They Chose Their Adopted Daughter, So the Real Heiress Walked Out novel · Chapter 11 of 24

Chapter 11: The Framed Boy

The Marlow County sheriff's station smelled like burnt coffee and floor wax.

I sat on a plastic bench in the lobby for two hours, and I did not stop shaking my knee.

Caleb came in at four with a folded receipt.

"His bail was two thousand," he said. "It's paid. They're bringing him out."

"You paid it?"

"I did."

"I can't pay you back."

"I didn't ask you to."

"I told you, I don't take favors."

"Okay." He sat down next to me. "Then I'll tell you what you've taken from me so far. A cot. A coat. A bus pass. A sandwich I made at six in the morning."

"That's different."

"How?"

I opened my mouth.

"It's for rent," I said. "I teach the kids on Saturdays."

"I'm not billing you for the kid's bail. I'm just not leaving him in a cell." He looked at me. "You've taught eleven kids how to fall, Talia. Let one person catch you."

It was a good line, and I didn't have an answer.

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"Don't make a thing of it."

"I would never."

The corner of his mouth moved, and I looked at the floor.

The front door opened, and a cold gust came in with the old woman from the tent.

She had a cane now.

She wore a black coat and a donor's pin, and her eyes went around the lobby once.

She saw me and walked straight over.

"You're old Weatherford's granddaughter."

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