A Pirate’s Wish

Prologue-2

Ten Years Before Present Day

Portland, Oregon

Tonya Maitland groaned when she saw the reflection of a police cruiser’s flashing lights in the window of the store she was walking past. Pulling up the hood of her dark blue hoodie, she adjusted the backpack on her shoulder and shoved her hands into her sweatshirt pockets. With any luck, the Popo was after someone else.

“Hold up, kid,” a man called out from the driver’s side window.

Tonya glanced over her shoulder, realized that her luck had run out, and took off. She heard the officer curse loudly before he pulled his cruiser up onto the sidewalk and shifted it into park. She was already halfway down the dirty alley by the time he exited his vehicle.

The alley cut across to another street. She was in the unpleasant part of Portland that bordered the downtown area where she had been working on a project this morning. Behind her, the officer yelled at her to stop. In response, she lifted her right hand and shot him the bird.

She disappeared around the corner and crossed the street without looking. A taxi driver blared his horn at her. She offered the driver another middle finger salute and a kick to his bumper for good measure. She grinned when he returned her gesture.

Another glance over her shoulder revealed that the officer was huffing and puffing and waiting on traffic. She headed down another alley. At the end was a chain-link fence with a gate. The gate had a chain wrapped around it and a heavy-duty lock. Fortunately, several large garbage cans lined the wall up to the fence. She used the wooden pallet that was leaning up against the first trash can as a makeshift ladder and climbed onto the can. Walking across them, she looped the top of her backpack on a wire before she climbed over the fence. She put the toes of her worn tennis shoes in the holes of the fence, unhooked her bag, and climbed down to the other side.

She lifted a hand and gave the out-of-breath officer a two-finger salute before she turned around and rapidly walked down the alley. She was almost to the end when another police cruiser pulled up and blocked her exit. She groaned again when she recognized Officer Max Bennett as he got out of the car. She stopped several feet from him.

“Running again, Maitland,” Officer Max dryly commented as he opened the back door to his cruiser.

Tonya shrugged. “Hey, Max. I’m just trying to keep you guys on your toes. Officer Donut back there looked like he could use a little exercise,” she muttered as she walked to the open door with a sigh of resignation.

“I heard that, kid,” the officer behind her yelled.

“I’ll take it from here, Joe,” Max said.

Tonya slid onto the back seat and leaned her head back. She listened as Joe argued with Max before the out-of-shape officer turned in a huff and stomped back the way he had come. Honestly, she didn’t know how the guy had passed the physical fitness test to be a beat cop. He couldn’t catch a bad guy unless they were using a walker.

She looked through the metal screen separating the front and back seat when Max got in the car and shut his door. He spoke into the mic, telling dispatch that he had apprehended the suspected runaway. She rolled her eyes and pulled her backpack onto her lap.

“Seat belt, Tonya,” Max instructed.

“Seat belt, Max,” she mumbled in response.

They both pulled on their seat belts. Tonya knew from experience that it was easier to let Max think she was going along with him. Otherwise, she would have to listen to his lectures. She sat back and wrapped her arms around the bag containing all her worldly possessions.

“So, what is wrong with the folks you’re with this time?” Max asked, looking at the mirrors before pulling out onto the street.

“Nothing,” she muttered.

Max looked at her in the mirror. “Did they beat you?” he pressed.

She snorted and rolled her eyes in response.

“Did they starve you?” Max asked.

She pursed her lips and shook her head.

“Did Mr. Rollings say or do anything inappropriate?” Max demanded, looking intently at her in the rearview mirror.

“Sheesh, no, no, and no already. The Rollings are nice, okay?” she answered with a bite in her tone.

“Then why did you run away? This is the eighth time in two years, Tonya. You do remember the last time you went before the judge? He said this was it—no more chances. If you don’t stay with the Rollings, he’s going to send you to Juvie. You won’t be able to run if you’re locked up,” Max stated.

Tonya looked at Max. He was alright for a cop. His dark brown face was creased with concern. He acted like he actually cared about what happened to her. She leaned forward when she saw him lift his hand and wave a pedestrian across the road.

“You finally got Angela to say yes?” she asked.

Max chuckled and thumbed the wedding ring on his hand. He had told her six months ago that he was thinking about asking Angela to marry him. Angela was one of the attorneys at the Portland Department of Child Services. Angela had handled two of the cases involving Tonya’s placement with a foster family.

“We were married this past weekend,” he confessed.

“Thanks for the invite,” she said, sitting back against the seat and looking out of the window.

Max glanced at her again. She pretended not to notice. He released a deep sigh and pulled into the parking lot of a hamburger joint. She looked at him with a quizzical expression when he parked and turned off the ignition.

“I’m hungry. Do you want to get a bite to eat?” he asked.

She looked at the building before looking back at him. “I don’t have any money. I was hoping to—” she started to say.

“I’ve got enough,” he promised.

Tonya watched as Max opened the door and slid out of the cruiser. He spoke into the mic attached to his shoulder, explaining to dispatch that he was taking a lunch break. She slid out when he opened her door, trying to act like she was doing him a favor instead of the other way around.

They walked across the parking lot and entered the restaurant. She sat down in a booth facing the road. A woman with a bright smile came over and took their order, and then they were alone.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Tonya? You’re a bright kid. You’ve got a lot of people trying to help you. You know the right decisions to make: go to school and stay with your new family. So why won’t you do it?” Max asked.

Tonya pursed her lips and flashed Max a heated glare. She wasn’t making bad decisions—okay, she was making a few bad ones, but they were for the right reasons. At fourteen, she thought she was doing pretty damn good compared to some of the other girls at the new school that she didn’t often deign to attend.

“School is boring, okay? I finished half a year of work in two weeks. I’ve got better things to do than sit around with a bunch of snobby kids who think they’re better than everyone else and don’t have a clue what’s really going on in the world. Food’s coming,” she snapped.

They both sat back as the waitress placed their hamburgers in front of them. She grabbed the bottle of ketchup, opened it, and tried to pour some on her fries.

Nothing. Why did a business make a ketchup bottle that you can never get the ketchup out of? she silently groaned, smacking the bottom of the bottle.

“Let me,” Max said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

She watched him take his clean knife and swirl it in the glass bottle. He pulled it out and held out the bottle to her. She took it and poured more ketchup than she wanted onto her plate.

“I just can’t catch a break today,” she muttered.

“So, what do you do all day on the streets?” Max casually asked, taking the ketchup bottle from her.

Tonya looked up at Max, a French fry halfway to her mouth. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but she didn’t see any disapproval in his expression, only curiosity. She stuffed the ketchup-laden French fry into her mouth and reached into her backpack for her notebook. This was her life’s work—or at least the last two years of it.

“I’ve been working on an investigation,” she said in a hushed voice.

She looked around the restaurant before she leaned forward and slid the notebook to Max. He raised an eyebrow before he looked down at the tattered spiral notebook. She nodded at it.

“An investigation?” he repeated.

“You’ll see. I just need a few more days,” she said.

She picked up her hamburger and began eating. Max opened the notebook with one hand and absently ate his fries with the other. He glanced at her in shock before he looked back down at the meticulous notes she had been writing.

“Where did you get this information?” he demanded.

She grinned at him. “Grownups think kids are stupid. You know the old saying that adults like to repeat all the time about kids being seen but not heard. That’s bullshit, of course. The reality is kids aren’t often seen or heard, but we hear just fine when they say s**t they think we don’t understand. I happen to be really good at not being seen or heard,” she announced with a wave of a French fry.

Max shot her a disapproving frown. “Can you say that without the foul language?” he dryly replied.

“Whatever. You don’t like it? Tough. Foul language has a certain power to it when used at the right time and in the right situation,” she replied.

Max shook his head at her even as he continued to turn the pages and read. “Words are powerful, foul language is vulgar, there is a difference, Tonya. What happened to you that made you so cynical at such a young age?” he asked.

Tonya sat back against the bright red vinyl seat. “You haven’t read my file? How’d you know what the judge said? Oh—right, Angela, never mind,” Tonya answered. “Are you going to eat that hamburger? I haven’t eaten in two days, and I’m starving!”

Max looked at her again and pushed his plate across the table. She didn’t hesitate to grab the hamburger and start eating it.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous what you’ve done is? If they had caught you—if the men saw the information you’ve got—Tonya, I’ve seen people killed for less,” Max warned, closing the notebook.

“But—it’s good, right? I mean, the information, the details? I’ve got everything documented. I even have pictures. I just don’t have the money to print them out. This is good, isn’t it, Max?” she asked in an earnest voice.

“Yeah, it’s really good, kid. What do you want to do with your life when you graduate from high school? You are way too smart not to go to college. Do you want to join the force and become a Detective?” he asked.

She shook her head and looked at the notebook. “No. I want to be an investigative reporter—the best in the world—just like my parents before they were killed,” she softly shared.

Max sighed. “You will be, Tonya, if you don’t end up dead before you get the chance,” he replied.