Hello, Little Sparrow Jordan Jones (book series for 10 year olds TXT) 📖

I was trying to catch had to share some level of values that I had.

A knife was stuck through your shoulder, you idiot, my inner voice said. I didn’t care.

I sympathized with The Sparrow. He was doing what he thought was right, and this town was certainly better off without them.

Breanna Pilson.

Abraham told me about Breanna and what she went through at the hands of Geoff Burnley. If I had known that at the time at his crime scene, I would’ve probably been more of a bumbling fool. Thank God I didn’t know about Breanna.

I didn’t covet The Sparrow.

I didn’t even quite respect him.

But, at the very least I acknowledged him for what he was doing. Bravo.

“This is it on the left, I think,” I said, sitting upright. The Vicodin was wearing off fast, and I needed something to relieve the pain.

Abraham pulled up behind us and Katherine stepped out of the passenger side.

“We’ll have two patrol officers parked here at all times,” LT Anderson said. “Every thirty minutes or so, they’ll walk around the area to make sure nothing suspicious is going on.”

“Got it.”

“I’ll be staying too,” Katherine said. “I got ahold of my instructors and told them about this situation. They all thought it would be best if I stayed here, too. I can do stuff online.”

“Here,” Abraham said, handing Katherine a hotspot. “I doubt there’s any internet out here.”

“Nope,” I said with a smile. “We haven’t been here in a long time.”

“Thanks,” she said. She grabbed her laptop and headed inside.

“You’re going to be OK out here for a little while, right?” Abraham asked.

I nodded. “I guess so. I’ll try to rehab this thing and get back in the fight as soon as I can.”

“Don’t be out too long.” Abraham stuck out his hand and I shook it.

“It’s best we get back,” LT Anderson said. “We have a ton of files to go through and an impounded car to tear apart.” He winked at me.

They drove away in separate vehicles and the patrol officers soon arrived, introducing themselves, but I didn’t want to get to know them for some reason. They were Officer One and Officer Two in my head. The voluntary disrespect on my part came from deducing that they were only there because their higher-ups told them to be.

Katherine and I were just a clock-in and clock-out to them.

Officer Two was nice enough, but appeared disheveled and indifferent.

Officer one didn’t say much, adhering to the notion that he didn’t want to be there.

I wasn’t doing them any favors and spilling any information they didn’t already know. The irritability hit me like a ton of bricks, sending my mind in various circles, cycling through every day in the past week simultaneously.

If they didn’t care about us, the superficial greetings and cordial dialogue would be short-lived. I saw myself inside where I found the electricity turned on and the water was running. Abraham took it upon himself to make sure that all was in order before we made arrangements to stay in the cabin.

“The fridge is stocked full,” Katherine said.

“Yeah, I owe the department after this is all over,” I said.

She turned and looked over the couch and through the blinds. “Are they going to be out there all night?”

“Looks like it,” I said, taking out meat and cheese from the fridge.

“Let me make that for you.”

“I have it.” I struggled to open up a single slice of cheese and stared at the unopened package of bread. It seemed more daunting than it should have.

“Let me do it.”

I stopped my stubbornness. After all, it was nice to have Katherine do something for me for once. The past year has been hard trying to keep up with her bills and mine.

The bar in the kitchen was recently cleaned and the floor showed obvious signs of attention. Abraham was a great guy despite everything the department put him through.

He has stuck with me through everything…

“There’s enough ingredients in here to make some vegetable soup,” Katherine said while looking in the fridge. “I’ll make enough for me tonight and for both of us tomorrow.”

I sat down on the couch facing the small kitchen. The cabin wasn’t much more than eight hundred square feet, and every room was connected. The pictures on the wall were manufactured nature-esque paintings.

The rustic feel the cabin could have had was hindered by the over-saturation of mass produced big-box store items, making it difficult to soak in the surroundings as it was intended.

Katherine turned on the burner for the stove and started something in the large pot. She often cooked for Viv and me years before she went to college. It started out as a joke…letting our at-the-time fourteen-year-old daughter prepare a meal for the three of us.

We found out very quickly that she was a natural in the kitchen. We then deemed Thursday nights Katherine’s cooking nights. We masked the fact that we both hated cooking with her desire to cook.

It was genius.

The last year, she began pursuing her degree in Nursing from Maine State University nearly two hours away. She cut off almost all ties to me, though she spoke to her mother often.

I was the financier and Viv was the confidant. I had taken the role knowing the repercussions, though the amount of hurt I felt with each phone call with Katherine asking me for more and more money was unprecedented in every way.

I felt guilty that I was enabling her to treat me a certain way, so that made it all my fault. How could I have blamed her when I instigated it?

“Is that sandwich going to be enough, or do you want some of this, too?” She asked.

“This is good. Thanks.”

She went back to