The Bad Boy of Butterfly Harbor(32)
“Even if they’re not using them, it can’t hurt to up the safety and security.” Luke followed her through one of the rickety, rusted swinging gates. Storybook-like and small, but serviceable, the buildings had real charm. It was a shame more of the cabins weren’t being used. “I’m in the process of making a list of recommended security items for residents, something Harvey can make sure to get in stock easily at the hardware store. Which one’s Abby’s?” He’d make it a point to double-check her doors and windows before heading back to the station.
“The one over there.” Holly pointed to the left, but all he saw were thick shrubs and flowering plants. This area could do with a serious pruning, if for no other reason than to increase visibility. As Holly continued on, Luke could smell the faintest hint of roses drifting off her skin, and the scent mingled with the morning air.
“Well, someone was definitely here.” He pushed a solitary finger against the door of the other cabin. It squeaked open. “Wait here for a minute, please.” Luke stepped inside and swallowed against the stale smell of alcohol, dirt and cigarettes the ATF would never have approved. A collection of sleeping bags was huddled against the far wall, as if their occupants had unexpectedly scrambled for freedom out the open window in the galley-style kitchen. Empty beer bottles and cans were strewn about, along with take-out food containers from fast-food restaurants and a pizza box from Zane’s, which was near the diner. Luke’s stomach soured as memory and sympathy slipped in, but not before he decided to pay the liquor stores in town a visit to nicely remind them selling to minors meant they could lose their licenses.
He heard Holly step into the cabin and bit his tongue to reprimand her for ignoring his request to remain outside. Whoever had been in here was long gone. She’d be safe.
“I’d say they’ve been squatting here for quite a while.” Luke nudged a worn backpack out from where it had been wedged into a corner and did a quick inventory of its contents, including a school ID and... His brows knitted as his hand brushed against something metal and solid. He read the ID. “Kyle Winters. Looks as if you and Simon may have been right about him.”
Holly winced, her silence piquing his curiosity.
“What?”
“I didn’t want to say in front of Simon, but Kyle reminds me of you. How you were,” she added as if afraid of offending him, but it took more than the truth to offend him. “Bad home life. His father’s spent more time in the station’s holding cell than...” She broke off, shrugged. “Let’s say he’d give your father a run for his money in the criminal-charges department. Only difference is, Kyle’s mom is part of the problem. She bails Rex out every chance she gets, blames herself, blames Kyle. Pleads with the court, promises her husband will do better. They go to counseling, things are okay for a few weeks and then it starts over. It’s a cycle no one believes will ever end, but no one’s been willing to push back.”
“Maybe it’s time someone did.” He dug deeper into the backpack.
“Maybe.” Holly nodded. “And maybe you’re the right person to get through to him. To both of them. You might want to ask my dad— What’s Kyle doing with a gun?”
Luke hefted the automatic in his hand. “Proving Simon right, it would seem.” Guns and troubled teens were never a good combination. At least the kid had left the safety on. Luke unloaded the clip and clicked the chambered bullet into his palm before he stuck the gun into the waistband of his pants and got to his feet. “Kids will do what they have to in order to feel safe.” In Luke’s case it had been a metal bat. “Especially if they’re feeling backed into a corner.”
Holly locked her hand around his arm, the heat of her fingers practically branding him through his jacket. “I said he reminded me of you, Luke. Kyle’s not you.”
“No, he’s not.” He took a step closer, struggling against the sympathy in her eyes, and found himself wishing she’d never let go. But the last thing he wanted, especially from Holly Campbell, was pity. “But that’s because I had your father to fight for me.”
* * *
“GIVE ME A couple of minutes and I’ll get those shakes ready for you,” Holly told Luke as they entered the Butterfly Diner. “Charlie, Simon’s waiting for you outside on his bike.”
“Thanks!” Charlie scrambled off her stool and grabbed her backpack, a glittery butterfly keychain attached to the zipper glistening in the morning sun. “Mom, I’m going!”