Chapter Text
As Tim’s parents returned to Gotham, suitcases packed with trinkets and gifts, the house felt emptier than ever.
His parents had other engagements during most of the week, and with Mrs. Mac on a holiday in her home country, Tim spent more time alone at home than he did before they came back.
Usually when his parents were out Tim spent his time with Steph, but she and her mom were under house arrest, as Steph had secretly informed him over the phone. “ It’s like- nuts, there’s police cars for miles.”
After a mass break out the previous week, Steph’s father was on the loose and the police believed he’d visit his family’s apartment. But with a week of no contact from the escaped criminal in question, Tim told Steph that would be unlikely. She nervously agreed and hung up the phone.
With Steph’s birthday coming up soon, Tim felt even weirder about spending so long not speaking to her. They’d been nearly inseparable since age 7 and with one phone call in the last ten days, it might’ve been the longest Tim had gone without speaking to his best friend since they met.
On his bike ride into the city, he usually avoided the alleyways and narrow streets that made up the Narrows, this time he found himself staring for a little too long at the rundown storefronts and the peeling layers of paint on the fire escapes.
Tim parked his bicycle behind the gymnastics centre, chaining it to a pole for good measure. He’d gone a whole year without having it stolen or destroyed, and he was not planning on letting it happen now.
With his gymnastics gear slung over his shoulder, Tim waited by the reception. The lady who worked the front desk wouldn’t let him in without an adult, despite having known him since he was still in the twirling toddlers class.
Dick arrived not much later, nothing but a duffle bag and a smile on his face. The receptionist lit up when she saw him. “Always nice to see you, Mr. Grayson,” she said.
The young man shot her a grin. “And you, Claire.”
“You ready to head inside, big guy?” Dick asked Tim, who shot up out of his plastic seat. “I’ve got some new warm ups you’re gonna love .”
“Not the ones you learned at that training camp right? Those sucked .”
Dick snorted. “Well, the instructor said they were ‘very beneficial for young warriors’ such as yourself.”
‘That training camp’ was most likely a quickly manufactured lie to explain Dick’s absence for over two months the year before. With Tim’s knowledge of Dick’s identity as Nightwing, and Dick being a 20 year old man, it seemed weird to think he’d gone to a summer camp for the majority of the summer.
“It’s not beneficial ,” Tim whined. “It’s torture, I couldn’t feel my arms for a week .”
“Me too, kid. Me too.” Dick ducked into a private changing room. “I’ll see you on the mat in five.”
Tim was shoving his bag into a locker when Dick finally emerged, geared out in a blue tracksuit, zipped up to the neck. Tim was fairly certain he’d seen a Russian mobster wear the same exact tracksuit a few weeks earlier.
They looked at each other for a moment.
“You’re not on the mat,” Dick pointed out.
“It hasn’t been five minutes yet.”
Dick checked his wristwatch. “Okay fine,” He relented. He leaned against the locker. “Do you need some cash for the locker?”
Tim held up a quarter and demonstratively put it in the slot. He turned the dial and closed the locker, pulling the little wristband with the key out of the lock. He handed the yellow wristband to Dick, as he always did, for safekeeping.
They entered the gymnasium which was, safe for a zumba class happening on the other end of the gym, empty.
“Let’s get started with some warm up stretches and then I’ll show you what my instructor taught me,” Dick said.
Tim didn’t need to be told twice, dropping to the floor and going through his stretches at lightning pace. He didn’t want to admit it to Dick, still starstruck by his presence even after two years of training with him, but Dick Grayson’s training was, while a little brutal, the best thing that ever happened to Tim’s gymnastics career.
He didn’t want to say he was bad at gymnastics before Dick intervened, but he’d never pushed himself harder than when he was working with Dick. Even if he had gymnastics class twice a week at the gymnastics center, it was during his occasional training sessions with Dick that he improved the most.
A few months after he started to train with Dick, Tim won gold twice in his age group at regionals, he felt like there was a correlation there.
Tim insisted Dick do the entire gruelling warm up alongside him, and Dick, not willing to deny the ten year old a challenge, agreed. “My instructor, Diana, said she used to do this workout when she was young, so clearly you should rush right through it.”
After running 6 laps around the gym, Tim had become convinced Dick’s instructor also ate rocks for breakfast. Tim grunted this out during the three minute plank, to which Dick snorted out a laugh and fell flat on his face.
In true kid fashion, Tim was up and at ‘em after a small sip of capri sun and all the sugar that came with it. “See!” Dick panted. “I knew you could do it.” He massaged the muscles in his neck.
Tim sat down on the bleachers and took another sip. “Are we gonna do the high bar today? You said you were gonna show me something on the bar last time.”
Dick winced, remembering the promise he’d made last time he was in Gotham. “Alright.”
He grabbed his duffle bag from the plastic chair he’d left it on and handed it to Tim, who slung it over his shoulder, despite how big it was. He shuffled across the gym, duffle bag at the height of his calves.
Dick laughed at the sight and walked after him. Tim sat down on the floor next to the horizontal bar, already digging through the bag for his bar grips. Dick flopped down next to him and found the smaller bar grips easily in the side pocket of his bag. He held the pair out to Tim, who snatched them from him and began pulling them on.
“Patience, young padawan,” Dick said. He loosened the velcro and opened up the bar grip, sticking it out to Tim. He closed the velcro strip and grabbed the other bar grip.
“Other hand.”
Tim eyed the bar. “My teacher and I started on the competition routine the other day, but I just can’t get my swing even, and I can’t get my grip right on the turn.”
“Then we’ll just work on that,”
Dick pulled his own grips on, closing his velcro with his teeth. He stood underneath the bar and looked up. “Don’t suppose you can give me a hand, huh Timmy?” The bar was at least 3 feet above his head.
Tim looked on from his spot on the ground. “I could get you a chair?”
Dick shook his head. He unzipped his training jacket, getting a bit of chalk on the front. “I can make that jump.”
He tugged off his jacket and tossed it over to his duffle bag. “It’s a little unorthodox, but you’re not exactly a professional jury, right, Timmy?”
Tim nodded, eager to see what Dick would show him on the high bar. At one point, Dick had been one of the best gymnasts in the junior division. Tim had seen his routine for the 2007 nationals and nearly dropped his apple juice seeing the jumps Dick could do, even at that age.
Dick jumped up and pulled himself up to the bar. He waved at Tim, holding himself up with only one arm. He swung a few times to gain some momentum and quickly managed a giant swing. During his next swing, he let go of one hand and turned right at the peak of his swing, effectively turning around. After two swings where he was clearly gaining more momentum, Dick let both hands go and somersaulted in the air, regaining his grip on the bars.
He swung again and jumped, landing with his back to Tim. If Tim hadn’t already been completely in awe, his jaw would drop at the sight of Dick’s back.
His right shoulder was a sickly mesh of blues and greens, the bruise reached down his ribs and more peaked out from below his tank top. Tim could only stare.
Dick turned around. “I should have probably turned back after that twist with where you were sitting, but I always lose track when I’m up there.” He leaned against the pole holding up the beam.
“I didn’t impress you too much, did I?” Dick flashed his signature grin. “In five, six years you can do that too, I swear- and probably way better than me.”
“No-” Tim stammered. “It was just- you have something on your shoulder?”
Dick shot him a confused look and slapped his shoulder, trying to get whatever it was off. “Other shoulder,” Tim said.
He slapped his right shoulder and winced. “Oh. That.” He said. “I went lasergaming with my friends the other day and I fell through a wall.”
“You wanna try your hand at the bar now?” Dick asked, ripping off his bar grips.
Tim stood up rather than answering. Dick’s lie fresh on his mind. He hadn’t heard of Nightwing getting injured, but then again, Dick was right here doing flips 12 feet in the air. The bruises looked serious, but clearly it wasn’t affecting Dick all that much.
He wondered if having a bruise like that didn’t faze Dick, what would? Did vigilantes just get injured like that every time they went out, and just continue on like nothing happened?
He shuffled over to the bar and looked up at it, it was definitely higher than the bar he usually trained on, over twice as tall as Tim was. With his trusty camera by his side, Tim had crossed roofs higher than that of the gymnastics center, they were standing in. Despite that, the premise of the 9 foot bar scared him a little bit.
Even worse than being scared, Tim found he was excited to get up there.
Tim raised his arms up and got into stance, Dick picking him up and raising him to the bar, he pulled himself up immediately and Dick stepped aside. “Good, Timmy, good,” he clapped his hands. “Try to straighten out those arms a little.”
Tim began to swing, getting a little bit more momentum with each swing. It must have been a little underwhelming for the zumba class in the corner to witness after the Olympic level gymnast had just done his thing.
He prepared himself to do the turn. On the height of his next swing he let go of the bar with his right hand and moved to place it on the other side of his left hand. His right hand slipped off the bar just as he was trying to grab it, he dangled helplessly from the bar with his left hand.
Dick grabbed him right out of the air like he weighed nothing. “You were doing really well until that turn,” he said. “You were too rigid on that one, you have to let go just a little so you can turn.” He set Tim back down on the floor.
“Look, imagine you’re-” Dick waved his hand in the air. “Hanging onto a helicopter, a billion feet in the air. You’re not exactly going to think of point deductions then, right?”
Tim nodded.
“Alright, so from now on- get ready-” Tim stood under the bar and raised his hands up, Dick lifted him up. “You’re hanging onto a helicopter, and you’re- turning so you can get in the door.”
Tim swung a few times as Dick faked ‘helicopter noises’ in the background. He imagined that if he fell, he would fall a billion feet . When the turn came he let his right hand go and went to place it on the other side of his left hand, turning 180 degrees. His right hand gripped the bar, but slipped. Tim quickly regained his grip but he could feel his heart beat in his throat.
“There you go!” Dick applauded.
Tim looked down at the mat. “There I go.”
…
Despite his better judgement, Tim took a seat on a park bench very close to Steph’s house. Steph always said she spent a lot of time there, because it was close enough to a 7/11 that she could excuse having a break to eat her chips there while running out to get something for her dad.
He poked a straw through his carton of juice. He wondered if she was okay, her street barricaded by what Tim knew to be cop cars. They were too new and expensive to pass for anything people drove in the Narrows, too old and cheap to pass for anything people drove in Bristol.
Slowly but surely, it began to rain. Tim thought he could tough it out, pulling his hood over his head, but when it truly began to pour, he grabbed his bicycle and ran towards the crossing to take shelter under the nearest ledge. He found himself sitting on the bottom step of a large building, soaking wet with rain.
With his shirt sleeve he wiped the water from his forehead and regretted the choice to have waited around in the city instead of going home after practice with Dick finished.
A young woman came to stand next to him, fumbling in her pocket for a lighter. “You don’t mind if I smoke here do you?”
Tim looked up at her, finding that from where he was sitting, she looked like a giant. “No, not at all,” He said. “Go ahead.”
The woman took a long drag of her cigarette as soon as she’d lit it. Huffing out a cloud of smoke through her nose. Tim looked up at her with amazement. “How’d you do that?”
She looked down at him. “Do what?” As she spoke, little clouds of smoke came out of her mouth.
“Blowing it all out through your nose like that?”
It took her a moment to answer, first taking another drag of her cigarette. “I breathe the smoke in through my mouth and then I just breathe out through my nose.”
The young boy gave her a confused look.
“Your nose and your mouth are all connected, right?” She said then. “Like how you can take a breath through your nose and make it come out your mouth, or the other way around, just try it.”
Tim nodded solemnly, taking a big gulp of air through his mouth and then blowing it out through his nose.
The woman grinned, seeing the surprised look on Tim’s face. “And that’s how I do that,” she said. “But- uhh smoking’s bad, kitten, remember that.”
“I know,” Tim said. “You should probably quit smoking, my friend says it gives you gross teeth.”
“It does,” She confirmed, taking another drag. “I just can’t ever manage to quit,”
Tim frowned. “I hope you do- quit you know, because it’s better for you and all that.”
“Maybe I will, kitten.” She let her cigarette stump fall to the ground, stomping it out with her shoe. “You should get home and out of the rain before you get sick.”
“I will,” he said. “I’m just waiting for the rain to stop.”
“On your own?” she asked.
Tim nodded. “I can manage just fine.”
The woman crouched down next to Tim. “Listen, if you want, you can use your phone to call your parents, or a cab or something-”
“You don’t have to call anyone,” Tim protested. “I can get home just fine on my own,” he insisted. “I’m just waiting for the rain to stop.”
The woman scoffed. “This is Gotham kid, it’ll be raining for the next week .”
Tim crossed his arms. “Then I’ll just go now.”
“Tell me who I should call for you.” She sat down next to Tim, grabbing her phone from her pocket. “If it isn’t the weather that takes you out, it’ll be a car who can’t see you for shit.”
“I have my own phone,” He told her, grabbing his own from his bag.
He scrolled through his options in his contacts app.
His parents’ personal phones were on silent during the work day, and his father’s work number was exclusively for emergencies. Steph’s mom was out of the question, so was Mrs. Mac. There weren’t a lot of other people on the list.
His thumb hovered over Dick Grayson’s contact.
He didn’t even know if Dick was still in Gotham, or had a car, or was willing to go out of his way to pick Tim up, but it couldn’t hurt to try.
As the phone rang, the woman was squinting at him, as if she was trying to place who he was.
“What?” Tim asked.
The woman laughed. “You just remind me of someone.”
Tim got Dick’s voicemail. He looked down.
“Nobody answer?”
The boy shook his head.
“Let’s just try it again,” She said, and prompted Tim to call again. “People never answer a call on the first ring.”
Tim tried again, but Dick didn’t answer. “Third time’s the charm,” the woman told him.
The woman ran her fingers through her hair, it was short and very dark. Tim would bet that even his own hair was longer. “I- what do I do with you?” She whispered to herself.
“I have an arrangement at 34th street in an hour, but I can keep an eye on you until then?”
He shook his head. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“You’re a six year old alone in Gotham, of course you need a babysitter.”
“I’m ten .” He crossed his arms as she looked at him with a funny look on her face that Tim couldn’t quite place. “Shuddup.”
The woman stood up and held out her hand to help Tim up, the rain slowly coming down on her head. He reluctantly took it. He grabbed his bike from where it had been awkwardly placed against the wall of the building he’d been sitting under.
The woman fished an umbrella out of her jacket pocket, it was small but kept both their heads dry.
They walked in almost complete silence towards 34th street, not coming across a great many people who dared to walk in the rain, until Tim curiously asked what the woman’s arrangement at 34th street even was.
“That’s my business,” She said, “Not yours,”
That made Tim even more curious. “Is it a secret?”
The woman eyed him. “It is a secret, so don’t tell anyone,”
“Is it a top-secret secret? Like the CIA and the FBI and ARGUS-”
“I’m not a spy.” She told him.
Tim’s eyes widened. “So you are a spy?” He whispered.
“ I’m not a spy, ” she repeated a little louder.
“That’s exactly what a spy would say.”
The woman quirked an eyebrow. “If I were a spy, I would’ve already killed you.”
Tim frowned at her. “Spies don’t kill people,” he said. “That would be illegal-”
“Kitten,” the woman said. “I can’t wait for you to find out what the CIA is really all about.”
They came to a halt in front of a small boutique, its windows were covered with metal bars, but Tim could still see the rows of jewelry laid out in formation.
It was the type of store Tim’s mom would go to to buy herself a present.
That was what she always called it when she bought herself stuff, clothes, jewelry, a set of fancy sunglasses, those were her little presents. It made her giggle to herself with joy.
“Are you going to buy yourself a present?” Tim asked, looking up at the woman.
She met his eyes. “You could say that.” She laughed. “You could definitely say that.”
The woman stared down at the jewelry behind the window, and peered through the glass paned door. Tim’s phone buzzed in his pocket, though he didn’t register it for a moment, with the constant patter of rain against his clothes.
He shook awake suddenly, realising that his phone was ringing and brought it to his ear. “Uh- Tim,” he paused. “I mean- hello this is Tim,”
“ This is Dick, you called me?”
Tim could feel the woman’s eyes on him, she leaned back against the metal bars. “Yeah! I had a- if you’re not too busy, and you’re still in the city- if you’re not that’s fine-”
“ I’m not following you completely, buddy.” Dick said softly.
Tim nodded. “If you’re still in the city- could you maybe come pick me up? It’s just that it’s raining- and I’m here on my bike and, yeah.”
“ Of course I will. I’m like halfway across the bridge but I can circle around, where are you?”
“Uhh I’m at 34th street?”
He heard Dick move around on the other side of the line. “ Where exactly on 34th? I’d hate to be on the wrong end.”
Tim turned around to look where exactly he was standing. “Where on 34th street are we?” he asked the woman.
“By the Taco Bell.”
“By the Taco Bell.” Tim echoed into the phone.
“ Are you with anyone right now?” Dick asked.
Tim looked back at the woman. “Yeah this lady is letting me borrow her umbrella.”
“ Alright then. I’ll be there in about 20 minutes.” Dick said. “ And Timmy?”
“Yeah?”
“ Stay dry, I don’t want to see boogers at your next training.”
Tim snorted. He realised that Dick couldn’t know that through the phone and gave him a soft affirmation.
“Somebody coming to pick you up?” The woman asked. Tim nodded. “Well… let’s get to Taco Bell.”
“We’re not already at Taco Bell?” Tim asked, looking up at the sign for the taco place next to the jewelry store.
“No, kitten. That's Taco World.” She pointed at the purple sign. “Taco Bell is over there and has a good deal on burritos on Sundays.”
She gave him a little push in the direction of the Taco Bell. Tim walked in front of her, but was surprised to find his head still dry. He looked back at the woman and noticed she was holding the umbrella over his head, rather than her own.
Tim stepped a little closer to her, so they’d both fit under the umbrella.
As the doors to the Taco Bell opened, they blew a warm gust of air into their face. The woman walked right up to the counter, looking like the most elegant person in the establishment, Tim scurried along behind her. She placed her order without looking at the menu. “And some crayons for my friend here.” She added as she was paying.
Tim crossed his arms. “I’m not a little kid.”
The woman ignored him. “Also some paper maybe.”
The employee handed him his crayons and paper over the counter, Tim thanked her, but that didn’t mean he liked getting the drawing utensils. He was just raised right.
He sat silently next to the woman as she received her order of four burritos and a coke, and ate them with the precision of a hunter. It was just because he didn’t have anything better to do that he picked up the yellow crayon and began colouring in the taco on the colouring page.
“Nice,” The woman said. “You can colour between the lines.”
“Do you even know anything about kids?”
“I know I don’t want any,” she said.
Tim coloured the taco’s sombrero with red crayon. “Did you always not want kids or did you meet one particularly bad one that made you not want any?” Tim asked.
“Both.” The woman took a bite of her burrito. “There’s just some kids that hammer in the last nail on that coffin.”
“Like who?”
“My ex’s kids.”
Tim’s phone buzzed in his pocket, he picked it immediately when he saw the contact. “Hello?”
“ It’s Dick. I’m by the Taco Bell on 34th, where are you?”
“I’m inside- wait.” He slid off the faux leather seat and grabbed his bag from the floor. The woman wiped her hands with a napkin and stood up as well. “You don’t have to come with me,” Tim told the woman.
“Somebody’s gotta make sure you don’t get in the car with an axe murderer.” She took the brown bag that held her final burrito under her arm, and held her drink in hand.
“I’m coming outside now.” The woman opened her umbrella as they exited the Taco Bell.
“ I see you. ” Dick hung up the phone.
A silver Audi drove onto the parking lot in front of them. Dick climbed out of it, leaving the motor still running. “Long time no see, right Timmy-” Dick looked surprised. “Selina.”
“Dick.”
Tim looked between the two adults.
“ He’s the one picking you up?” The woman asked, looking at Dick.
Tim nodded. “He teaches me gymnastics.”
“ She’s been watching you?” Dick asked.
Tim nodded. “She didn’t want me to get rained on.”
They stood in silence for a moment.
“Well, we better get your bike in the car-” Dick started, one hand on the loop of Tim’s backpack.
Tim rushed towards where he’d parked his bike, taking the lock off and bringing it back with him. Dick had placed his backpack in the backseat and placed the bike on the floor of the backseat, the wet tires dirtying up the beige interior.
“At least I know you’re not getting in the car with a creep,” the woman said.
“Thank you for watching him,” Dick said.
The woman shrugged. “It was the right thing to do.”
Dick held open the door to the passenger seat for Tim, who gladly got into the car to hide from the rain. He got into the driver’s seat and gave the woman a final look. She smirked. “Give your father my love!” She blew them a kiss.
Tim waved at her from the car. Dick gripped the wheel tightly, but couldn’t hide the knowing grin on his face. “What are the odds?” He mumbled to himself.
As the woman retreated from their vision, Tim turned to Dick. “How do you know her?”
“Well,” Dick said, as they got on the freeway. “That woman is my father’s ex.”
…
Despite all he had hoped, Steph wasn’t allowed out of the house for her birthday. On the single occasion her mother went out for groceries, she used the landline to call him. While there was only one police car left outside the house, the police came by ‘ like every day’ .
“ I’m gonna get back to school in a few days, though ,” she had said. “ They hope my dad will try to talk to me on my way to school, so they’re sending a bunch of plain clothes ones along with me.”
“Be careful alright.”
“ Yeah, yeah. ” She’d grumbled. “ My birthday present better be worth it. ”
“If you can then,” Tim said. “Meet me in the library?”
“ I’ll try .”
“That’s good enough.”
Tim worried for Steph a lot. It felt like that was all he could do for her sometimes.
He bicycled towards the library eagerly. He hadn’t been back in a while. With Steph behind locked doors, he didn’t feel like hanging out with Ms. Barbara and going over code like they usually did.
The chance that Steph was going to be there however, fueled him to drive as fast as he could.
Ms. Barbara spotted him immediately as he came through the front doors of the library. She was stuck to the front desk, she explained. “But I’ll come find you during my lunch break- is your sister with you today?” She sounded very hopeful at the prospect.
“She-” Tim halted. “She might come by today, but she was pretty busy with school.”
Barbara nodded. “That makes sense.” She smiled. “Now, let me or a colleague know if you can’t find something, alright?”
“Alright.”
Tim made his way towards the kids floor. If he was going to meet Steph anywhere, it was going to be here.
He waited, pulling out the book he was reading at school out from one of the shelves and settling on one of the couches.
By the time he’d finished the book, he realised he could be waiting the rest of the afternoon for Steph- that she might not even be able to come.
He missed knowing when he’d see his friend and when he could call her. In the three weeks since her father’s escape, all of that had just disappeared. He’d spoken to her only twice making up for a short few minutes.
The weight of his camera felt heavy in his bag as he walked towards the exit of the library, a bad idea in his mind.
“Hold on just a second-” Barbara said, appearing in front of him. “Were you planning on leaving without saying goodbye?”
Tim clutched his heart. “You’re like a ninja.”
Barbara smiled. “Thanks.”
“I finished my homework,” Tim said.
“Very good.”
“Bye.” He turned around and tried to leave.
“Now was that so hard?” Barbara asked from behind him.
Tim looked back. “No?”
“Have a nice day, Tom,” Barbara said.
“You too, Ms. B.”
…
Tim made himself very flat against the outer wall of Steph’s apartment, standing on the balcony by her mom’s bedroom. He tried to get a peek inside, looking at the familiar interior of the apartment.
On the small wooden chair stood an overfull ashtray. Steph’s mom was incredibly against smoking, it seemed unlikely that she’d be the one filling the ashtray.
Tim felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Inside the apartment, he heard heavy footsteps coming his way. He shrank, desperate to hide himself. “Arthur, please.” Tim could hear Steph’s mom say.
“That job is nothing- nothing compared to the money we’re going to be making when this thing goes through.” Tim heard a man’s voice, deep and raspy.
“But before then- I make a steady paycheck, it’s not much but it’ll keep us comfortable, just until it all goes through.”
The doors to the balcony swung open. The curtain obscuring the balcony door window was the only thing keeping Tim from being found out. He felt his heartbeat in his throat, but he didn’t move.
“I know those fucking nurses, Crystie- they push the panic button for a little bruise, and what then? What fucking then? You want me to keep half of the GCPD on payroll so you can be working ,” Arthur spat. “Those fucking cops are already getting too much of my money.”
“But what about Steph- she needs to be able to go to school.”
Arthur laughed maniacally.. “You were at least fun when you were hooked on pills.” Tim heard something slam against the metal railing of the balcony. “Playing the good mother, huh? You wanna be Mother Superior?”
He pushed Crystal’s cheek against the little window of the balcony door, his hands entangled in her hair. She and Tim locked eyes. She looked like she’d been through hell. Her mouth moved against the window. ‘ Run ’.
Tim saw her turn her head back through the small bit of window. “I want what’s best for my child,” She yelled. Tim realised suddenly that she was posing a distraction. Tim quickly climbed off the balcony while Arthur was distracted, using the same small ledge to climb back towards the fire escape where he had to get down two floors without making even a single sound.
He found himself walking the same sidewalk as Crystal Brown, a grocery bag pinned under her arm. Tim turned to talk to her, but Crystal grabbed him by the arm and continued to walk. “Not here-” She hissed. “The cop in the Honda works for him .”
Inside the 7/11 by the slushie machine, Crystal finally found it safe to speak to him. “You won’t mention this to anyone.”
“But the police-”
“The police can be paid off, Tim.” Crystal sounded rough, her hair was messy and her eyes had sunken. “This isn’t just Arthur anymore-”
“What do you mean?” Tim asked.
“I mean that the best thing you can do for Stephanie is to stay as far away as you can.”