Chapter Twenty-Two: Martha

Chapter Twenty-Two – Martha

Martha glanced at Clint as they drove to the sheriff’s office. His knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel and an air of anger surrounded him like he was ready to fight anyone who would try to take Freddy away.

Martha admired his protective nature, yet she hoped it wouldn’t make matters worse. One thing she’d learned in her many years as a lawyer was if there was one way to get on the wrong side of a judge, belligerence was it.

Still, she was sure that would never be an issue. Martha was determined to settle this case without ever needing to involve a judge.

She leaned her elbow on the door and ran her fingers across her chin. She was jumping to conclusions. Until they spoke to Brad, they didn’t know what the problem was, or if there was a case to answer. Brad’s reason for them coming in might not even involve charges against Freddy.

But the worry was there, creased in the wrinkles between her brows. Freddy had confessed he’d fought to restrain himself when shifting unexpectedly. Had something gone wrong without knowing? Had he physically hurt someone, perhaps his aunt?

With a single mistake, an entire life could be changed forever.

Now, as they pulled up outside the sheriff’s station, she felt a sense of unease. They did not know what to expect. But Freddy might.

As they stepped out of the car, Clint placed a gentle hand on Freddy’s shoulder. “Freddy,” he said softly. “Do you have any idea what Brad could want to discuss with us?”

Freddy looked up at him with sullen eyes. “No,” he muttered. “I don’t know anything.” Clint and Martha exchanged a worried glance.

“If there’s anything at all, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem,” Martha began, “something your bear might have done, perhaps?”

“Nothing!” Freddy said firmly. “We haven’t done anything...except for stealing the food.” He stuffed his hand in his pocket and drew out the compass. “And taking this.”

“I doubt Brad would have called us in about the compass.” Clint chewed on his bottom lip as he stared at the worn object in Freddy’s hand.

“Let’s hope it is,” Martha replied. “Because that would be easy and straightforward to deal with.”

“I’m not giving it back.” Freddy closed his fist around it. “It’s mine.”

“Why don’t we go inside and talk to Brad?” Clint suggested. “There’s no point in us all getting worked up over nothing.”

But Martha doubted the sheriff had brought them down here for nothing. She suspected this had something to do with Freddy’s aunt. And that might be harder to deal with than stolen food and the compass.

Brad was waiting for them when they entered the building, a stern look on his face. They took a seat in front of his desk, the atmosphere thick with tension.

“Thanks for coming,” Brad said, his voice gruff. “You must be Freddy.”

Freddy gave a curt nod but didn’t speak.

“No problem, Brad.” Clint ran his hands over his thighs, and Martha could sense his nervousness.

“Why don’t you tell us why you asked us to come in?” Martha asked, her voice laced with concern.

“Well, Freddy,” Brad said, leaning forward. “It concerns your aunt.”

“We figured,” Clint replied. “How bad is it?”

Brad leaned back in his chair and chewed the end of his pen. “Not as bad as it could have been.”

“So, there is something,” Martha replied.

“After Clint told me that Freddy shifted in front of his aunt, I was worried that she might create a whole shitstorm. In my experience, people under the influence of alcohol don’t engage their brains before opening their mouths. So there was a chance she could have talked to the authorities about it.”

“But she didn’t?” Martha felt some relief. Not just for Freddy, but for shifters everywhere. This could have gotten messy. Fast.

“She didn’t, no. And even if she had, or if she does in the future, we could argue that she was so drunk she imagined it.” Brad leaned forward and tapped the pen on the desk.

“Because you’ve had to deal with something similar before.” Martha nodded. Of course they had. It was impossible to believe that Freddy was the first shifter to ever reveal his secret to someone who might blab about it.

“Yes,” Brad replied. “There have been occasions when there has been a cover-up. The shifter community is prepared for such eventualities.”

Martha didn’t doubt it. She was sure shifters were everywhere, even in positions of power like government and the courts she had argued in.

Martha’s mind swirled with possibilities. She pulled herself together and pushed aside the thoughts, refusing to let them distract her from what mattered most right now. Freddy.

Freddy exhaled, relieved that his aunt’s indiscretion hadn’t led to disaster. But he was still confused about why they were there. His gaze shifted from Martha to Clint and then to Brad. “Okay,” he drawled. “So why am I here?”

“There have been some questions raised about your disappearance,” Brad began. “Your school principal was concerned after several days of unexplained absences, and when he didn’t get a coherent explanation from your aunt, he contacted the authorities.”

“I see.” Martha sat up straighter in her chair. They were finally getting to the point of why they had been summoned to the sheriff’s office.

“It seems that the principal already had some concerns about the way she’s been treating you, Freddy,” Brad spoke with a worried tone, his face full of compassion.

A wave of anger and sadness washed over Martha. Why had nothing been done sooner? She looked sideways at Freddy, who was staring at the floor, his shoulders hunched.

“What kind of concerns?” Martha asked, her voice firm.

Brad sighed heavily. “Neglect, emotional abuse, that kind of thing. The local police decided to investigate further, which is where things get more...complicated.”

“Complicated.” Martha’s mind raced with likely scenarios. Martha straightened in her chair, ready to defend Freddy if necessary. She had left her old life behind, but her lawyer instincts were still sharp.

“What kind of complicated?” Clint asked, his voice tinged with anger.

“The police went to visit Freddy’s aunt,” Brad explained. “Now, as I’ve already said, she has not reported seeing him shift. But when she was questioned, and she admitted he’d run away, the fact that she hadn’t reported him missing at all raised a red flag.”

“She never reported Freddy as missing?” Martha’s heart sank. She had suspected as much, but to hear it confirmed was still a blow. The woman obviously didn’t care about her nephew at all.

“But she wasn’t ready to be painted as a bad person. When she was questioned about her treatment of Freddy,” Brad continued, “she got defensive and showed them a bruise she insists Freddy gave her.”

Freddy’s eyes widened in anger, and he started to protest. “That’s not true!” he shouted. “I never touched her!”

Martha could see the fear and frustration in Freddy’s eyes, and she reached out to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Could it have happened when you shifted in front of her?” she asked gently.

“No!” Freddy’s brow furrowed, and he looked away. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Things are hazy.”

Suddenly, his eyes went out of focus. Was he talking to his bear? Martha and Clint exchanged a worried glance, but then Freddy’s expression cleared, and he looked back at them with a determined glint in his eye.

“My bear says nothing happened,” he said firmly.

Martha smiled encouragingly at him, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. She knew Freddy was telling the truth, and she was ready to defend him if it came to that.

In court if necessary.

“There, she’s lying to cover her ass,” Martha’s voice rose as her disgust for Freddy’s aunt deepened.

Brad leaned forward in his chair, his gaze shifting between the three of them. “I believe you, Freddy,” he said, his tone softening. “But we need to investigate this further. Your aunt has filed an official complaint. Now, I’m going to do what I can to make this go away, but I can’t make any promises.”

Martha nodded in agreement, grateful for Brad’s understanding. “What can we do to help?” she asked.

Brad gave her a small smile. “Freddy is lucky to have you both fighting in his corner,” he said. “We need to go through the proper channels to get you out of her care. For now, we’ll need to find a safe place for you to stay until we can figure this out. But I believe that you’ve already done that.”

“Do I need to contact Fiona?” Clint asked gruffly.

“I’ll take care of that,” Brad replied. “For now, why don’t you all go home?”

Freddy’s eyes widened in surprise. “You mean I can leave?” he asked, his voice hopeful.

“For now.” Brad shuffled the papers on his desk, his expression dark and brooding. “I plan to make sure you never go back to your aunt, Freddy.”

Clint placed a hand on Freddy’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “We’re in this together, buddy,” he said. “We’ll make sure you’re okay.”

Freddy smiled gratefully, his eyes shining with tears. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Martha’s whole body prickled with barely contained anger aimed directly at the woman who should have protected Freddy, who should have loved him and cared for him. If she hadn’t been willing to do that, why hadn’t she simply handed him over to social services rather than making his life miserable?

Martha was a stranger to Freddy, but she swore right there in the sheriff’s office that she would do anything to keep him safe. He deserved happiness and love, not the hand life had dealt him—and she’d be damned if she let anyone take that away from him.

“Thanks, Brad.” Clint shook the sheriff’s hand.

“You’re welcome.” Brad stood up and walked them to the door. “And if you need anything, you know where I am.”

“Is Freddy’s aunt our only concern?” Martha asked as they reached the door.

Brad sucked in a breath and puffed out his chest. “That is something we can talk about later.”

Martha tilted her head to one side. “What does that mean?”

“It means that Freddy has offered to go tend old Miss Braun’s backyard when the weeds start growing.” Brad placed his hand on Freddy’s shoulder as he opened his mouth to protest. “She makes the best cookies. But then you already know that.”

Clint chuckled and put his arm around Freddy’s shoulders and led him from the building. “Don’t fight the punishment, Freddy. You are getting off lightly. Stealing is stealing, even when we’re desperate.”

“The cookies were good,” Freddy admitted. “I’ll do the punishment...if I’m still here and not locked away.”

“That will not happen, Freddy,” Martha replied firmly. “You deserve a new start. And I’m going to see that you get it.”

As they left the sheriff’s station, Martha felt a sense of purpose filling her. She had left her old life behind, but she had found something even more important—a cause worth fighting for.

“But my aunt...” Freddy began and then covered his face with his hands as he sobbed loudly.

“Hey, don’t worry.” Martha wrapped her arms around him, and Clint joined in the hug, his muscular arms cradling them both protectively.

Tears welled in Freddy’s eyes as he sagged against Martha and Clint, and the three of them stood in silence for several moments, united by an invisible bond that connected them all.

Martha wiped away a tear as she held onto Freddy, feeling a wave of emotion wash over her. She could sense the pain and confusion in him, and she wanted to do anything she could to help him.

Clint’s suggestion broke the momentary silence. “Why don’t we go out to the shack?” he said. “We can make plans for how we’re going to rebuild it.”

Martha considered the idea, but she wasn’t sure if it was the best one. “I have a better idea.”