Chapter 6 - The Paper Trail
The red-and-white strobe of emergency lights painted the brick walls in violent pulses. Paramedics worked over Evelyn on the sidewalk, slipping an oxygen mask over her face while Marcus stood by his shop window, furiously deleting comments from his viral post as the live-stream chat began asking about police involvement.
Arthur held Toby by the wrist—not painfully, but with an inescapable grip that felt like an iron band. “Sit on the cruiser’s bumper, Toby. Don't make this difficult.”
“I’m not going anywhere without her!” Toby yelled, struggling against the investigator’s grip with every ounce of strength he possessed. “She saved me! They were locking me in the basement in Clark County! She came and got me!”
Arthur didn't flinch. He adjusted the manila folder on the hood of the police cruiser. “Your grandmother never filed for legal custody. When she took you from the licensed group home, it was classified as non-custodial abduction. The state closed the case after six months because they couldn't locate her address. She didn't have a lease. She didn't have a bank account. She kept you off every school roster in three districts.”
Toby stared at him, tears carving clean trails through the street dust on his cheeks. “She taught me at home. We read every day. She bought books from the thrift store instead of food for herself!”
“Love isn't a legal defense against felony child concealment, son,” Arthur said flatly, pulling out a set of carbon-copy intake forms. “She has no pension, no health insurance, and now, forty thousand dollars in unpaid medical debt from her last cardiac admission under an alias. Look at her, Toby. She can barely support her own body, let alone an eight-year-old child.”
Toby looked. Across the sidewalk, the paramedics were lifting Evelyn onto a gurney. Her eyes were half-closed behind the clear plastic mask, searching blindly through the flashing lights until they found Toby’s face. She reached out one trembling, vein-lined hand, her lips moving silently behind the plastic.
I’m sorry.
“Grandma!” Toby screamed, tearing himself free with a violent jerk that ripped his blue t-shirt at the collar. He dashed toward the gurney, but two uniformed police officers stepped into his path, catching him under the arms and lifting him off his feet.
Marcus watched from his doorway, holding his phone in both hands. He wasn't filming anymore. He was staring at the viral balance screen: over sixty-five thousand dollars had been contributed to the crowdfunding link attached to his store’s business account.
As the ambulance doors slammed shut with a heavy mechanical thud, Arthur took Toby’s arm again, steering him toward the back seat of the state sedan.
May you like
“Where are you taking her?” Toby sobbed, kicking at the cruiser’s floorboards.
“County hospital, secure ward,” Arthur answered, shutting the door. “And you’re going to the regional intake center until the state decides your placement.”
