Free As I Breathe (One Breath at a Time: Book 2) by Leilani Bennett

pointed at two bookends in our bookcase.
    The officers’ eyes darted to the figurines—replicas of Jesus Christ on the cross. Their faces filled with hidden anger. At the time, I didn’t recognize the magnitude of what could have happened to me. Instinctually, I knew it wasn’t good.
    I stepped closer to my Dad, and he pulled me onto his lap and held me tightly, and my mom paced the room. She always did this when she was upset. My parents were very protective of me, except of course, when Brett was stealing all of their attention, which might explain part of why this had happened.
    “ You mean he didn’t have any clothes on?” the officer asked.
    From the corner of my eye, I could see my mother’s face crumble. Her eyes squeezed shut, lips pulled inward and a tear streamed down her face.
    I sighed.
    My dad said reassuringly, “It’s okay Brielle, you can tell them. Trust me, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
    The male officer piped in, “You’re father is right...this wasn’t your fault. We need to find this man so he can be punished. We don’t want him to hurt any other little girls.”
    I turned toward my dad and felt quiet tears falling from my eyes. I wasn’t crying for the wolf-like man, only that I felt pressured and ashamed that I’d seen a naked man.
    “Sam, please.” The female officer shook her head then whispered to him, ‘I think that may have frightened her. It’s too much.” She was trying to be discreet, but I heard her anyway. The male officer stepped back.
    The female officer looked at my dad. “Is she okay?”
    “Yes, she is fine. Baby, can you tell Daddy what the man was wearing?”
    “ Daddy...he didn’t have any pants on, not even the little cloth that Jesus wears. It was really gross.” I hugged my father, burying my face into his chest. My mother raced to my side too.
    I told the police officers the one last thing I could remember about the man, his cross tattoo, which turned out to be a very important detail. I learned that day the sign of a cross-tattooed on someone’s arms didn’t necessarily indicate they’re a good person.
    “Thank you so much, Brielle. You’ve been very helpful.” The female officer pulled a cherry lollipop from her pocket and handed it to me. My eyes flashed up to my mother.
    I regretfully sighed, “Sorry. I’m not allowed to take candy from strangers.”
    All the way home from the park, my parents lectured me about never accepting anything, absolutely nothing from a stranger, ever again. In my eyes, even the police lady was a stranger.
    My mother reassuringly said, “It’s alright, Brielle. You can have the candy this one time.” Dang, adults can be so confusing at times!
    The following day, the two police officers returned to our house. My mother instructed me to go to my bedroom but instead I hid in the shadows of the stairwell so I could hear what they were saying. I peeked around the corner and noticed one of the officers was holding the same little puppy that I had seen in the bad man’s car. My heart skipped a beat.
    The policewoman smiled as the puppy licked her face. The male officer said that the terrible man was in their custody . I wasn’t sure what the word custody meant; however, I could tell from their faces it was good news.
    Apparently, the police had found the wolf-looking man several hours later. After he left the park, he crashed his car somewhere on the North Shore of the Long Island into a big oak tree that was, ironically, in the middle of an open field. The man broke both of his legs rendering him paralyzed for life.
    That’s what he gets for being mean to little girls, I thought.
    Both officers and my parents agreed that the odds of the man’s car crashing into the tree, in the middle of an open field was virtually impossible. To them it made no sense. They called it a freak accident. However, it made perfect sense to me; I knew the angels caused the accident. It was an act of revenge. They were the ones who put a