Chapter 74: the complaint

The next day

Detective Singer sat at his desk, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee when the door to the station swung open. Frank Miller stormed in, his face a mess of bruises, a thick bandage covering the bridge of his swollen nose. His eyes burned with anger as he made a beeline for Singer’s desk.

"I want to press charges!" Frank spat, slamming his hands on the desk. "That punk kid broke my nose!"

Singer sighed, setting his coffee down. He'd already had a long day, and now this. "Take a seat, Miller. Start from the beginning."

Frank dropped into the chair, wincing as the movement jostled his injury. "I was at Walmart, minding my own business, when I walk into the men’s room and see this teenage boy—fifteen years old, mind you—getting his diaper changed by another kid! I called it like I saw it, said he should be ashamed of himself, and the next thing I know, the other one turns around and cold-cocks me! Didn’t even say a word—just bam! Right in the nose!"

Singer folded his hands, choosing his words carefully. "So… you walked in, insulted the kid, and then got hit?"

Frank scoffed. "I didn’t insult him—I just told the truth! A kid his age has no business in diapers, let alone getting changed in public like that. Someone had to say it!"

Singer leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. "Look, Miller, I get it. You’re upset. But let me ask you—did you put your hands on the kid first?"

Frank hesitated. "No, but—"

"And did the kid threaten you before throwing the punch?"

Another pause. "Well… no, but that doesn't matter!"

"It does matter," Singer said firmly. "You provoked him. You humiliated him in a public restroom while he was in a vulnerable situation. Legally speaking, yeah, he shouldn’t have hit you, but I doubt any jury’s gonna sympathize with a grown man picking a fight with a teenager over something that’s none of his business."

Frank’s face turned red. "So that’s it? You’re not gonna do anything?!"

Singer sighed, leaning forward. "Look, I could bring him in, but let me be honest with you—if this goes to court, you’re not gonna come out looking like the victim here. My advice? Let it go. It’s not worth the trouble."

Frank clenched his jaw, clearly wanting to argue, but after a long moment, he exhaled sharply and stood up. "This is bull," he muttered, shaking his head. "But fine. If he ever does it again, though—"

Singer raised a hand. "If it happens again, then you come back, and we’ll handle it. Until then, go home, put some ice on that nose, and stay out of trouble."

Miller grumbled under his breath as he turned and stomped out of the station.

Singer watched him go, then picked up the police sketch from his desk, staring at the familiar face. Jordan.

This situation was getting messier by the minute.

Mrs. Faulkner had just finished tidying up the kitchen when her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and sighed, answering with a calm but wary tone.

"Singer?"

"Yeah, it's me," the detective said, his voice carrying a slight edge of exhaustion. "Just wanted to give you a heads-up—I think I’ve talked the guy down for now."

Mrs. Faulkner exhaled, relieved but still cautious. "For now?"

Singer sighed. "Yeah. Frank Miller—he’s pissed, but I convinced him that pressing charges wouldn’t do him any favors. He’s got a busted nose and a bruised ego, but he’s walking away. That said, if Jordan so much as looks at him wrong again, he’s gonna come running back, and I might not be able to stop him next time."

Mrs. Faulkner pinched the bridge of her nose. "I appreciate the call, Singer. Believe me, I’ll be having a long talk with Jordan about this."

"Good. Look, I get why the kid did it, but he’s gotta keep his temper in check. I don’t want to see him getting dragged in on an assault charge."

"I hear you loud and clear," she assured him.

There was a pause before Singer spoke again, his voice quieter. "And, uh… Mrs. Faulkner, just between us—there’s a police sketch out on him. No name, just his face. If anyone recognizes him, it could cause trouble."

Mrs. Faulkner’s grip on the phone tightened. "Noted."

"Keep him close. And keep him out of sight for a while."

"Understood," she said firmly.

"Alright. I’ll be in touch if anything changes."

As the call ended, Mrs. Faulkner lowered the phone and took a steadying breath. She had a lot to think about—and Jordan had a lot to answer for.

Mrs. Faulkner's relief was short-lived as she turned to call for Jordan—only to realize the house was eerily quiet. Her heart sank.

She quickly walked through the rooms, checking each one, but they were empty. Then it hit her.

"Miss Harper."

She rushed to the window and, sure enough, Miss Harper’s Impala was gone.

Mrs. Faulkner's grip on her phone tightened. Jordan had been itching to get out for a ride, and Miss Harper had promised him one earlier. It wasn’t unusual for her to take the boys out for a bit, but this was the worst possible timing.

With Singer’s warning fresh in her mind, she immediately dialed Miss Harper’s number, hoping she wasn’t too late.

Miss harper and all the boys were at a diner for lunch when Jordan had to go to the bathroom Jake and alex and Tyler had all just used their diapers as well... Jordan said he'll take the boys and change them after he pees.

Moments later

Frank Miller stepped into the restroom, his black-and-blue nose still swollen from the punch Jordan had landed earlier. His eyes scanned the room, narrowing when he spotted Jake, Alex, and Tyler standing near the sinks, their diapers sagging slightly beneath their clothes.

A slow, nasty smirk spread across his face. So, the kid who broke my nose plays babysitter too?

Jake and Alex looked up at him with innocent curiosity, but Tyler recognized the man instantly. His body tensed, and he instinctively stepped in front of the other boys.

Frank crossed his arms. “Well, well… Looks like I found myself a couple of little accidents. Where’s your tough guy friend now, huh?”

Tyler swallowed hard. “He’s… he’s coming,” he muttered, trying to keep his voice even.

Frank chuckled darkly. “Good. I owe him a little something.”

Just then, the stall door swung open, and Jordan stepped out, adjusting his sleeves. He froze when he saw Frank standing there, towering over the boys. His eyes flicked between Frank's bruised face and the smug look he wore.

Frank sneered. “Guess you didn’t run far enough, kid.”

Jordan let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, stepping forward to put himself between Frank and the boys.

Frank crossed his arms, his smirk never fading. "You thought you could just sucker-punch me and walk away?" he said, tilting his head. "Kid, you got lucky earlier. But now? No crowd, no escape. Just you and me."

Jordan clenched his fists but forced himself to stay calm. The last thing he needed was to escalate things in a public place, especially with Jake, Alex, and Tyler right there. He glanced down at the boys, who were all watching nervously.

"Look, man," Jordan said, keeping his voice even. "I’m not looking for trouble. Just taking care of my friends, same as before. Why don’t you just walk away?"

Frank let out a cold chuckle. "Walk away? Oh no, kid. See, I was gonna let the cops handle it, but now that we’re face to face again? I think I’ll take my payback right here." He took a step closer, his fingers twitching like he was ready to grab Jordan.

Jordan squared his shoulders. "You lay a hand on me, and you’re the one who's gonna need the cops." His voice was steady, but his muscles tensed, ready to react if Frank made a move.

Tyler, gripping Jake and Alex’s hands, suddenly found his voice. "You should just go," he said firmly, his usual nervousness replaced with quiet determination. "We didn’t do anything to you."

Frank scoffed. "Maybe not, but your babysitter here sure did." He cracked his knuckles, clearly not backing down.

Jordan sighed again, shaking his head. Guess we’re doing this the hard way.

Miss harper had seen a man with a broken nose enter the men's room and thought to herself it couldn't be she started moving toward the bathroom and heard the conversation

Frank’s eyes widened as he felt an iron grip stop his arm mid-swing. He turned his head, coming face to face with Miss Harper, who looked less than pleased.

“Oh no, you don’t,” she said firmly, her fingers tightening around his wrist.

Jordan smirked, taking a step back. “Man, you really picked the wrong day for this.”

Frank tried to yank his arm free, but Miss Harper didn’t budge. “Let go of me, lady,” he grunted, his bravado faltering.

Miss Harper leaned in slightly, lowering her voice to a dangerous whisper. “I don’t know what kind of man thinks it’s okay to pick fights with kids, but I promise you, you do not want to test me.”

Frank’s confidence wavered. He glanced at Jordan, then at the three boys watching with wide eyes. “This little punk sucker-punched me,” he argued weakly.

Miss Harper yanked his arm down and took a step closer. “And you harassed a kid in a bathroom,” she shot back. “Now, unless you want to add assaulting a woman to your bad decisions today, I suggest you turn around and walk out. Now.”

Frank hesitated, then yanked his arm free and stumbled back. He looked like he wanted to say something, but one look at Miss Harper’s unwavering glare made him think twice. Muttering under his breath, he turned and stormed out of the restroom.

Jordan let out a breath and shook his head. “Man, I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified.”

Miss Harper smirked, brushing off her hands. “A little of both is a healthy balance.”

Tyler looked up at her, eyes still wide. “That was awesome.”

Miss Harper chuckled, then turned to Jordan. “Come on, let’s get these three changed before trouble finds us again.”

Jordan nodded. “Yeah, good call.” He gave one last glance toward the door before following her to the changing station, knowing full well that this probably wasn’t the last time they’d be seeing Frank Miller.

They change the boys and head back to the Impala

As they stepped out of the diner, Jordan froze mid-step.

"You have got to be kidding me," he muttered.

Miss Harper followed his gaze and immediately spotted Frank Miller crouched next to her Impala, a pocket knife in hand, slashing one of the tires.

"Alright, that's it," Miss Harper growled, storming toward him.

Frank looked up, smirking as he stood. "Guess you’re walking home," he taunted, flipping the knife shut.

Jordan clenched his fists. "You're really pushing your luck, man."

Frank scoffed. "What are you gonna do, kid? Hit me again? Already got the cops on my side after what you pulled at Walmart."

Miss Harper stepped between them before Jordan could react. "Oh, you wish the cops were on your side," she snapped. "What you just did? That’s vandalism, that’s destruction of property, and that is gonna get you a one-way ticket to jail."

Frank sneered. "Who's gonna prove it?"

Frank froze, his smug expression vanishing as Detective Singer stepped up behind him, hands in his pockets, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"Oh, I don’t know…" Singer said casually. "Maybe me?"

Frank turned slowly, swallowing hard as he met the detective’s steely gaze. "This… this ain’t what it looks like," he stammered.

Singer raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because it looks like you just slashed a lady’s tire. And it looks like that security camera caught the whole thing. And it definitely looks like you’re about five seconds away from getting arrested. Wanna try again?"

Frank clenched his fists, glancing around like he was searching for an escape. "Look, man, this kid—" he pointed at Jordan. "He sucker-punched me at Walmart! Broke my damn nose! And now you’re gonna come after me?"

Singer sighed, rubbing his temples. "Frank, I told you to let this go. But instead of listening, you went and added vandalism to your list of bad decisions. You really wanna take this to court? Because I guarantee you’re not gonna like how that plays out."

Frank gritted his teeth, but he wasn’t stupid enough to keep pushing.

Singer pulled out his notepad. "Now, here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna pay for that tire. You’re gonna apologize to Miss Harper. And then you’re gonna turn around and walk away. Or…" He flipped to a fresh page and tapped his pen against it. "I start writing, and you spend the night in a cell. Your call."

Frank glared at him, then at Jordan, then at Miss Harper, who was standing with her arms crossed, waiting.

Finally, he huffed. "Fine."

"Good choice," Singer said, putting his notepad away. "Now start talking."

Frank turned to Miss Harper, muttering, "I’m… sorry."

Miss Harper arched an eyebrow. "For what?"

Frank gritted his teeth. "For slashing your tire."

Singer nodded. "See? That wasn’t so hard. Now go pay for the damn tire before I change my mind."

With a final glare, Frank stormed off toward his car.

Jordan let out a breath. "Man, that guy does not know when to quit."

Miss Harper smirked. "Nope. But lucky for us, neither does Singer."

The detective chuckled, shaking his head. "You kids really know how to keep me busy. Now, let’s get that tire sorted out before I have to break up another fight."

Miss Harper crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at Singer. "How’d you even know we were here?"

Singer smirked, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Tracked your plate."

She scoffed. "Seriously?"

"Hey, after you didn’t answer your phone and Mrs. Faulkner called me back all worried, I figured I’d check in. Good thing I did, huh?" He nodded toward Frank, who was now grumbling as he pulled out his wallet to pay for the tire. "Looks like I showed up just in time."

Miss Harper sighed, shaking her head. "Well, I guess I can’t complain too much. Appreciate the backup."

Jordan chuckled. "Yeah, no offense, but I was this close to knocking that guy out again."

Singer shot him a warning look. "And that would’ve landed you in trouble. Let me handle the grown-up problems, got it?"

Miss Harper sighed, glancing at the slashed tire. "Well, since we're stuck here for a bit, anybody up for dessert?"

The boys cheered, and even Singer couldn't help but chuckle. "Why not? But I’m picking. I think I’ve earned a slice of pie after all this nonsense."

Jordan tells singer well if I had hit him at least this time it be self defense he would've hit me if it wasn't for miss harper.... as frank hands over money for the tire singer turns toward him and says what

Frank huffed, shoving the money toward the attendant. "You heard me. I’ll pay for the damn tire. Just leave me alone."

Singer crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. "Oh, now you want to be left alone? That’s funny, considering you just tried to sucker punch a teenager in a public restroom."

Frank scoffed. "Kid had it coming."

Jordan clenched his fists, but Miss Harper put a hand on his shoulder, keeping him in check.

Singer took a step closer to Frank, lowering his voice. "Listen real close, Miller. I already talked you down from pressing charges, but after this stunt, I’m rethinking my generosity. You wanna keep pushing your luck? ‘Cause I will haul you in for assault, vandalism, and whatever else I can dig up on you."

Frank tensed, his jaw tightening. He glanced at Jordan, then at Miss Harper, then back to Singer. Finally, he let out a frustrated breath. "Fine. Whatever. Just stay out of my way."

Singer smirked. "Glad we understand each other."

As Frank turned and stomped away, Jordan shook his head. "What a coward. Runs his mouth, but the second he's actually held accountable, he backs off."

Singer sighed. "Guys like him always do."

Singer nodded, glancing at Jordan. "And you—next time, don’t go looking for trouble."

Jordan shrugged. "Trouble found me."

Singer smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Just try to keep your nose clean. And answer your phone when Mrs. Faulkner calls."

With Frank finally gone, Miss Harper let out a sigh and turned to the boys. "Alright, I think we all deserve something sweet after all that nonsense. Who's up for some pie?"

Jake and Alex cheered, clapping their hands, while Tyler grinned and nodded. Jordan smirked. "Yeah, I could go for some."

They all headed back inside the diner, settling into their booth as the waitress came over. Miss Harper ordered a slice of pie for each of them—apple for her, cherry for Jordan, and chocolate cream for the boys. Singer ordered a slice of peach.

As they waited, Jordan glanced out the window and saw the mechanic already working on replacing the slashed tire. "Good thing Singer here made that guy pay up. Otherwise, this would’ve been an even bigger pain."

Miss Harper nodded. "Yeah, but I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him. Guys like that don’t just let things go."

Jordan sighed. "Great. Just what I need—some middle-aged guy with a grudge."

The waitress returned with their slices of pie, and for a few minutes, the only sounds at the table were the clinks of forks against plates and the occasional satisfied hum from one of the boys.

The boys sat in the diner booth, happily enjoying their slices of pie while Miss Harper sipped her coffee and kept a watchful eye on them. Jordan, still tense from the encounter with Frank Miller, kept glancing toward the window where the mechanic was working on the Impala. Detective Singer sat across from him, his expression unreadable as he stirred his coffee.

"You did good keeping your cool, Jordan," Singer finally said, setting his spoon down. "But that guy's trouble."

Jordan scoffed. "Yeah, no kidding. I still don’t get why he’s so fixated on me. He acted like I was committing some kind of crime just for helping Tyler."

Miss Harper frowned. "Some people just have their own twisted sense of right and wrong. He thought he had the right to humiliate Tyler and berate you, and when that didn’t work, he turned to revenge."

Singer nodded in agreement. "I’ve dealt with guys like him before. Petty, looking for someone to blame for their own misery. But after today, I doubt he’ll be back to bother you anytime soon."

Jordan leaned back in the booth, finally allowing himself to relax a little. "Yeah, well, I hope you’re right. I don’t have the patience to deal with him again."

Across the table, Tyler, Jake, and Alex were too engrossed in their dessert to pay much attention to the conversation. Tyler licked his fork clean and smirked. "Well, I think it was awesome how Miss Harper stopped his punch. Seriously, that was some action movie-level timing."

Miss Harper chuckled. "I do my best."

Miss Harper took a sip of her coffee and smirked at Jordan. "Well, at least now you finally got that ride I promised you. Maybe not exactly how you imagined it, but hey, close enough."

Jordan chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, real smooth ride—complete with a psycho and a slashed tire."

Tyler grinned. "And pie!"

Jordan ruffled Tyler’s hair. "Yeah, guess that makes up for it."

Miss Harper laughed. "Glad to see you’re finally learning to look on the bright side."

As they finished their dessert, the mechanic walked in, wiping his hands on a rag. "Car’s all set, ma’am. Good as new."

Miss Harper smiled. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

Miss Harper nodded her thanks and pulled out her wallet, but Singer held up a hand. "Miller paid for it, remember? Consider it his donation to leaving you all alone."

Jordan smirked at that. "Well, at least he did one decent thing today."

With their meal finished and the car fixed, The group paid for their meal and headed back outside. With the car back in shape, ready to head home.  the group piled back into the Impala, ready to leave the diner behind. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Tyler looked back at the building, his expression thoughtful.

"So... does this mean we won’t see Frank again?"

Miss Harper kept her eyes on the road. "With any luck, no. But if he does show up again, we’ll be ready."

Jordan nodded, looking out the window as the world blurred past. He didn’t know what was coming next, but one thing was certain—he wasn’t about to let anyone mess with "his" family again.