why didn’t you throw them away with the wallet?”
“What?” She sounded surprised. “You actually want some other stranger picking them up and using them?”
“You trying to tell me you pocketed my cards so no one else would use them?” How naive did she think he was?
“Yes.”
“You think I’m stupid? That I’ll believe that crap?”
Her slight frame bowed away from him like a willow branch, as though she could break free just on the strength of her willpower. Despite her weakness, her helplessness in his arms, tension resonated in her. She might be down, but she wasn’t out. Not yet, but he could tell how close she was to the end from the tremor that ran through her body as though she’d just run a marathon. Her legs shook and he was holding up much of her weight. What there was of it.
He admired her fight, her unwillingness to give in, even if he wouldn’t cut her a break.
“Let go.” She strained against his hold.
He didn’t budge. “Nope. You just broke the law, lady. Where I come from, we punish people for their mistakes.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Everyone has choices. You just have to make the right ones.”
“Spoken like a man who’s never wanted anything.” Her bitterness rang loud and clear. “You’ve obviously never been starving.”
He thought of how many times Cash Kavenagh, when he’d still been sheriff of Ordinary and Austin’s Big Brother, had caught Austin Dumpster-diving behind both the restaurant and the diner on Main Street scrambling for leftovers. Austin’s stomach had been so hollow he’d thought he would die if he couldn’t find something, anything, to cram into his mouth.
More times than he could remember, Cash had bought him food because his mom had spent all their money on booze and cigarettes. Big Brothers weren’t supposed to buy their Littles gifts, but Cash had.
Once, he’d caught Austin smoking up behind Chester’s Bar and Grill, because any escape for Austin from the numbing drive of keeping his mom’s head above water was a blessing. But Cash had caught him and warned him away from drink and drugs with a simple lesson. He had tossed the twelve-year-old into a jail cell for the day so Austin would see how it felt.
If Austin got into trouble, who would take care of his mom? As much as the routine of the child taking care of the mother had worn thin, he loved her. She never would have survived on her own. Not then. He knew she could now. She didn’t agree with him.
That day, Cash had stepped out of the sheriff’s office for a while and had returned with the best winter coat Austin had ever owned, and mittens and a hat, too. The guy had achieved godlike status that day. No one, certainly not his father, had ever cared enough about Austin to give him anything.
Cash had scared him straight, and had cared for him enough that Austin had stayed straight ever since.
“Don’t make assumptions,” Austin ordered. “I’ve gone hungry, but I never stole a wallet in my life.”
She struggled in his arms. “Bully for you.”
Austin chuffed out a laugh and tightened his grip. “That the best you can do? It’s pretty lame.”
“I might be a thief, but I don’t swear.”
“You’re strange.”
“And you’re holding me too tightly. What are you? Some kind of perv looking to cop a feel?”
She was trying to get a rise out of him, probably hoping he’d get so mad he’d let go so she could get away. Not a chance. People said rude things to cops all the time. This was nothing.
“I’m not a pervert, but you were right about the cop part.”
He appreciated how she stilled in his arms, got a kick out of shocking her. Good. Maybe she’d think twice before robbing someone again.
“Gotcha,” he said. He could feel her pulse in her wrist under his thumb, and her panic sizzled like bacon on a griddle.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m a cop. You just robbed a sheriff’s deputy.”
“Crap,” she whispered, not sounding so tough now.
“You picked the wrong person to rob this time.”
“There is no this time. I’ve never stolen a wallet before in my life,” she said, defiant, and he believed her. No experienced thief would have been so clumsy.
“Why did you do it?”
He sensed her pride warring with misery before she bit out, “I’m hungry.”
In those two words, he heard the stark terror he used to feel. He heard a hell of a lot more than just, I missed lunch. Her tone whispered, My body hurts and I’m scared I might never eat again.
She didn’t smell clean. She needed a shower and to shampoo her short, greasy hair. Her cheap, ill-fitting clothes needed a good launder. Her breath wasn’t so great, either. He knew homelessness when he smelled it.
“If you need money, get a job.”
“Easy for you to say. Do you have any idea how hard it is? Even when you want to?” Her voice cracked, but she forged on. “I don’t have money. I went in there for breakfast. I wanted food, but I wasn’t asking for charity. I told them I would work for it. They wouldn’t let me wash dishes. They wouldn’t let me sweep the floors. I even offered to clean their toilets. I wasn’t asking for a freebie, but they kicked me out anyway.”
He eased her out of his arms, but held on to one wrist while he studied her. The hollows under her cheekbones and the dark circles under her eyes tugged at him. He remembered how exhausting hunger was.
But he’d been a kid. She was an adult. On close inspection, he figured she had enough miles on her tires to be nearer to thirty than twenty. So how had she fallen so low?
Everyone had a story, and sometimes the fall wasn’t such a long drop. His mom came to mind. With that thought, Austin knew he wouldn’t press charges.
When he’d caught her, he’d scared her. When he’d mentioned jail, he’d witnessed an unholy terror shoot through her. Maybe she’d learned a lesson today.
Before he went back inside, he needed his stuff back.
He held out his hand. “My money.”
She stared at the bills crumpled in her fist. During their struggles, she’d had the presence of mind to hold on to them. Slowly, as if it physically hurt, as though her fingers were crippled with arthritis, she opened her hand enough to pass him the money.
“Here,” she mumbled, but her eyes said mine. No doubt about it, she had a fierce need.
He bent down to pick up his wallet and
