Trouble |The Outsiders|

26. Familiar Faces

"This is bullshit! Are you fucking kidding me?"

The cop on the other side of the desk sighed, making the hairs on his thin mustache move ever so slightly. "I'd watch my mouth if I were you," he warned gruffly. Tulsa's police station fell quiet as Abigail sighed and reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a handful of crumpled bills and loose change. "You said his bail is twenty-seven fifty, and there's twenty-seven fifty-five right there. Now let him out."

It had been less than forty-eight hours since Eddy's visit, and Abigail had been working like a dog to get the money required for Tim's bail. The officer in front of her seemed unimpressed as he ran his fingers over the pile of cash. Abigail knew him well, Officer Peterson. She'd been called countless times over the years to bail Dallas out, as well as working on a project with his son when she was in ninth grade.

Officer Peterson hadn't changed much since the last time she'd seen him. His hair was receding further from his forehead and his mustache was still awkwardly thin. He still looked down on her. too. Abigail knew the look in his shifty dark eyes, disgust. He was disgusted the girl in front of him sat at his kitchen table with his son, spent her days running around with gangs on the Eastside, and was disgusted she had the nerve to yell at him.

"Now you listen here, missy," he ordered before pulling the money into his open palm. "He's gonna stay here as long as we feel like keepin' him, got it? I wouldn't expect a little girl like you to understand, but the Shepards-"

"What charges are you keepin' him on, Officer," Abigail snarled as she leaned across the desk. "Because I know Eddy is too buzzed to file an actual report. An' that's one of the perks of being a greaser, we learn the law real well since we're always the ones breaking 'em."

"You've got a lotta nerve talking to me like that-"

"An' you've got a lotta nerve keepin' Tim here on some bullshit charge! You have the money and he's done his time, now let him out before this gets any uglier."

Without a word, Officer Peterson pushed himself out of his chair and waddled down the hall towards the holding cells. A pair of silver keys swung against his thigh, as did a gun in its holster. Officer Peterson never scared Abigail, but there was something about him that always made her stomach churn. Out of her line of sight, Abigail heard the familiar sound of Tim yelling.

"Not so tough now I'm not in there, are ya' Peterson?"

The sinister smile on his chapped lips vanished as Officer Peterson released his grip on Tim's jacket and shoved him forwards. Abigail caught him by the arm and sent him a silent look. He responded with a nod, and they left.

"An' if I see you in the next week, Shepard, you're headed to Tulsa County!"

"Then stop bringin' me back, Tom."

Tim took a deep breath of fresh air and raised a hand to the back of his neck as they stepped out of the station. It was nearing six in the evening and the sky was slowly growing dark. "They didn't hurt you, right?" Abigail asked as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Nah, the cot's about as comfy as a casket," he responded. "How much am I worth?"

"Twenty-seven dollars and fifty-five cents," Abigail sighed. "Not counting the groceries."

Tim raised his eyebrow to her before glancing down the street. "What fucking groceries?"

"Curly was pretty freaked out about everything that happened and asked me if I wanted to spend the night. You had nothing in your fridge, by the way. It's a miracle you don't have scurvy."