The Eureka Police Station was all sunshine and Santa Claus out front. At nearly half past 9 in the morning, the outer walls glowed with the intensity of the Mall of America at Christmas. Daylight gave the paint an extra dazzle, and the windows reflected the promise of safety and justice, flashes from the sun signaling those seeking aid or refuge. Or coaxing those rushing to liberate a fugitive.

The Tacoma almost clipped one of their cruisers as it skidded to a stop. Mr. Laid-back Surfer Dude had both hands on the dashboard. I jumped out and found Renée inside shouting at the formidable Sheriff de Lude, her voice bouncing off the walls in the oversized squad room.

“There was no assault!” she yelled. Her face was beet red, and several blue veins showed under the skin of her neck. “I asked him questions.” Her thin frame made a curved exclamation point in front of the utilitarian desk of Officer Gerulis. White-knuckled fingers gripped the metal chair she’d tipped onto two legs. “You can’t ask a person questions in this town? What’s wrong with you people?”

“Sit down, Miss Pierce,” Sheriff De Lude said in a resigned tone. He rested his haunches against one of the empty wooden desks, arms crossed, waiting in exasperated repose. The scene was eerily reminiscent of her arguments with our father.

I stepped into the fray, hackles high and gut churning. “Why did you arrest her?” I asked, hoping my voice would defuse my sister’s rage.

“She assaulted a citizen.”

Renée cut in. “Do you have witnesses?” Her dismissal of my intervention struck an age-old chord of antagonism. My inevitable arrival only fueled her ire and escalated her obstinate defiance. I was and always would be the backup band for her hate-metal music.

“I told you to sit, young lady.” Sheriff de Lude’s state of rest gathered potential energy as his command level spiked. He glanced at me. “Is she drunk?”

My head rocked back with a laugh of disbelief, producing a ridiculous echo in the cavernous space. Even Ollie looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

“No chance in hell,” I said, a little too loudly. “No way she gets caught with a bottle. She abhors alcohol. Dear old Dad—”

Renée stepped on my explanation. “Definitely something you’d know about, dear brother. You’re more like him than I’ll ever be.”

The stagnant air filled my gaping mouth, leaving a dry, bitter taste in the back of my throat. It took a hard swallow so I could speak. “I’m trying to keep you out of jail, Sis.” 

“Why?” The question came with a sharp and acidic laugh, flavored with lemon and vinegar, cynicism and resentment. The classic example of a wounded animal lashing out in defense. It was a laugh that held years of pent-up emotions and fractured relationships, a laugh that spoke volumes without words.

She pivoted back to face off with the sheriff. “Our wonderful father drank enough for the whole family. It ruined our lives.”

A low, disdainful snort that reverberated throughout the room accompanied Sheriff de Lude’s scoff. His lips curled the thick mustache into wilted pine needles, dried and bitter, as he let skepticism and disdain flow freely. “I’ve heard it before. Most drunks have the same story, matter of fact. Doesn’t help your defense against the attack of a local citizen one ounce.”

My sister slammed her scrawny body into the chair, petulant teenage-sized arms tightly crossed in overt defiance. Her eyes blazed with anger as she spoke. “You’re just going to let that poor child starve in the woods. What kind of police force is this?”

“We’re investigating,” de Lude said.

Ollie Gerulis feverishly scratched at the paperwork in front of him. He almost looked up once, but tucked his chin when de Lude glanced at his progress.

“I’m telling the both of you,” the Sheriff continued, “there’s no crime here. Just a family squabble.”

Renée stared him down. “What if you’re wrong?” 

The sheriff ignored her. He scowled at me. “I must have done that check a hundred times. Always the same story. Kid disappears, Mom doesn’t know what happened to her. Says probably it’s Dad stole her away and is doing her harm. Kid turns up, playing at camping in the woods, digging up artifacts of some kind with a toy shovel. This chapter’s running a little long is all.”

“I’m just trying to ease Mrs. Peale’s mind,” I said. “That can’t be a crime. My sister thinks she’s helping.”

“Got a complaint,” de Lude said. “Have to follow up.”

“So you arrest me?” Renée raised her hands high, like she was wearing handcuffs the courtroom’s jury box needed to recall.

This time de Lude addressed her directly. “Did you visit Aidan Peale this afternoon, Miss Pierce?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “Did you confront him and call him a lying sack of shit? Did you pick up a pipe and wave it in the air to ‘make him tell the truth’ as you reported to my Deputy?” He poked a thumb at Deputy Spiesz, whose head bounced agreement with the certainty of a bobblehead dachshund. “In this county, that’s called assault, Miss Pierce.”

“Bout right,” Spiesz added, head bobs keeping rhythm. “According to the law.”

“Sheriff,” I said, taking the risk of disrespecting his position and becoming persona non grata number two from the Pierce family. “Since your investigation sounds complete, maybe just release my sister with an apology.”

De Lude barely had time to growl at me before Renée spouted off. “I’m not apologizing! Someone needs to get him to turn Kayla over. She can’t be safe with that lunatic!”

“Answer your question, Mr. Pierce?” de Lude asked without looking at me.

My chin dropped. I shook my head. 

A dozen identical memories of this event ran across the finish line in my mind. In every single one, I saw myself standing hangdog beside my recalcitrant sister, in front of good old Dad, clutching a tattered and useless argument, usually well-crafted and eloquent in its defense of her, and looking like a damned fool, all because my sister couldn’t back down. “Dammit, Renée,” I muttered.

She slouched deeper into pigheadedness, lips pouting with rebellion.

Ollie brought his eyes up above the waterline and peered at my sister with puppy eyes.

“This young woman isn’t going anywhere until we clear the issue,” de Lude stated flatly.

My shoulders dropped in defeat. “All right,” I said. “Your town, your rules.”

“Connor!” Renée stood up, leaning into her accusation, riled at my agreement with her accuser. “What are you doing? We have to find Kayla.” Tears ran down her face. Her skeletal jawline pulsed with rage. This wasn’t about Kayla. This was her big brother letting her down. Just like always, she’d backed me into an unwinnable predicament, only to blame me for failing her.

“Sis,” I said, with a stern scowl. “When you kick my legs out from under me, I can’t stand up and fight for you.” Pieces of my heart broke off inside while I held her gaze. “You called me up here to find the girl. Let me do what you asked. You’re just making it harder.” My hand cupped her prayer-locked fists. “I’ll get it done. I always do.”

Her pleading eyes lasted another long second before she jerked away from me and flopped back into the chair. “You’d better. I’ll never forgive you if… if—”

The unfinished sentence lodged one of those shards of broken heart into my throat.