Free Buried in a Book by Lucy Arlington Page B

ran straight away to Mr. McGregor’s garden, and squeezed under the gate!’”
    I touched my fingertip to the glass protecting the photo as though I was caressing my son’s cute little face. “Oh,Trey. I’m afraid you’ve lost more than a blue jacket with brass buttons this time.”
    TEN MINUTES LATER , a dark blue Ford Explorer pulled into my driveway. Officer Griffiths got out and opened the passenger door for me. Looking at his tired face and concerned eyes, I resisted the urge to sag against his broad chest in the hopes he’d wrap his arms around me. Instead, we drove to the Dunston Police Department in silence.
    Inside the station, our footsteps echoed on the tiled floor. Vacillating between anger and anxiety, I searched for Trey. In the main area, two policemen at steel desks were typing on computers. Behind a counter sat a stern woman in uniform who looked up as we approached, holding out papers. Officer Griffiths handed me a pen and showed me where to sign, then pointed to one of four empty chairs set in a row against a wall.
    “Wait here,” he directed, giving my arm a quick squeeze. “I’ll get Trey, and then I’ll drive you both back home.”
    “Thank you,” I said, disconcerted at how weak my voice sounded. Lowering myself into the plastic seat, I thought about what to say to Trey. His obstacle course would cost me a fortune. I’d never be able to afford that charming cottage on Walden Woods Circle now. In fact, I’d be lucky to have a dime left to my name once I’d covered the school’s damages and paid Trey’s court costs.
    A bark of laughter disrupted my brooding, and I glanced up. The two officers were chuckling at something on a computer screen. Movement in the hall made me turn to see Officer Griffiths and Trey walking toward me. Trey shuffledwith his head bent, a mop of shaggy hair obstructing his face. His UNC Tar Heels shirt was covered with dirt and grass stains. I rose from my seat, resisting the urge to hoist up his baggy jeans.
    “Trey, what were you
thinking
?” Despite my resolve to stay calm, my voice blared loudly in the room.
    He shrugged. “I dunno.”
    Officer Griffiths put his hand on Trey’s shoulder. “Let’s get you two home,” he said, looking at me. “I’m sure you’d rather hash this out in private.”
    The drive was uncomfortably quiet. I wanted to blast Trey and had to bite my lip to stop my anger from pouring out. Instead, I aimed piercing looks in his direction. Officer Griffiths tactfully kept his eyes on the road and said nothing. Trey sat in the back, with his mouth pinched in what I hoped was remorse. The tension was palpable, and I think we were all greatly relieved when Griffiths pulled into our driveway.
    Trey shot into the house before I even stepped out of the truck. Turning off the ignition, Office Griffiths opened his door. “Go easy on him,” he said as he walked me up the front path. “He seems like a good kid. And at least he had the sense to not drink and drive.”
    I nodded, appreciating his voice of reason. “I’ll try. Thank you so much for everything, Officer Griffiths.”
    “You’re welcome. And please, Lila.” He tilted his head. “I think we can dispense with the ‘Officer Griffiths,’ don’t you? Call me Sean.”
    I nodded. “I’d better go in. Thanks again…Sean.” His name tasted good on my lips, like I’d just sipped a fine glass of wine.
    We shook hands, even though what I really wanted to dowas lean into him for support. The warmth of his fingers lingered on mine as I watched him back his truck out of the driveway. Taking a deep breath, I walked into the house.
    Trey was lying on his bed, earbuds firmly inserted and eyes closed. Still dressed, one of his blue-jeaned legs rested on the other, a foot bobbing in time to the beat. Swallowing my irritation over seeing his shoes on the bed, I touched his shoulder. “Trey,” I said loudly.
    His eyes popped open. He yanked out the earbuds and sat up. “Mom.” He