CAL
The lights of the neighborhood are completely out. There’s not a soul to be seen or heard. It’s just like one of those Wild West ghost towns I’ve seen in movies. This time, though, the battle is real.
I make the quick decision to park Michelle’s car off of the main street and near the back of an ally’s home. That way, if anyone were to come looking for it later, it would be well concealed. As I get out, I grab on to the gun in my back pocket. Even though I am a few blocks from the action, I have no idea what to expect. I have to be prepared.
I duck behind bushes, watching the shadows and the movements of the grass and trees before me. When I finally make it back to my block, I make a mad dash to where I left off at behind the garage of my neighbor’s home. Ace is nowhere in sight, nor are the Coyotes that were attacking the basement door. I can spot it in the distance it looks just as I left it, untouched. I breathe in a sigh of relief knowing Maddie is most likely okay.
However, I’m not ready to move in just yet. Voices shouting start to become clearer the longer I duck behind the side of the shed. The cries are not from battle; they’re shouting something different. It’s angry and confused, but it isn’t directed at men shooting. In fact, I can’t hear a bullet at all.
I sink under the chain link fence separating the backyards and head through the yard. I’m stepping on shell casing after shell casing, and the grass has a filmy red tint to it. Who knows whose blood that belongs to? But still, there is no one to be seen.
As I turn the corner towards the front of the building, I see it: my worst nightmare coming true. A squad of police cars without lights and sirens are right outside our entranceways. There are three men sitting on the sidewalk in handcuffs. The young guns hang their heads low as they follow orders to keep their mouths shut.
Jager is over at the side, calmly negotiating with the police like he always does -- with bribes and empty promises. Jager’s kept the pigs in line for years playing this game, and he knows exactly how to play this. But his cool, collected actions aren’t the reason I’m hearing shouting, and I know I need to go farther in to investigate.
I walk towards the door to see Maddie standing in the alcove. She’s being held back and restrained against the tall leg of a man in a black trench coat. His grip is tightly wrapped around her shoulders as she struggles and wiggles to break free. When she spots me, she lands a kick to the man’s shin, sending him reeling towards the ground in complete surprise.
My daughter runs to me, and I drop my gun in the bushes. The cops dart after her, but she lands in my arms before they can hold her back. “Dad! Dad! What’s going on? Why are these guys here? I just want to go upstairs and go back to bed.”
I pull her in close as it dawns on me. Jager could keep the cops away. He could even talk his way out of problems with the Feds or the Narco units. But messing with the social workers of Child Protective Services is an entirely different situation. He doesn’t have connections, and they are not easy to bribe. Plus, what’s in it for him? Having Maddie out of danger would actually take a burden off his shoulder and free up a room for one of his loyal soldiers to stay.
I catch his eye in the darkness as I drop to my knees and nuzzle Maddie’s mop of tangled hair into my hands and face. The cops look at me, unsure of how to pry her from my side. The injured social worker looms in the background waiting for us to be finished so he can do his job. But I am not about to let go of her that easily.
“Sir!” One of the brave cops come towards me, his hand hovering near his weapon holster, “Please let go of the child so Child Protective Services can take her into custody.”
“Custody?” Maddie reels around in my arms to face him. She reaches her arms up and tangles them around my neck. “Like jail? Am I going to jail? They can’t do that, Dad! They can’t! I’m a Mustang!”
The social worker gets on his knees at his spot, coming eye level to her. He removes his wire frame glasses and black hat, as he soothingly says, “Not jail, Maddie. We’re just going to take you to a friend’s house, someone you know. They’re going to take care of you while we talk to your dad.”
“But when will I see him again?” She softens to his grandfatherly act, but I can still hear the fear in her tired, desperate voice. “Can he come with when he’s done?”
I spin her back around to face me as I realize there is no battle here. I can’t go up against the police officers or the social workers without making this worth for me, Maddie, or the gang. I have to let go and say goodbye. I pull her in for a long hug, kissing her on the forehead. I speak into her hair, the only way I can keep my tears from falling, “Be strong, Maddie. I’m going to come get you as soon as I can. You hear me? I’m going to fight for you.”
The social worker grows anxious as I linger too long and eventually pulls her back towards his waiting car. I touch the ground as she leaves my body, holding myself steady from the pain that is overtaking me. I can’t look up to watch her leave or to see her scream out for me one last time.
Instead, I keep to myself until the scene is over and settled. I wait for Jager to walk the freed men back into the house and the rest of the gang to disperse to their places. I stay there, on the grass of the front lawn with my hand touching the ground and my body kneeling over where I last held her. And I tell myself that this isn’t permanent or over. Whatever I do, whatever I have to do, I will get my daughter back.