Sticks & Stones (A Hollis Morgan Mystery) by R. Franklin James

him.”
    “Good, I thought I lost you there for a moment.” He laughed. “I’ll pick you up at five . You live close enough that it will give us plenty of time before the show to settle in and talk. If it’s okay with you, we can have dinner at the amphitheater.”
    “Of course, if I remember correctly , the best seats for the show are the dinner seats.”
    Hollis was glad that Brad clearly didn’t like chitchat. After she said she’d email him her address and directions, he quickly got off the phone.
    Hollis held her knees to her chest and squeezed them tight, glad no one could see her silly grin. A few seconds later she felt a frown crease her forehead. How did Brad know how long it would take to get to the Pavilion from her house?
     
    It had taken almost two weeks for Hollis to hear back from her friend who worked in the police forensics division about any information on Kelly Schaefer. The rental car plates and a not -so-great set of prints from a piece of notepaper weren’t much to go on.
    The police lobby was noisy with people waiting in a staggered line at the information window. Children ran restlessly among the adults , unaware of the undercurrent of tension that was the nature of the location. Hollis followed the signage to a small anteroom with a single door and an officer sitting at a desk in front of a computer monitor. She sat in one of the few plastic chairs that lined the wall on one side and took a deep breath, wrinkling her nose at the faint rank odor of sweat. Keeping her head turned away, she pretended not to notice the young boy sitting two seats down who alternated vigorously scratching his arms and slapping the side of his head. If the day officer could ignore him, so could she.
    Five minutes later, she took a deep breath and approached the desk.
    “Officer, I think that young man is in some kind of distress. Shouldn’t you call for a doctor or— ”
    “He’s a recovering addict on the other side of withdrawals. He’s okay.” The officer didn’t look up from the computer screen.
    “Oh.” Hollis looked at the forlorn figure, bent over, scratching furiously. His thin arms were barely covered by a faded tee shirt. His brown hair was dirty and his pants were stained and torn at the hem. “Still, shouldn’t he be taken somewhere?”
    “He’s waiting for his mom to get out. She should be coming out tomorrow.” He finally looked up at her. “I know it looks bad, but he’s been here before—picking up his mom, I mean. His name is Vince. If I kick him out, he’ll go looking for a fix. He wants to go clean. I let him hang around until the shelters open up for meals and beds. He’s harmless. He’s been here every day since she’s been in. Now, why are you here?”
    She looked down at her watch and compared it to the clock on the wall. “I’m waiting for a friend, Stephanie Ross. She knows I’m here . She said she might be running a little late.”
    He nodded. “Sorry I can’t offer you a better seat. Don’t worry about Vince. You should have seen him when he was hooked. His mom has been in and out of jail for months, and he’s always taken care of her. Too bad she never felt the same way about him.”
    Hollis walked back to her seat. She could see the bones in Vince’s elbows, and the sunburn on feet that appeared to be a size smaller than his battered tennis shoes.
    “Are you hungry?” She leaned toward him.
    Vince abruptly stopped scratching but didn’t look up.
    Hollis reached inside her purse. “Here’s five dollars … for you … to get something to eat.”
    Vince held his head up. Hollis was startled by the intelligence in the beautiful brown eyes that looked back at her.
    “No, no don’t give me money,” he said. “Can … can you buy the food for me?”
    His raspy voice sounded deep for a youth.
    “Oh … ah … sure. I think there’s a store on the corner. What do—”
    Vince groaned, slapped his head and went back to scratching.
    Hollis went over to