“You’re going to call your supervisor.”
“And you’re going to tell your supervisor that Emma Blake has been located.”
“That she is safe.”
“That she is not in immediate danger.”
“And that a man named Jack Carter will be contacting the department through his lawyer before the end of the business day.”
“Are you following me?”
“Sir, that’s not how this works.”
“I have a court order.”
“Show me.”
“Excuse me?”
“The court order.”
“Show it to me.”
Coyle hesitated.
Then he pulled out the paper from his clipboard.
Jack looked at it carefully.
He read it once.
Then again.
“Mr. Coyle?”
“Yes?”
“This is a pickup authorization.”
“Yes.”
“This is not a court order.”
“It’s the standard document for recovering a runaway ward.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Coyle stayed silent.
“This has no judge’s signature.”
“No court seal.”
“No judicial order.”
“Am I right?”
“Not in the strict sense, no.”
“Then you don’t have a court order.”
“Sir…”
“Answer the question.”
“No.”
“I don’t have a court order.”
“Then walk out.”
Coyle stood there.
For one second, he looked at Emma.
Not like a child.
Like a problem.
And Jack noticed.
That was enough.
“Mr. Coyle.”
“Yes?”
“Last chance.”
Coyle said nothing.
Then he turned.
He walked out of Miller’s Diner.
The bell jingled.
The door closed.
Everyone inside watched through the window as he crossed the parking lot and got into his white sedan.
He didn’t drive away immediately.
He sat there.
Talking fast on his phone.
Darlene finally released the breath she had been holding.
“Jack Carter.”
“Yeah, Darlene?”
“I have never seen a man get chased out of a diner without anybody chasing him.”
Jack looked down at Emma.
She hadn’t moved.
She slept through everything.
A seven-year-old child.
Exhausted beyond exhaustion.
Preacher came back inside through the side door.
He slid into the booth across from Jack.
“Jack.”
“Yeah?”
“I got her.”
“Got who?”
“The lawyer.”
“Moira Whitfield.”
“She’s the best family attorney in Phoenix.”
“She’s coming.”
“Right now?”
“She was in a deposition.”
“She walked out.”
“She said she wanted to hear this story herself.”
Jack looked down at Emma.
“How much?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Preacher.”
“Jack.”
“The club is handling it.”
“Wolf made calls.”
“The brothers are behind you.”
Jack swallowed.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Preacher watched him for a moment.
“Jack.”
“Yeah?”
“There’s something I need to ask.”
“Ask.”
“Do you actually want this?”
“A kid.”
“You.”