“Yeah. So?” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his battered jeans.
“It’s the same bike that we caught on CCTV the night Nikki’s car was vandalized.”
Toby shook his head. “No, it wasn’t.”
“Yeah, it was,” Pierce argued, still calm. “We have the tapes to prove it.”
Color infused the boy’s face. “I wasn’t—”
“Yeah, you were,” Pierce said, cutting him off. Firm, but in control. “You’re angry at Nikki, and probably at the whole world, and no one’s blaming you for that. But you lashed out, and this time you committed a crime.”
“So what’re you, now?” Toby said, leaning back against the window. “A shrink?”
“You know what I am,” Pierce said calmly.
“Yeah, my mom’s damn partner, and you didn’t save her,” he charged, his voice cracking a little. “Isn’t that what partners are supposed to do?”
“It wasn’t Pierce’s fault,” Nikki said, unable to hold her tongue a second longer. “It was mine. I made a bad mistake and she … she tried to save me.”
“And ended up dying!” he said, his chin wobbling before he clamped his jaw tight and kept the tears glistening in his eyes from falling. “And you’re right. It is your fault. All your fault!”
Nikki crumpled inside, all her guilt knotting her stomach, but it was something she had to live with. Toby had to live with. Everyonehad to live with. “I know this sounds trite, and might not mean much to you, but I’m sorry. Truly sorry.” Her own damned voice caught, and she cleared her throat.
“Big fuckin’ deal! Sorry isn’t good enough! It won’t bring my mom back, will it?” He sniffed and glared at Pierce, his jaw beneath his thin beard shadow rock hard. “And now, so what? You’re here to arrest me?” His voice was rising again, and through the window, Nikki saw Bart leap from his La-Z-Boy and storm to the door.
Pierce said, “I’m here to make you an offer.”
“What?” Toby asked. “Like a plea deal? I’ve seen those on TV.”
“No. It’s different. Nikki is not going to press charges, and we’re going to forget the incident with the car ever happened, but you need to consider moving into the garage apartment at our place.”
“Hey, what?” Bart yelled as he shoved open the screen door and it banged against the house. “He’s not goin’ anywhere!”
“I think it’s up to him,” Pierce said, his voice firm but calm. What Nikki referred to as his “cop voice.”
“He’s a goddamned minor!” Bart’s face was flushed, his eyes glittering, his right hand fisted. “You tell them, boy; you tell them you’re not goin’ anywhere!”
“He can emancipate himself,” Pierce said. “If he needs an attorney—”
“Who the hell are you, puttin’ ideas into his head like that? I’m his fuckin’ father. His legal guardian!” Bart’s face was flushed, his nostrils flared, his fist still clenched. “He ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
“Is it really my decision?” Toby asked.
“It could be, yes.” Pierce was nodding, but his eyes were on Bart. “And I told you we have a place for you. Attached to the house, but your own apartment.”
“Oh, no way!” Bart growled.
Nikki said, “We talked it over. You’re welcome to stay there, go to college once you graduate, or trade school, or get a job. Whatever you want.”
“Now wait a fuckin’ minute,” Bart cut in and jabbed a thumb at his chest. “I’m the one who makes those decisions.”
“Until he turns eighteen or takes you to court,” Pierce pointed out. “Either way, it’s only a matter of months.”
“I don’t know,” Toby said.
“Of course you don’t.” Bart glowered at his son. “You’re just a kid.”
Nikki held the boy’s gaze. “It’s up to you, Toby. No matter what your dad says. You’re almost an adult.”