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Authors: J. G. Faherty
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Without waiting to see if the first attacker was back on his feet, she ran up Main Street to the diner, where her father was just coming out the back door to make the nightly bank deposit.
“Dad!”
The sight of him, and the safety he represented, triggered her tears, which made her rushed explanation even harder to understand.
“Whoa, settle down. Are you hurt? Did they touch you?”
Maya nodded against his chest. “I’m okay. They knocked me down. I kicked one of them in the balls and ran.” She wrapped her arms around her father, relishing the strength and security of his presence. Even his odor, part sweat and part food, made her feel safer.
Keeping a firm grip on her, Roger Blair guided his daughter back into the diner, where he sat her down and then called the police.
Ten minutes later, Police Chief Clayton Finley, a gruff, pot-bellied man whose daughter had been Maya’s babysitter back in middle school, pulled up outside, lights flashing atop his olive-green SUV.
“I’ve got Ted Barry cruising the side streets,” he said, after making sure Maya hadn’t been hurt. “I didn’t see anything on my way here, so that fellow whose ‘nads you smashed must not have been hurt too badly. Or maybe his friend came back for him. You didn’t happen to see a car, did you?”
Maya shook her head. “No. I was just walking, and all of a sudden they hit me from behind.”
Finley made notes in a small pad. He had a habit of licking his pencil each time he wrote, which started to annoy Maya after the first couple of times. “Prob’ly hiding in the hedges, waitin’ for someone like you to walk by alone. Dammit, Maya, you should know better than to be out by yourself this late at night.”
“I was on my way home. I didn’t know our town was so dangerous I needed a police escort.”
“Easy, Maya,” Roger said, patting her hand. “Clayton, we both know the kids always walk around at night. These streets are supposed to be safe.”
Finley shrugged beefy shoulders. “Every year the big city gets a little closer to our island. I keep telling the mayor we need more help. I can’t do this job with just two officers.”
“Well, I’ll take Maya home tonight. Does she have to make a formal statement or something?”
The Chief shook his head. “Nah. Not unless we catch the bastards. Then I’ll ask her to come in and identify them. Sure you can’t remember anything else?” he asked Maya.
“No.” She’d already given the Chief a description of the two men.
“All right. I guess I don’t have to tell you to stay off the streets at night for a while, unless you’ve got friends with you. Sounds like these two mighta been homeless or something. Heaven knows why they came here.”
God, why wouldn’t he shut up? All she wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed with a hot cup of tea. “No, I’ll be careful from now on,” she said, more to reassure her father than anything else. Truth was, she knew none of her friends, or her, were going to stay off the streets just because some derelicts tried to mug her.
“Then, I’ll get going. We’ll patrol the area extra tonight, just in case. Maybe we’ll get lucky and catch them heading back to wherever they came from. ’Night, Roger.”
“’Night, Clayton. Thanks, again.” Roger looked down at Maya. “Ready to go?”
“God, yes. Um, do we have to tell Mom?”
“What do you think?”
Maya rubbed her eyes.
“I think it’s gonna be a long night.”
* * *
“Damn you idiots to the seven Hells!” Gavin shook his fists at Nigel Murphy and Ian Powell as he stalked back and forth across the museum foyer. Miniature explosions of electricity, like tiny balls of St. Elmo’s fire, shot from his knuckles, illuminating the sailors’ frightened faces. “You let a girl best you in a fight!”
“Bloody girl wasn’t supposed to fight back,” Powell muttered. Murphy remained silent, the pain of Maya’s well-placed kicks still fresh in
Without waiting to see if the first attacker was back on his feet, she ran up Main Street to the diner, where her father was just coming out the back door to make the nightly bank deposit.
“Dad!”
The sight of him, and the safety he represented, triggered her tears, which made her rushed explanation even harder to understand.
“Whoa, settle down. Are you hurt? Did they touch you?”
Maya nodded against his chest. “I’m okay. They knocked me down. I kicked one of them in the balls and ran.” She wrapped her arms around her father, relishing the strength and security of his presence. Even his odor, part sweat and part food, made her feel safer.
Keeping a firm grip on her, Roger Blair guided his daughter back into the diner, where he sat her down and then called the police.
Ten minutes later, Police Chief Clayton Finley, a gruff, pot-bellied man whose daughter had been Maya’s babysitter back in middle school, pulled up outside, lights flashing atop his olive-green SUV.
“I’ve got Ted Barry cruising the side streets,” he said, after making sure Maya hadn’t been hurt. “I didn’t see anything on my way here, so that fellow whose ‘nads you smashed must not have been hurt too badly. Or maybe his friend came back for him. You didn’t happen to see a car, did you?”
Maya shook her head. “No. I was just walking, and all of a sudden they hit me from behind.”
Finley made notes in a small pad. He had a habit of licking his pencil each time he wrote, which started to annoy Maya after the first couple of times. “Prob’ly hiding in the hedges, waitin’ for someone like you to walk by alone. Dammit, Maya, you should know better than to be out by yourself this late at night.”
“I was on my way home. I didn’t know our town was so dangerous I needed a police escort.”
“Easy, Maya,” Roger said, patting her hand. “Clayton, we both know the kids always walk around at night. These streets are supposed to be safe.”
Finley shrugged beefy shoulders. “Every year the big city gets a little closer to our island. I keep telling the mayor we need more help. I can’t do this job with just two officers.”
“Well, I’ll take Maya home tonight. Does she have to make a formal statement or something?”
The Chief shook his head. “Nah. Not unless we catch the bastards. Then I’ll ask her to come in and identify them. Sure you can’t remember anything else?” he asked Maya.
“No.” She’d already given the Chief a description of the two men.
“All right. I guess I don’t have to tell you to stay off the streets at night for a while, unless you’ve got friends with you. Sounds like these two mighta been homeless or something. Heaven knows why they came here.”
God, why wouldn’t he shut up? All she wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed with a hot cup of tea. “No, I’ll be careful from now on,” she said, more to reassure her father than anything else. Truth was, she knew none of her friends, or her, were going to stay off the streets just because some derelicts tried to mug her.
“Then, I’ll get going. We’ll patrol the area extra tonight, just in case. Maybe we’ll get lucky and catch them heading back to wherever they came from. ’Night, Roger.”
“’Night, Clayton. Thanks, again.” Roger looked down at Maya. “Ready to go?”
“God, yes. Um, do we have to tell Mom?”
“What do you think?”
Maya rubbed her eyes.
“I think it’s gonna be a long night.”
* * *
“Damn you idiots to the seven Hells!” Gavin shook his fists at Nigel Murphy and Ian Powell as he stalked back and forth across the museum foyer. Miniature explosions of electricity, like tiny balls of St. Elmo’s fire, shot from his knuckles, illuminating the sailors’ frightened faces. “You let a girl best you in a fight!”
“Bloody girl wasn’t supposed to fight back,” Powell muttered. Murphy remained silent, the pain of Maya’s well-placed kicks still fresh in
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