They were taken back by one of Michael’s colleagues. Michael sat far over on his side, staring out the window. Spyros watched him, wishing he could say something. But with the uniformed officer giving them looks in the mirror as they drove through the streets, he didn’t want to. Michael said he didn’t broadcast, and Spyros didn’t want to get him into trouble.
But seeing him so forlorn like that had Spyros feeling the anguish in his gut.
Michael lived just outside Buxton in Harpur Hill, right outside the primary school gates. His colleague stopped the car outside the closed gates, opening the door for Michael. Spyros slid out after him, watching as Michael wandered up the path to the front door. Spyros turned to the officer.
“Thanks. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“He’ll be okay, I’m sure.”
