Chapter 15
It Gets Worse From Here
By the time the chairs were filled the next day, the room had settled into a careful, expectant quiet.
Patricia stood near the door, clipboard tucked against her side, eyes moving easily between the hallway and the group—not anxious, just attentive.
Beside her, Maren Dalton adjusted the sign-in sheet and handed out name tags, her presence calm and deliberate.
This wasn’t her first time helping at the library, and it showed.
Hannah sat with the rest of the youngsters, her journal in her lap.
Joshua took his place at the front of the room.
“Before we start,” he said gently, “let me repeat a couple of ground rules. This is a public space, but what’s shared here stays here.
No one is required to speak. No one is required to stay.
If at any point you feel uncomfortable, you can step out.
That’s not a disruption—that’s taking care of yourself. ”
A few shoulders lowered. Someone nodded.
A few of the kids reached automatically for the journals they’d been given the day before, fingers worrying the edges as if checking that they were still real. Nate took a seat among them, his own notebook resting unopened on his knee.
David stood near the back wall, hands loosely folded, his gaze moving between the circle and the door with the calm attentiveness of someone used to watching rooms without needing to control them. When Nate glanced back, David gave him a small smile, steady and watchful.
Colin remained near the side wall; his eyes, for the most part, were fixed on the door. He noted Maren’s quiet efficiency, the way she kept herself positioned between the entryway and her daughter without making a show of it.
Maren caught his glance and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
Patricia leaned toward Colin. “We’re good,” she murmured. “The restraining order’s on file. If he shows, we call it in. I called the Wise police this morning just to put them on alert.”
Colin nodded once. “Understood.”
Joshua opened the session with a simple question.
“What made you decide to return today?”
For a moment, no one answered.
Then a youngster seated close to Nate began to speak—hesitant but brave.
And that was when the shouting started...
They heard the outburst before the footsteps—sharp, uncontrolled bursts that cut through the library’s quiet and made every kid in the room stiffen in fear.
Joshua moved instantly, ushering the group to their feet and toward the far wall with calm, practiced reassurance. Chairs scraped as the youngsters stood and clustered together, backs to the shelves, eyes fixed anywhere but the doorway.
Nate rose with the kids, staying close, one hand briefly resting on Joshua’s arm, as if to steady himself. His eyes shot to David, who was already moving to his side.
Trent stepped forward without a word, positioning himself just in front of the students, his presence solid and immovable.
Colin met Joshua’s eyes.
“Stay with them,” he said quietly, then turned and took three measured steps forward.
The door flew open, and Earl Dalton filled the frame. His eyes swept the room and locked on Hannah, who cowered behind Joshua. Her shoulders were hunched, and she clutched her journal to her chest; wide, frightened eyes fixed on her father.
“You,” he snapped, jabbing a finger in her direction. “Get over here! We’re leaving. Now!”
Maren darted to her daughter, placing herself between Earl and the teenagers with deliberate efficiency.
“You,” she said sharply, “are not allowed to be here.”
“Don’t start,” he shot back. “This is my kid.”
Colin stepped into Earl’s line of sight. “Sir. Lower your voice.”
Earl’s eyes flicked to him, contempt in his gaze. “And you are?”
“Colin Campbell-Abrams,” he said, his voice calm but edged with courtroom steel. “Senior Prosecutor, Commonwealth’s Attorney’s Office. I am here to stop this from escalating.”
Joshua knelt, his body angled protectively in front of Hannah.
“Are you scared?” he whispered to her.
Unable to speak, her head nodded—small, fast.
It was enough. Joshua rose and stood just in front of her, his body a shield.
Colin felt a shift ripple through the room. “Sir,” he said, voice controlled and professional, “you are violating an active restraining order.”
Earl scoffed. “That piece of paper doesn’t—”
“I assure you it does,” Colin said, taking a half-step forward. “The police are already on their way. Step back!”
Patricia Hendricks appeared beside Maren, phone in hand, her voice steady despite the tension running through her frame.
“They’re on their way,” she said. “Earl, you need to step into the hallway.”
Earl took a step forward.
Trent shifted again—just a step, just enough to be seen—his stance widening, shoulders squared, gaze fixed on Earl with quiet, unblinking focus.
Colin stepped into Earl’s path. “Your daughter has expressed fear for her safety. Under Virginia law, when a minor reports feeling threatened, school officials have a legal duty to ensure her welfare until law enforcement and child protective services can complete their assessment.”
Colin didn’t raise his voice, but he took another step forward.
“You try to remove her by force, you’re looking at assault and violation of a court order. Step back NOW!”
Earl’s eyes darted to him, calculating. “Move,” he snarled at Colin. “You’re not a cop. You can’t stop me.”
But something inside Colin—something cold and sharp—answered before his mind could pull him back.
He drew himself to his full height. “You will not walk into this library and terrorize these children,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Not today. Not in front of me.”
Earl’s expression shifted—his decision made, he moved. Not a shove, not a bluff. a sudden, lunging reach past Colin—straight for Hannah.
Maren gasped. Hannah cried out, shrinking back—and instantly Joshua turned, moving her back as he continued to shield her with his body.
Colin reacted—not with anger, but with pure instinct. Muscle memory took over—years of training snapping into place before thought could catch up.
He’d done this a thousand times. But not with this much at stake. His hand snapped out, catching Earl’s wrist mid-grab. He twisted—not hard—but enough, then pivoted in close, turning with him, guiding the arm across Earl’s body—
And Earl’s momentum betrayed him. His elbow locked. His body bent forward, off balance, breath forced out of him in a startled grunt.
“Don’t,” Colin said quietly. “It gets worse from this point on.” He could feel the child behind him without turning—small, frightened, too close to all of it.
Not again. Not on his watch.
Earl jerked, trying to pull free.
Colin adjusted his grip—precise and economical, and Earl cried out.
Trent was there instantly, stepping in close, his presence closing off any chance of escape.
David moved in behind, silent, steady.
Joshua stayed exactly where he was—arms around Hannah now, one hand shielding the back of her head, his body between her and the four men.
“Easy,” Joshua murmured. “You’re OK. I’ve got you.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Colin saw Joshua embracing Hannah and felt a tiny part of his chest ease in relief. Good, he thought. That’s where she needed to be. That’s where HE needs to be. Safe.
Earl swore, twisting again—but there was nowhere to go.
Colin leaned in just slightly.
“Earl, every step you take toward her adds to the charges,” he said, low and controlled. “Worse. Not better.”
A beat.
Then the unmistakable sound of sirens in the distance.
Earl froze.
The fight drained out of him as quickly as it had come.
Colin held the position one second longer—making sure the struggle was finished.
Then released him.
Deliberately.
Not thrown. Not shoved. Just given back his balance.
Earl staggered, breathing hard, rubbing his arm, eyes wild now—but uncertain.
Colin didn’t move. “Step into the hallway. Now!”
Trent shifted to Earl’s right side. David moved to his left—not crowding, not touching, just there. Present and unyielding.
For a moment, Earl looked like he might resist. Then something in the three men surrounding him—calm, steady, absolutely certain—closed that option off.
“Move,” Colin said, his voice low but edged with steel.
Earl muttered something under his breath, but he turned.
The three of them walked him to the door. Colin stepped out last and pulled the door closed behind him with a soft, deliberate click.
The hallway felt colder.
Earl paced once, then turned back, anger still simmering but no longer explosive.
“This is bullshit,” he snapped. “You can’t hold me out here.”
“We’re not holding you,” Colin said evenly. “You’re choosing not to make your situation worse with the police 10 seconds from the door.”
Earl barked a humorless laugh. “You think you scare me?”
“No,” Colin said. “I think you understand that your actions have consequences.”
Silence stretched.
Trent leaned back against the door, arms folded—not aggressive, just immovable. David stood a few feet away, watchful, his gaze steady.
Earl’s eyes flicked between them, calculating again—but there was nowhere to go.
From inside the room, faint voices—low, calm—filtered through the door.
Life continuing.
That, more than anything, seemed to settle him.
Colin didn’t take his eyes off him.
They waited.
Moments later, deeper voices filled the hallway, signaling the arrival of the Wise police.
Colin stepped out to meet them. Two officers approached at a brisk pace—alert now, taking in the tension immediately.
Earl stood several feet away, jaw tight, arms rigid at his sides, trying and failing to look unaffected.
Colin identified himself quickly and gave a concise summary.
“Active restraining order,” he said. “He entered and attempted to force contact with the child. Multiple witnesses.”
One of the officers turned to Earl. “Sir, put your hands behind your back.”
Earl blinked. “What? I didn’t—”