long as he isn’t a discipline problem.”

“How do you mean?” Chase asked.

“If he is breaking house rules, becoming violent or genuinely misbehaving then he needs to be corrected.”

“If he ever did do something wrong we would correct him, but he is well behaved and eager to please. The only thing I have an issue with is the acting like a girl, but there must be reasons for that.”

“I’m sure that there are reasons and we’ll find them together. Let me go talk to Jeremy for a while.” Dr. Eagan left the room to join Jeremy.

Jeremy smiled as the doctor walked into the room. “Hi, Dr. E.”

“Hi, Jenny. How are you today?”

“I good,” Jeremy said. “Draw?”

“That sounds like a great idea. Would you like to draw a picture for me?”

Jeremy nodded and then sat at the desk with the construction paper. He pulled a pink sheet of paper out of the stack and placed it in front of him.

“I see you picked a pink piece of paper,” Dr. Eagan said. “Is pink your favorite color?”

“Pink second favorite,” Jeremy told her.

“And what is your first favorite?”

“Purple, Jenny love purple,” Jeremy said.

“Purple is a lovely color,” Dr. Eagan said. “Can you draw a picture of you being the happiest?”

“Uh-huh,” Jeremy said and then reached into the crayon bin to grab a black crayon. He drew a big circle in the direct center of the page followed by two smaller circles to serve as eyes. Jeremy then took a red crayon and drew a big smile on the face. Following that Jeremy took a yellow crayon and gave the head long hair, longer than his hair's actually length. He took out a purple crayon and drew a large triangle right under the head, then some arms and legs coming out from it. Jeremy then drew four smaller figures encircling the head and then a rainbow above all of them.

“All done,” Jeremy announced.

“What a very lovely picture,” Dr. Eagan said. “Who are all these people above you?”

“This Case-Daddy,” Jeremy said as he pointed to each image as he defined it, “and this is Missa-Mommy, and this is Kiss-tine, and this is Pipsy.”

“I see and there’s a rainbow above them all.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you look very happy with all of them around you.”

“Yes, very, very happy.”

“And what are you wearing?”

“Jenny in a pretty dress.”

“I see. Do you have a pretty purple dress like that at home?”

Jeremy nodded his head yes.

“Is it your favorite?”

“Uh-huh, Jenny love dresses.”

“Why do you like dresses so much?”

“’Cause Jenny girl now.”

“I see,” Dr. Eagan expected that answer, the child never wavered in his notion that he was a girl. The doctor decided to shift gears and go where she originally planned. “Would you like to play a new game?”

“’Kay,” Jeremy said.

“I’m going to hold up a picture card and all you have to do is tell me a story about what is happening in the picture. Do you understand?”

Jeremy nodded and Dr. Eagan took a pack of eight by ten cards from the top draw of a desk in the corner. She held up the first one and showed it to Jeremy.

“What’s going on in this picture?”

“Boy going fishing with daddy.” Jeremy looked at Dr. Eagan for approval of his answer.

“Very good,” Dr. Eagan said and then showed the next picture.

“A ballet princess dancing.”

“Very good,” Dr. Eagan said and then flipped to the next picture.

“No, no!” Jeremy shouted.

“What’s wrong?”

“Boy in trouble,” the worry was evident in his voice.

Dr. Eagan looked at the picture to make sure it was the one that it was supposed to be. The picture showed a man and a boy, they each had a glove on one hand and the man held a baseball in his free hand. “Why is the boy in trouble?”

Chase stood against the window as he looked on.

“Dada gonna hurt. He need run. Run, boy, run!” Jeremy started to get frantic, his legs pumped wildly as he mimicked a sprint.

“He looks happy, maybe his dad isn’t going to hurt him,” Dr. Eagan suggested.

“No, no, smile so Dada don’t hurt, but Dada gonna hurt anyway.”

“Did your Dada hurt you with a baseball?” Dr. Eagan asked as she put the card down.

“Uh-huh.” Jeremy choked on the word. “Dada hurt Je'my.”

Dr. Eagan noticed that Jeremy referred to himself by his male name. “Did you want to cry when your Dada hurt you?”

Jeremy nodded, unable to talk as he fought back the tears.

“But your Dada wouldn’t let you cry or he'd give you more owwies.” Dr. Eagan filled in the pieces from weeks of counseling.

Jeremy nodded again. “He was a bad Dada.”

“Yes, he was a bad daddy, but he's not here and its okay for you to cry if you feel you need to. No one is going to stop you or hurt you here.”

“Can cry ’cause I Jenny. Girls can cry.” Jeremy's tears came in abundance.

“It’s okay for you to cry simply because you're you,” Dr. Eagan said as she opened her arms. Jeremy fell into them and buried his head into her blouse. In the ten minutes he spent being embraced by the doctor it seemed as if he cried years worth of sorrow.

After Jeremy was all cried out, he lifted his head and wiped his nose with his forearm. “All done,” he said as he rubbed his red eyes.

“Are you sure?” Dr. Eagan asked. “If you need to cry some more I don’t mind.”

“All done,” Jeremy said again quietly. “Poor Je’my need me cry for him.”

The split between the child considering himself Jeremy or Jenny concerned the doctor. “I see,” Dr. Eagan said. “I’m going to talk to your daddy Chase now if it’s okay for me to leave?”

“It ’kay,” Jeremy said as he watched Dr. Eagan leave the room.

“That explains it,” Chase said as the doctor walked into the room.

“Explains what?”

“When he first came to us, I tried to play catch with him, but he freaked out. He messed himself, and it was one of the few times he cried in front of me. Now I understand.”

“So therapy isn’t a complete waste of time?”.

“Not at all. I just wonder what that monster did to Jeremy.”

“We may never know all of it, but what is important is that we know something happened that scarred him and so does Jeremy. It's vital that he doesn't keep those wounds hidden, even from himself.”

“I feel sorry for the kid; he must have gone through so much pain before I got involved in his life.”

“The important thing is not how much he went through,” Dr. Eagan said, “but that we help him deal with whatever has been left unresolved.”

“And until he does he’s going to keep acting like a girl?”

“I hate to break this to you,” Dr. Eagan said. “But even after he works through all the problems he might not release his female persona.”

“You mean there might not be a way to fix him?”

“It might not be something that’s broken.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We’ll deal with that when we come to it. How about that?”

“I can live with that,” Chase said, even though he thought the doctor was avoiding the issue.

“Next week, I would like to use anatomically correct dolls, if that’s all right with you?”

“How come?”

“It’s easier to determine if a child was sexually abused by play with anatomically correct dolls. It helps children tell us in their own way without us planting false ideas or memories.”

“It’s okay with me, but let me double-check with Melissa and give you a call.”

“My line is always open. I’m looking forward to seeing Jeremy next week.”

“My wife will bring him next visit, but he’ll see you then,” Chase said and then retrieved Jeremy from the therapy room. The child was eager to give Chase a hug and be carried out to the car.

Melissa drove her car to the doctor’s office and was five minutes early. Jeremy let himself out of the car seat and waited for Melissa to open the door. He shuffled his feet behind Melissa, not being his usual energetic self. Melissa walked into the doctor’s office and Jeremy plodded along after her.

“Hello, Melissa,” Dr. Eagan said, “and hello, Jenny, who is hiding behind her leg.”

“Hello, Dr. Eagan,” Melissa answered for the both of them.

“Jenny, would you go to the playroom while your mommy and I talk?”

“’Kay.” Jeremy dragged his feet to the therapy room. He found the doll he played with, but instead of holding and rocking it, Jeremy placed it on the table and simply looked at it.

“How did the week go?” Dr. Eagan asked as they sat down in the observation room.

“The adoption went fine, all that worry and the only thing we had to do was answer a few easy questions. We got his last name legally changed also. I doubt he remembers his former last name to begin with.”

“Sounds like you’re an official family now.”

“Chase and I are very happy.”

“And what about Jeremy?”

“On the outside he seemed happy the first two days but…” Melissa trailed off.

“But what?”

“His nightmares have increased,” Melissa said. “Poor kid can’t get forty-five minutes sleep until he wakes up screaming and crying. We thought the adoption would make the bad dreams lose their grip. It’s getting scary; the only time he sleeps soundly is the hour nap he gets at daycare.”

“That can be a concern, but let’s remember that he just went through a life altering event with the adoption and perhaps that triggered the nightmares. Also, with therapy, he may remember things that happened in the past as we bring them to the surface; like last week's baseball story.”

“That’s not all. He’s been hurting himself down there again. Chase caught him once and scolded him. The other time he must have done it in bed because yesterday morning there was a bloodstain in his pull-ups.”

“I know,” Dr. Eagan said. “You called and told me about both incidents on my voice mail. I waited until you came with Jeremy to discuss it instead of calling you back. It may be related to the dreams,” Dr. Eagan said. “Have you talked to him and told him why it’s important not to hurt himself?”

“We’ve talked, we’ve begged, we promised toys, clothes, or anything else we could think of,” Melissa was almost frantic. “Nothing works, he’ll go a few days without hurting himself and without warning he does it again.”

“I know it’s upsetting,” Dr. Eagan soothed. “But try not to get discouraged. Together we will find the answer.”

“What is the answer?”

“For each child it’s different. It would be easier if there was a one-size- fits-all answer, but unfortunately we have to discover a new solution for each person.”

Melissa looked through the window and watched as Jeremy stared at the doll. “Find the answer for him please. I hate to see him hurting like this. I don’t know how to kiss it and make it better.”

“You’re part of the answer, and so is Chase. Love is one constant to the healing process, young and old alike. I’m going to talk to Jeremy, as I understood the message you left you approve of using the anatomically correct dolls.”

“Whatever can help him.”

Dr. Eagan left the room and appeared on the other side of the one-way mirror. “Hello, Jenny. How are you today?”

“Me sleepy but ’kay,” Jeremy said in a borderline whine.

“Your mommy said that you weren’t sleeping well.”

“Uh-huh.” Jeremy kept his eyes focused on the doll, keeping vigil as Melissa did when he was in bed.

“Bad dreams can be very scary.”

Jeremy nodded.

“Can you remember any of the dreams?” Dr. Eagan asked, thinking she could decipher what was bothering the child subconsciously.

Jeremy shook his head no. “Just know very scary.”

“I know.” Dr. Eagan frowned. “It's okay that you don't remember, a lot of people don't remember their dreams.”

Jeremy didn't reply, choosing to keep his attention on the doll.

“Would you like to play a new game today?”

“’Kay,” Jeremy said lethargically.

“I have a different doll for you to play with.” Dr. Eagan placed an anatomically correct male baby doll on the desk.

“Boy.” Jeremy labeled the naked cloth doll with the plastic head.

“Yes, it is a boy doll.” Dr. Eagan was surprised the child so readily categorized the doll as male. Evidently Jeremy knew the physical differences between the genders; he was simply not applying them to himself.

“He need clothes,” Jeremy said, then giggled.

“I want us to pretend something,” Dr. Eagan instructed. “This baby boy is Jeremy before he moved in with Chase and Melissa. Can you pretend that way for me?”

“’Kay,” Jeremy said in a soft voice.

“And you can be your old Dada.” Dr. Eagan was careful to name people as the child did in order to keep from confusing him. 'Daddy' was Chase, whereas 'Dada” was his biological father. “Can you pretend that for me?”

Jeremy nodded.

“Go right ahead. I’ll watch.”

“Boy need clothes,” Jeremy said once again, his voice stern, with an undercurrent of anger.

“There are clothes in the chest in the corner,” Dr. Eagan said.

Jeremy walked over to the corner and looked into the chest. He dug through the clothes and found a T-shirt that was a bit worn. He went over to the doll and roughly placed the shirt on it.

“Stupid boy sit here. I’ll get you yummies.” Jeremy threw the doll into the chair and then stomped over to a play sink and grabbed a plastic dish. He slammed the dish onto the desk in front of the doll and then placed a plastic hamburger onto the plate. Jeremy then knocked the food to the floor with his elbow.

“Dumb basta’d, now no yummies for you.” Jeremy pulled the dish off the desk and threw it into the sink. “Go to bed, no dinner.” Jeremy ripped the doll from the seat and threw the doll in the corner. He went into the other corner of the room and lay down near the door.

Dr. Eagan looked on; certain the child was not done. She didn't want to interfere with the role-playing, even though she was taken aback by his action and different demeanor.

Jeremy stood up; his eyes had a distant gaze in them. He walked over to the resting doll and picked it up by the neck. “Stupid basta’d mistake, no sleep for you,” he yelled at the doll. With his free hand, he struck the doll as hard as he could. He repeated this action over and over, hitting the doll both on its body and its face while choking it.

On the other side of the mirror, Melissa looked on in horror. She felt nauseated by what she saw and was overcome by a sense of hollowness that struck her to her core. In an instant she was overwhelmed by sadness, anger, and hatred. She wanted to turn her eyes away, but couldn't. Luckily the scene was blurred by her tears.

“Dada hate you. Dada kill you,” Jeremy shouted as he threw the doll onto the floor as hard as he could. Jeremy started kicking the doll repeatedly until he ran out of energy and could kick no more.

Jeremy looked down at the mess that the doll had become, its plastic head was caved in and the limbs were tangled about. He looked around the room and saw Dr. Eagan standing in the corner. He then looked back at the doll and realized that he must have caused the damage, even though he did not recognize the results of his actions as his own.

Dr. Eagan noticed the child's countenance change. As he returned to reality his eyes softened and his shoulders relaxed.

Jeremy fell to his knees in front of the doll. “Me sorry, me sorry,” Jeremy cried as he lifted the doll up with the gentleness he usually showed. He held the doll out to Dr. Eagan. “Me sorry, me break, me bad. Jenny bad.”

“You aren’t bad. You were pretending to be someone that you aren’t. Dada was bad. He shouldn’t have treated you that way.” Dr. Eagan embraced the child and let him cry in her arms. She needed to collect herself as well. Though she was a professional, Dr. Eagan wasn't immune to the emotions of the situation. There was still more to be done in this session, but she needed the child to be calm before they could go on.

“Bad Dada,” Jeremy sobbed. “Bad Jenny,”

“You’re not Dada,” Dr. Eagan consoled, “you were only pretending. I understand that you were pretending. Jenny is a good child.”

“Never be Dada,” Jeremy stated strongly.

“That’s right. You never have to be like that. You can choose how you want to behave.”

Jeremy pulled away from the doctor slowly and sat down at the desk.

After Jeremy had a chance to collect himself, Dr. Eagan eased into the next area she wanted to address. “Jenny, I want to ask you some very important questions and I hope you can answer them.”

“I try.” Jeremy rubbed the remaining tears from his eyes.

“Has your Dada ever touched you in a place that felt uncomfortable or dirty?” Dr. Eagan was aware that Jeremy might not understand the question and was ready to explain further.

“Dada never ever touch Jenny dirty.”

“I see,” Dr. Eagan understood that the child had separated the lives of him as Jeremy and him as Jenny. “Did he ever touch Jeremy in a dirty place?”

Jeremy shook his head no.

“Did he ever touch Jeremy here?” The doctor lifted the shirt from the doll and pointed to the genitals. Dr. Eagan knew she was leading the child, but since there wasn’t a legal proceeding, she had some leeway.

Jeremy once again shook his head no.

“Did Dada ever make Jeremy touch him there?”

“No,” Jeremy said with a confused look on his face, unsure why the questions were being asked and why anyone would want to touch someone else there.

“How about Momma, did she ever touch Jeremy there?”

“No, no, no one touch Jeremy there dirty, just clean.”

“What is a clean way to touch there?” Dr. Eagan leaned forward in her chair.

“In bath with soap,” Jeremy made it sound obvious.

“Who touched like that?”

“Missa-mommy.”

“Was it for a long time?”

“No, just clean.”

“I’m going to talk with your mommy now; if you like you can stay and play with anything you like.”

“Was it for a long time?” Melissa quoted Dr. Eagan when she entered the hidden room. “What was that about?”

“I was seeing if he understood the difference and one never knows what will happen.”

“The fact that he knew was disturbing enough, but trying to see if I did anything. Why I never.”

“Let me ask you this. If Jeremy came to me a year ago with his biological parents, would you want me to ask if he was being hit despite any concern for their sensibilities?”

“Yes,” Melissa answered, even though her impulse was to not answer.

“That’s what I did, except it was you here instead of them.”

“I can see your point, but it’s still unsettling that you asked.”

“From what I can tell, he likely wasn’t molested. He knows the difference between good and bad touching, a lot of television shows stress that nowadays.”

“One of the sitcoms we watched the other day had something on about it, but we didn’t think he understood.”

“He seems to be a bright child,” Dr. Eagan said, “even though the past is holding him back. Like his speech, for example, it comes and goes; now baby talk, then more appropriate for his age. Hopefully we can free him from his past and deal with the issues at hand.”

“Like him thinking he’s a girl?”

“I’m probably going to address that next week. We did a lot this week; he got a lot of pent up aggression towards his parents out.”

“By beating up the doll?” Melissa was confused.

“It was a little role reversal and he took control of the situation and had the power to quit.”

“Looked like he was upset about the outburst.”

“He was and that isn’t a bad thing. He’s dealing with it and that’s important.”

“I trust your opinion. I’ll see you next week at the same time.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Dr. Eagan led Melissa to the therapy room.

“Hi, sweetie,” Melissa said as she got down on one knee.

“Hi, Mommy.” Jeremy wrapped his arms around Melissa’s neck and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Are you okay?”

“I good,” Jeremy said as he looked at the doll he straightened out after Dr. Eagan left the room and put in the shoe box where he kept the other doll that he was so fond of playing with.

“How about we go home? It’s Daddy’s turn to cook and he loves it when you help.”

“’Kay,” Jeremy said while being lifted to be carried out to the car.

It was Wednesday and Melissa found herself once again sitting in a small room with a one way mirror. She watched as Jeremy took a doll out of a shoe box and began to cuddle with it. She waited patiently for Dr. Eagan to join her in the secret room.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Dr. Eagan said as she entered. “I had to double-check something in my notes.”

“That’s fine, we were early today.”

“How has everything been going, enjoying parenthood?”

“Things have been going well this week, which was surprising after his outburst last week.”

“Really?”

“He only had one nightmare this week, and it wasn’t that bad. I mean he didn’t wake up, and if I wasn’t watching him sleep I would have never known he had one.”

“It’s good that he's sleeping. I guess that means you’re having more restful sleep as well.”

“Yes, and he still is helpful around the house, always willing to give someone a hand.”

“He must feel like he’s a part of the family.”

“I think so,” Melissa said. “We’ve grown attached to him and it’s like I raised him from birth.”

“That’s natural from some adoptive parents. He’s lucky to have you looking out for him.”

“And we’re lucky to have him part of our life.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Dr. Eagan said. “I’m going to talk to Jeremy and will see you after the session as usual.”

“See you then.” Melissa watched Dr. Eagan walk out of the room.

“Hi, Jenny. How are you today?”

“I good, Dr. E,” Jeremy said and put down the doll he was playing with.

“I was hoping we can play a new game this week.”

“’Kay.”

“I have two dolls and I would like you to pick the one most like you, can you do that?”

“Uh-huh,” Jeremy said as he sat in the desk waiting for the doctor to present the dolls.

Doctor Eagan placed two anatomically correct dolls in front of Jeremy. One doll was female; the other was the male doll Jeremy pummeled the week before. Jeremy eyed them carefully.

“Choose whichever one you believe correctly matches you,” Dr. Eagan said.

After a few minutes consideration, Jeremy held up the female doll. “This one,” he said

“Does that one look like how you look under your clothes?”

Jeremy sheepishly nodded his head yes, knowing he was different from the doll, but thinking that somehow he was really a girl.

“Do you have a vagina?” Dr. Eagan asked bluntly trying to see how Jeremy handled conflict.

“Not yet,” Jeremy said quietly.

“You have a penis, like this one right?” Dr. Eagan held up the male doll.

“Uh-huh,” Jeremy admitted that his body was physically a boy.

“This doll is a boy—”

“But Jenny girl,” Jeremy interrupted before Dr. Eagan could complete the trail of logic.

“But girls don’t have penises.”

“I know,” Jeremy whined.

“So what is going to happen that could make you become a girl?” The doctor secretly asserted that Jeremy was a boy without the child realizing it.

“It fall off.”

“How will it fall off?”

“Magic, ’cause Jenny girl now.”

“What if it doesn’t fall off?”

“Then me make it fall off,” Jeremy said coldly.

“That would really hurt.”

“Me no care! Me girl!” Jeremy stomped his foot down making a loud bang.

“We don’t do that here,” Dr. Eagan addressed the behavioral outburst which was out of character for Jeremy, “I’m going to leave the room and let you settle down. If you don’t, I’m going to have to end our time together for the week. Understand?”

“Yes, Dr. E,” Jeremy said as tears filled his eye at being reprimanded.

“Wasn’t expecting you in here so soon,” Melissa said as Dr. Eagan joined her in the hidden room. Jeremy had his back to the mirror so they couldn’t see what he was doing.

“Tempers were running hot and he started posturing. I gave him a little time out without him noticing it.”

“He seems certain that he’s a girl.”

“I would like to talk to you and your husband about that together. Are you free Friday evening?”

“I’m sure we can be. We can get Christine’s parents to come over to watch Jeremy.”

“Great, I’ll mark it down in my day planner for six.”

“Six is fine, it’s after dinner. Do you have a way to deal with this gender thing?”

“I have some idea, but its better we discuss this with both you and your husband together. This way we can address both of your questions at the same time.”

“I’ll make sure Chase knows and we’ll both be here.”

“Good, let me see if Jeremy has settled down.” Dr. Eagan left to join Jeremy in the other room.

As soon as the door opened, Jeremy spun around and hid something behind his back.

“What are you doing?” Dr. Eagan asked.

Jeremy didn’t respond, he looked down to avoid eye contact and continued hiding something behind his back.

“Let me see what’s in your hands.”

Jeremy showed his hands to the doctor. In his left hand he held a blue Bic pen, there were flesh colored threads on the tip.

“What did you do?”

Jeremy stepped aside and let the doctor see the doll on the table. He had gouged out the boy doll’s penis with the pen and all that remained was a deep, blue hole.

“Oh my, I’m sorry, Jenny,” Dr. Eagan said very calmly, “but you’re going to have to leave for the day. You know better than to do that to someone else’s property.”

“No go, no go, no go, me sorry.”

“I know you’re sorry, but those are the rules. I’ll see you next week at the same time and I’m sure you’ll behave at that time. Let’s go find your mommy.”

Dr. Eagan held out her hand and Jeremy took it without protest. They walked out to the hallway, where Melissa already stood waiting.

“I’m so sorry,; I don’t know what came over him.”

“I think I understand what happened.”

“If you need us to, we’ll gladly pay for the doll.”

“That’s okay, I know where to send it to get fixed and I have spares.”

“Me real sorry,” Jeremy said. “I be good girl next week.”

“I’m sure of that,” Dr. Eagan said as she led them out the door.

Dr. Eagan walked back to the therapy room to retrieve the doll. The problem with Jeremy was as severe as she concluded and the destruction of the doll's genitalia only solidified her concerns. Outside of the child's psychological problems, Dr. Eagan also worried about whether the parents would accept the course of treatment she was going to recommend.

“Thank you both for coming.” Dr. Eagan showed Chase and Melissa to her office.

Chase pulled out a chair for his wife. “When Melissa said you might have a solution I couldn’t pass it up.”

“There is an avenue think we should pursue, but ultimately the decision is yours.”

“We understand, after all we’re his parents.” Chase smiled proudly, still getting use to the idea of officially being a father.

“First of all Jenny is a lovely child, very well behaved and except for the incident earlier this week, a total joy to have in my office each week.”

“You mean Jeremy,” Chase corrected. “I know we indulge him with the girl's name and feminine attire, but we're adults, we know better.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Dr. Eagan leaned forward in her chair.

“Yes,” Melissa said, “Chase and I are concerned about him acting like a girl; we have been from the beginning.”

“The problem is not that he’s acting like a girl.”

“It sure looks like the problem to me,” Chase said shortly.

“He’s not acting like a girl in spite of himself. He honestly believes that he is a girl and that’s where the conflict arises. One that pits his masculine body against his feminine self-image.”

“You mean like he has multiple personalities?” Chase asked.

“Not exactly, with multiple personalities you have two or more distinct personalities sharing the same mind and body,” Dr. Eagan explained. “Jenny only has one personality and that personality is female.”

“How do we fix it?” Chase asked impatiently.

“I have talked to several people, specialists in gender identity disorder.” Dr. Eagan's method of getting to the point didn't change even though Chase pressured her to go quicker. She remained calm, even, clinical self as she continued. “They have viewed the tapes I’ve made in order to help me decide the proper course of action.”

Chase tapped his fingers against the desk. “It sounds like you’re stalling.”

“Chase, please.” Melissa nudged her husband hard in the ribs. “Dr. Eagan, please continue.”

“Everyone that I spoke to has formed the same conclusion and suggested sexual reassignment surgery.” Dr. Eagan decided to no longer beat around the bush.

“Sexual what!” Chase said as he sprung to his feet.

“Sexual reassignment surgery. It’s—”

“I know what it is,” Chase interrupted. “Snip, snip, cut, cut, mold and then he looks like a girl. But Jeremy isn’t a girl. He will never be a girl. Even though you can change the faucets, you can’t change the plumbing.”

“If you mean he won’t bear children, that’s correct. Mind you, a lot of women never conceive.”

“And how about when he is older and wants a relationship, he won’t know that pleasure either.”

“The surgery procedures have advanced greatly and in most cases sexual stimulation is retained.”

“This is crazy. He still will grow up to look like a boy, no matter how you dress him up. Guys have different builds, different faces than women do.”

“That’s true, males do have different features,” Dr. Eagan agreed. “But many of those differences are caused by high levels of testosterone that shape what a male looks like. Looking at Jenny now, you couldn’t tell one way or another. You won’t have to deal with an issue like that until the mid-teen years and let’s face it, there are women who have broad shoulders and typically male facial features. With hormone treatments in the teen years, there’s no reason Jenny should look any different than other girls.”

Chase sat back down, slumping like a boxer who took one too many on the chin. “It’s so unnatural, so weird. How could this happen?”

“There are medical reasons for this, if your concern is about it appearing unnatural. Many researchers think activity in the hypothalamus plays a big role in gender. Research shows that transgender male individuals have activity that’s on par with that of females as opposed to typical males.”

Chase ran his hand over his face, clearing imaginary sweat while trying to think rationally about the problem and not let his emotions take over. “It’s a drastic course of action to take, him being so young. Don't you think something like this should wait? He may grow out of this.”

“It is drastic and I didn’t come to this conclusion without carefully considering all the factors that pertain to Jenny. My main concern was with the self-mutilation. She has an extreme hatred towards her male genitals, and she can seriously hurt herself. I don't see that threat ever ending.”

“But he hadn’t been hurting himself these last three days,” Melissa chimed in; knowing it was a hollow objection, but the proposed operation took her off guard.

“It’s not a question of if she’s going to hurt himself, but when. I don’t mean the pinching either.” Dr. Eagan placed the once anatomically correct doll with the blue hole where the genitals once stood on top of her desk.

Chase stared at the item in disbelief. He heard from Melissa what happened during the session. Now he was face to face with the proof.

“You see what she did to the doll. I don't think it was coincidence that the week before this doll represented Jeremy during our session, nor do I believe she forgot the fact. One day she is going to try to do the same thing to herself, and the damage can be irreversible, even fatal.”

“We don’t want that,” Melissa said.

“What will other people say?” Chase asked. “Won’t he be seen as an outcast?”

“Have people said anything yet? She’s been living as a girl for over a month now,” Dr. Eagan said. “Besides, is that the most important thing, more important than the child's safety?

“Of course not,” Melissa answered for her husband. “No one has said anything at daycare. They don’t even know that he’s a boy. Even Christine, who oddly enough has seen him naked, doesn’t even view him as anything but a girl.”

“Jenny is very comfortable living as a girl, and having people view her as such,” Dr. Eagan said.

“And what happens if he changes his mind?” Chase countered. “Then what?”

“The likelihood of that happening is virtually nil. Right now, her inner person needs to pair with a female outer shell. Jenny is in a prison at the moment and that prison is her own body.”

“And you suggest we release him from this prison,” Chase said sarcastically.

“It would be better to get it out of the way before Jenny starts school; it would avoid a lot of problems which could occur in that setting.”

“We should never have let him dress in skirts,” Chase said. “I should have seen this coming.”

“That may have been the best thing you’ve ever done for her,” Dr. Eagan said. “Her rate of recovery from what he went through with his biological parents is phenomenal. I think that if you forced her into a masculine role, one which she does not fit into, she would still be hiding behind your couch like when you first brought her into your house.”

“There’s another question we have,” Chase said. “How much is this going to cost? I really don’t see my insurance covering something like this.”

“I have talked to a specialist; he and his partner are willing to do it for fifteen thousand.”

“That’s a lot of money,” Melissa said, “I don’t know if we could afford that.”

“I know how to get the money,” Chase said. “Can you give us a few days to think about it? This isn’t something I want to make a snap decision about.”

“Certainly,” Dr. Eagan said. “I look forward to seeing Jenny Wednesday.”

“Yes, we’ll see you then,” Chase said as he opened the door for his wife.

Chase and Melissa walked over to the little red convertible in absolute silence, each thinking of what had been said in the meeting. Chase opened the passenger side door and let his wife in. He got behind the wheel and tilted his head back until it hit the seat.

“I think we should do it,” Melissa said as if she were thinking out loud.

“I don’t know; it’s extreme.”

“I was only letting you know how I feel, but it has to be your decision. It's not an easy choice. Whatever you choose I’ll support you. Just make sure you’re doing what you believe is right and not what you think others will say is right. Deal?”

“It’s a deal, let me let all this information settle in and let me calm down before I decide.”

The drive continued in silence, except for the radio playing softly in the background.

When Chase and Melissa arrived home, Jeremy and Christine were playing with their dolls in the living room as Neesa watched. J.D. and his wife Karen were sitting at the kitchen table playing cards.

“How did it go?” J.D. asked.

“They want us to change him,” Chase said flatly.

“That’s what counseling is about,” Karen said. “Isn’t it?”

“Not that way,” Chase replied. “I mean they want us to make him a girl.”

“Oh?” J.D.'s eyes grew wide “Are you going to do that?”

“We don’t know yet,” Chase said. “It’s a big decision.”

“Do what’s best for the child, we’re all behind you either way,” J.D. said like he was speaking for the force. “We know what that kid went through and no one is going to hold it against you.”

“That means a lot, but I’m going to really need to put a lot of thought into this.”

“Let us know what you choose,” Karen said. “We’ll throw a party or something.”

The rest of the evening was spent talking about anything but the possibility of surgery. The couples talked about work, about tumbling classes, about the daycare. They talked about everything but the one thing that each of them wanted to address. At eight o’clock, J.D., and Karen decided to go home so they could get Christine ready for bed on time.

Melissa took Jeremy upstairs and gave him a bubble bath in order to get him ready for bed. Chase sat on the bed and listened to the laughter that emanated from the bathroom. He tried not to think about the issue at hand, but was unsuccessful. All he could do was try to concentrate on the laughter any time thoughts of the possible surgery came to mind.

'When I was four,' Chase thought, 'all I could wait for was for dad to get home so we could play ball. I was hoping Jeremy would do the same thing. Be a regular father and son, the way things are supposed to be.'

After fifteen minutes, Jeremy emerged from the bathroom. Chase watched the child wearing his pink night gown, the outline of girls’ panties clearly visible underneath; Jeremy was the epitome of four-year-old femininity as he walked toward Chase.

“Hi there, Jenny.” Chase smiled.

“Hi, Case-Daddy,” Jeremy answered as he jumped into Chase’s arms.

“Are you clean?” Chase detected the odor of strawberries in Jeremy’s hair.

“Jenny all clean.”

“Are you ready for bed?”

“All ready for a story,” Jeremy said with a sly smile on his face.

“Okay, let’s go.” Chase stood up with the child in his arms. He walked the short distance to Jeremy’s room and pulled the covers down before placing the child onto the bed. “Did you have a fun day with Christine?”

“Yes, yes, fun all day,” Jeremy sang.

“That’s good. You know we went to see Dr. Eagan today to talk about you?”

“Dr. E. mad?”

“She wasn’t mad,” Chase reassured.

“Jenny bad last time, hurt dolly.”

“We know. But she isn’t mad, as long as you don’t do that again.”

“Jenny be good girl.”

Chase gave a strained smile. The child's comment was indicative of his current dilemma. “I wanted to ask you something important.”

Jeremy sat up in his bed. “Okay, Case-Daddy.”

“Doctor Eagan knows a way to make you a girl like Christine.”

“Me girl too!” Jeremy stated firmly.

“I know,” Chase said to defuse the situation. “But Doctor Eagan knows a way to make your body match Christine’s.”

“Really?” Jeremy got excited.

“I have to ask you a very important question and I need you to think about the answer before telling me.”

“’Kay.”

“Are you sure you’re a girl and not just pretending to be one? Melissa and I love you either way.” Chase knew he was getting into an abstract area, but wanted to get all the information he could before making a decision.

Jeremy stared up at the ceiling and scrunched his face like Melissa did when she was balancing the checkbook. The child took some time to answer. “I real girl,” Jeremy answered.

“Would you want for Dr. Eagan to make your body look like Christine’s, like a regular girl’s?”

Jeremy placed his index finger on his chin, and looked like he was really considering the answer. Jeremy knew that his body was different from his best friend’s, and he figured that one day that difference might come into play. “I want be real girl all over,” he finally answered.

“It would mean surgery.”

“So?” Jeremy didn’t understand where Chase was going. He child didn't even know what surgery was.

“That means a doctor would have to fix you and it’ll hurt for a while.”

Jeremy understood pain well. “Owwies?”

“For a little while, yes.” Chase didn’t want to minimize the facts of surgery.

“I be girl all over?”

“Yes, after the surgery you’ll look like a girl all over. That is if you want? You don't have to do it if you don't want to or if the tiniest bit of you wants to stay a boy.”

“Me want be girl, me want be girl, me want girl,” Jeremy said almost in song.

“Once it happens, you can never ever go back to being a boy,” Chase said, unsure if he was speaking the truth.

“Me no want be stinky boy, me be girl.”

“I think I understand. I still have to think about it. Good night, tomorrow we’ll do something fun as a family.”

“Nigh’, nigh’, Case-Daddy.”

“Night, Jenny.” Chase gave the child a kiss on the forehead. As soon as he had walked out of the room, Neesa jumped up on the bed.

“That didn’t help at all,” Chase said to himself outside the child's door. “I was hoping he would've said something that would take the problem out of my hand. For Pete's sake, he could've shown some doubt, even a crumb. He could've faltered in his conviction that he was a girl, but no such luck. Maybe if Jeremy flinched just once in his answers, then it would have made the decision simple and I'd get what I wanted; a son.”

Chase shook his head as he walked to the living room.

“So, did it help?” Melissa asked once Chase sat down on the couch.

“Did what help?”

“I figured you went into her room, took the shade off the lamp and interrogated the poor little girl under the pressure of a bare hundred watt bulb.”

Chase chuckled and shook his head. “No, I didn’t. So you’re following Eagan’s lead and calling him a girl now.”

“I think it’s obvious and we have to accept it. Whatever parts of him that were male were probably killed along with his parents.”

“This is a huge step. I don’t want to make a mistake and ruin his life further.”

“Whatever you choose, I’ll support you. But, make sure you decide what is best for her and not what’s best for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? This is the second time you brought it up.”

“I know you worry about what other people will think and say.”

“I’ll choose what’s best for everyone concerned, I promise.”

“That’s all I want.” Melissa gave her husband a kiss and rested on his chest as they decided to watch the movie and let the issue rest for the night.

It was early in the morning when Chase woke up. He didn’t have to go to work but wanted to spend some time alone. He put on a pair of blue cotton shorts and a gray 'property of the Lebanon police Dept.' T-shirt. He took his wife's car and after a short drive, Chase found himself at Cedar’s Point, a national park which was rarely visited by most of the small town residents. He put the car keys underneath the passenger seat and stretched for what was to be a spirited run.

He jogged to the appropriate trail; the park offered several. Though Chase hadn’t been down this trail for several years, he knew it well. It began as a three-mile run, a torrid pace in which Chase spared no energy until he reached his desired destination. A small wooden bridge over a slow-moving stream was the only evidence that other men had been to this spot. As a child, Chase would often be wading in the stream with his father, fishing rod in hand.

Though they often didn’t catch any fish, Chase many fond memories of this place. He remembered the day he found out his father was gunned down in the line of duty, he rode his bike to this very place and sat on the very stone he was sitting on today. He hadn’t been to this place since then, the day he said goodbye to his father. He would have chuckled at the no fishing sign, which was new, if he hadn’t had heavier thoughts on his mind.

“What on Earth am I going to do?” Chase said out loud, still trying to catch his breath. “What’s the correct answer? What's the right thing to do? He does seem to want to be a girl; he definitely acts like one. But, what about all those dreams, me teaching him how to throw a curve ball, him helping me work on cars, I don’t know what to teach a girl. Maybe that’s the problem; I’m looking at this whole situation by how it affects me. I shouldn’t be going about it this way. What’s best for him? Or is it what's best for her—that’s the question I need to ask.

“Dr. Eagan says his body is a prison, maybe a prison like his old house was; something that only causes him pain. I freed him from that prison and that was the right thing to do. Perhaps that’s what I’m meant to do in this situation. It looks like he's more certain about this than I am. I want to make him happy and that seems to be what would make him the happiest. But if he changes his mind later on, can it be reversed? Maybe if I consider the worst that could happen. If I force him to remain a boy and that’s something he doesn’t want to be, what would be the worst to happen? He takes matters into his own hands, he winds up cutting it off with a scissors when no one is around to know he did it and one day I wake up and find out he’s dead.”

Chase shook his head trying to fight the nausea from picturing such a scene.

“I don’t know if I could live with myself if that happened. What if I let him go through with the operation and he changes his mind? I guess there’s nothing for him to cut off, and I guess we could find a way to change it back if that’s possible. But I don’t see him hurting himself anymore. Let me talk to Jeremy one more time, let him know what’s at stake.”

Chase ran the rest of the loop, back to where he parked the car, not pounding his feet as hard as he did the first leg. He drove back to the house and joined his wife and child for breakfast.

“Where were you this morning?” Melissa asked as she saw her husband take off his shirt.

“Out thinking,” Chase said.

Melissa chuckled at her husband. “More like out stinking, throw that in the wash.”

“I came to a conclusion,” Chase said when he returned from the wash room.

“That was quick.” Melissa didn't need to ask what conclusion, it was evident by the way Chase said his words.

“I needed to get away from everything to clear my head. I want Jenny to know exactly what it’s going to cost.”

“I was wondering about that. How are we going to get fifteen grand? We won’t qualify for a second mortgage yet.”

“There’s something that I own that’s of value.”

“You don’t mean…” Melissa trailed off, knowing exactly what Chase was referring to.

“Exactly! I want her to know what it is we’ll be giving up.”

Melissa was in shock. There was only one material item that her husband owned that he loved above all things in the world, possibly even more than he loved her. To him there could never be a monetary value placed on the Corvette. “But that's your father's car.”

“This isn't the first time I thought about selling it.”

“Yeah, right!” Melissa wasn't going to allow her husband succumb to denial. “If it came down to paying the mortgage or keeping the 'Vette, you'd live out of that car rather than part with it.”

“After my father died, I couldn't even go to the garage because of the pain of being near the thing. It was doubly so for my mom. That car was my dad for all intents and purposes. He put his soul into that car. When I was born, the car was a burnt out shell, from what my mother told me. He built it piece by piece for my first four years of life. Anyway, my mother could see the car being neglected, but she didn't push me. She gave me the option of selling it and I would get to keep the money. At the time, I really wanted a four-by-four. I almost sold it, I knew the car represented to my mom exactly what it did for me and she would have been as relieved as I would have to see it go. In the end, I couldn't go through with it, but I was close. But this is for Jenny and I'd be damned if I'll let a car come between her and happiness.”

“By the way you said her I can guess your decision.”

“My decision is to let Jenny decide, but she needs to know the cost. After all it’s her life.”

Chase sat at the table and ate a slice of toast while Jeremy finished his breakfast. As soon as he was done eating, Jeremy walked over to Chase. Chase lifted the child onto his shoulder and walked to the seldom-used garage.

“Jenny,” Chase said, “do you remember what I told you last night?”

“Uh-huh,” Jeremy nodded.

“Do you remember how I said that Dr. Eagan knows how to make you a complete girl?”

Jeremy nodded again.

“I have decided to let you make the decision, it’s your body and Melissa and I will love you whatever you choose.”

Jeremy’s face lit up.

“But, before you answer, you need to know something. The surgery is expensive and there’s only one way I know how to pay for it.” Chase put the child on a workbench and then grabbed the corner of a green tarp, pulling it off the item it was protecting. As soon as the green tarp hit the floor, Jeremy saw the pristine black classic 1964 Corvette Stingray.

“Pretty car,” Jeremy said.

“It’s very pretty. This car used to be my father’s and when he died, it was left to me. I loved my dad, and he loved two things, his family and this car. This was his most prized possession and it used to be mine, that’s until you came into my life. If you choose to have the surgery I’ll have to sell this car and I’ll miss it very much. But it would be worth it if it made you happy.”

“No more Case-Daddy daddy's car.”

“No. I would have to sell it to pay for the operation,” Chase said again.

“Case-Daddy mad, no car?”

“No. If you’re absolutely sure about the surgery and it’ll make you happy, I won’t be mad. But I want you to be certain,” Chase emphasized, “understand?”

“Case-Daddy love Jenny?”

“I love you very much, much more than a silly car.”

“Make Jenny all girl.”

Chase assumed as much. “Is that what you really want?” He already knew the answer.

“Yes,” Jeremy said.

“On Wednesday we’ll tell Doctor Eagan and she will set it up.”

“Jenny love Case-Daddy,” Jeremy said as he leaped into Chase’s arms and was led back to the kitchen.

“It’s settled,” Chase told his wife. “I’ll go over to Ray’s classics and sell the ’Vette.”

“So the surgery is a go.”

“Yes,” Chase said.

“And we’re going to sell the car today?”

“No. Only I'm going to. I’ve had a long standing offer with Ray for years, twenty thousand.”

“That would cover the surgery but are you sure you want to do this so quickly?”

“The more I put it off the harder it’s going to be. I’d rather sell it today and get it over with instead of dragging it out for a few extra days.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“I never drive it anyway. Maybe it can go to someone who can really appreciate it,” Chase said sardonically.

Chase sat on a chair for a few minutes, cradling Jeremy. He looked down as the child drifted in and out of sleep, and somehow he knew he was doing the right thing. After a while, he put the sleeping child on the couch. He decided he would take Jeremy to the park once he got back from selling the car.

After his shower, Chase got dressed in more appropriate clothing for what he was about to do. He put on khaki pants, knowing that his jeans had rivets on them that might damage the interior. He put on a cotton-collared pull-over shirt and after he moved the cars around in the driveway, he opened the garage door.

Chase settled into the black and white bucket seat, the leather was so soft he practically sank behind the wheel. He put the key into the ignition and the old Chevy roared to life. It was only the second time that Chase drove the car since his wedding day and it would be his last. The only other time he drove the classic was from his mother’s house to the one he was living at now. He also took it out once a year to the local car show so he could display it to obviously envious men. Despite the lack of use, or maybe because of it, the Corvette drove like it came off the factory line five minutes ago.

Chase got out of the car, entering the classic car showroom to the surprise of the perpetually tanned owner.

“Do my eyes deceive me,” Ray said. “Or are you taking her out for a spin for a change,”

Chase grinned. “I know you said if I ever wanted to sell, you were willing to buy.”

“My offer hasn't changed. But how come?”

“My daughter needs an operation, and my health insurance won’t cover the procedure.”

“I heard something that you’ve adopted a kid. I hope it isn’t anything that can’t be easily corrected.”

“It should be one straight forward surgery,” Chase said, not wanting to go into details, “but it needs to be done.”

“It’s unfortunate that you have to go this route, but I understand the need.”

“So you’ll honor your previous offer?”

“Yeah,” Ray said. “Twenty thousand.”

“Deal.”

“Wait right here, don't change your mind and I’ll cut you a check.”

Chase wandered back to the car, and rubbed the chrome bumper with a terry cloth rag. He remembered how his dad would do the same thing every weekend and how he would help wax the car every month.

“Here you go.” Ray handed over the check.

Chase handed over the keys, the signed over title and a piece of his father.

“Do you need a ride home?” Rat asked.

“I’ll walk.”

Chase turned his back to the car and headed off towards his home. He tried his hardest not to look back, not to back out of the deal. His bank was on the way home, so Chase stopped to deposit the check. It was a lot of money, almost a half a year’s pay, and it would go towards making his child happy. Then Chase walked home, it took him a good hour and a half to finish the journey.

Chase stood in the empty garage, looking at the green tarp that lay on the floor. He could still smell the leather as he walked around the empty space. A small discarded box sitting in the corner contained a few pages of literature about the car. Chase decided to rummage through it one last time to see if it contained anything Ray would want. A copy of the original invoice and dealership advertisements were beginning to yellow. A folded sheet of typewriter paper lay beneath the stack, Chase carefully opened it.

Dear son,

If you’re reading this then something happened to me before you turned sixteen. The things I’ve enjoyed most in life were the times we spent together working on the car. I hope in my absence you can enjoy the car with your son, if you’re ever blessed to have one. But, if you ever need to sell the car because your mother is sick or the family is in need, Do NOT HESITATE! As much as I love the car, I love you and your mother a million times that. And if destroying the car would mean that you would shed one less tear in life then I would have done it with happiness. Use the car as it serves you best, it’s just a possession and possessions are material, they are just things. But love and happiness are immaterial because they are how people feel. You must always choose them before anything else. I wanted to have this talk with you myself in person on your sixteenth birthday; I’m sorry that I wasn’t there. I love you and I know you’ll make me proud,

Dad.

Chase folded the paper and put it to the side. He wiped a tear from his eye; marveling at the timeliness of the note and wondered why he hadn’t gone through the box at some other time before now. Jenny walked in on him, as another tear streamed down his cheek.

“Case-Daddy sad car go bye?” Jenny said.

“Yes and no,” Chase said.

“I sorry,” the child said as she wiped the tear off with her hand.

“You don’t need to be sorry. I want you to be happy, as happy as you can be. I think this surgery is the only way to make you happiest. I love you, little girl, more than any silly car.”

“And Jenny love Case-Daddy.”

Chase lifted the child and gave her a big hug. Chase finally realized that she was daddy’s little girl and soon she would be free from the prison of a masculine body. All the thoughts of father and son went away. Chase imagined how life would be with Jenny; ballet recitals, ice-skating lessons and growing up to be every bit the woman that Melissa was. It wouldn’t be a bad life at that.

Jenny would have the surgery, would continue with the counseling sessions, and the past would have less of a hold on her. The nightmares would diminish and love would abound from her parents. After a time, she would forget her life as Jeremy, and would face everyday problems as most children were mean to. But, right now, Jenny was happy, and loved, and God blessed the child.

You made it to the end of a long story and I do have one small request, if you have the ability would you be so kind to leave a review on Amazon.com it would be a nice way for you to say thanks and it would help me greatly.