you're him, aren't you? You're the pervert she's been shacked up with all this time."
Nicholas squared his shoulders and stood his ground. "I am an investigator from the Division of Family and Children's Services. My name is George Pulasky." It was the first name that sprang to mind. Georgia Pulasky wouldn't mind his stealing it for such a worthy cause. "Serious allegations of child abuse have been filed--"
Kirk spit on the ground and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "Let me see some identification."
Nicholas fumbled in his jacket pocket, patting for his wallet, delaying the finding of it until he thought of something else. "As an officer of the court, I am authorized--"
Whether Kirk thought he was reaching for a weapon or he had simply grown impatient with his game, Trissa's father gave him no time to finish. The flask swung up and smashed Nicholas across the temple. He staggered sideways with the blow. His wallet flew from his fingers and into the grass.
"Where is she, prick? Tell me, or I'll kick you bloody. You won't be sticking it to someone else's daughter again when I'm done with you."
"Look at me before you make your threats, Kirk," Nicholas said, fists clenched and ready to strike, his ear still ringing. "I'm not some little girl you can knock around and intimidate. When the police arrive--"
"When the police arrive, my ass. You've been sniffing around my back alley for two hours like some cur looking for a bitch in heat. Don't tell me you been waiting for the police to arrive. When the police arrive, Mr. Officer of the Court, they'll see I've dealt with a prowler trespassing on my property."
It took a moment for Nicholas to realize that it was not he who swayed from the after effects of the hit, but Kirk. But when Kirk lunged drunkenly forward trying to land a rabbit punch, Nicholas was able to step aside, and Kirk landed on his face in the dirt with a force that knocked the wind out of him. Nicholas laughed at his easy triumph, snatched the flask from the ground where it had dropped and emptied it inches from Kirk's nose, making gin-mud that spattered his face.
"As I was about to say, you have your choice of two alternatives. One, you can wait until the police arrive and I will have assault added to the charges already appearing on the warrant, the details of which I hesitate to mention in earshot of all your neighbors." Nicholas, feeling far too cocky for someone who had never won a fight in his life, was shouting loud enough that neighbors on the next block could hear. He had his foot planted squarely and firmly into the small of Kirk's back. "Or you can submit to a court order that prohibits all contact with your daughter for an unspecified, but, I assure you, prolonged period."
"God damn it, let me up."
"Choose, Kirk." Nicholas increased the pressure on his back, grinding his heel into his kidney.
"Ow, shit! All right, God damn it. I'll leave her alone. She always was more trouble than she was worth." With Nicholas' slight easing of tension, Kirk seized the opportunity to thrust his flank upward, knocking Nicholas off balance. It was a simple matter then to grab the other ankle and pull him off his feet.
Kirk was on him in an instant with skill most likely honed in barroom brawls and wife-beating, he pummeled him with blow after blow in the gut, followed by a few well-placed kicks until Nicholas heaved himself over and tried to crawl away, digging his nails in the gin-soaked mud, unable to pull himself to his feet or even his knees.
"You sure as hell fight like a little girl."
Through smoky pain, he heard Kirk taunt him. A clot of something sour and salty rose to his throat and he retched into the dirt. The pain radiated from his groin to his chest, and rings of darkness encroached on his vision like the closing of the aperture on a camera lens from f/4 to f/8 to f/16.
He brought Trissa's face to mind and held it there, a charm against the blackness. The next kick was to his left ear, and he saw and heard nothing else.
*****
Trissa's worry mounted steadily since dinner when Nicholas didn't show and he hadn't called. Augusta had reminded her several times that he had said he might be late. She had tried to keep her busy making bows and