Free Land of Careful Shadows by Suzanne Chazin

the boy’s legs apart and shoved him hard against the SUV. Kenny went to protest. Vega yanked the boy by the back of his shirt. “How does it feel when someone threatens you? Huh, cabrón? ”
    â€œDad! Stop it!” Joy tugged on her father’s jacket. “He didn’t hit me.”
    Vega kept a tight hold on Kenny’s shirt as he turned and looked at his daughter. Her eyes were slightly swollen, her black mascara smeared enough to resemble one of those pouty ingénues on MTV. But that could have been from crying. She wasn’t bruised or bleeding. There were no markings on her face.
    â€œI saw him,” Vega insisted. “Through the car window. I saw him bring his fist down.”
    â€œI was trying to recline my seat. It wouldn’t budge so he had to bang on the headrest.”
    â€œIt’s true, Mr. Vega,” Kenny gasped. “I didn’t hit her.” Vega released Kenny’s shirt and stepped back. His heart was pounding at the thought of what he might have done to the boy. He felt no better than that rookie Fitzgerald. He braced for Kenny’s anger but saw something shrunken and defeated instead. Whatever Vega had interrupted this evening, it had already been going badly before he’d finished it off.
    Joy paced the sidewalk, her black high-heel boots clicking on the pavement, her silver bangles jangling as she pushed her bangs out of her face. She’d always been one for drama.
    â€œWhat are you doing here, embarrassing me like this?” she demanded. “I’m not five years old anymore. You can’t spy on me like this.”
    â€œI wasn’t spying. I’m working a case with the Lake Holly PD. I was interviewing people in the neighborhood. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
    â€œIt’s okay, Mr. Vega.” Kenny looked pretty shaken up but he muscled the quiver out of his voice and tucked his shirt back into his jeans. “No harm done.”
    â€œNo harm?” asked Joy. “He could have killed you.”
    â€œJoy”—Kenny patted the air and gave her a reproving look—“It’s okay.”
    She folded her arms across her chest and bit down hard on her lip. She was still a child with her emotions, Vega noticed, trying them on like a flashy pair of shoes whether they fit the occasion or not. Kenny, he suspected, had no such luxury. There were some emotions—anger, jealousy, regret—that he simply couldn’t afford.
    â€œI have to go now,” said the boy. “I have to finish my homework.” He nodded over his shoulder to a wood-frame colonial. The front porch sagged. Paint peeled in ribbons from the siding. The house had originally been a one-family. Judging from the number of mailboxes by the front door, Kenny, his parents, and three sisters now shared it with three other families.
    Kenny shot a quick glance at Joy. Vega caught something pained in the gaze. “See you,” the boy said softly. Then he hustled up the front porch steps.
    â€œCall me,” Joy shouted after him. Vega heard the desperation in her voice. He felt the hurt as if it were his own. Kenny didn’t answer as he opened the front door and disappeared inside.
    Joy stood next to her mother’s Mercedes, bobbing up and down in her black boots. The temperature had dropped and the skimpy Pepto-Bismol pink jacket she was wearing wasn’t nearly enough. Vega sloughed off his navy blue police Windbreaker and draped it over her shoulders. The shoulders of the Windbreaker sloped down her tiny frame and the sleeves dipped below her fingers. Vega zipped it up for her like she was still in preschool.
    â€œI can do that myself,” she said with a trace of embarrassment.
    â€œI know. Sorry.” He stuffed his hands in his pants pockets. He could feel the cold bite right through his shirt.
    â€œNow you don’t have a jacket.”
    â€œI’m okay. Maybe you could drive me down to the