“Someone’s at the door,” I whispered.
He opened his eyes, but he was totally disoriented and confused.
“Whaaa.”
“Keefer, you better wake up,” I urged, looking for my blouse and jeans.
“Open up!” we heard. “It’s the police!”
“Oh, no,” I cried. The door was rattled hard, and I had just managed to slip my jeans on when it was thrown open, the lock giving way.
Because we had no lights on and the night was overcast, the policeman turned on a large flashlight and searched the room, washing the illumination over Keefer, who was sitting up and rubbing his face with his palms, and over me, who was standing at the side of the bed, barefoot, buttoning up my blouse.
“Put on a light,” the policeman commanded.
“What is this?” Keefer asked.
“Put on the light!” the cop repeated in a louder, more demanding tone.
Keefer fumbled for the switch on the lamp and got it on.
Two policemen stood in the doorway, looking in at us.
“You,” he said, pointing the flashlight at me even though there was enough light to see everything now. “You’re Robin Taylor?”
“Yes.”
“Your mother called 911 and reported you missing.” He turned the flashlight toward Keefer. “You know how old this girl is?”
“It’s not his fault!” I cried. “His mother died tonight. I stayed with him to comfort him.”
“Comfort him?” the second policeman said, smiling. “That’s a good way to put it. Get your things toget
her and come along,” he added.
“I’ll go home myself,” I said.
“Hey,” the first patrolman said, stepping closer. “Don’t you think we have better things to do than babysit some juvenile delinquent? I should take this guy down to the station and have him booked for corrupting the morals of a minor.”
“You’d better go with them,” Keefer urged.
“She didn’t have to do this.”
“No, she didn’t. If you would behave, she wouldn’t have to call us, now would she?” the second policeman asked.
I slipped on my shoes.
“I’ll call you,” I promised Keefer.
“If I were you, cowboy, I would tell her to stay away. This girl’s mother might still press charges against you,” the first patrolman told Keefer. “If she does, we’ll be back. You can bet on that,” he said.
Keefer looked at me and then urged me to go.
They put me in the rear of the patrol car, and I felt helplessly trapped again. Once we were on our way, the two policemen seemed to forget I was in the car, too. They got into a discussion about baseball and began to argue about the ability of a player. I didn’t have to wonder how Mother darling had discovered my whereabouts. I was positive she had gone to Kathy Ann, who surely told her everything she knew.
That was confirmed for me when we drove into the parking lot and, despite the lateness of the hour, I saw her peering between the curtains. I knew she couldn’t see my face, but I looked her way with contempt. I couldn’t wait to tell her off.
Mother darling was in her bathrobe, waiting, when the police brought me up to the apartment. Cory was in bed.