Page 62 of Nyx

He turns back to me, but my eyes are locked on Juliet, who is still standing by her car.

"Holler," I growl. "Give him what he needs. Make sure to issue a criminal trespass."

Normally, criminal trespasses aren't issued initially because revealing a victim's location brings more trouble, but since Dana Shaw stepped out onto the front porch, confirming that she and the kids are here, that extra step might as well be taken.

"Do you need additional support?" Max asks.

"All under control," I respond, my eyes locked on Juliet.

Her eyes dart everywhere, the fingers of her left hand pressed against her right wrist.

I walk in her direction, unsure of what I can do to help her, but she locks eyes with me, a warning in hers, and I freeze in my tracks.

She pulls in a deep breath, releasing her wrist before locking up her car and heading toward the front door.

I watch her as she makes her way in that direction, not feeling any better about what just went down, even after she closes herself in the house.

"I'll take the back," I tell Holler. "Until you're done out here."

Chapter 16

Juliet

My hands shake as I walk into the house, taking a moment for myself and looking out the front window.

The guy didn't get fifteen feet from his car before he ate dirt. The guys out front were right there within seconds. Thankfully, he never brandished a weapon because I really think one of them may have shot him. What a horrific thing for the kids to witness.

It's bad enough to see their father acting that way, clearly intoxicated despite his vows of not drinking. It would've been increasingly tragic if he acted in a way that would've made one of those men shoot him in front of them.

As much as I'd like to take a moment and calm down, I know there are two terrified children and a further traumatized woman deeper in the house who need me.

I follow Dean's sniffles to the living room, grateful Dana chose to keep them in a public area. My hands would be tied if they were upstairs and their bedroom door were closed.

"They're finishing their paperwork," I explain as I walk into the room.

Daisy is trembling, sitting a foot or so away from Dean, who is being consoled by Dana. I know it's hard to split your time and attention, but I wonder how many times she has been left to deal with things on her own because Dean is younger.

"How are you doing?" I ask her, crouching in front of her.

Her little hands twitch, fingers twisting around each other as she holds them in her lap.

"She's going to go back to him," Daisy whispers, but, like many kids, she can't control the level of her voice enough so that her mom doesn't hear her. Either that, or she wants Dana to hear, so she said it loud enough.

"No, honey," Dana says, keeping hold of Dean's hand as she takes a seat between them. "I'm not."

Daisy doesn't lean into her mother, but she also doesn't shift to move further away, which is probably progress for the little girl.

"What happens now?" Dean asks, running his forearm under his nose as he sniffles.

I grab a box of tissues from the side table near the other sofa and offer it to each of them. Dean and Dana take one, and Daisy glares at me as if I'm trying to force her to be weak.

Dana looks up at me as if I have all the answers, dipping her head when I give her a look that I hope translates my question of honesty. I may not sugarcoat things with residents, but children should always be handled differently. They aren't capable of processing things the same way adults are.

I sit on the floor in front of them, crossing my legs and settling in because I'll be here as long as they need me to be.

"The police have arrived, and they're taking your father to jail," I explain.

"How long before he gets out again?" Daisy asks, trying to sound brave and strong, but there's a hint of fear in her tone.