Wild Spirits. Rosa Jordan

license,” said the boy.

      “Oh my gosh!” Wendy exclaimed. She turned to Kyle. “He was right there in the parking lot, not fifty feet away. I completely forgot!”

      “Did you tell the police?” Kyle asked in a skeptical voice.

      The boy shook his head.

      “Why not?” Kyle demanded.

      Danny kept his eyes fixed on the raccoons. “Nobody asked me,” he said in a timid voice, the voice of a kid who feels that no matter what he does, other people are going to decide it was the wrong thing.

      Wendy noticed that Danny was gripping the wire of the cage tightly with both hands. “Don’t put your fingers through the wire like that,” she reminded him. She caught hold of one hand to move it off the wire. It was trembling. It occurred to Wendy that even though Danny had seen the license plate, he probably couldn’t remember the number, and thought he’d get in trouble for forgetting it. But maybe he remembered something.

      “You didn’t happen to see what kind of car it was, did you?” she asked.

      “Pinto, like what my stepdad drives,” Danny said in voice so low they had to strain to hear him. “But not the same colour. His is green. Theirs was tan, with lots of beer cans up on that shelf by the back window.”

      “But you don’t remember the license number?” Kyle asked sharply.

      Danny didn’t answer, or even look up. Wendy thought, He’s so scared, he’s trying to make himself invisible, like a wild rabbit when it knows it’s been spotted and hasn’t got a chance of escape.

      Wendy knelt next to him. “You know, Danny, when robbers get away like these did, sometimes they come back and hit the same bank again. If you would tell Officer Kyle what you can remember, the police might be able to catch them.”

      “CR3 2FP,” the boy said quietly.

      Wendy shot a look at Kyle, and saw his jaw drop in astonishment. He quickly pulled a notepad from his pocket and jotted down the number. “Did you see what state the license was from?” he asked, this time in the respectful voice of an adult who is prepared to take something a child says seriously.

      “This one,” Danny told him.

      “That’s a big help,” Kyle said, giving Danny’s shoulder a friendly squeeze. “I mean, a big help.” To Wendy he said, “My cellphone’s in the car. I’m going to call the station.”

      “I’ll come with you,” Wendy said. And to Danny, “Will you keep an eye on the raccoons, watch them and see if you think they’ll be okay in there?”

      “I like watching them,” Danny said, and sat down on the grass next to the cage, this time with his hands folded safely in his lap.

      As soon as they were out of earshot, Wendy said to Kyle, “There’s no need for him to go down to the station, is there?”

      “I don’t know. I’ll ask,” Kyle said.

      “No,” Wendy said. “You don’t ask. You tell them he’s not coming down. Or if you can’t do that, don’t tell them where you got the information.”

      “Look,” Kyle said impatiently. “Nobody’s going to hurt him. It would probably be good for him to see that cops can be nice guys.”

      “Kyle, I was at the station for two hours yesterday. I know cops can be nice guys. But maybe you don’t realize how they sound when they’re trying to get information. It’s like you’re being interrogated, like they’re suspicious of your answers. Of course they’re just trying to get the facts, but when they keep asking you the same thing over and over, it’s intimidating! You’ve already got the information, so why put Danny through that? If you think he knows anything else, you ask him. Nicely.”

      Kyle sighed. “Okay.” He speed-dialled the station and told them what he had learned. Then he said “yeah” a few times to what they were telling him. Finally, he hung up and turned to Wendy, who was leaning on the hood of the car. “Too late,” he told her. “A car matching the description was reported stolen yesterday afternoon, about the same time as the bank robbery. It was found this morning, abandoned. That means they stole a car for the heist, and once they got the money, they drove to where they’d left their car and dumped the stolen one. If the police had had the license number right after it happened …” He gave her an accusing look.

      Wendy tilted her chin defiantly. “The police might have had that information, if they’d asked all the people in the area if they’d seen anything — including child people.”

      “Maybe. What was the kid doing there, anyway? And what’s he doing here?”

      “The raccoons. His old man set the dogs on the mother and they killed her.”

      Kyle grimaced. “I’d like to set the dogs on his old man. Maybe I will, if we get called out there to stop him from beating up his wife one more time.”

      “Why don’t you just arrest him?”

      “The wife won’t press charges. Scared of him, I guess. People in town have tried to help her leave him, but she won’t do that, either.”

      Wendy frowned. “You don’t suppose he abuses Danny, too?”

      “We sent a social worker out to talk to him about that, but Danny said they only get into it with each other.” Kyle sighed. “Apparently his mom used to be fairly well-respected, but after Danny’s dad was killed, she got into a bad depression and stopped taking care of herself or Danny. Then Butch came along and started cheering her up — with booze. Now that’s their life, and I guess Danny hasn’t got much of a life at all.”

      “Except what he makes for himself,” Wendy murmured, thinking of how hard Danny worked collecting aluminum cans and saving his money.

      “I guess.” Kyle put his arms around her. “Sorry I couldn’t take you out last night. I thought about you, though. And missed you.”

      “I missed you, too,” Wendy said honestly. “Since the robbery I’ve been pretty jumpy.” She started to tell him about imagining that she saw the robbers everywhere she looked but decided not. Instead she said, “At least Danny has been around.”

      “I noticed,” Kyle said. “I thought you didn’t like kids. Didn’t you say you never wanted a houseful of rug rats?”

      “It’s not that I don’t like kids,” Wendy protested. “It’s just that I like wildlife more. I don’t think small children and wild animals mix, that’s all.”

      “So how come you’re letting Danny hang around?”

      Wendy shrugged. “They’re his raccoons. At least until we release them. And he’s not a rug rat. He’s a —” she started to say “a kid with a horrible home life.” Then changed her mind and said, “An animal lover. Like me.”

      8

      QUITTING TIME

      Wendy did not leave home on Sunday. Instead she stayed indoors or messed around in the backyard with Danny, who had come over first thing in the morning. She had been living on her own for a year and liked being alone. Normally, having somebody else hanging around would have driven her crazy, but Danny was so quiet that she kept forgetting he was there. Then she’d look out the kitchen window see him sitting quietly, watching the antics of the raccoons. Again, she was reminded of how a rabbit will sometimes sit so still that it blends in with its surroundings.

      At lunch she called him up on the porch to share a peanut butter sandwich with her. Again there was a third sandwich, cut in half.

      “Is that for the raccoons?” Danny asked.

      “Unless you want it,” Wendy smiled.

      “I’d rather feed it to them.”

      “Do you remember how I did it yesterday?” Wendy asked.