Call from Major Crimes

My teacher called my emergency contact to prove my dead parents weren't really dead.

She put it on speaker. In front of the whole class.

All over a seven-hundred-dollar hardship grant.

The room was already laughing. Every one of them wanted to watch me die of shame.

The line picked up.

What came out of the speaker was a flat, hard voice.

"Bellhaven PD, Major Crimes."

The laughing stopped.

I wasn't lying.

My parents died in the line of duty the year I turned nine.

Three minutes later, three cruisers slammed to a stop under the classroom windows.

A detective with red-rimmed eyes kicked the door open.

"Kid. Who made you write this down?"

The smile shattered on my teacher's face.

Chapter 1

For seven hundred dollars, Ms. Prentiss cornered me against the front of the room.

She held my application up over her head and let her voice stretch out long.

"That's a bold thing to put on a form, Cade."

The whole class looked up.

I was standing by the first row, the math test still crumpled in my hand. Sixty-eight. Red marks all over it.

Ms. Prentiss pinched my form between two fingers, like it was something dirty.

"Father deceased. Mother deceased." A pause. "Why not write that an orphanage found you on a doorstep while you're at it?"

Somebody laughed.

The laugh spread.

I didn't move.

I didn't explain.

I'd explained plenty of times before. Nobody ever believed it.

My parents, Elias and Noelle Hale, died the year I turned nine.

People were told a car crash. The file said killed in the line of duty.

I was raised by my father's old partner, Wade Boyd. Uncle Wade. A lieutenant in Major Crimes. Foul temper, sharp mouth, chewed me out every time he saw me. But every time I ran a fever, he sat up the whole night.

I didn't talk about it at school. Not because I was ashamed, but because I couldn't stand the sound of people chewing on my parents' names.

Ms. Prentiss loved doing exactly that.

She tapped the form.

"Aid doesn't go to whoever's saddest, Cade. You live in Old Town. You show up every day in the same washed-out clothes. None of that means you get to lie."

I looked up.

"I didn't lie."

She smiled.

"Then you won't mind if I call to check."

"Go ahead."

She faltered.

Corbin Vance was leaning back against the rear wall, and he smiled as he chimed in.

"Do it, Ms. Prentiss. Plenty of people scam these grants."

Corbin was Dean Vance's son.

His family owned a string of test-prep centers.

He'd applied for the grant too.

Reason on his form: his father's business had hit a rough patch, temporary hardship.

The sneakers on his feet cost more than two months of my meals.

Ms. Prentiss glanced at Corbin, and there was something satisfied in her eyes.

I knew why she'd fixed on me.

There were only two grant slots.

One had gone to Corbin a long time ago.

The other was supposed to be mine.

Kick me off, and she could hand it to some other kid who'd pulled the right strings.

Her motive was simple.

Chapter 2

Do a favor. Step on a poor kid. Prove to everyone how fair she was, all in one move.

Ms. Prentiss picked up my application and read out the emergency contact number.

"I want you all to hear this. Cade says both his parents are deceased. I'm going to verify it right here, in front of every one of you, so nobody can accuse me of wronging a student."

She hit speaker.

The line started ringing.

As her thumb came off the button, my hand went into my pocket and pressed down. Nobody was looking at my hands.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

I could hear my own breathing.

I could hear someone in the back row laughing under their breath.

"He's done. This is about to fall apart."

"He didn't actually put down dead parents for the money, did he?"

"Seven hundred bucks. Imagine scamming over seven hundred bucks."

My fingers tightened. The edge of the test crumpled in my fist.

The call connected.

A flat, hard voice came through.

"Bellhaven PD, Major Crimes. Duty desk."

The laughing in the room cut off.

Ms. Prentiss's smile froze at the corner of her mouth.

She thought she'd misdialed. She looked down and checked the number again.

"H hello, I'm the homeroom teacher for Room 7, junior class, over at Northgate. I'm trying to reach a guardian for Cade Hale."

There was a half-second pause on the other end.

The voice changed.

"Is Cade next to you?"

Her throat had gone dry.

"Yes."

"Put him on."

She didn't hand it to me.

She was still holding on.

"Sir, it's like this. Cade applied for a hardship grant, he wrote down both parents deceased. The school needs to verify whether his parents are really"

A chair scraped back hard on the other end.

"What did you just say?"

Ms. Prentiss flinched.

"He wrote both parents deceased?"

I took a step forward.

"Uncle Wade. I wrote it."

The line went silent.

Then I heard Wade, holding the fire down. "Who told you to write that?"

"The form asks for the truth."

"Who's there with you?"

"My teacher. The whole class."

"On speaker?"

"On speaker."

His breathing came heavier through the phone.

I knew he was past furious. Most days he only chewed me out for being a screwup.

But nobody touched my parents.

Ms. Prentiss lunged to kill the speaker.

My hand came down over the phone first.

"You wanted to verify, Ms. Prentiss. Leave it on."

The whole class stared at me.

For the first time, nobody laughed.

Wade's voice exploded out of the phone.

"This is Lieutenant Wade Boyd, Bellhaven PD, Major Crimes. Cade's father, Elias Hale, and his mother, Noelle Hale, both died in the line of duty. That information is protected. You will stop broadcasting a fallen officer's family to a room full of teenagers, and you will hold your position."

The color drained out of her face.

"Lieutenant, I didn't mean it like that. I was only running a normal check"

Wade cut her off.

"A normal check needs the whole class to hear it?"

Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.

The line went dead.

The room was quiet enough to hear the ceiling fan.

Three minutes later, sirens ripped up from the street below.

Everyone rushed to the windows.

Chapter 3

Three cruisers were parked in front of the building.

Wade got out first.

Black jacket, face like a storm about to break.

Footsteps filled the stairwell fast.

Ms. Prentiss panicked. She shoved my application into a drawer.

I reached in and took it back.

"That's my paperwork, Ms. Prentiss."

She dropped her voice. "Cade, I'm doing this for your own good. Don't blow it out of proportion."

I looked at her.

"I'm not the one blowing it up."

The door swung open.

Wade stood in the doorway. His gaze swept the room and landed on me.

The rims of his eyes were a little red.

His voice was still hard.

"Kid. Come here."

I didn't move.

He crossed to me, took in the form in my hand, then the four words some red pen had circled: both parents deceased.

The veins stood up on the back of his hand.

He turned to Ms. Prentiss.

"Who circled this?"

Her lips shook. "I I was only reminding him to add supporting documents."

Wade let out a cold laugh.

"Documents? You want me to haul in the line-of-duty death notice, the survivor-benefits file, and the flag they folded at his funeral, and put them on display for the whole school?"

She backed off half a step.

Corbin shot to his feet.

"Officer, Ms. Prentiss was just following procedure. You can't come in here and scare a teacher because you happen to have a badge."

Wade looked at him. "What's your name?"

Corbin lifted his chin. "Corbin Vance. My dad's Dean Vance."

Wade nodded. "Good. Nice to know who to put in the report."

He turned to the officer behind him. "Log it. Everyone involved here gives a statement."

The room erupted.

Ms. Prentiss lost it. "Statements? Isn't that a bit much?"

Wade fixed on her. "Publicly humiliating a fallen officer's family. Possible unlawful disclosure of a minor's records. Possible fraud in a needs-based aid review. Whether it's a bit much isn't your call."

I thought that was the end of it.

Then Wade turned to me. "Has the aid list been posted yet?"

I shook my head. "Not yet."

Ms. Prentiss's face changed.

Wade caught it. "Give me the list."

She forced a smile. "It's with the grade office. It isn't final."

Wade watched her. "Then go get it. Now."

She didn't move.

That was when a man's voice came from the doorway.

"Lieutenant. School business. No need for you to get involved, is there?"

Dean Vance had arrived.

White dress shirt, briefcase under his arm, a smile pasted on and cold underneath it.

Wade turned.

Vance put out a hand. "A misunderstanding. All of it. Ms. Prentiss moves a little fast, but her heart's in the right place."

Wade didn't take the hand. "The list."

Vance's smile thinned. "Lieutenant. Are you working a case, or playing bodyguard for a kid?"

Wade answered him one word at a time.

Chapter 4

"Somebody's bullying a fallen officer's kid. I back him first. Then I work the case."

Vance's face went all the way dark.

And behind him, for the first time, Corbin lost his nerve.

Vance walked us down to the grade office. Said he wanted to solve the problem. The second we were inside, he shut the door.

The hallway outside was packed with students, necks craning to see.

Ms. Prentiss sat in the corner, tear tracks still on her face.

Not hurt.

Scared.

Vance poured Wade a cup of water. "Lieutenant, a school has its own rules. Cade's family situation is unique, we understand that. But Ms. Prentiss was only verifying paperwork. There was no humiliation."

Wade didn't touch the water. "Pull the classroom footage. From just now."

Vance smiled. "The camera in that room went down a couple of days ago."

Wade looked at me. "Did you get it on tape?"

I took the old phone out of my pocket.

The hand I'd slipped in there back in class. This is what it had been doing.

I pressed play.

Ms. Prentiss's voice came out, clear as glass.

"Why not write that an orphanage found you on a doorstep while you're at it?"

The office died.

Ms. Prentiss threw herself at me to grab the phone.

Wade blocked her with one arm. "What do you think you're doing?"

She started to cry. "Cade, how could you record a teacher? This is disrespect. To all of us."

"I was protecting myself."

She jabbed a finger at me. "You planned this. From the very start."

I smiled.

It didn't feel good.

Because I'd heard that line too many times.

A poor kid explains, and it's making excuses.

A poor kid keeps evidence, and it's premeditation.

A poor kid stays quiet, and it's guilt.

A poor kid fights back, and he's an ingrate.

I looked at her.

"Last week you told me to bring proof of hardship. I brought it. You said the stamp wasn't clear. Two days ago I brought another copy. You said it needed a parent's signature. I told you I don't have parents. You told me to stop milking it. Today you called my guardian in front of the whole class."

I let it sit.

"So which one of us planned this?"

Her face went gray.

Vance cut in fast. "Cade, don't get worked up. The teacher may have chosen her words poorly, but aid is a holistic review. Your grades have slipped. You don't join in with class activities. We can't look at family circumstances alone."

Wade asked, "Aid goes by grades now?"

Vance cleared his throat. "By holistic performance."

Wade said, "Show me the document."

Vance's face turned ugly.

Of course he couldn't produce it.

A public-school hardship grant comes down mostly to financial need. Grades aren't a cutoff.

He changed the subject. "Lieutenant, here's what we'll do. The school gives Cade a verbal apology, and we prioritize him for the grant. Let's not let this grow. It isn't good for the child."

I laughed.

"Which child, Dean Vance? Not good for which child?"

Vance looked at me. "You, obviously."

Chapter 5

I took out another photo.

I'd shot it the day before, outside the main office.

The preliminary aid list was pinned inside a folder, and I'd caught sight of it when I dropped off my paperwork.

My name wasn't on it.

Corbin's was.

So was a kid named Devin Barrett.

Barrett's family owns a restaurant. The whole class knows it.

I set the photo on the desk.

"Then what's this?"

Vance went still. Then the color started leaving his face.

Ms. Prentiss went rigid, whole body locked.

Wade picked up the phone, gave it one look, handed it to the officer behind him. "Photograph it. Log it as evidence."

Vance finally lost the last of his temper. "Cade, you're a student. Who taught you to go around photographing internal school records and passing them around? That's a violation."

I held his eyes. "Yesterday I asked Ms. Prentiss what my file was still missing. She told me I didn't qualify. She never once told me the list was already decided."

Vance slammed the desk. "Shut your mouth."

The students out in the hall flinched.

Wade raised his eyes. "Do that again. Hit the desk one more time."

Vance's jaw worked.

Wade stood. "Vance. Free advice. This isn't a chat in your office anymore. This is a police review, by law. Think hard about every word."

Sweat came up on Vance's forehead.

The door opened.

Principal Halloway walked in. Fifties, hair combed flat, two vice principals trailing behind.

He looked straight at me. "Cade. I'm so sorry you've been put through this."

It came too fast.

Fast enough to be cheap.

I didn't answer.

Halloway turned to Wade. "Lieutenant, the school will take this seriously. Ms. Prentiss is suspended pending review. Dean Vance will cooperate with the investigation. The grant gets re-reviewed and posted in public."

Wade asked, "That's it?"

Halloway's face stiffened. "What is it you're suggesting?"

Wade said, "Notify the district. Notify family services. Notify the department's survivor-benefits office. Anything that touches a fallen officer's family gets a joint review, by the book."

The corner of Halloway's mouth twitched.

Vance panicked. "Principal, there's no need to pull in that many agencies."

Halloway wheeled on him. "Shut up."

I knew it wasn't my hurt he cared about.

He was afraid of the news.

But afraid was enough.

A lot of people don't run on conscience.

They run on consequences.

Wade turned to me. "How do you want to handle this?"

Every person in the room looked at me.

Ms. Prentiss cried harder. "Cade, I truly didn't know your parents were heroes. I'm apologizing to you. Don't ruin a teacher's whole life over this."

I looked at her.

"You didn't know they were heroes. But you knew I didn't have parents."

The tears on her face stopped.

I kept going.

"You weren't wrong because they were heroes. You were wrong because you got a kick out of someone else's open wound."

Nobody in the office said a word.

Chapter 6

For a second, something in Wade's eyes went soft.

Then I set the application back on the desk.

"I don't want a verbal apology."

Ms. Prentiss asked quickly, "Then what do you want?"

"I want you to apologize in front of the whole school."

"I want the grant re-reviewed."

"And I want the last three years of lists pulled."

Vance's head snapped up.

"The last three years?"

The reaction was too big.

Everyone looked at him.

Wade narrowed his eyes. "Something making you nervous, Dean Vance?"

Vance came back swinging. "Don't push your luck, Cade. This school carried you for years, and now you're biting the hand that fed you?"

That lit the last of the fire in me.

I stood up.

"Carried me?"

"Every year, the survivor education benefit my parents left behind gets paid straight into the school's account. My tuition, my fees, my boarding, my materials, all waived under policy."

"You took what there was to take. You kept what there was to keep. And now you tell me you carried me?"

"Dean Vance. You want to put the ledger on the table?"

The color went out of Vance's face.

Wade turned, all at once, to Halloway. "The ledger."

Halloway's hand twitched.

That was the moment it landed on me.

This was never about seven hundred dollars.

Three in the afternoon, the district came.

Family services came.

The department's survivor-benefits office came.

The conference room filled up.

I sat at the far end.

Wade sat down next to me and shoved a bottle of water at me. "Drink."

I twisted off the cap. My hand shook a little.

He caught it, and cursed me under his breath. "Scared now?"

"I'm not scared."

"Then what?"

I stared at Vance across the table. "Angry."

Wade went quiet for a few seconds. "Good. Angry's right. Don't hold it in till it makes you sick."

I didn't say anything.

After I turned nine, I got good at holding it in.

Someone asked where my parents were, and I said nothing.

Relatives called me bad luck, and I let it go.

The school wanted a parent's signature, so I carried the form down to the precinct and had Uncle Wade sign it, and I didn't say a word about that either.

But today, when Ms. Prentiss read those four words out loud, I stopped wanting to hold it in.

My parents didn't deserve to come out of her mouth like that.

The meeting started.

The district's compliance investigator, Ms. Foster, laid out the files.

Grant review sheets.

Posting records.

Hardship documentation.

One item at a time.

The last two years, my name was there on the shortlist.

On the final award list, it was gone.

In my place: Corbin Vance. And a few other students whose families weren't struggling at all.

The notes column read: Cade Hale is withdrawn, lacks team spirit. Recommend deferral.

I looked at that line, and my throat tightened.

So I hadn't missed out because there weren't enough slots.

Someone had pushed me down.

Ms. Foster asked, "Who wrote this recommendation?"

Chapter 7

Ms. Prentiss kept her head down. "I did."

"On what basis?"

"He doesn't fit in. He's not active in class activities."

Ms. Foster's voice went cold. "Since when does aid for students in financial hardship come down to whether they fit in?"

Ms. Prentiss didn't dare answer.

Vance jumped in. "Ms. Foster, a homeroom teacher has discretion over holistic evaluation. Cade's circumstances are unusual, and we've always looked out for him. But he's sensitive. He's extreme. He doesn't cooperate with his teachers."

I laughed. "How exactly did I not cooperate?"

Vance looked at me, something vicious behind his eyes. "Last year's charity drive, you refused to speak on stage. The year before, the school promo video, you refused to go on camera. You take everything the policy gives you, and you won't give a thing back to the school."

And then I understood.

That charity drive, the school wanted me up on stage to talk about losing both parents. About how I'd clawed my way out of the dark with the school's help.

They'd already written the speech for me.

The first line was: I used to think the world had thrown me away, until Northgate gave me a home.

I didn't go up.

Because my parents didn't throw me away.

And Northgate was never my home.

Vance held it against me. He wanted me for a prop, and I didn't play along.

So he choked my aid. Buried my honors. Had my teachers stick labels on me.

I looked at him. "So because I wouldn't play the victim, you decided to make me one for real?"

Vance went iron-faced. "Watch your tone."

Wade laid a hand flat on the table. "Is he wrong?"

The room went still.

That was when a staffer came in with a laptop.

"Ms. Foster, finance came back with preliminary findings. There's a fallen-officer survivor stipend under Cade Hale's name that hasn't been paid out in full for three years running."

Something went blank in my head, one flat hum.

Wade shot to his feet. "Say that again."

The staffer glanced at me and dropped his voice. "By the records, the stipend is held and disbursed by the school. The books show it as paid. But there are no matching deposits in the student's own account."

Halloway's jaw loosened, then set.

Vance said fast, "That's impossible. I don't know anything about the finances."

Wade fixed on him. "You don't know anything."

Vance wiped sweat. "I'm a dean. I don't handle money."

The staffer added, "Except several of the approvals carry your signature, Dean Vance."

Vance stopped talking.

Ms. Prentiss's head came up. She looked at Vance, her eyes all panic.

"Dean Vance, didn't you tell me that money was a policy adjustment? That it just couldn't be paid out yet?"

Vance roared, "Shut your mouth."

The shout froze her.

But it was already too late.

Ms. Foster asked at once, "Ms. Prentiss. What do you know?"

Ms. Prentiss's lips shook. "I I don't know the amounts. Dean Vance said Cade had personality problems, that he wouldn't use the money well. That the school would hold it for him and pay it out all at once after he finished school."

Chapter 8

I stared at her. "So you knew my money was being held back."

Ms. Prentiss shook her head, crying. "I thought it was only being held."

I asked, "Then why did you still say I was scamming the grant?"

She wouldn't look at me.

The answer was clear enough.

She knew I was poor.

She knew I was supposed to have money.

And she knew that money never reached my hands.

She humiliated me in front of the whole class anyway.

Because to her, I wasn't a student.

I was a problem she could squeeze.

Wade picked up his phone and dialed. "Get financial crimes down to Northgate. Yeah. Now."

Vance came up out of his chair. "Wade Boyd. You're going too far."

Wade turned his head. His eyes had gone cold enough to scare you. "You're calling me by my name now?"

Vance was breathing hard. "You think I don't know about Elias Hale? Your precious Major Crimes wasn't so clean back then either. A man ten years dead, and you're still hauling him out to lean on people?"

Wade's fist clenched in an instant.

Everything in me locked up.

Every face in the room changed.

Elias Hale.

My father's name.

Out of Vance's mouth, it came with a stink on it.

Wade walked toward him, one step at a time. "Say that again."

Vance caught what he'd let slip and shut his mouth.

But I'd already heard it.

I stood, my voice gone dry. "Dean Vance. You knew my father?"

Vance wouldn't look at me.

Wade bore down on him. "Talk."

Cold sweat rolled down Vance's forehead.

Footsteps came from the doorway.

An older officer pushed the door open, a sealed evidence envelope in his hand.

He looked at Wade. "Lieutenant. We found the related files on the Southbank case."

Wade's jaw tightened.

Something dropped in my chest.

The Southbank case.

That was the case my parents died on.

And the way Vance had just reacted told me one thing.

He didn't only know my father.

He might know why they died.

They cleared the room. Students and unrelated staff were walked out. Only the school's leadership, the investigators, Wade, and me were left