Read In Like a Lion for Free Online

young, so vulnerable.
    She’d been sheltered at that age. The pampered only child, oldest of the cousins, catered to by her extensive family.
    She swallowed. Maybe he’d been the lucky one. He’d had nothing to lose. She lifted her hand to her forehead as if she could rub away the mean-spirited thought. It’d been years. When would the grief no longer hover over her like a shadow, tainting every action, every thought?
    On the screen, two policemen entered, along with a slender, suited, athletic woman Anjali assumed was a social worker.
    “We want to hear your side, Jake,” one of the officers said. Stocky and graying, he put a heavy, paternal hand on Jake’s thin shoulder.
    Jake shrugged it off. “He touched me. I didn’t like it, so I hit him.” He glanced back at the man, then down at the floor, as if something in the pattern of the tiles could rise up and rescue him.
    “What’d you hit him with? It’s OK. You’re not in trouble.” The older man’s tone was soothing, but Anjali could hear the tension in it. Whatever Jake had done had been bad enough to shake a veteran officer.
    Jake skewered the man with his gaze. “You’re lying.”
    The officer started, bushy brows lifting. “Why do you say that?” He moved in closer.
    Jake had turned his attention back to the floor. “You smell funny.”
    What? Frowning, Anjali leaned forward, pointed the remote at the player and repeated that last section before pausing it.
    Why had he made a connection between the man’s smell and, what—his words?
    Anjali started the video again, leaning in to catch every nuance of body language, every micro-expression.
    The police officer stared at Jake and backed away, body stiff, arms crossed over his broad chest, either unnerved or offended by what the boy said. “I’m telling you the truth, son. We just want to know exactly what happened.”
    Jake examined his dangling feet.
    Anjali ached for him. The social worker should have offered support, but even she sat as far from him as the table allowed, as if he might attack at any moment.
    He swiped at his nose with his skinny wrist and the stupid woman flinched. “I hit him with my claws.”
    The two officers exchanged a questioning glance before turning their gazes back to the boy.
    “Your—claws?” the graying officer continued. His brows pulled down. “Is that something you made?”
    Jake’s youthful mouth twisted. His gaze focused on something in the middle distance as if he knew he wasn’t going to be believed and he was just waiting for the outcry. “The claws on my hand .”
    The man sighed, then slid his hands to his belt. “Ah, you mean your nails.”
    “No.” Jake’s voice was low and hard. “I didn’t have fingernails when I hit him.” He set his small chin. “I had claws.”
    The men exchanged a pointed glance, gestured to the woman, and they all headed toward the door, leaving Jake in his chair. The adults huddled together, their conversation muffled except for one word, schizophrenia .
    Anjali froze the image. She’d had the same thought. Schizophrenia could certainly explain his delusion. He’d been very young for schizophrenia to manifest, but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Neither was a tumor. She made a note to check Jake’s brain scans more closely. It was highly unlikely his doctors could have missed a tumor, and it would have had to be extremely slow growing, but stranger things had happened.
    She started the video again and watched the men leave. After the door closed, Jake jumped from his seat and went to the door. He twisted the knob, but it didn’t budge.
    He yanked a little harder and to her surprise it opened with a sharp click. He peered around the doorjamb, then disappeared out the door.
    Anjali realized her mouth was hanging open and closed it with a snap.
    A musical note sounded from her pocket, and she grabbed her phone before it could finish the melody.
    “Are you finding the recordings