Jordan felt the old tightness beginning behind his ribs. The asthma inhaler in his backpack was still lying inside the house near the front table. He tried breathing slowly.
“Please just knock.”
Rourke’s right hand moved toward his belt.
Jordan’s eyes followed it.
The officer wrapped his fingers around the grip of his taser.
Jordan stopped breathing normally.
“No.”
“Step down.”
“Please.”
“Now.”
Jordan pressed himself farther against the wall even though there was nowhere else to go. “I live here.”
Rourke pulled the taser halfway free.
Inside, Caleb heard Jordan’s voice.
Not loud.
That was what frightened him.
Jordan became quieter when he was scared.
“Mom!”
Natalie was already moving.
She crossed the foyer, pulled open the door, and found Jordan against the side wall with both hands raised while Daniel Rourke stood several feet away holding a taser halfway out of its holster.
For one second, everything inside Natalie went cold.
Then training took over.
Years working hospital emergencies had taught her that panic made people miss what needed doing first. “Officer, put the taser away.”
Rourke turned sharply. “Ma’am, stay back.”
“That is my son.”
Rourke blinked. “What?”
Natalie stepped onto the porch. “The child you are pointing a taser toward is my son.”
Jordan whispered, “Mom.”
She reached backward and placed one hand lightly against his forearm. “I’m here.”
Rourke looked between Natalie and Jordan as though he needed the geometry explained. “He lives here?”
“Yes.”
“Your son?”
“Yes.”
Rourke glanced toward Caleb standing behind her.
Caleb was pale, freckled, brown-haired, and obviously related to Natalie. Something in the officer’s face shifted.
Natalie saw it.
“What exactly made Jordan look like he didn’t live here?”
Rourke lowered the taser slightly but kept it in his hand. “I was responding to a theft complaint.”
“You found him touching a package?”
“Yes.”
“Did you read the name?”
Rourke glanced toward the box.
“No.”
“Did you knock on the door?”
“No.”
“Did you check the address?”
“I was attempting to identify him.”
“He gave you his name.”
Rourke’s face tightened. “Ma’am, from my perspective, he was acting suspiciously.”
Natalie’s voice dropped. “Tell me what suspicious thing he did.”
Rourke looked toward Jordan. “He was defensive.”
“He said he lived here.”
“He kept challenging instructions.”
“He asked you to knock.”
“He wouldn’t leave the porch.”
Natalie stared at him. “The porch where he lives.”
Rourke finally returned the taser fully to its holster. “This appears to be a misunderstanding.”
Natalie laughed once.
Jordan flinched because there was nothing amused about the sound.
“A misunderstanding is putting somebody else’s mail in our box.” She pointed toward her son.
“You threatened a thirteen-year-old with a taser because a neighbor told you he did not belong at his own house and you could not be bothered to read twelve inches of shipping label.”
Rourke’s expression changed. He looked toward the street.
That was when Barbara Caldwell appeared.
She walked briskly down the sidewalk with the confidence of someone expecting the police to validate what she had already decided. “Officer Rourke, why is he still here?”
Natalie turned slowly.