She and Keith and Derek and the cop watched on the cop’s laptop as the guy was questioned.

I can’t be sure, Derek said.

The cop gave her and Keith a look, like: He’s going to need to be sure.

Oh, come on, what were the odds? An old guy pushes a kid down, and half an hour later an old guy’s found a block away, off his rocker?

Well, now was the time for some parenting.

Some subtle guidance.

If this guy walks out of here, sweetie, she said, don’t you think it’s possible that he’ll push some other kid down? And that kid might end up with more than just a few scratches?

Someone who’d do something like that needs help, pal, Keith said. And the only way he’s going to get it is for us to start that process here and now.

How will it help him to be in jail? Derek said.

The look on the cop’s face said, Well, good point.

Maybe he’ll get some counseling in there, she said.

A grown man pushes a kid down for no reason, there’s something wrong, Keith said.

Kind of irresponsible to just let that go, she said.

Derek asked for a couple minutes to think it over.

Dear little guy.

A landline rang in a suboffice and the cop went in there to answer it.

“The Tough Decision.” The boy sat in a silver desk chair, nervously swiveling, tracing one of the scratches on his face with his little finger. His mother, pretending to read a bulletin board so she wouldn’t seem to be pressuring the lad, felt badly that he’d been put in this position by—that fucking bastard. Toothless hippie bastard. She should have bolted into the interrogation room and pushed his old ass down. Seen how he liked it. Although he was big. And you could tell from his face he had a mean streak.

The cop stepped out of the suboffice faster than . . . ​well, faster than you’d expect a cop to step out of a suboffice. He came out fast, went right past them, backed up. Like in a cartoon. You expected his rubbery tie to come zinging out of the suboffice a few seconds later.

Well, this takes the cake, he said.

What does? she said.

There’s another, he said.

Another what? she said.

Old guy, he said. Over on Church. Wandering around. They’re bringing him in.

The second old guy was nearly identical to the first. They could have been brothers. Old hippie, long hair, sandals, missing a tooth.

Different tooth.

But still.

She and Keith exchanged a look, like: Huh.