Lift one shoulder and drop it, keep your face expressionless, show nothing.
“I asked you the boy’s name, isn’t he a friend of yours? Aren’t you worried about him?” Officer Hound was living up to his nickname, big, sad brown eyes, and a determination like a dog with a bone. He wasn’t ever going to let this go.
“It ain’t my business. He likes it alone.”
“Isn’t your business,” the cop automatically corrected.
“Right, glad you understand, can I go now?” I knew he would say no, and I was not disappointed.
“No, Louis, I’m worried about your friend. He’s twelve, there’s a predator out there targeting kids like him.”
I shrugged again, but I knew he was right. Mikey was helpless as a kitten. Especially against the guy I met in the parking garage. But there was a code on the streets, an iron-cast rule; you never, NEVER, tell the cops anything about anyone else.
But staring innocently into Officer Hound’s sad eyes and refusing to spill felt like abandoning Mikey. Setting him up to be raped by that perv.
I couldn’t do it ...