Hank maneuvered the Mercedes down the narrow street, barely missing numerous parked cars. A big red ball bounced in front of the car’s grille, and he braked. A boy, probably five or six, ran into the street, his focus on the elusive ball and not moving traffic. Hank waited patiently until the young child and his ball returned safely to the curb.

The Mercedes had received a complete detail job this morning. The fresh leather scent added to the luxurious feel of the car. He’d promised Amanda a ride in his “classy” car, and he wanted to deliver. His mission was to escort Amanda to police headquarters where she could tell Detective Santiago vital information concerning the night of Dwight Culbertson’s murder.

As Hank climbed from his vehicle, the yellow crime scene tape flapping in the wind caught his attention. He couldn’t help but wonder how many other horrific nights Beth had spent inside those walls. With Bert’s mothering attention, Hank hoped those nightmares would fade in time, and the young girl would find a brighter future. He needed to get Amanda’s knowledge of the night in the right hands.

Climbing the front porch steps, Hank knocked on the door. Amanda was expecting him. They’d made the arrangements yesterday. When she didn’t answer, he knocked again; a bit harder this time. Still no answer. Not even a bark from Tiny.

He decided to check the backyard. Maybe she was grabbing a last-minute smoke or giving Tiny time to stretch his legs. Surveying the area, he didn’t see Amanda. The unhooked screendoor flopped in the wind, striking the porch railing. The interior door was ajar. Instinct told Hank something was be wrong.

He stepped up onto the back porch. He peered through the door opening, but couldn’t see Amanda or her dog. The short hairs on the back of his neck bristled. 

“Amanda.” He waited for a response. When she didn’t answer, he called out again. “Amanda, it’s Hank. Are you in here?” 

Hank pushed the door open. A kitchen chair was tipped over, but nothing else seemed amiss. 

“Amanda, it’s Hank. I’m a bit worried about you, so I’m coming into the house. I hope that’s okay.”

As he passed through the kitchen, he heard a low, agonizing moan. His heart rate jumped, and he hurried into the front room. Amanda’s eyes were swollen closed. The jagged rip in her lip was crusted with dried blood. Her broken arm dangled precariously over the arm of the chair. 

She tried to speak, but her broken jaw prevented anything but a moan.

“Amanda, it’s Hank. I’m calling 911. Don’t try to move.” 

After summoning the ambulance, Hank phoned Ric.

“Ric, I’m at Amanda’s home." Hank shook his head as he looked at the beaten woman. "Man, it’s not good. The ambulance is on the way.”

“What happened? Did she have a heart attack?” 

“No, someone beat the hell out of her.” 

“Damn! Can she tell you what happened?”

“Pal, she’s lucky she’s even breathing. I’ve seen knocked out prizefighters that looked better than she does.”

“Are you going with her to the hospital? I can meet you there.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” Amanda moaned. It sounded like she said Tiny. “I’m going to let you go. I need to find her dog before the ambulance gets here.”

“Okay, see you in a few.”

Hank disconnected the call and glanced around the front room. He knew Tiny would not have willingly left Amanda’s side. 

“Tiny, come here, boy. Where are you?” He listened. He thought he heard a faint whimper behind the closed bedroom door. 

Hank opened the door, and his heart fell. The small ball of fur lay on the rug by the bed. His head rested on top of Amanda’s slippers. His sad eyes begged for help. Hank knelt beside him and gently ran his fingers across his body. The animal’s wiry tail struggled to thump against the floor.

Hank stroked his head. “It’s okay, boy. I think you’ve got a broken leg. We'll get it taken care of as soon as we get your momma to the hospital.” A small, lightweight blanket lay across the arm of a rocking chair. Hank grabbed the soft covering, placing it in the empty laundry basket. Next, he nestled Tiny inside and carried him to the front room as the sirens pulled up outside. Hank unlocked the front door and pointed toward Amanda. The EMTs went to work, quickly assessing Amanda and putting her on the stretcher.

Spying the dog in the laundry basket, a young patrol officer spoke to Hank, “I could run him over to the vet if you’d like. Dr. Patterson takes care of all our K-9 officers.”

Hank was relieved. “Thanks. I would appreciate that if you don’t mind. Then I can go to the hospital with Amanda.” 

“Not a problem at all.” The young man scooped up the basket and headed out the door. Hank could hear him gently trying to reassure the dog everything was going to be alright.

**********

In the emergency room, the doctors were prepping Amanda for surgery. It would be hours before they'd know anything. With time on their hands, Ric and Hank grabbed a coffee from the vending machine and headed for the elevators and ICU. 

“I’m told our boy’s able to talk. Not sure how ready he is to share what he knows, but I figure as long as we are in the hospital, it can’t hurt to pay him a visit.”

“You think he’s involved?” Hank shook his head. “His squeaky clean sheet doesn’t fit the criteria.”

“I gotta go by the evidence. Come on, Hank. The kid was driving the stolen getaway car loaded with the boxes of oxycontin. What am I suppose to think?”

“I know it looks bad, but we’re missing something. My gut tells me drugs isn’t this kid’s story.”

“I hope you're right, but until I have evidence to the contrary, he’s still my only remaining suspect.”

As they approached Ty’s room, the officer on duty recognized Ric and nodded, “Good afternoon, Detective.”

“Hi, Max. How’s the kid?”

“He’s getting better. I heard him and his pal talking this morning. He still slips in and out. His memory's not too clear, but each day he gets a little better.”

“Sounds good.  Max, meet Hank Armato. He’s a …"

“A legend around the squad room. Nice to meet you in person, Mr. Armato.”

Hank laughed. “A legend … wow, they’ll let anyone into that class nowadays. I’m just Hank, and I’m currently having fun as a private investigator.”

“Modesty can’t erase you and your wife’s record, sir. I’m proud to walk in your footsteps.”

“Okay, Max, don’t lay it on too thick. I have to hang out with this guy all day.” Ric rolled his eyes. “Let’s go see the kid.” 

Hank and Ric walked into Ty’s hospital room, each with their own opinion on what they might learn.