Through the Fire:

Riptide

That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire…

1 Peter 1:7

Riptide: A tide producing another tide, producing rough waters

Author’s note:

This story is the second in the Through the Fire Trilogy, and is a sequel to “Revelations”. In that story we learned that a fire in the orphanage where they lived separated the three Regan children. The oldest, Erin, believing her two young siblings had perished in the fire, ran away to marry Tim Mangan. Years later, a social worker assigned to Dan Mangan’s case locates William Regan, who is shocked by the revelation that his oldest sister had died only recently, she had a son, and this son shot his stepfather.

Buckle up, because you’re about to go back into the furnace…

“Daniel took Lt. Tim Mangan’s pistol and shot his stepfather.”

Regan’s mouth became as dry as a desert. Hoping it would help him speak, he licked his lips, but his tongue still felt like it was covered with a million grains of sand. “Wh… What did you say?” he finally managed.

“Daniel took his deceased father’s gun and shot the man his mother had married,” Ms. Parker told him, pronouncing her words carefully.

Regan’s jaw dropped in surprise. Wordlessly, he sank back down into his chair. He buried his face in his hands, processing that revelation before he asked any questions. After several minutes of stunned silence, he croaked out through a constricted throat, “Why would he… do that?” He couldn’t even verbalize what Dan had done.

“A little over two years ago, your sister remarried,” Ms. Parker explained. “Erin’s new husband, Steve Michelson, was an alcoholic. Worse than that, he tended to get mean when he drank. And unfortunately, that was more often than not.”

Regan’s fists shook as he tried to suppress his rage. Jim’s scarred back testified how dangerous a mean drunk could be. Regan had heard about the abuse Jim had suffered at the hand of Jonesy, and even though Jim was physically safe now, the emotional effects of that abuse lingered. Regan’s heart shuddered at the thought of Dan being beaten. Although Regan had never met his nephew before, he suddenly felt very defensive of him. He vowed then and there that if some waste of humanity had laid one finger on Dan, he would hunt the scoundrel down and finish him off.

“Did Michelson hurt the boy?” he questioned through clenched teeth. He looked at the social worker, his eyes desperate. “Did Dan shoot him in self-defense?”

Ms. Parker gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. “Mr. Michelson never touched your nephew.”

Regan expelled a deep breath. Part of him was relieved that Dan had been spared such cruelty. Another part was disappointed; if there had been no abuse, there was no excuse for his nephew’s actions.

“For whatever reason, Mr. Michelson never hurt Daniel; however, he did abuse Erin,” Ms. Parker continued.

Regan was overcome by the unwelcome image of his beloved sister being battered by the man who supposedly loved her. He closed his eyes so tight that he thought his cheeks would swallow them. He could barely speak. “He… he… he hurt my sister?”

“I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Regan,” Ms. Parker said as gently as possible. “According to her medical records, she suffered black eyes, bloody noses, bruises, the occasional broken bone… that sort of thing. But one evening it got out of control. After drinking all that day and on into the night, Mr. Michelson flew into a rage and began choking your sister. Daniel came home and found his mother…” She paused, not sure if she had the stomach to continue.

Regan wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the rest, but something told him he should. “Go on,” he whispered.

“Daniel saw his stepfather choking his mother. Your nephew ordered Michelson to let her go and leave. When Michelson refused, Daniel found his father’s pistol and tried to force Michelson to get out of the apartment. For the first time, Michelson turned his rage on Daniel. He refused to leave, but Daniel wouldn’t take no for an answer. Michelson threatened to kill the boy. Your nephew’s thin as a rail, but he’s tough as nails. He has a temper, and when Michelson refused to release his mother… There was a struggle, and…”

Regan inhaled as he swiped a big freckled hand against his face, hoping it would help him gather his composure. “And the kid is… okay? He’s not in any danger, is he? Could Michelson come after him for revenge?”

Ms. Parker shook her head slightly. Her voice barely audible, she murmured, “Daniel’s safe, Mr. Regan. His stepfather is dead.” She took a deep, painful breath before finishing.

“Daniel killed him.”

Regan gasped loudly. The color drained from his face, and his complexion became a ghastly shade of gray. He leaned against the desk, hoping it would keep him from collapsing in shock. “Are the cops sure Michelson’s the one who murdered my sister? There’s no chance that… that… I mean, are they positive her husband kil… That her husband did it?”

“Yes,” Ms. Parker assured him. “Their neighbors had called the police several times to report hearing what sounded like domestic disputes. When the authorities would arrive on the scene, Erin would insist that nothing was wrong. She’d go to the hospital for treatment, her husband would feign concern, and no charges were ever filed. However, this final argument must’ve been bad because this time Erin herself tried to call 9-1-1. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to finish dialing the number before her husband grabbed her.”

Regan nodded mutely, not wanting to talk about this particular topic any longer than necessary.

“One of the neighbors heard the commotion and, once again, called 9-1-1. When the police arrived at their apartment, Daniel was rocking your sister’s lifeless body in his arms,” Ms. Parker continued. “He’d tried to revive her, but she was already gone.”

“How do… how did…” Regan cleared his throat, obviously finding it difficult to broach the subject. “How did the police figure out that Michelson did it? For sure, I mean. For my own piece of mind, I’d just like some proof that Dan didn’t...” He closed his eyes tightly and clutched a fistful of coppery hair. “God, I know it sounds cold that I could actually think my own nephew would… do that to his own mother…but I… I need to know for sure.”

Ms. Parker nodded, a sympathetic smile on her face. “I understand, Mr. Regan. I had hoped to spare you these details, but maybe I’ll be able to put your mind at ease. Scratches were found on Mr. Michelson’s face, as well as blood. The blood was tested and found to belong to both Erin and Daniel. Also, when the police found Erin’s body, finger marks were still visible on her neck. They were too large to be her son’s. When the officers responded to the scene, Daniel’s nose was bleeding, which would explain how his blood got on Michelson. Also, there were marks on his throat that matched the ones on your si—”

“I’ve heard enough,” Regan interrupted hastily. He took a deep breath, hoping it would rid his mind of the images Ms. Parker’s description had evoked. “If the boy killed Michelson in self-defense, why was he arrested?”

“It’s common procedure after a murder occurs to question anyone who’d been involved, even if the responding officers believe the suspect acted in self-defense,” Ms. Parker explained. “This case was especially difficult because one of the policemen that arrived on the scene had arrested your nephew in the past. Detective Jordan also knew that Daniel and his stepfather had a tumultuous relationship and was suspicious of the boy’s motive for the shooting.”

“Well, having a ‘tumultuous relationship’ is a far cry from murder,” Regan pointed out indignantly. “Why would he assume the boy shot him on purpose, especially if there were signs of a struggle?”

Ms. Parker sighed; obviously she agreed with Regan, but in the eyes of the judicial system, that meant nothing. “The law’s clear that force— especially deadly force— should be used only as a last resort. Daniel got his father’s pistol and threatened an unarmed Michelson with it. Michelson attacked the boy, bloodying his nose and choking him, when, according to your nephew, the gun accidentally went off. The bullet hit Michelson, and he was dead before he hit the floor.”

“That wasn’t enough to get the kid off the hook?” Regan asked incredulously.

“The officer who’d arrested your nephew before was going to testify against him. He thought Daniel murdered his stepfather in cold blood, and with all his experience in law-enforcement, he would’ve made a convincing witness.”

“What, was this cop gonna lie?” Regan demanded.

Ms. Parker shook her head. “Detective Jordan didn’t have to lie. The facts alone would’ve convicted your nephew. Daniel was a known gang member, had been arrested and served time for drug use and burglary, and had made some threatening statements before about taking care of Michelson himself if the police didn’t do something to stop the abuse.”

The veins in Regan’s neck bulged. “No wonder the kid took Michelson out! The cops weren’t going to do anything to stop him!”

“I understand your frustration, but there was nothing the authorities could do,” Ms. Parker explained sadly. “When a woman insists she broke her arm by falling down the stairs, how are the police supposed to help her? Since your sister never pressed charges against her husband, or even admitted that he abused her, the authorities’ hands were tied.”

“So, it was up to Dan to protect his mom!” Regan shouted. “And then the cops throw him in jail!”

“He shot his stepfather—”

“Good!” Regan’s face was even redder than his hair. “I just wish it would’ve been a flesh wound so I could’ve had the pleasure of finishing the scumbag off!”

Ms. Parker held up a hand in protest. “Mr. Regan, I know you’re upset, but—”

“Dan did what he had to do!” Regan snapped. “The kid tried to save his mother when her attacker turned on him! What was he supposed to do— stand there and let Michelson choke him to death like he did Erin?”

“I understand, Mr. Regan, but the law states—”

Regan interrupted her before she could finish. “I don’t care what the law states! What jury would send a teenage boy to jail for protecting himself?”

“The case didn’t go to trial, so there was no jury,” Ms. Parker corrected. “I don’t think Daniel’s court-appointed attorney had ever represented a murder suspect before, so he wasn’t much help to the boy. If he’d been more experienced, perhaps he could’ve proved self-defense.”

“So, all because of some green public defender, my nephew was convicted of murder?” Regan spat out contemptuously.

“If it’s any consolation, Judge Armen was sympathetic to Daniel’s situation,” Ms. Parker continued. “The prosecuting attorney had charged your nephew with first-degree murder, which would’ve been punishable by a mandatory life sentence. However, Judge Armen took the extenuating circumstances into consideration and accepted a plea bargain. Daniel was convicted of involuntary manslaughter and sentenced to five years.”

Regan wearily rubbed his temples; he feared his brain would explode from sensory overload. He took several deep breaths in an effort to calm himself down. “Where’s the kid now?” he asked when he finally regained his composure.

“Daniel’s serving his sentence in the maximum-security wing of St. Mark’s Juvenile Detention Center,” she answered. “He, like the detention center’s other serious offenders, is being kept in solitary confinement. Considering the nature of his crime, as well as his previous convictions, Daniel could’ve been transferred to an adult correctional facility; however, Judge Armen thought it best to keep him at St. Mark’s.”

Something between a moan and a groan escaped Regan’s lips before he could stop it. “When will he get out?”

“That’s why we were so anxious to contact you,” Ms. Parker said. For the first time during the meeting with Regan, her expression was hopeful. “Counting time served before the trial, Daniel has been incarcerated for almost two years. He’s been a model prisoner, and has shown remorse for his crime. Daniel had a hearing recently to discuss the possibility of parole, and Judge Armen is considering it. However, since your nephew is underage and has no legal guardian, we need to find him a permanent home before the court can agree to release him. Obviously he can’t live alone, and no foster family would accept him.”

“I understand that,” Regan stated. “People are reluctant enough as it is to take in kids, much less ones who’ve committed manslaughter.”

Ms. Parker nodded. “I’m glad you’re sympathetic. I had hoped I could count on your assistance to help find Daniel a home.”

“Hold on a minute,” Regan snorted, holding up a hand in protest. “I wish I could help you, Ms. Parker, but I don’t know of a single family member of ours that’s still living and could take the kid in.”

“What about you?”

“Me?!” Regan exclaimed in surprise. “Lady, are you crazy?”

“Maybe, but I don’t see any other option,” Ms. Parker admitted quietly.

“What about the Mangans?” Regan sputtered. “Aren’t any of them alive? Couldn’t he stay with somebody in his dad’s family?”

“Lt. Mangan was an only child, as were his parents,” Ms. Parker replied. “Daniel’s paternal grandmother died before he was born, and his paternal grandfather died soon after Tim. You’re Daniel’s only hope.”

“Well then, that kid has it worse than we thought,” Regan muttered. His cheeks reddened slightly as he felt the social worker’s disapproving glare. “Seriously, Ms. Parker, I wish I could help but I’m only twenty-two. I’m not ready to play daddy to some teenage punk, even if that punk is related to me.”

Ms. Parker looked earnestly at the man sitting across from her. “I know it won’t be easy. But it’s better than letting him rot in that detention center.”

“I’m only seven years older than my nephew,” Regan pointed out. “How am I supposed to be a dad to him?”

Ms. Parker smiled. “Maybe instead of being his father, you could try just being his uncle. Or perhaps his friend?”

“I can’t take care of some teenage boy!” Regan cried, tightly clenching his freckled hands. “I don’t have a fancy degree in child psychology! Lady, I work fourteen-hour days in a barn!”

“Sacrifices will have to be made, of course—”

Regan shook his head. “I live in an apartment over my boss’ garage. I don’t even have my own house!”

“But surely you have room fo—” Ms. Parker began.

“And even if I could squeeze him in someplace, I’m not qualified to raise a puppy, much less my sister’s kid!”

Ms. Parker may not have been Irish, but she was just as stubborn as Bill Regan. Adding to her tenacity was her dedication to her job, and more importantly, her dedication to Daniel Mangan. She wasn’t ready to give up yet. Her eyes hardening like flint, she fixed her determined gaze upon the man to which she spoke.

“Are you a man of integrity, Mr. Regan?”

Regan lifted his chin proudly. “Yes, Ms. Parker. Yes, I am.”

“Are you honest, hard-working, diligent?”

“Yes,” Regan answered firmly.

“Are you a law-abiding citizen who has a genuine concern for today’s youth?”

“Yes!”

“Then you’re the most qualified candidate I’ve come across in a long while,” Ms. Parker told him solemnly. “Mr. Regan, we have more children than candidates, and unfortunately most of the candidates we do have lack your character and credentials, regardless of their education or financial situation.”

Regan exhaled loudly, wearily massaging his throbbing temples with his fingertips. “I don’t know, Ms. Parker. I’d never forgive myself if I failed and the boy ended up worse off than when he first came to me.”

“But if you don’t even try, you will be failing Daniel,” Ms. Parker said soberly. “Not only that, you’ll be failing your sister.”

“That was a bit below the belt, don’t you think?” Regan’s green eyes sparked with indignation.

“Frankly, Mr. Regan, I’m beyond the point of worrying about offending people,” Ms. Parker admitted. Her tired brown eyes showed the strain of her emotionally-gripping job. “May I ask you just one question?”

Regan nodded. “Yes.”

“When you were in the orphanage, would you have been willing to live with your sister, although she was just a few years older than you?”

“Of course,” Regan murmured.

“Would you have been happier staying in a cramped apartment with a member of your family, rather than with hundreds of other orphaned children?”

Regan’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

Ms. Parker smiled sadly. “Then what makes you think that Daniel is any different?”

“I got along fine all these years without him or my sister,” Regan retorted, his words laced with a trace of bitterness.

“True, but you didn’t know about them then. Now you do.” Stiffening her jaw, she added, “If you have as much integrity as you claim, deserting your nephew will torment you for the rest of your life.”

“Ms. Parker, you don’t understand what I’m trying to tell you,” Regan replied, forcing his tone to remain even. “It’s not that I don’t want to help; I’m not certain that I can help. You don’t know everything about me. I’m not sure that a judge would want to give me custody of the kid, considering my pa—”

“Mr. Regan, if you honestly believe that you can walk out that door and out of your nephew’s life without being eaten up by guilt for the rest of your life, then you’re free to leave.” Ms. Parker studied him through narrowed eyes. “However, something tells me that you need Daniel almost as much as he needs you.”

Regan’s gaze dropped to the floor. His stomach churned as he pondered the social worker’s words. Deep down, he knew she was right; if he left now, Erin’s memory would haunt him forever.

Sensing that he was straddling the fence, Ms. Parker seized the opportunity to sway him to her way of thinking. “Would you like to meet your nephew?”

A battle of conflicting emotions raged within Regan. Fear, uncertainty, regret, worry, anger… Each sensation struggled to make its presence known. Though his heart begged him to take the chance, Regan’s mind feared that his past would resurface. Just as he was about ready to bolt for the door, Erin’s face appeared through the muddled fog of his brain. In the hazy mist of memories, he could see her beseeching green eyes and, if he listened hard enough, could hear her pleading voice. When Erin had been alive, he had never been able to say no to her. It was no different now that she was dead.

“Is it visiting hours at St. Mark’s?” he asked quietly.

“I can go in anytime.”

Regan stared down at his fingers. “Are you sure he’ll even want to see me?”

“If you were in his shoes, would you want to see him?”

Regan paused momentarily as unpleasant memories from his days at the orphanage flitted through his mind. Setting his jaw determinedly, he looked up at the social worker. “Let’s go.”

Regan wasn’t sure what he had anticipated at St. Mark’s, but he certainly didn’t expect what awaited him. Even though Ms. Parker had clearance and he was accompanying her, Regan still had to go through a lengthy security process before he was allowed to enter. At the guard shack outside the building, he had to give the officers his driver’s license so they could verify his identity, and then he and Ms. Parker were granted permission to enter the building. Once inside, the guards at the desk patted him down to make sure he wasn’t carrying any concealed weapons. Just as Regan began to fear that he would be subjected to a strip search, they were finally granted permission to speak with the administrative staff.

In the waiting room, Regan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “All this rigmarole, just for a kiddie cooler,” he muttered under his breath.

Ms. Parker glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, shaking her head slightly in disapproval. “You haven’t spent much time around juvenile delinquents, have you?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Regan replied with a shrug.

“Mr. Regan, this facility houses two hundred youths, ranging from ages eleven to seventeen, who have committed a variety of crimes including armed burglary, assault, rape, and murder,” she told him somberly. “Although your nephew acted in self-defense, I can’t say the same for most of these offenders. If I told you what some of even the youngest residents here have done, you’d be thankful those guards check for weapons. One of those ’kiddies’ could steal your knife and stab you with it before you even realized it was missing.”

Sobered by the social worker’s words, Regan fastened his gaze upon the door leading to the main office. He breathed a sigh of relief as it opened and a professional-looking woman emerged. The woman greeted Ms. Parker warmly, and then introduced herself to Regan as Mrs. Koman, explaining that she served as the facility’s administrator. After talking to them briefly, Mrs. Koman led them through several corridors and adjacent rooms to another wing of the building.

For some reason, the bleak surroundings caused Regan to feel apprehensive. Although St. Mark’s was a detention facility, it housed children, and he had expected the atmosphere to be a bit more child-friendly. However, the center’s environment was cold and unwelcoming, and left him feeling chilled to the bone.

To calm his nerves, Regan tried to distract himself by glancing around at the dull, taupe walls as he walked past them. These walls were covered with a variety of motivational posters.

It’s gonna take more than a few pious mantras to change these kids’ lives, he thought scornfully.

When he went through his own rebellious stage, people had often spouted off sanctimonious sayings similar to these, mistakenly thinking he’d change his behavior if they quoted enough cutsie phrases. However, the only thing that had ever encouraged him to do right was the influence of some good role models.

“Where’re the kids’ rooms?” Regan asked curiously.

“The residents requiring minimum-security stay in the dorms upstairs,” Mrs. Koman told him. “However, those who’ve committed serious offenses have cells in the maximum-security wing of the facility.”

“And my nephew…?”

Mrs. Koman looked reluctant to answer. “Dan is confined to a cell.”

Regan merely nodded, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.

Mrs. Koman led them to a large space, which contained several smaller separate rooms with bulletproof glass walls. “This is our visitation room,” she explained. “You’ll be able to talk privately with your nephew in here.”

“When will he be here?” Regan questioned.

“The officers will bring him in shortly,” Mrs. Koman answered. “I hope you don’t mind, but one of our guards will stay with you. It’s for your own protection, of course. I assure you that the guard will stay out of the way.”

Regan was tempted to say that he didn’t think he’d need the added security, but instead he shrugged his broad shoulders. “That’ll be fine.”

“Dan will be here any minute,” Mrs. Koman said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some new prisoners to admit.”

“Thank you,” Regan called as she exited the room. Sighing heavily, he claimed a seat at the table which was located in the center of the tiny room.

“Nervous?” Ms. Parker questioned, smiling encouragingly at him.

“A little,” Regan admitted.

The kindly woman patted his hand. “You’ll be fine, Mr. Regan. My biggest concern is Daniel; he doesn’t know about you yet. Meeting you for the first time may be quite a shock for the young man.”

Regan raised one coppery brow in speculation. “You didn’t tell him about me?”

“I had no idea if we’d be able to find you, and even if we did, I didn’t know if you’d be willing to meet him. I preferred for Daniel to be pleasantly surprised rather than disappointed.”

“Oh, I guarantee he’ll be surprised,” Regan commented with a snort. “I’m not sure if it’ll be ‘pleasantly’, though.”

Ms. Parker arched an ebony eyebrow. “When you were living in the orphanage, and an uncle had come for you, wouldn’t you have been pleased?”

“Guess that depends on what kind of uncle it was.” Regan focused intently on a crack in tile of the linoleum floor. “Dan could very well hate me. I’m not good with people, you know. Now if he was a horse…”

“As I said earlier, you’ll do fine,” Ms. Parker encouraged. She coughed nervously, and then continued speaking. “Mr. Regan, I should probably warn you about Daniel’s attitude.”

Regan gasped loudly in feigned shock. “You mean he isn’t a choir boy? How surprising!”

Ms. Parker allowed herself to smile briefly, but her expression quickly sobered. “Daniel’s a good boy,” she said loyally, “but he’s been through a horrible ordeal. Witnessing his mother’s murder has hardened him, and I’m afraid his experience with the judicial system hasn’t helped. He has an awfully big chip on his shoulder.”

“He wouldn’t be the first kid to have a bad attitude because of his crappy circumstances,” Regan murmured, hating how alike he and his nephew sounded.

Ms. Parker nodded as she realized that Regan was offering insight into his own past. Before she spoke, she cleared her throat. “He comes across as tough and uncaring, but it’s just an act. I’ve seen glimpses of the real Daniel, and if you give him a chance, you’ll find that there’s a tenderhearted young man under that hardened shell.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Regan said softly.

With nothing left to say, Regan and Ms. Parker sat in nervous silence as they waited for the guards to bring in Dan. The quiet forced the husky redhead to confront the memories that had begun plaguing him ever since he‘d been contacted by the social worker. For years he had battled the painful recollections of his past, but he’d never beaten them. No matter how hard he tried to forget, the memories constantly lingered, threatening to assault him whenever they sensed a weakness in his emotional bulwark.

Consumed by his unpleasant thoughts, Regan jumped in surprise as the door opened. He wasn’t sure what he assumed his nephew would look like, but somehow, Dan Mangan fell short of any expectations he may have had. The vision of the boy wearing leg irons, wrist shackles, and an orange jumpsuit was disconcerting enough. The two guards on either side of Dan only made it worse. Every so often, Dan would purposely lag behind and one of the guards would give him a rough jerk to hurry him along. Even though Regan knew he was in a juvenile detention center, there was something seriously wrong with seeing a teenager being treated like a tough prisoner twice his age.

However, any suspicions Regan may have had that Dan was being unjustly mistreated were quickly put to rest when he noticed his nephew’s countenance. Although he was only fifteen, Dan Mangan already had the look of a hardened criminal. Because of his restraints, he had to waddle in the room. He kept his gaze downward, never once looking up to make eye contact with any of the room’s occupants. His wiry body would stiffen every few minutes, and Regan could tell that his nephew was on the brink of resisting the guards and attempting to break free. Rebellion was something Regan knew well from personal experience, and right now, he saw it oozing from every fiber of Dan’s being.

Dan’s dark, shoulder-length hair had been pulled back in a ponytail, but some coal black wisps had escaped from the rubber band and shielded his face. Apparently, he’d tried the guards’ patience once too often because one of them yanked his arm so hard that Regan winced. As Dan’s head flung backwards, Regan got his first real glimpse of his nephew’s face.

Regan inhaled sharply as he examined the boy’s features. Although he knew Dan wouldn’t be a carbon copy of Erin, Regan had expected her son to look something like his mother, but as far as he could tell, there wasn’t any family resemblance. While his sister had been a fair-skinned redhead with green eyes, Dan was dark-complexioned, and his hair and eyes were black as night. The alley cat they’d seen outside could’ve sooner been Erin’s son.

The boy’s attitude and countenance were even more disturbing than his physical attributes. His dark eyes were cold and vacant, almost like a great white shark’s. The angularity of his features was accentuated by Dan’s sullen expression. A tender-looking scar on the boy’s upper lip hinted he’d recently been the recipient of a nasty wound, and the blemish only added to his tough persona. Most telling of all, Dan’s jaw was tightly clenched and jutted forward slightly in a defensive manner. It was the look of utter desperation; Regan had seen it before on Jim’s face after he first arrived in Sleepyside.

And as painful as it was to admit, it was a look that Regan had seen frequently in his own reflection.

The guards led Dan to the seat across from Regan. The boy never made eye contact as he sat down, keeping his gaze glued on his prison-issue deck shoes. One of the guards claimed the chair beside him, while the other left the room.

“Hello, Daniel,” Ms. Parker greeted soothingly.

“Hey,” Dan mumbled, still looking down.

Her kind, brown eyes were somehow able to penetrate through the rough exterior and find the lost little boy underneath. “How are you doing?” she asked gently.

“The same.”

“Well, I have some news that might interest you.” Ms. Parker tried to sound encouraging. “Do you want to know what it is?”

Dan shrugged. “I guess so.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I brought someone with me today.”

“I noticed,” Dan answered, his gaze still on the floor. “I just figured my old lawyer ditched me and this dude was his replacement.”

After taking a deep breath, Ms. Parker replied, “Mr. Regan isn’t a lawyer, Daniel.”

“Mr. Regan?” Dan repeated. For the first time, he leveled his eyes at the stranger. “Well, since Ronald Reagan’s not in office anymore, I doubt you’re some of his family, coming on his behalf to pardon me. So, I guess that means you’re some long lost relative of mine, huh?”

Ms. Parker waited to see if Regan would respond, but once it was clear that he had no intentions of speaking just yet, she answered for him. “Daniel, this is William Regan.”

“William?” Dan’s dark complexion paled considerably. He tried to chuckle, but his attempted laugh caught in his throat. “That’s the same… Never mind.”

Ms. Parker reached over the table and patted the teenager’s hand. “Daniel, this may come as quite a shock, but Mr. Regan is your uncle.”

“I don’t have an uncle,” Dan argued with a shake of his head. “My dad was an only child, and my mom’s only brother died in a fire when he was a kid. So, I don’t who this guy is, but he ain’t no uncle of mine.”

Ms. Parker opened her mouth to speak, but Regan jumped in quickly.

“I didn’t die in that fire, Dan,” he interjected.

“Wh… what?” Dan stammered.

“I didn’t die in that fire,” Regan repeated. “There was a mix-up at the orphanage that night. Danny and I got separated from Erin, but we made it out alive.”

“Lucky you,” Dan mumbled under his breath.

Dan wasn’t the only hothead in the family. Regan’s Irish temper flared as he glowered at his rude nephew. “You don’t look like your mother.”

“I take after my old man,” Dan retorted curtly. After a brief pause, he added in a quiet voice, “I can see the family resemblance between you and Ma, though.”

“Your Aunt Danny looked a lot like us, too,” Regan commented.

Dan shrugged, trying to look indifferent but failing miserably. “Where’s she now?”

“She died a few years ago,” Regan told him sadly.

“Oh.” Dan’s voice was barely able to be heard. A hint of compassion shone through his dark gaze, but it was quickly swallowed up in the black holes of his eyes. “So, where’ve you been all these years?”

“I spent a few years in Saratoga, and then I moved to a little town called Sleepyside,” Regan answered calmly. “I had no idea that your mom was alive all these years. If I would’ve known the truth, I could’ve been there for you both after your dad died.”

“A lot of good that does me now,” Dan spat.

“Daniel,” Ms. Parker interrupted, “your uncle may not have been there then, but he’s here now.”

“Great,” Dan snorted. “Maybe he can bake me some cookies and send them to me here in the clink.”

“Look, kid,” Regan interrupted angrily, “if you don’t want to see me, that’s fine. But there’s no need for you to be such a jerk to Ms. Parker. I wouldn’t even know you existed if this lady here hadn’t tracked me down, so you ought to show her some respect. She’s just trying to help you, and in case you haven’t noticed, there doesn’t seem to be a whole lotta other people in your corner. If you had the sense God gave a goose, you’d be thanking her for worrying about you so much.”

It didn’t escape Ms. Parker’s attention the way Dan snapped to attention after his uncle’s lecture. She had a feeling that the discipline Regan could give was just what the doctor ordered for the rebellious teen.

“Well, what’re you doing here?” Dan asked roughly. “Do you feel guilty about deserting us, or is there some other reason?”

“Judge Armen is considering your request for parole, Daniel,” Ms. Parker explained. “However, he won’t release you unless you have a permanent home.”

Dan sneered over at his uncle. “So, Howdy Doody here’s lookin’ to take in a stray mutt?”

“He might consider it, if you’d give him a chance,” Ms. Parker chided gently.

“Why would he want to take in a no-good criminal like me?” Dan inquired.

“Why don’t you ask him?” Ms. Parker suggested.

As if he feared rejection, Dan reluctantly met Regan’s gaze. The black eyes that were once cold and distant now held a faint glimmer of hope, and the chin that before had been jutted out in challenge now trembled ever so slightly. In a voice barely above a whisper, Dan made his inquiry. “Why would you want to take me in?”

Regan’s mouth went dry as he considered his nephew’s question. Up until that very moment, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to bring Dan to Sleepyside. However, as he searched for an answer, something akin to a bolt of lightning struck his heart. For the first time that afternoon, he looked at his nephew, truly looked at him. Dan may have mostly taken after the Mangan side of his family, but there was some Regan in him, too. Somewhere in Dan’s hopeful expression, Regan saw a hint of the sister he’d adored. As Regan met his nephew’s gaze, he saw the same vulnerability that he’d seen in Erin’s.

The same vulnerability that was in his own eyes.

Deep in his heart, Regan realized he could never turn his back on the boy. He knew he’d be risking a lot if he brought Dan home. He wasn’t sure how he’d explain his situation to Mr. Wheeler, or if his employer would approve of the arrangement, but Regan had to make it work somehow for Dan and for Erin.

For himself.

“I’ll have to talk to my boss…” The yearning expression in Dan’s eyes caused him to pause. Regan began again, and this time, his voice took on a sense of urgency. “But I’ll make it work, even if I have to move or find a new job. No matter what it takes, I’ll give you a home.”

With that declaration, William Regan found himself being sucked into a dangerous riptide. But whether he sank or whether he swam, for the first time in several years, Regan wouldn’t be alone. Dan Mangan would be right there with him as they both struggled to keep their heads above water.

Credits:

Thank you so much to my wonderful editors for this story: Steph H, Ryl, and Claire. Your suggestions, corrections, and encouragement are such a blessing to me!

I must credit the KK who wrote The Mystery of the Memorial Day Fire with the notion of Dan having an evil stepfather. The second I read that boo-boo, the gears in my brain began turning, and this storyline was born. Thank you so much to the generous Trixie friend who so kindly gifted this book to me. {{{HUGS}}}

According to my research, it’s not as easy to claim self-defense as some crime dramas make it out. From what I read, it was clear that the level of response must match the threat, not exceed it. Because of Dan’s criminal history, it would be understandable that the authorities might doubt his explanation of what happened.

You’ll never believe how shocked I was to learn that “scumbag” is a real word! Wow!

Although he’ll probably never read this, I must thank my wonderful husband, Damon, for all his information about juvenile detention centers. No, he’s never been a resident at one, but he has preached at several. He was very helpful in providing information about getting inside the facility, procedure details, treatment of prisoners, etc. Thanks, honey! Jim’s not the only dreamy woodsman in town. *smoochies*

For the record, if Regan had been subjected to the strip search, a guard named Claire had dibs on taking care of that. ;-)

Uh, gee, I didn’t mean to delve into the Ray-gun/Ree-gun controversy, but I guess my position on this issue is clear now, huh? *g*

The last story in this trilogy is finished, so hopefully the time span between “Riptide” and “Reflections” won’t be nearly as long as the time span between “Revelations” and “Riptide”. J

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