“Reggie?” The man’s voice had a whiny, nasal quality, and steps came up the stairs. “Reginald? Champ? Buddy? Where are you?”
“Are you Reginald?” Hazard asked the boy.
Howling, the boy kicked harder.
“You’re just making this worse for yourself,” Hazard said.
The boy threw himself backwards.
“Last chance to talk before things get messy,” Hazard warned.
“Reggie, my big buster.” A man emerged at the top of the stairs, a note of worry inflecting the words now. “Reggie, are you—oh, stud, what’s wrong?”
The man pushed past Hazard, moving into Evie’s room and picking up the stocky, dark-haired boy. Hazard saw the likeness immediately; the man was wide and built solidly, with the same dusky coloring. Hazard recognized him as the one with the joint. He had a face like a steam shovel, and right then, he was fixing Hazard with a furious look.
“What the hell is going on up here?”
“What’s going on,” Hazard said, “is that your son and his friend were committing trespass, vandalism, and destruction of property, just for a start. He’s also the primary suspect in another case, and I’ve got to tell you, I’m going to push for petty theft once I find what he took. That’s a class A misdemeanor.”
The dad stared at Hazard. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”
“Down,” Reggie screamed, flailing his legs. “Down!”
“You’re a fucking lunatic, talking about kids like that, talking about Reggie like that. Reggie’s a fucking champ, ok?”
“Down!” Reggie screamed again, this time landing a kick that made his dad double over with a grunt. His dad released his hold, and Reggie shot toward the stairs.
The dad righted himself, massaging the spot where Reggie had gotten him. “Wait until I tell everyone what a nutjob you are.” He checked Hazard with his shoulder, pushing his way out of the room. “We’re out of here. And everybody else is out of here too once they hear about this.”
Catching the man’s wrist, Hazard twisted his arm behind his back and shoved him up against the wall. The man howled, sounding remarkably like Reggie, and struggled to get free. Hazard tightened his grip and forced the man’s wrist higher, toward the spot between his shoulder blades, and the man squealed.
“Feel that?” Hazard asked. “That pressure on your shoulder, that can do a lot of bad things if you keep struggling. Be quiet.”
The man drew in a shuddering breath and went still against the wall. “I’m going to sue the shit out of you, I’m going to—”
“What’s your name?”
“You won’t have anything left. Not a fucking thing. You and your fag boyfriend will be—”
Hazard tugged on the man’s wrist, and the man screamed.
“Quiet,” Hazard said. “Or everybody will come up here and see us messing around. You don’t want that, do you?”
The man’s breathing sounded almost like a sob.
“That was a question,” Hazard said.
“No.”
“What’s your name?”
“Dale.”
“Dale?”
“Dale Harwood.”
“Dale Harwood, here’s the thing. I know you’ve got a joint in your back pocket because I saw you showing it around. I bet you thought that was funny, right? In a police officer’s home, passing around weed, laughing at how stupid these fag cops were. That must have been a gag. Am I right?”
“I don’t—I wouldn’t—”
“So, I’m going to get rid of this.” Hazard pulled the joint from the back pocket. “And I’m going to tell you something, and then I’m going to let you go: this is my daughter’s birthday party. I’ve worked my ass off to make it as close to fucking perfect as possible. John would point out that perfect isn’t possible at a toddler’s party, but I’m not John. We see things a little differently. And I want this party to be pink and pretty and perfect. Do you understand me?”
Dale was crying now, his cheek mashed against the wall. “Yes. Yeah. Yes, I understand.”
“Do you know where the missing present is?”
“What missing present?” Dale let out a sharp cry as Hazard applied pressure again. “No, no, I swear to God.”
“Good. So you’re going to go wash your face. And you’re going to go back to the party. And you’re going to laugh and smile and have the best fucking time of your life. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I’m sorry, Jesus Christ, I’m sorry. We’ll buy her a new doll, we’ll replace whatever you say Reggie took, we’ll invite her over for playdates.”
Hazard released Dale’s wrist and shoved him away. Dale took two stumbling steps and then sprinted downstairs. Following after him, Hazard turned over the problem in his mind. Toddlers had a certain degree of perverse cunning, but Hazard didn’t think Reggie—or, for that matter, Dale—had the intellectual development to plan and carry out a theft. And Hazard guessed that Dale would have sold out any of his buddies in a heartbeat.
So where the hell was John’s present?
When Hazard got back to the party, Dale and the other men were leaning against the wall, although Dale’s pose had a newly-acquired degree of stiffness. The kids were dancing to some sort of electro-pop children’s music, and Somers was sitting on the arm of the sofa, his hand on Cora’s shoulder. Evie was shrieking with glee as she and another girl whirled in circles together.
“Where’d you go?” Somers said.
“Just had to round up a couple of kids.”
“You’re missing all the fun.” Somers dropped his hand from Cora’s shoulder and slid an arm around Hazard’s waist, tugging him close and resting his head against Hazard’s side. “We just found our prima ballerina.”
“You’re not missing all that much,” Cora said with a smile. “And if you want an encore performance, Evie will be happy to oblige.” She glanced around the room. “John-Henry, where are your parents? I need to ask your mom about watching Evie next weekend.”
“They just left,” Somers said. “Not really their scene.”
The electro-pop song shifted into another, almost identical tune. Something about the music made Hazard
