Free Amber Eyes by Mariana Reuter Page A

High.”
    The chubby guard had to be an idiot. Edward had never said I was on his team—he just assumed. Not that I complained. In the perilous situation I was in, I would take any break I could get—including stupidity. The redheaded cop turned toward Edward with a curt movement. Her bristled hair, so orange and so crisp, looked more like copper wire than hair. Edward stood at attention.
    “You guys participated in yesterday’s match, didn’t you, son? At ease.”
    Edward changed his posture moving his right foot out to his shoulder width and reached both hands behind his back. “Yes, officer. I’m the team’s captain.”
    “Saw you. I was at John Adams High yesterday. You were goalkeeper, weren’t you?”
    “Yes, officer, that’s my position,” Edward had been about to say something else, but the redheaded cop raised her hand and stopped him. Evidently, she didn’t have time to chat about soccer matches. Rather, she produced a walkie-talkie and pushed some keys.
    “Inspector Steel, do you copy? This is Holt,” she said.
    Edward said nothing else but stood respectfully silent. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Edward’s should be the right way to answer to any authority, with efficient and direct statements.
    “Inspector Steel, do you copy?” she insisted.
    A male voice burst out of the walkie-talkie. “Steel speaking. Over.”
    “Inspector, this is Holt at the Greyhound station. The girl’s not here. According to the staff, a teenage girl arrived about half an hour ago, but she was traveling with adults and doesn’t fit the description. Over.”
    Static.
    “To hell with the description Holt, it’s useless. The Olsen woman has described five different outfits the girl was supposed to be wearing. Over.” The radio squawked.
    I’d been right. Mrs. Olsen had spilled everything. I clenched my fists.
    “Uh-huh. So, what are your instructions? Should I check the roads in case she’s trying to hitchhike? Over.” She pursed her lips.
    Yes, go and check the highways. Get the hell out of here.

    “Negative. The witness said the girl was planning to travel by Greyhound and had money. Ask the manager for access to the security video and locate the segments where that girl you’re talking about appears. I’ll drive the witness to the station so she can take a look. Hope she can confirm the identity when she views the tape. Two people were assaulted tonight by a 14 year-old girl and there’s a reason behind it. I have a theory, but I need the girl to be sure. Over.”
    I bit my lip. I’d talked too much. I should have said nothing to Mrs. Olsen.
    “Roger that, Chief. I’ll get that tape. Over.”
    “We’re on our way. Over and out.”
    Holt sheathed her radio with a Wild West gunman’s move. No further comment and she strode back inside, forsaking the chubby station guard on the spot. I finally opened the restroom door and stared at the guard, giving him a fake smile, hoping to hide my anxiety.
    The guard looked at me and shook his head. Then he followed the redheaded officer inside.

July 2, 2:30 am
    Edward and I stayed in the yard. He bobbed his head signaling towards the interior, but I shook mine—I wouldn’t talk because I was afraid my voice would break like a scared li’l’ kid’s, which maybe I very well was. Besides, my mouth was so dry, I doubted I could talk at all. He shrugged, pulled his red cap down to his eyebrows again, crossed his arms and leaned on the large window, looking into the sitting room.
    The canopy barely covered us from the drizzle, but I didn’t mind. Going back into the sitting room would have been suicide. Through the window behind me, I could see the redheaded cop pacing the room. Now and then, she’d address the tickets girl and the guard and would go in and out of the station several times. Every time she returned into the waiting room, she gave me an empty feeling in the pit of the stomach.
    Deep relief filled me when our bus pulled in the yard some minutes