Page 91 of Summer Holiday Lifeline

“I know the place. Do you want me to drive you there?” Clairemont asked him.

“I—” He looked to Myles. “This real? Really real?”

Myles nodded. “Lucky Denver runs it. Well, it’s still partially under construction, but he has a few beds ready, if you’re willing to pitch in with the renovations.” He was making shit up as he went now, but anything to make sure this kid, who might be older than Jet but looked younger, had a safe place to go.

“I’ve heard of him,” Wyatt blurted.

Myles blinked. “You have?”

“Sure. Who hasn’t? He got that asshole Mackenzie off everyone’s back. I never met him, but everyone still talks about that.”

Clairemont nodded, like he knew exactly what Wyatt was talking about.

Myles’s phone buzzed again, and he frowned.

“You want to get that?” Clairemont asked.

Myles dug out his phone, read a few of the texts—enough to know they were from Jet but that nothing was on fire—then shoved it back into his pocket. “It can wait.”

Another cop car pulled into the LCBO lot, and Clairemont muttered something that sounded like “about time.” He scowled at the driver of the newly arrived car, then turned to Myles. “I think we’re probably done here.” Clairemont turned to his partner. “Bishop, get them”—he pointed at the newcomers—“up to speed, eh?”

“Sure, boss.”

Clairemont grunted. “She needs to stop calling me that.”

“Not her boss?”

“We’re the same. Well, she’s a new cop. I’m new at this precinct. But I don’t outrank her. I’m just showing her the ropes. She’ll make a good partner. She’s tough. Smart.” He shook himself. “Sorry.”

“Not my business,” Myles agreed.

“Listen, you sure the Cabin is ready for an actual resident? I know Denver’s been working hard on it, but last I heard, he was a ways away from accepting anyone.”

“Can you give me—” Myles’s phone rang, Jet’s shrill ring-tone interrupting him.

“You should take that.”

“Hang on.” He fished the phone out and declined the call, sending a quick “can’t talk now” text, then continued. “Give me a couple of hours to sort it out. I’m sure we can find him someplace safe if Lucky can’t take him yet.”

Clairemont nodded. “I’ll bring him wherever at the end of my shift.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m off at seventeen hundred. I’ll drive him where he needs to go then.”

“Where will he be in the meantime?” Concern laced through Myles’s guts. If he was attacked once, there was no saying it wouldn’t happen again. Who knew why it had happened.

“He can wait at the station.”

Myles eyed Clairemont. “How much experience do you have with us—them?” He huffed. “With members of the public who have no homes?”

“Enough to know Lucky Denver by another name. Before he was Lucky Denver.” He tilted his head. “And his friends, though I was a rookie, so you probably don’t remember me.”

Myles snorted. “There were a lot of cops. A lot of—unpleasant ones. You’ll forgive me if I don’t have many great memories of that time.”

“I will. You want to talk to him?”

“I do.”

Clairemont moved aside. “Be my guest. And McCreevy, I want him to be safe. Same as you, eh?”

Myles nodded. “Okay.”