10
Judge
“She’s an addict?” I ask, holding up the needle and belt.
Emma nods as she rocks Dawn back and forth like a child. “She’s an addict,” she says.
“Okay, okay.” I turn back into the bedroom and turn it over, tipping over the mattress and rooting through drawers, searching like a madman. I find extra needles and pipes and aluminum foil strips and baggies and cotton balls. I find it all and then I pile it on the bed. I walk out of the bedroom into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” Emma whispers, stroking Dawn’s forehead.
“I can’t be involved with someone who uses drugs, but I can help. I can help her kick it for good. I’ve done it before.”
“Really?” Emma’s voice is full of hope. “Dawn is tough, Judge. She won’t let anyone wrangle her for long.”
“Don’t forget, pretty lady, I’m
