by Violette
It was a cool morning. Fourteen-year-old Ezra Standish shivered and wrapped his arms around himself as he walked quickly along the sidewalk. The days were growing colder and he would soon need to acquire some warmer clothing. Ever alert, he spotted a police cruiser turning the corner and ducked into the nearest alley, hiding behind a dumpster until it had passed. After a quick check of the street, Ezra resumed his journey.
It was his turn to help out at Rosie’s Diner, and though Ezra hated getting up early to be there at five AM, he hated starving even more. The worst part was that Vin would be wide awake long before he returned with their breakfast, not taking advantage of the opportunity to sleep in, as Ezra would have done. With a shake of his head over his friend’s strange penchant for rising early, Ezra pushed open the door, greeting the proprietor with a smile.
“Good morning, Mrs. Milburn,” Ezra said cheerfully.
“Ezra, dear,” Rosie Milburn said with a smile. “You’re early.”
“Well, don’t get used to it,” Ezra said, flashing a mischievous grin.
“Oh, you wise guy, you.” She swatted him with her dish towel and shooed him toward the kitchen.
Ezra chuckled as he grabbed a mop and bucket to wash the floors. He and Vin had met Rosie shortly after their arrival in Denver nearly two years earlier. The stocky woman had found them sleeping behind the diner one cold morning, wedged between the building and a big dumpster. She had immediately grabbed each of them by the scruff of the neck and hauled them inside before they fully awoke. The two twelve-year-olds had been afraid that she was going to turn them over to the police, but she had instead made them an offer. In exchange for helping her ready the diner for opening each morning, she would give them each a hearty breakfast and a few dollars a week. It was a deal they readily accepted.
Rosie had never questioned them about why they were living on the streets, and they never asked why she was helping them, but they had seen something in her eyes that told them she had seen a few hard times herself. Whatever the reason, they both appreciated having good food to eat and a few dollars to put aside for necessities, making sure to do as much as they could to help the kindly woman.
As he washed the floor, Ezra thought about the other things Rosie had done for them. As if it wasn’t enough that she fed them and gave them money, she had also persuaded the owners of the hardware store, the beauty parlor, the flower shop, and the Italian restaurant down the street to help them out as well. He and Vin took turns sweeping and dusting the hardware store before its nine AM opening time, and cleaning the beauty and flower shops before they closed for the day. Later in the evening, they helped to close the restaurant by cleaning tables and doing dishes. In exchange, they were both paid a small amount of wages by each of the business owners and were allowed to eat their fill of the restaurant’s leftovers each night. They also got free haircuts during slow times at the beauty parlor.
The work wasn’t easy, but he and Vin both preferred working to earn their way as opposed to stealing or resorting to other, less pleasant ways of making money. Ezra shuddered, remembering the time they had nearly been shot by a gun-wielding shop owner, who was upset that they had stolen some bread and peanut butter from his store. They had also been approached more than once by unsavory men interested in their ‘services.’ He and Vin had both decided that anything, even returning to foster care, was better than that particular option.
Ezra gave a sad smile as he thought about what his mother would say if she saw how he was living. “Appearances are everything,” she would say; or his personal favorite: “Gentlemen don’t perform menial labor.” He snorted. Menial labor it might be, but it was far better than the alternatives. And he wasn’t exactly a gentleman. Shaking thoughts of his mother away, Ezra continued his work, looking forward to the breakfast that would be forthcoming.
Vin awoke slowly, stretching out the kinks in his back as he sat up on the mattress. Looking at the clock, which sat on a small cardboard box near the bed, he noted with surprise that it was a little after six AM. He usually woke up by five-thirty most mornings, much to Ezra’s chagrin. With a smile, he realized that Ezra would be returning from the diner soon with their breakfast. Rosie was a great cook and Vin liked everything that she made for them. Though, even if he hadn’t liked her cooking, it was still better than dumpster-diving for a meal. He shuddered, remembering the times he and Ezra had been forced to do just that. Thanks to Rosie, they had not had to resort to living off of other people’s trash for a long time.
A faint scratching sound at the door told him that Ezra had returned. Quickly, he raced to unlock the deadbolt, but Ezra was faster, picking the lock before he could reach the door. Grinning at his best friend, Vin ushered him inside and shut the door behind him.
“What we got today, Ez?” He looked eagerly at the big bag his friend was carrying.
“Pancakes,” Ezra began, lifting the plastic containers out of the bag and setting them on the small, beat-up table that graced their basement living quarters. “Extra syrup for you, and some bacon and eggs for both of us.”
“Yum,” Vin said, opening his container eagerly.
Ezra pulled out a chair and started in on his own breakfast. Their apartment was actually a small, unused basement under an antique store that had closed almost two years earlier, after its proprietor, the elderly Mr. Weatherly, had suffered a stroke and been forced to move into a nursing home. The area wasn’t exactly a hotbed of commercial activity and the store had remained vacant. Since they had never seen an owner visit the property, and had been able to remain in the basement safe and undiscovered, they assumed the property had an absentee landlord. It wasn’t until they had been living there for several months that they learned that Mr. Watson, who ran the hardware store, actually owned both the building that housed his business and the one in which they were currently residing.
The two boys had found the empty room when they ducked behind the building in an attempt to hide from a gang of older kids that had been giving them a hard time, stealing their food and chasing them out of their sleeping spots. After investigating the place and making sure it was free from vermin and other unwelcome inhabitants, Ezra had taught Vin to pick the lock on the door and they had moved in. Later, they had replaced the existing deadbolt with one purchased at the hardware store, so they would have keys to use. They still occasionally picked the lock, just to keep in practice.
It was a dark space, graced with only one small window that they usually kept covered to hide their presence. Light was provided courtesy of a single electrical outlet that remained active. The shop above them might have been vacant, but its two neighboring shops – having separate basement areas, but sharing the same physical building – housed working businesses. Both boys were too wary of fire to use open flames unless it was absolutely necessary, so any cooking they might do was done on a hot plate. A small electric space heater stood in the corner, ready to be used once the nights turned cold.
They had also accumulated some furniture during their time living there. An old table and chairs that they had found in the trash and repaired had been the first of their furnishings, Ezra stating that it made him feel a bit more human to be able to sit somewhere other than the floor. The queen-sized mattress that they shared had been their next acquisition. It had been given to them by Mr. Watson, who claimed the mattress was lumpy and bad for his back, but they both found it to be very comfortable. The man had never admitted to knowing where they were living, but both Ezra and Vin figured that he was aware of it and was simply looking out for them unobtrusively. Not wanting to abuse the generosity, they made sure to take good care of their living quarters.
There was a tiny utility sink in one corner of the room that still worked, so they had a ready supply of water. Their blankets, pillows, clothing, and other necessities had either been given to them or purchased inexpensively from the local Salvation Army store. They didn’t have much clothing, but they took care of what they did own, keeping them clean by washing them in the sink and, occasionally, taking a trip to the laundromat.
Each of the boys had a small backpack and a box that contained personal items – what little they had been able to keep with them after running away from the abusive foster home where they had been staying.
Vin looked around his home and figured they had it pretty good compared to most of the other folks living on the streets.
Ezra sipped the hot coffee gratefully, still chilled from being outside.
Vin noticed the involuntary shiver and frowned. “Cold, Ez?”
“It’s a bit chilly outside this morning,” Ezra admitted.
“Guess we need to get some new stuff,” Vin said with a sigh. Each of them had grown substantially since the previous winter and the heavy coats they had worn had been too small even then. There was no way they would get another winter out of the garments.
“Yes,” Ezra agreed. “We are both in need of some new clothing.” He stuck a leg out, displaying pants that were several inches too short.
Vin chuckled, though his own clothes did not fit any better. “Yeah, guess it’s time.”
“This afternoon?” Ezra inquired.
“Yep,” Vin said. “After story hour.”
Ezra smiled. Each day, after their morning work was done, they would meet at the library and spend the day reading, studying, and working on the computers. The head librarian, Ms. Peterson, didn’t mind their daily presence, since Vin usually helped with shelving books and Ezra would spend some time doing magic tricks and reading stories to the younger kids during the daily children’s story hour. They kept to themselves, otherwise, so Ms. Peterson didn’t see any reason to make them leave.
Vin finished his breakfast quickly, then washed out the plastic container in the sink. Ezra finished shortly after and did the same, so they could return the containers to Rosie before the end of the day.
“I was thinking about taking the bedding to the laundromat this morning,” Ezra said.
“Okay. I’ll drop these,” Vin held up the breakfast containers, “at Rosie’s on my way to the hardware store.”
“After you,” Ezra said, gesturing toward the door after he gathered up the sheets and blankets from their bed and stuffed them in a trash bag. He and Vin checked out the window to assure that no one was loitering in front of their home, then stepped outside, locking the door behind them.
Vin finished at the hardware store and returned to their basement home to wait for Ezra, who had not yet returned from the laundromat. While he waited, he retrieved some money from the locked strongbox they had hidden in one of the ventilation ducts that ran through the basement. They were very careful to protect their funds, saving as much as possible for their future plans to attend college.
Vin was quite proud of the fact that they had managed to save nearly twenty-three thousand dollars so far. They made sure to keep the money hidden and to avoid speaking of it in public, since their lives would be worth little if word got out about their stash. It might have seemed incongruous for them to have that much money, considering their lifestyle, but both boys were determined to acquire the funds they would need to assure a future off of the streets. They had both seen too much despair and too many wasted lives to allow themselves to become just another statistic. Ezra had regaled Vin with tales of some of the places he had traveled, and Vin was determined that he would see them someday.
Ezra would have liked to invest their money, put it in a bank account, or at least leave it in a safety deposit box, but they were both minors and were unable to do that without some form of adult guardian’s consent. Their trust had been betrayed by adults too many times before to trust anyone, even well-meaning people like Rosie, with knowledge of their cache of funds. So they hid it carefully instead, only spending it on necessities, like the clothing they would need for the upcoming winter. The money was too important for their future to do otherwise.
Only part of the money was earned with their odd jobs. The rest, Ezra had earned in illicit poker games in which he participated at some of the local bars. He was an excellent player and won more often than not. On one occasion, he had brought home over three thousand dollars in winnings. Vin didn’t like him playing poker, afraid his best friend would be hurt at the hands of a sore loser, but he understood it was necessary to earn as much money as possible if they ever hoped to improve their lives.
Ezra was always careful not to play too often, wanting to avoid a reputation that might endanger his health. He had run afoul of some sore losers once before, prior to meeting up with Vin. That incident had left him with several broken ribs and a stab wound to his side, landing him in the hospital and under the scrutiny of Social Services once again. It had been that incident that sent him to the same foster home as Vin. After witnessing those injuries, Vin was determined that it wouldn’t happen again and had extracted a promise from Ezra to be careful with his gambling.
Vin’s reverie was interrupted by Ezra’s return with their laundry. He helped his friend put the freshly laundered bedding back on the mattress. It wasn’t a big thing, but there was something especially comforting about being able to sleep on clean sheets.
“The Y today, Ez?” Vin inquired after they had finished with the bedding.
“We went to the youth center last time,” Ezra said with a shrug. He and Vin regularly visited the YMCA and a nearby youth center run by some Catholic priests, stopping in to shower every couple of days. Ezra, in particular, hated to be dirty. He had not talked of it much, but the southerner had once mentioned an ‘uncle’ who had punished him by locking him in a filthy, rat-infested cellar. It was also the probable reason for his tendency toward neatness and his insistence that they keep their apartment clean. Vin didn’t mind a little dirt, but found he couldn’t disagree with his friend’s reasoning.
It did feel much better to be clean, and by alternating between the two facilities, they didn’t draw as much attention to themselves. There were usually other teenagers around, since both places allowed local schools that were short on gym space to use their facilities. Both also had many after-school programs, and they found it easy to simply blend in with the crowds of other kids in the locker room, everyone assuming that they belonged there. Even if someone had known the truth, the staff at both places were aware of the difficulties of life on the street, and thus inclined to look the other way.
Ezra and Vin stuffed their towels and other shower necessities in their backpacks in preparation for their trip to the YMCA later in the afternoon, then made their way to the library. The library building was a twenty-five minute walk from their home, but neither of them minded, enjoying the opportunity to get some exercise. The day was slowly getting warmer, but there was still a definite chill in the air, reinforcing their decision to buy some warm clothes later that day.
“Good morning, boys.” Ms. Peterson, waved to them as they entered.
“Morning, ma’am,” Vin said politely.
“Good morning, Ms. Peterson,” Ezra said.
“Getting cold out there, isn’t it?” she said, looking at their ill-fitting, threadbare clothing with concern.
“Yes ma’am,” Vin agreed. “We’re gonna buy some warmer stuff later today.”
“Will you be here for story hour?” Ms. Peterson looked to Ezra in inquiry.
“Yes, ma’am,” Ezra replied with a smile. “We shall entertain the little ones before we attend to our shopping.” He would never admit it, but he truly enjoyed reading to the young children. The look in their eyes as they became immersed in the story he was telling made him feel like he was doing something truly worthwhile. He only wished that someone had taken the time to do the same for him when he was a child.
Paula Peterson watched as the children gathered around the green-eyed teenager, eager for the tale he would bring to life this day. She smiled, thinking about how some of the parents had reacted the first time Ezra had shown up to read to the children. They had been suspicious, wondering why two teenaged boys like Ezra and Vin would spend so much time in the library instead of participating in the kinds of after-school activities in which boys their age usually indulged. They were concerned why Ezra in particular would want to spend so much time with the younger children. Most teenagers wouldn’t be caught dead in the library, hanging around with little kids, unless forced to by their parents or teachers.
Paula had fabricated a story that the boys were volunteering at the library after school in order to avoid the gangs in their neighborhood, and invited the parents to stay and watch the story sessions with their children. After observing Ezra’s animated storytelling and experiencing both boys’ courteous behavior, the questions and suspicions had dwindled. In fact, the boys had instead found themselves the target of motherly fussing and concern, much to their chagrin.
As she often did, Paula wondered what had happened to bring two such intelligent, well-mannered boys into such a sad situation. She had always had a soft spot for children, especially those to whom life had dealt an unfair hand. This wasn’t the first time she had made a special effort to help the homeless children she encountered. In the past, she had often allowed some of them to spend the day in the library when the weather was particularly unpleasant, but until these two, she had never allowed any of them to stay in her library for extended periods of time.
Ezra and Vin were special. She had seen it the first time they had entered the library, when they had immediately raced to help her pick up the stack of books that had spilled from her cart as she attempted to return them to the shelves. They were always polite and helpful, spending their time hard at work with the books, instead of fooling around and making noise like most kids their age would have done. It had baffled her, since most teenagers barely looked beyond the next weekend.
Ezra had explained their diligence once, after she had given in to her curiosity and asked why they were studying so hard. “Far too many of those living on the streets, die an early and unlamented death,” he had said. “And Vin and I do not intend to be among them. Given our current situation, an education is our only chance to avoid such an ignominious end.”
Paula could find no fault in his logic, despite being surprised that he had such a clear grasp of his circumstances. He and Vin were wise beyond their years, and were the most intense and driven teenagers she had ever encountered. She figured that living on the streets made them grow up faster than most, and she admired them for their efforts, helping them along as much as possible.
Having once worked as a high school teacher, it had become apparent to her after observing them that they were both highly intelligent. Further investigation – spurred by her observation of Vin using a piece of paper or a ruler to mark the sentences he was reading – had revealed that Vin was moderately dyslexic, and she had made a special effort to point out books on the subject that would help the boy in his studies. Much to her surprise, though, both boys had already made use of those books. Paula had simply shaken her head in exasperation. She should have known those two would be one step ahead of her.
Ezra seemed to have had an excellent education at some point, while Vin had encountered some difficulties in learning due to his dyslexia. She suspected that Ezra could have passed the high school equivalency exam, had he chosen to take it, but he was apparently waiting until Vin was ready before doing so. Given their intelligence and dedication to their studies, she believed it would not take them long to reach that goal.
When things were busy in the library, the boys would often help her out, shelving and checking in returned books, while she was occupied with the other patrons. In return, she allowed them to stay as long as they liked and often assisted in their studies during quieter periods, giving them whatever textbooks she could find. The rest of the women on the library staff liked the boys as well, often bringing them home-baked cookies and other treats, insisting that they were “too skinny.” Paula laughed to herself, remembering the indignant and embarrassed expressions they would affect at such a pronouncement.
It saddened her that these two good-natured boys were forced to live on the streets, but she was heartened by their efforts to better themselves and to keep from falling into the drugs and crime that trapped so many in their situation. They often discussed their plans to go to college as soon as they became legal adults, and Paula Peterson had no doubt that they would succeed. As such, she intended to do everything in her power to help them get there.
Vin watched as Ezra read Cinderella to the group of attentive children, changing his voice for each of the characters. The children were still and silent, totally enthralled with the story. Even the parents seemed to be taken in by the tale being woven by the teenager.
“...and they lived happily ever after,” Ezra said, closing the book with a flourish.
Vin would never admit it, but he enjoyed listening to the stories as much as the children seated around him. Ezra had a way of bringing the characters to life, and anyone could see how much he was enjoying himself. The kids adored his talented friend and always looked forward to story hour with him.
Ezra made his way toward him, stopping to talk with some of the children and parents along the way. Finally, the crowd dissipated, leaving the two of them standing beside Ms. Peterson.
“That was wonderful, Ezra,” Ms. Peterson said. “You have quite a gift with children.”
Ezra shrugged, a faint blush stealing across his face at the praise.
Vin grinned and nudged his friend. “You ready to go shoppin’?”
Ezra nodded. “Most definitely.”
“You boys make sure you get some warm coats, you hear?” Ms. Peterson instructed.
“Will do, ma’am,” Vin said.
Vin and Ezra gathered their jackets and backpacks and headed back outside, waving at Ms. Peterson as they left. Their first stop was the YMCA building, where they both indulged in long, hot showers. Once they were finished, they headed for the Salvation Army store, which was located eleven blocks from their home, situated in the ground-level storefront of a dilapidated apartment building. When they arrived, there were only a couple of customers browsing through the racks and piles of clothing.
“Where shall we start?” Ezra asked.
Vin shrugged, then looked down at his too-short pants. Grimacing, he remembered being teased at school when he was younger for wearing ‘high-waters.’ He nodded firmly to himself. “Pants.”
Ezra nodded and the two of them made their way to the stacks of pants on one side of the store. They both wore the same size, and after digging through the piles, they were able to find four pairs of jeans in decent condition. From there, they moved on to the shirt racks, choosing warm sweatshirts and flannel button-down shirts for the cooler weather to come.
“Could use some new socks, too,” Vin remarked. “Mine all have holes.”
Ezra chuckled. “Mine, too.”
They picked out some decent-looking athletic socks, then moved to the racks of coats. The selection was extensive, since the weather hadn’t turned cold enough for most customers of the store to consider warmer clothing as of yet. Vin found a dark blue coat that appealed to him, despite it being a little too big. “I’ll grow into it before long,” he told Ezra. For his part, Ezra chose a black anorak with a zip-out lining. Both avoided bright colors that might draw unwanted attention.
All together, the clothing only cost them seventy-six dollars, less than the one hundred dollars they had budgeted, so they decided to buy some warm hiking boots that would come in handy during the snowy winter months. Their current footwear was too small, anyway, and it wouldn’t be long before they would be unable to wear them at all.
Gathering their selections together, they brought them to the counter, where Ezra paid the gray-haired woman who worked there. Before stepping outside the store, they stuffed most of the clothes into their small backpacks, leaving only the coats and boots in the shopping bag. In their neighborhood, it wasn’t wise to advertise any new acquisitions. People had been killed simply because someone else wanted their shoes.
The floor was swept and the windows were spotless. Ezra finished wiping the counter of the flower shop with a smile.
“All finish?” Mrs. Chan, the petite Chinese woman who ran the shop asked in her softly accented voice.
“Yes, ma’am,” Ezra replied.
“You a good boy, Ezra,” she said, reaching up to pat his cheek as she bustled into the back of the shop.
Ezra blushed, collecting his cleaning supplies. He followed behind the small woman, stowing the things in the tiny closet in the back room.
“Here,” she said, thrusting a few bills into his hand. “You buy food for you and Vin.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ezra said, smiling as he tucked the money into his pocket. Mrs. Chan was always insisting that he and Vin didn’t eat enough.
Ezra waited until Mrs. Chan was through closing up the shop, then escorted her to her car before leaving to meet up with Vin. Twice a week, the library was open late, and the two of them would usually spend some more time there after their evening ‘chores’ were finished. On the other evenings, they would go to the youth center, which was located several blocks away from the library. There, they would work out using the gym facilities and would practice the martial arts and boxing they had picked up during the past few years. Living on the streets could be dangerous, and both boys knew the value of being able to defend themselves.
Walking past one of the many abandoned buildings in the area, Ezra spotted a group of young men coming toward him on the opposite side of the street. “Damn,” he muttered to himself, looking around quickly for a place to hide.
They were a group of homeless kids not much older than him and Vin, who spent their time selling drugs for a lowlife drug dealer named Jerry MacDermott. The man had approached both Ezra and Vin repeatedly, wanting them to join his little group. Both had refused, not only because they wanted nothing to do with drugs, but also because they didn’t like the way he looked at them. Ezra hated the way the greasy man would leer at them, making suggestive comments whenever he had the chance. He knew what the man wanted and had no intention of letting him get it.
That in mind, Ezra ducked into the alley next to the empty brick building, concealing himself in a doorway until the group passed him by. After ten minutes, Ezra figured it was safe enough to leave. He slipped out of the doorway and headed back toward the street, only to be stopped by a pair of hands grabbing his shoulders.
“Ezra, my boy,” came the deep voice behind him.
Oh shit. A shiver of dread raced down his spine. Ezra swallowed hard and turned around, coming face to face with Jerry MacDermott. “Mr. MacDermott,” Ezra said calmly, attempting to sound cordial and unperturbed, despite the fact that his heart was racing a mile a minute.
“Where’s your pretty little friend?” MacDermott said, running his eyes lasciviously over Ezra’s body.
“He’s around,” Ezra said blandly, not wanting to reveal too much.
“Why don’t you come with us?” MacDermott said smoothly, taking Ezra’s arm in a firm grip. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“I have a previous engagement,” Ezra said, trying to extract his arm from the tight grip.
MacDermott laughed, turning to some of his associates. “I just love the way this southern boy talks. Sounds like them highfalutin’ types on public television.”
The group laughed along with him as they hustled Ezra down the street.
“Let go of me,” Ezra said, starting to struggle.
“I don’t think so,” MacDermott said, smiling in a way that made Ezra nauseous. They dragged him along with them into the building. Ezra fought against the hands gripping his arms, using every dirty trick he knew, but it was a futile effort. He quickly realized that he was in big trouble.
“Buck!” Chris Larabee called to his old friend.
“Yes, master?” Buck said with a smirk as he strode through the door of Chris’s office.
Chris rolled his eyes at his agent’s antics. “I got a call from Digger Bowen. Says he has something interesting to tell me.”
Buck snorted. “He probably needs money to buy that cheap booze he likes.”
Chris shrugged. “I don’t know, but he sounded kind of excited.”
“You want backup?”
“Yeah,” Chris said. “He wants to meet at that old shoe factory on Shaw St.”
“Great,” Buck groaned. “Another abandoned building.”
“No unwanted company in most of those places,” Chris pointed out. “That’s why the bad guys like ‘em so much.”
“’Cept for the odd homeless person,” Buck remarked. “Remember that bag lady that got caught in the crossfire during the Martell bust?”
Chris nodded grimly. He remembered the incident all too well, having been one of the agents who found the elderly woman while rounding up the bad guys. “You comin’?”
“Lead on, big dog.” Buck grinned, gesturing toward the door with a flourish.
Vin eyed the clock with a frown. Ezra should have been back half an hour ago. It wasn’t like him to be late, and Vin was starting to get a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong.
After dropping off their purchases at the apartment, he and Ezra had gone to the beauty parlor and flower shop, respectively, to do their daily cleaning jobs. Neither of them liked to carry money around, since it was too tempting a target for thieves, so they had planned to meet back at their place to drop off their pay before heading to the youth center to work out. But Ezra was late. With a worried frown, Vin picked up the baseball bat that stood in the corner of the basement room. After a quick check out the window to make sure the coast was clear, he headed out the door to find his friend.
Retracing one of Ezra’s possible routes from the flower shop brought Vin past an old brick factory building. They were both wary of the place, since it was a haven for drug pushers and other criminals, and neither of them wanted to be involved with any of that. They usually hurried past the building anyway, but if they saw people hanging around the crumbling structure, they would avoid it entirely, taking a different, longer route home.
As he walked along, Vin heard the faint sound of laughter coming from inside the old factory. Debating with himself for a moment, Vin finally decided to check it out. Quietly, he slipped into the alley beside the building, making his way to a locked door. Using the lockpicks Ezra had fashioned for him, he rapidly picked the lock, mentally thanking his friend for teaching him that skill.
Inside, the voices grew louder. Vin crept along the piles of junk that were stacked all over the interior of the building, making his way toward the light he could see in front of him. As he peeked around a stack of old machinery, he froze at the sound of Ezra’s voice.
“Let me go,” Ezra pleaded, his voice breaking. “I assure you, I won’t tell anyone.”
In front of him Vin saw Jerry MacDermott manhandling Ezra. His friend was bent over an old crate, his arms pinned behind him, while MacDermott fumbled to undo his pants. Vin felt his blood boil and without thinking, jumped out into the open with a yell, swinging the bat toward the drug dealer. The bat crashed solidly into the arm the startled man had raised to block the blow. MacDermott screamed and grabbed his broken forearm, staggering away from Ezra.
“You okay, Ez?” Vin asked, his voice betraying his fears.
“I... I’m... fine,” Ezra replied shakily.
MacDermott growled and started toward Vin, but the angry teenager was not in the mood to be generous. Whirling around, he slammed the bat down hard on MacDermott’s knee, then turned and landed another blow on his unprotected side. The resulting crunch made Ezra wince as the drug dealer collapsed in a pitiful, crying heap.
“Vin,” Ezra pleaded. “Let’s go.”
“Get goin’, Ez,” Vin said without moving his eyes from the whimpering drug dealer. “I’m right behind ya.” He turned back to MacDermott. “You fuckin’ slimy bastard! You come near me or Ez ever again and you’ll find out what else I can do with this bat.”
Ezra hesitated, then nodded, backing away from the scene, while Vin continued to yell and threaten MacDermott, warning him to keep away from them. He turned to open the side door just as a pair of men burst through the front door with guns.
“ATF! Freeze!”
“Drop the bat, son,” the dark-haired man ordered.
Turning to face the intruders, Vin waved the bat at the new threat, stopping only at the sight of the guns being pointed in his direction.
“Come on, now. Just put the bat down,” the dark-haired man said in a steely voice.
Vin forced himself not to look at Ezra, nodding faintly as he slowly put the bat on the ground. Ezra, hidden from the agents’ view by the piles of junk, quickly ducked into a small gap in the tangled stacks of machinery, tucking himself out of sight as the men approached his friend.
Buck and Chris pulled up in front of the old building, eyeing the group of teenagers loitering in front of the place. The teens, in turn, watched warily as they stepped from the vehicle. The moment both of them were visible to the group, someone yelled, “Cops!” The group immediately scattered in several different directions.
“What the hell?” Buck muttered, pulling his weapon as he scanned the area.
“Let’s find out.” Chris drew his own gun and the two approached the door, swinging it open. Inside, they heard yelling and cursing, intermingled with crying and screams of pain.
Sharing a look, the two men took off at a run, calling out a warning to whoever was inside. To their surprise, they found a grown man lying on the dirty floor, blubbering like a baby, while a teenager stood over him, waving a baseball bat threateningly and cursing. The man on the floor was whimpering in pain, clutching his arm tightly to his body. The teenager was red-faced with fury as he spouted a string of curses that would have made a sailor blush, gesturing with his baseball bat for emphasis.
Buck and Chris drew closer, unnoticed by both the of the parties, until they stood a mere ten feet away.
“Drop the bat, son,” Buck ordered, getting the attention of the angry boy, who had a look on his face that bordered on feral. The boy took a step toward him, lifting the bat as if preparing to attack. “Come on, now. Just put the bat down.”
The kid, upon seeing their guns, looked up in confusion. He stared at them in alarm, then complied with their demands, slowly placing that bat on the floor and raising his hands in submission.
Chris approached the young man, unsurprised at the defiance he saw radiating from the blue eyes. “Step over here, kid.”
The boy silently did as he was instructed, moving to stand in front of Chris. Eyeing him warily, Chris searched him, finding no other weapons except for a Swiss Army knife in his back pocket. The kid looked longingly at the knife for a moment before returning his gaze to Chris’s face.
“Turn around.”
There was a flicker of fear in the boy’s eyes before he reluctantly did as he was told. Chris took his wrists, snapping the cuffs on gently. The boy stiffened, a tremor running through him before he turned around, eyes firmly on Chris once again.
“Gonna need an ambulance for this guy,” Buck called to him from his position next to the whimpering man. “Better call the PD, too. This guy has enough drugs on him to stock his own pharmacy.”
Chris made the appropriate calls, keeping his eyes on the boy, who was trying not to look frightened.
“What’s your name, kid?” Buck asked, sidling up next to the boy, who completely ignored him. He sighed. “Okay, be that way.” He turned to Chris. “I’m gonna check this place out.”
Chris scrutinized the boy standing before him. He didn’t look quite like the usual street kids. His hair was down to his shoulders but it was clean, as were his clothes. That alone was different from the kids they usually encountered in places like this, and Chris was curious to find out who he was and what he was doing there.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?” Chris asked him.
The boy just continued to stare at him.
“Aw hell!” Buck’s angry voice came from the far side of the building.
“What is it, Buck?”
“I found Digger,” Buck said sadly. “He’s dead, Chris.”
His heart still pumping wildly, Vin studied the blond cop, wondering what ATF agents were doing in this place. As far as he knew, MacDermott and his crew dealt drugs, not guns, so there was no reason for the ATF to be there. He admitted to himself that he was a little pissed that they had interrupted before he could finish with MacDermott. There were a few more things he wanted to say to that scumbag... and a few more shots with the bat he would have liked to dispense. He stifled a smile at the sound of the drug dealer whimpering behind him. After what he had tried to do to Ezra, Vin had no sympathy for him. In all the confusion, he had lost track of Ezra, and he hoped his friend had gotten away clean. It was bad enough that he was in custody without the other boy getting dragged into it as well.
Vin’s wandering mind snapped back to reality with the dark-haired cop’s announcement that Digger was dead. He felt a pang of sadness at that, and knew Ezra would, too. Digger Bowen had been a drunk, but he was an affable man who never hurt anyone. He had even helped him and Ezra when they first came to Denver, pointing out the people and places to avoid when looking for somewhere to crash for the night.
Vin looked back at the blond and found the man watching him with interest. He mentally kicked himself, realizing that he must have reacted when the other guy mentioned Digger. Masking his reactions was one skill he had not completely mastered, unlike Ezra, who had the best poker face he had ever seen.
“You know something about what happened to Digger?” the blond asked suspiciously.
Vin pondered the question, then shook his head.
Whatever the man was going to say next was interrupted by the entrance of the ambulance crew, followed by the police. Looking regretfully toward the door he had used to enter the building, Vin’s eyes widened in surprise when he saw Ezra’s green eyes staring out from between some old pipes. Giving a minute shake of his head, he turned back to watch the activity, hoping that Ezra would be able to get away.
“Come on, kid,” the blond growled, grasping his upper arm. “I’ve got a few questions for you.”
The building was crawling with police and Ezra feared his hiding place would soon be discovered. But the police were concentrating on MacDermott and the body of Digger Bowen, paying little heed to the area where he was hiding. He sighed softly. The old man had been nice to them and wouldn’t have hurt a fly. He didn’t deserve to die like an animal in a filthy old building like this.
Ezra’s fists clenched when he thought about what that slug, MacDermott, had done.
MacDermott dragged him inside the building, one hand twisting Ezra’s arm behind him, the other roaming over his body. It was all too clear what his intentions were, and Ezra felt his stomach clench in fear. The drug dealer ordered his group of flunkies out, so he could have some privacy. The teenagers left, snickering at what MacDermott had planned. He had just started grabbing at Ezra’s clothes, when he was interrupted by the drunken entrance of Digger Bowen.
“Get out of here, Digger!” MacDermott commanded. “This ain’t your concern.”
“Leave ‘im ‘lone,” Digger said, swaying slightly as he approached. “You’re a no good bum, MacDermott.”
“And you’re a fuckin’ drunk!” In his frustration, he yanked on Ezra’s arm, roughly jerking it up behind him.
Ezra yelped as something in his shoulder popped and a flash of pain shot through him. Digger moved toward him, presumably to help.
“I won’t tell you again, Digger,” MacDermott warned. “Get your ass out of here.”
“You’re gonna get yours, you dirt bag,” Digger said, shaking his finger at MacDermott. “I’m tellin’ the cops about those guns you been stashin’ at the old grocery store.”
MacDermott went strangely silent and turned to Digger. “What did you say?”
Digger, in his drunken haze, continued to taunt the dangerous man. “I called a cop buddy ‘o mine. He’ll put your ass in jail, just you wait.”
“You stupid son of a bitch!” MacDermott snarled. “Who did you talk to?”
Digger didn’t seem to hear him, babbling on about MacDermott going to jail.
“Big mistake, Digger,” MacDermott said menacingly. In one quick move, he had pulled a gun and fired it at the old man.
Digger looked up at him in surprise as a red spot blossomed on his chest. Without another word, he toppled over backward, raising a cloud of dust when he hit the dirty floor.
Several of MacDermott’s gang rushed back into the building at the sound of the gunshot.
“Lose this.” MacDermott handed the gun to one of the boys, who nodded and took off at a run. “And get that out of my sight.” He gestured to Digger’s body and immediately, two of the boys hurried to drag it out of view behind some junk. Once that was done, he dismissed his minions again and turned back to Ezra, grinning lasciviously. “Now, where were we.” He shoved Ezra over a crate and grabbed his buttocks, squeezing them suggestively.
Ezra panicked, and started pleading with MacDermott to release him. That was when Vin made his startling entrance.
Ezra sighed, his heart still pounding with fear. It wasn’t the first time someone had wanted him like that. He and Vin were both aware that they were considered attractive by a lot of people and had been forced to fend off a lot of advances – some more forcefully than others. But this was the first time he had come so close to... He shook his head, not wanting to think about it any more. There were more important concerns, like how he was going to extract Vin from the clutches of the police.
During a break in the activity inside the old building, Ezra took the opportunity to slip out of his hiding place. Ignoring the pain in his arm, he made his way silently out the door, pausing in the alley until he was certain it was clear. A crowd had gathered nearby, drawn by the lights and sirens, and Ezra was able to carefully creep out of the alley and join them. Blending in was a skill he had acquired at an early age, and he managed to quickly ease his way to the front of the crowd. He was relieved to find that Vin was still there, seated in a black truck next to the dark-haired cop he had seen inside the building.
Ezra memorized the license plate, vowing to do whatever he needed to find his friend. He owed Vin a lot, and he wasn’t going to leave him at the mercy of the police any longer than was necessary. The blond agent climbed into the driver’s seat of the truck, and moments later, pulled out into traffic, disappearing from view.
Ezra watched until the taillights vanished before turning around and heading toward home.
Buck glanced at the silent teenager curiously. Most street kids in his position would be putting on the tough-guy act, cussing and strutting with a false bravado that the streets seemed to instill in them. This one kept quiet, complying silently with their demands. What was more noteworthy, though, was that Chris seemed to have taken an unusual interest in the kid. By all rights, he should have turned him over to the DPD and washed his hands of the matter, but, for some reason, he wanted to talk to the boy personally.
“Something wrong, Buck?” Chris looked over at his friend, aware of his scrutiny.
“Nah,” Buck answered casually. “Just wonderin’ why the kid’s comin’ with us.”
Chris smiled. He figured Buck would be curious about his motives. “Digger was a good guy,” Chris said. “He was harmless. I want to know why someone killed him and what it was that he wanted to tell us.”
Buck’s eyebrows lifted in surprise when the boy turned to look at Chris. Interesting. Chris must figure the kid knows something.
Chris met the teenager’s gaze and smiled. Buck nodded, agreeing with his friend’s assessment. Now they just had to get the kid to talk.
Ezra walked numbly down the dark street, his knees still shaking from what he had experienced. He clutched his left arm tightly with his right. His shoulder had been pulled out of place again and throbbed fiercely. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, and he had long ago learned how to fix it by himself, since he didn’t always have access to proper healthcare. It would have been preferable to have a professional fix it, but he was not up to dealing with the inevitable questions tonight.
After slipping inside his apartment, Ezra braced himself and then slammed his shoulder against the wall, crying out as the joint grated back into place. He slid to the floor, leaning his head back against the wall as he sucked in some calming breaths. It always hurt like hell when he did that, but it was better to take care of it right away, since the pain would increase the longer he put it off.
His bed was beckoning him, and Ezra would have liked nothing better than to crawl under the covers and sleep for a week, but there were still things he needed to do. Pulling himself to his feet, Ezra rummaged in their box of first aid supplies, withdrawing the sling he had kept after suffering his last dislocated shoulder. He didn’t like wearing it, but it did ease the pain a bit. Slipping it on, he quickly left the apartment, heading in the direction Mr. Benevito’s Italian restaurant.
Ezra started to do his usual clean up work at the restaurant, but when Mr. Benevito spotted the sling, he immediately insisted upon taking over the cleaning himself, refusing to allow Ezra to continue. After arguing unsuccessfully with the determined man, Ezra finally conceded defeat and made his way home, secretly grateful for the chance to rest his aching arm.
Back in his apartment, he sank into a chair, depositing the package of food the restauranteur had insisted he take home with him. He smiled faintly at the outrage the portly Italian had expressed on his and Vin’s behalf, cursing in both English and his native language. Mr. Benevito was an example of the many good people in the neighborhood, and it was a shame that scum like MacDermott had to make things harder for them.
Thoughts of MacDermott brought the memory of the day’s events crashing down on him and Ezra started to shake. He had tried to push it away, focusing on Vin and the work at the restaurant, but he could not keep it in check any longer. The despicable thug had nearly succeeded in his assault. If not for Vin’s timely arrival, Ezra had no doubt that MacDermott would have raped him. His stomach clenched and Ezra barely made it out the door before he vomited violently, leaving the meager contents of his stomach on the pavement beside the door.
Still trembling, Ezra stumbled back inside, trying vainly to stifle the sobs that were building in his chest. Finally, he could hold out no longer. Crawling onto the mattress, he curled into a tight ball as the wracking sobs shook his body. He had never felt so scared and helpless in his life. He could still feel the man’s hands groping along his body, squeezing and touching him while he struggled to escape. It left him feeling violated, even though MacDermott had not completed his intended act.
Vin had rescued him from that horrible fate, but he had been caught by the police in the process. Ezra beat his fist on the mattress. It was all his fault. If he had been more careful about avoiding MacDermott, Vin would never have needed to rescue his worthless hide. How could he have been so careless? A new rush of tears started at the thought of his best friend languishing in police custody because of his lack of vigilance.
The sobs eventually abated, leaving Ezra bleary-eyed and spent. He lay limply in a miserable huddle on his bed, trying to formulate a plan to retrieve Vin from police custody, but his mind was too clouded with pain and exhaustion. Giving up, he finally fell into a fitful slumber.
The room was sterile and quiet. Vin looked around nervously, avoiding the mirror that he knew was two-way glass. He had been in an interrogation room a couple of times before, but they still made him nervous. It was disquieting to know that someone could be watching you at any time through that blasted mirror.
Vin fidgeted in his seat, then straightened, remembering what Ezra had taught him about not showing fear. It was a lesson that had served him well. He quickly learned that others were less likely to mess with you if you didn’t display any fear. “Keep your weaknesses hidden, and no one can exploit them,” Ezra had said. He was right.
His thoughts drifted to his friend. Vin hoped Ezra was all right. The fear and pain he had seen in the other boy’s eyes worried him, and he knew Ezra had to have been terrified to resort to begging. A renewed anger flared within him briefly at the thought of what MacDermott had been about to do. That bastard deserved everything he got, and then some. Vin wished he could have done some more damage before the two cops had arrived.
Worry for Ezra slowly turned into fear. What if Ezra didn’t wait for him to come back? Living the way they did was difficult enough without having to do it alone. He felt a pang of loss at the thought of never seeing Ezra again. The other boy was more than just a friend; he was a brother, or at least the closest thing to a brother he was ever likely to have. Vin’s mind was whirling with these thoughts when the door to the room finally opened.
Chris watched through the glass as the emotions played across the boy’s features. His face was not as expressive as most, but Chris was good at reading people and could tell the kid was worried and scared. All of a sudden, the boy’s face changed, almost as if he sensed he was being watched. The emotions were gone, replaced by a flat, bland expression. Chris shook his head, thinking that it was a shame to have to learn that kind of skill at such a young age.
Josiah walked up beside him, handing him a file folder. “Got this when we ran the prints.”
Chris opened the folder, reading through the pages quickly before snapping it shut. Grinning at Josiah, he reached for the door. “Let’s see what Vincent Michael Tanner has to say for himself.”
Chris strolled through the door, watching as the kid flinched slightly at the sudden disturbance. He took a seat across from the boy, dropping the folder in front of him. Tapping his finger on the folder, he said, “My name is Chris Larabee. Says here your name’s Vincent Michael Tanner. You ran away from your foster home in Fort Worth two and a half years ago.” He gave the kid a hard look. “That true, Vincent?”
The kid just stared at him.
“I know you speak English,” Chris continued. “I heard you cussing up a storm at that guy you creamed with the baseball bat.”
The boy still said nothing.
“Why’d you beat him up, Vincent?”
After a moment, the kid said softly, “Vin.”
“Excuse me?” Chris inquired, knowing perfectly well what the kid had said.
“Call me Vin,” the boy said, a faint drawl evident in his voice.
“Okay, Vin,” Chris complied. “You want to tell me why you hit Jerry MacDermott?”
Anger flared in Vin’s eyes, and he said with a self-satisfied smirk, “’Cause he deserved it.”
“I know he’s a scumbag,” Chris said conversationally, “but what did he do to piss you off so bad?”
Vin just shook his head, refusing to reply.
“Okay, then what do you know about Digger?”
“Nothing,” Vin replied.
“You sure?” Chris prodded. “He hadn’t been dead for too long before we found him.”
There was a flicker of something in the boy’s eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, making Chris wonder if he had seen it at all.
“Look, if you’re afraid of someone hurting you, we can protect you,” Chris reasoned. “Just tell us who killed him and we’ll keep you safe.”
Vin looked down at the table, making circles on the scarred wooden surface with his thumb. “Didn’t see nothin’, but it was prob’ly MacDermott.”
“Why do you think that?”
“MacDermott’s an asshole,” Vin said heatedly. “Wouldn’t be the first time he got rid of someone who got in his way.”
“You got any proof?”
“No, but I can get some if ya let me outta here,” Vin said hopefully.
Chris snorted. “Nice try, kid. You know we have to send you over to juvie.”
This time, there was no mistaking the fear in the boy’s eyes. Chris frowned, resolving to read the file more closely later to see if there was anything to explain what that was about. In the meantime, he would see what else he could get from the boy himself.
“You don’t want to go to juvie?”
Vin rolled his eyes. “Duh.”
“Why not?”
Vin looked at him, seeming to mull the question over before replying, “Bad crowd in there. Ain’t good to associate with them miscreants.”
“You don’t want to associate with miscreants?” Chris repeated softly. The words sounded strange coming from the boy in front of him.
The blue eyes flashed and Vin lifted his chin defiantly. “I ain’t a criminal.”
“What do you call breaking a guy’s kneecap with a baseball bat?”
“Justice,” Vin replied evenly, glaring at him.
Gasping for breath, Ezra sat up, staring wildly around the dark room. Tremors rattled through his body and he ran a shaking hand through his sweat-dampened hair. Repressing a shudder, he pushed away the remnants of the nightmare that had jolted him from his sleep. He was alone in his room, not back at the old factory being mauled by MacDermott. The drug dealer was behind bars and couldn’t hurt him anymore. Ezra repeated that to himself, hoping to avert a recurrence of the nightmare, but he doubted it would work. Somehow, unpleasant experiences always seemed to make repeated visits in his dreams. Sighing, Ezra wondered why the good times never seemed to linger as long.
Ezra gazed at the side of the bed where Vin usually slept, wondering what his friend was doing. Was he in the police lockup, alone and scared? Shivering, Ezra hoped that was not the case. Vin was only defending a friend, and didn’t deserve to be treated as a criminal. MacDermott was the only one for whom that kind of treatment was warranted.
Ezra climbed out of bed, wincing at the renewed pain that lanced through his shoulder. He shuffled to the sink in his stocking feet and poured himself a glass of water. Returning to the bed, he rifled through the box of first aid supplies until he found a bottle of aspirin. Ezra shook three into his hand and swallowed them with a sip of water, hoping they might dull the throbbing pain in his arm. Sinking back into his pillows, Ezra closed his eyes, hoping that Vin was all right, wherever he was.
Vin watched the blond’s frustration increase as he refused to give him any more information. There was no way he was going to tell the man what he wanted to know. That would bring Ezra into the picture, and that was something he was simply not going to do. Vin Tanner did not rat out his friends.
“Well, I’m afraid we’ll have to send you to juvie, miscreants or not,” Larabee said. “Assault is still a crime.”
Vin felt a stab of fear, knowing that MacDermott had connections in juvenile hall. He was as good as dead if he ended up there. Vin swallowed hard and looked away.
“Something wrong?”
Vin stared at the cop, looking in his eyes. Something told him that this guy might actually give a damn. He had seemed sincerely distressed over Digger’s death. Maybe he could be trusted with some information. “You a friend of Digger’s?”
Larabee raised his eyebrows at the question. “Why do you care?”
“Digger was okay,” Vin said after a brief pause. “He was nice to me an’... an’ some of the other kids.” He silently chastised himself for the near-slip.
“I knew Digger for a long time,” Larabee answered. “He used to give me information about some of the... miscreants he knew about.”
Vin smiled faintly at Larabee’s use of his word. It was one that Ezra had taught him, and he had always liked the sound of it.
“So, you have anything you want to tell me?”
Vin bit his lip, then decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell him, as long as he kept Ezra’s name out of it. “MacDermott was tryin’ to hurt a friend of mine.” He shrugged. “He’s bigger ‘n me so I figured the bat was the only way to stop him.”
“Is your friend all right?” Larabee asked him, looking honestly concerned.
“Think so.”
“What was MacDermott doing?”
Vin looked away, not sure he wanted to say anymore.
“Vin?”
“MacDermott likes boys, ya know?” Vin said hesitantly. “And he don’t care if they ain’t willin’.”
Larabee’s face darkened and he suddenly looked like he wanted to spit nails. “I guess that’s a good reason to bash him one. I wish I’d let you hit him a couple more times.”
Vin gaped at him, surprised that the man even believed him, let alone agreed with him. In his experience, adults tended to dismiss or ignore anything they didn’t want to hear, especially if it came from someone like him.
“We found enough dope on MacDermott to bust him for dealing, so he’ll be inside for a long time,” Chris said reassuringly.
“Good.”
“You’ll probably have to spend at least a few nights in juvie before social services takes over,” Larabee said with a sigh.
“He’s got friends in there,” Vin blurted out, cursing himself for the tremor in his voice.
“Oh?”
Vin nodded, desperate to stay out of the juvenile detention facility. “I heard he had one kid knifed so he wouldn’t talk.”
“You know this kid’s name?” Larabee asked doubtfully.
“Terry Keppler,” Vin replied without hesitation. He remembered hearing about the other boy’s death. He and Ezra had known Terry but hadn’t hung around with him, since he was part of MacDermott’s crowd until he was arrested for drug possession. Terry’s death had bothered Vin, since he had been the same age as himself and Ezra. It was scary to think of someone your own age being dead and it reminded him of just how dangerous life could be. If he or Ezra had made some different choices, it could have just as easily been one of them bleeding to death in a dirty bathroom stall.
“I’ll check on it,” Larabee promised. “And I’ll see what I can do about keeping you out of there.”
Vin stared at him for a moment, looking for signs of insincerity, then nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
Larabee paused momentarily at the respectful address, then nodded in return before leaving the room.
Watching him leave, Vin wondered if he had made the right decision in saying as much as he had. Nothing he had told the man would endanger Ezra, and if he could keep himself from being locked up, he would be back where he belonged that much sooner. Vin hated the thought of Ezra having to make do on his own, and shuddered to think about what would have happened to the other boy if he hadn’t shown up when he did. Sure, Ezra was smart and tough and would be able to manage on his own, but they were a team. Everything was just so much easier when you had a friend by your side.
“What do you think?” Chris asked Josiah, who had watched his discussion with Vin through the glass. Josiah’s psychology background gave him good insight into people and Chris wanted his take on the boy before taking any further action.
Josiah rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “He’s worried, and not just about himself.”
“You think he’s protecting someone?”
Josiah nodded. “I think so. Did you notice how he never named his friend, yet he didn’t hesitate to tell you any other names?”
“Yeah,” Chris said. “I caught that. I figure this other kid has got to be a good friend, if Tanner was willing to take on a big man like MacDermott in his defense.”
“Kid seems to have a strong sense of honor,” Josiah added. “He looked positively insulted when you insinuated that he was a criminal. That glare was almost as good as yours.”
Chris chuckled. “Yeah, I noticed. Did you think it was strange when he said he didn’t want to associate with miscreants?”
“I picked up on that,” Josiah said. “It sounds like something he heard from someone else, though I don’t doubt he knows what the words mean. He strikes me as being fairly intelligent.”
“He’s definitely different,” Chris said. “For one thing, he’s a lot cleaner than most of the street kids we come across, and he doesn’t look malnourished like they usually do. Doesn’t seem to be a junkie, either.”
“That is unusual, especially for a kid who’s been on the streets for more than two years,” Josiah said, turning to look through the window again.
“He called me ‘sir’,” Chris said, an amused look on his face. “When was the last time anyone we put in that room called me ‘sir’?”
Josiah laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do that. They’re more likely to call you other things.”
“Someone taught him manners at some point in his life,” Chris mused.
“He’s a puzzle, I’ll give you that,” Josiah said. “What are we going to do with him?”
Chris sighed. He should turn the kid over to the Denver Police, but something about Vin made him hesitate. This wasn’t a badass street tough who would end up spending most of his life behind bars if he was lucky to live that long. There was a sense of pride and determination in Vin Tanner, and Chris found he wanted to know more about this unusual young man.
“Chris?” Josiah looked at his boss, who seemed lost in thought.
“I’m going to put him in protective custody, take him out to the ranch with me tonight,” Chris said, surprising even himself with those words.
Josiah’s eyes widened. “Why?”
Chris met the big man’s pale blue gaze. “I’m not really sure. I just know it’s the right thing to do.”
“Might be, at that,” Josiah said thoughtfully. “The boy certainly doesn’t belong in juvenile hall.”
Chris nodded absently, wondering at his snap decision. Maybe it was the fact that he saw a lot of himself in the boy. Stubborn and prideful: words that had been used to describe him more than once, could equally be applied to young Vin Tanner. He admired the kid’s resolve and didn’t want to see that fire dimmed by being forced to “associate with miscreants.” Chris smiled, thinking of what Buck would have to say about all this.
“Are you nuts?!” Buck said. “The kid will probably steal you blind the minute your back’s turned.”
“Maybe,” Chris said with a shrug. “But I don’t think so.”
“This is crazy, Chris,” Buck continued, shaking his head at his friend’s lunacy. “You should just ship him down to juvie where he belongs.”
“Juvie would destroy this kid, Buck,” Chris said. “I don’t want to see that happen.”
Buck stopped, and then turned to look his old friend in the eye. “He got to you, didn’t he?”
Chris opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his lips. With a sigh, he said, “There’s something about him, Buck. He’s different. He reminds me of me, you know?”
Buck groaned. “Lord help us; two Chris Larabees.” His expression turned serious. “You sure about this?”
“Hell, no,” Chris said, his lips curling in a smirk. “But I know I have to do this.”
“Okay, then.” Buck shrugged. “I’ll help, too. You want me to bring anything?”
“Bring some food,” Chris said with a smile. “My cupboards are bare.”
Vin sat in the room, looking nervously at the closed door. Agent Larabee had been gone for a while and he was starting to worry about what would happen to him. What if the man had lied to him and he was still destined for juvenile hall? Vin sighed and cursed softly, chastising himself for his stupidity.
The door opened and the dark-haired man named Buck entered. “Hey, kid. You ready to get out of here?”
Vin looked at him warily. “Guess so.”
“Come on.” The big man grinned at him and opened the door, indicating that he should leave.
Vin stood slowly and walked into the hallway, stiffening slightly when he felt the man’s hand on his shoulder. His stomach chose that moment to growl loudly and he flushed in embarrassment, putting his hand over his protesting mid-section.
Buck chuckled. “Hungry?”
Vin glared at him, barely resisting the childish urge to stick out his tongue.
“Come on,” Buck said. “I know just the place.”
The hallway ended in a large, open area filled with desks. Three of the desks were occupied. A black man sat behind one in the corner. Beside him, was a large, bearded man with salt-and-pepper hair and twinkling blue eyes. At the last desk, was a young man, who Vin didn’t think looked old enough to actually be working there.
“Guys,” Buck said, waiting until all their eyes were on him. “This here is Vin.” The men all greeted him cordially, the youngest one walking over to them.
“Hey, kid. I’m JD.” JD offered his hand in greeting.
Vin took it tentatively. “Pleased to meet ya.”
JD grinned at him. “I heard what you did to that jerk, MacDermott. Way to go!”
“JD,” Buck admonished. “We ain’t supposed to encourage that kind of behavior.”
JD rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know. But you gotta admit, guys like him deserve an ass-kicking or two.”
Vin had to smile. He figured he could get to like this guy.
“Where’s Chris?” Buck asked, not seeing his friend in his office.
“He’s upstairs with Travis, pulling some strings,” the big man said, walking over to join them. He turned to Vin. “My name’s Josiah.”
Vin nodded at him, shaking his hand. His stomach growled again and he glared at it, as if that could stop it from making embarrassing noises.
“I think we need to get this young man some dinner,” Josiah said with a laugh.
“That’s the plan,” Buck said. “Soon as I can find Chris.”
“Why don’t we leave him a note?” the black man suggested. “I sure could use some of Inez’s fine cookin’.”
Buck pondered that, running a hand over his mustache. “Okay. I’m starved too.”
“Hi, I’m Nathan.” The dark-skinned man moved closer to Vin, while Buck penned a quick note for Larabee.
Vin shook his hand, nodding a greeting and shifting uncomfortably under the man’s intense scrutiny.
JD noticed his discomfort and chuckled. “Don’t mind Nathan. He’s an EMT. He’s always looking us over, making sure we haven’t hurt ourselves.”
“Okay,” Buck said, grinning broadly. “How ‘bout we get us some food?”
Inside the bar, Vin perched stiffly on a chair at the table, surrounded by the group of men he had just met. They seemed friendly enough, but he couldn’t help but feel nervous and apprehensive about his future. He was startled by a touch on his shoulder and looked up to see a pretty, dark-haired woman smiling down at him.
“Who do we have here?” the woman asked the group.
“This is Vin,” Buck said. “He’s gonna be hanging out with us for a while.”
“Well, hello, Vin,” she said, smiling at him. “My name is Inez.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Vin said softly.
Inez’s smile grew wider and she turned to the group. “You could learn something from this one about manners.”
The men laughed and Vin blushed.
“What would you like to drink, Vin?” Inez asked.
“Whatever you have is fine, ma’am,” Vin said.
“Good,” she said. “I will bring you some root beer.” She swept away into the kitchen.
“So, Vin,” Josiah began. “What do you like to eat?”
Vin shrugged. “Ain’t too picky. I’ll eat most anythin’.”
“What’s your favorite thing?” JD persisted.
Vin looked at them, then said hesitantly, “I like lasagna, and chocolate cake.”
“Kid has good taste,” Buck said with a smile.
“Well I can certainly recommend Inez’s cooking,” JD said. “Everything she makes is good.”
The conversation flowed around him, and Vin commented when necessary, but he spent the rest of the time studying the men around him. They seemed to be a genial bunch, and despite his misgivings, he found himself relaxing a little in their company.
“Chris!” Buck called.
Vin turned to see the blond man striding through the door.
“Guys,” he said, taking a seat next to Vin.
“You get everything worked out?” Josiah asked.
Larabee smiled. “Yep. Travis still has a lot of connections.”
“Cool,” JD said.
Larabee turned to Vin. “I fixed it so that you can stay with me for a while, instead of goin’ to juvie. That okay with you?”
Vin stared at him, stunned at this new development. Why would Larabee want him to stay in his house? His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he contemplated the man’s intentions. He didn’t know what to think of the offer, but it meant he didn’t have to go to juvenile hall... After a moment, he nodded slowly.
“Good,” Larabee said. “Buck’s gonna come out tonight and keep us company.”
Buck snorted, whispering to Vin conspiratorially, “He just wants me to bring the food. Man hates to go grocery shopping.”
Vin smiled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
Inez interrupted then, bringing a tray of drinks and taking their dinner orders. When she got to Vin, she paused, then smiled. “I know just what to bring you. Trust me?” At his nod, she patted his shoulder and walked away.
The bar began to fill, with many of the new arrivals waving to the men at his table in greeting. Vin found himself the subject of a lot of curious stares and slumped in his chair to make himself less visible. A short time later, Inez returned with a tray full of delicious-looking dinners, which she efficiently distributed to all of them.
Vin’s eyes boggled at the huge plate full of burritos the pretty woman had brought him. The others had already started in on their own dinners, so Vin picked up his fork and dug into the fragrant food.
Buck gave Inez a charming smile. “Inez, darlin’, this looks almost as delicious as you do.”
Inez rolled her eyes and muttered something in Spanish.
Vin understood some Spanish and chuckled at the pretty woman’s comments.
“She likes me,” Buck boasted. “No woman can resist ol’ Buck’s charms for very long.”
Vin snorted, covering his mouth with his hand to stifle his laughter.
“What’s so funny, kid?” Buck asked him, looking puzzled.
“That ain’t what she said,” Vin said, trying not to laugh too much.
“You speak Spanish?” Larabee asked.
“A little,” Vin said with a shrug.
“What’d she say?” JD asked eagerly.
Vin grinned. “Somethin’ about a dog with fleas.”
The table erupted with laughter.
“Guess she told you, Buck,” JD said.
“I’m wearin’ her down,” Buck huffed. “Just wait.”
The darkness outside hid much of the scenery, but Vin could make out trees on the side of the road. His apprehension had returned, increasing as they left the lights of the city behind. He looked at the man beside him, wondering again at his motives for allowing a kid like him into his home. Early in his young life, he had learned that very few things in this world came without a price.
They slowed and turned onto a narrow road and Vin sat up with interest when he saw the fenced corral outside of his window. When he spotted the house in front of them, he realized the road was actually a long driveway.
“We’re here,” Larabee announced as he pulled the truck to a stop next to the house.
Vin unclipped his seat belt and stepped out of the truck, looking around curiously. He heard some animal noises coming from the barn and looked at Larabee curiously. “You have horses?”
Larabee grinned. “Yep. I have four, and the boys each board their horses here.” He looked at Vin. “You like horses?”
Vin nodded.
“You can meet them tomorrow morning at feeding time,” Larabee said, putting his hand on Vin’s shoulder, urging him toward the house.
Vin stepped into the house hesitantly, Larabee a few steps behind him. His unease lessened when the agent snapped on the lights, illuminating the spacious and inviting home. It was decorated in a comfortable Southwestern style that Vin found appealing. It was the kind of place he hoped he and Ezra could have for themselves one day.
“Make yourself at home,” Larabee said, gesturing to the living room. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
He watched Larabee disappear down the hallway before wandering into the living room area. The two sofas, arranged around the big stone fireplace, were huge and looked very comfortable. Pictures lined the mantel and Vin moved closer to look at them. Most of them were groupings of the men he had met today. The last one on the right, though, showed Larabee with a woman and a small boy. Vin felt a sudden pang of fear. He hadn’t considered that the man might have a family. What if they didn’t want him here?
A touch on his shoulder alerted him to Larabee’s return, and Vin turned to look at him nervously. “You sure your family won’t mind me bein’ here, sir?”
The cart squeaked down the aisle of the grocery store. One wheel was out of alignment, pulling the entire cart to the right and causing the annoying squeal that was distracting JD from his task. Grocery shopping was not his favorite thing to do, but he had not volunteered to help Buck buy food simply to be helpful. His roommate had been quiet since they left Inez’s bar, and quiet was definitely not a normal state for Buck.
Tired of the silence, JD finally asked, “So, what’s bugging you?”
“Huh?” Buck looked at him, confused.
JD rolled his eyes. “You haven’t said two words since we left the saloon.”
Buck sighed and rubbed his mustache. “I’m just worried, is all.”
“About Chris and the kid?” JD guessed.
“Yeah,” Buck admitted. “I haven’t seen him show so much interest in a kid in a long time. I just...” He shrugged, unsure of what to say.
“Chris knows what he’s doing,” JD said reassuringly.
“I just don’t want him to get hurt if things with Vin don’t work out,” Buck explained. “The aftermath is never pretty.”
“Maybe it’s just something he needs to do?”
“Maybe,” Buck conceded reluctantly. “It’s just that I’ve seen him like this before, ya know? He takes anything involving kids real personal, and I don’t want to see him drowning in a bottle if things don’t go the way he planned.”
“Well, if they don’t, he’s got the rest of us around to distract him.” JD grinned at his roommate.
Buck chuckled and slapped his young friend on the back. “That he does, kid.”
“Don’t worry, Buck,” JD said confidently. “I have a feeling everything’s gonna be fine.”
Chris felt like he had been punched in the gut as he stared into the anxious blue eyes. Vin took a step backwards and Chris forcibly shook himself out of his stupor. His stunned silence had probably frightened the boy. He sighed and ran a hand through his short blond locks.
“I don’t have a family any more,” he quietly explained. “They died.”
“Oh.” Vin looked at the floor, distress evident on his face. “I’m sorry.”
Chris gave him a wan smile. “Not your fault.”
Vin nodded tentatively.
“How about some hot chocolate?” Chris offered, hoping to lift the suddenly somber mood.
“’Kay,” Vin replied, following him into the kitchen.
“Buck’ll be here in a little while,” Chris continued, pulling out the milk and the cocoa mix. “Hope you like junk food, ‘cause that’s all he knows how to buy.”
Smiling tentatively, Vin nodded as he took a seat at the kitchen table.
Using the microwave, it only took a few minutes to brew the hot chocolate. Chris handed one to Vin and ushered him back into the living room.
“You want to watch a movie?” Chris suggested, pointing to the cabinet full of videos standing next to his large television.
Blue eyes widened in surprise and Vin nodded silently.
Chris wondered at the boy’s quiet behavior. It wasn’t the sullen or angry silence he was used to seeing in teenagers; it was a more anxious, wary silence and he wondered what kind of things would cause such behavior in one so young. There were a lot of unanswered questions about his houseguest and Chris knew they wouldn’t all be answered tonight. With a shrug, he moved toward the video collection. “What would you like to see?”
Vin bit his lip and shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Looking over his collection, Chris pondered what Vin might like. Josiah had told him that the boy was not likely to state his preferences on many things, in order to be accommodating and unobtrusive. It was a street survival instinct, the big man had explained. Out there, it was safer not to draw attention to yourself or risk offending someone else when you had no one to protect you.
His eyes settled on one video, and Chris smiled, nodding to himself. He had never met a boy who didn’t like this movie. “How about Star Wars? Do you like that one?”
Vin eyed the suggested movie curiously. “Guess so. Never seen it before.”
Chris had to struggle to keep himself from reacting. How could a boy his age never have seen Star Wars? It was on television all the time, in addition to all the theater showings. Sighing inwardly, he forced himself to smile.
“Well, I think you’ll like it. It’s a classic.” He slid the tape into the VCR and settled back on the sofa beside Vin to watch it. The opening credits had just started when Buck made his usual noisy entrance.
“Fear not,” Buck shouted cheerfully. “Buck has arrived.”
“Lord help us,” Chris said, rolling his eyes. He stood and went to help Buck with the bags he was carrying.
Vin smiled as Buck waggled his eyebrows.
The two men returned from the kitchen and sat on the sofa with Vin between them.
“What are we watchin’?” Buck asked, nudging Vin gently.
“Star Wars,” Vin replied, his eyes glued to the screen.
Buck looked at Chris, raising his eyebrows in inquiry. Chris mouthed “later” and Buck nodded in agreement.
The three sat through the movie, snacking on some of the bags of junk food Buck had brought. The two men had to smile at Vin’s obvious enjoyment of the video. He had remained completely engrossed in the story until the end.
“How’d you like it?” Buck asked.
“That was pretty cool,” Vin admitted.
Chris chuckled. “We’ll have to watch the second one tomorrow.”
Vin nodded, then shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Uh, can I use the bathroom, sir?”
“Sure,” Chris answered. “And you can call me Chris. ‘Sir’ makes me feel like an old man.”
“Well, you are an old man,” Buck teased. “Not young and handsome like me.”
“You’re full of crap, Buck,” Chris replied, shooting a mock glare at his friend. “Come on, Vin. I’ll show you where it is.”
Looking at himself in the mirror, Vin thought about his circumstances. Things were certainly better than he had expected. He had been given a good meal and been allowed to stay at this nice house instead of juvenile hall, and they had even let him watch a movie. It had been a long time since he had watched any television, and he could only remember going to the movies once in his life. Most of the foster parents with whom he had stayed had not permitted him to watch much television. Even if he was allowed, he was usually too busy doing homework and chores to watch it for any length of time.
School work had always taken Vin a longer time to complete than most other kids, making him feel stupid and worthless. Ezra was the only person other than his first set of foster parents to tell him that he wasn’t dumb. His first foster parents, the Reeds, had been good people, who had taken extra time to help him with school. He had enjoyed living on the ranch with them, but had only stayed there three years. After his foster mother had died suddenly, the state had taken him away from his foster father, claiming that it was “in his best interests.” Vin snorted. As if it was in his best interest to be beaten and starved by the greedy bastard at his next foster home, who had taken him in solely for the money he could collect from the state.
He had run away three times, each time getting caught and returned to the same foster home. Finally, he was moved to a new place, which was worse than the last. There weren’t many people who would take in a ‘problem child’, as he had been deemed, and most of these were equally bad – more interested in the money than his welfare. The cycle continued, until the last place. It was more of the same, and he had been planning to leave. But then Ezra had arrived, and he had made his first real friend.
There had been other kids around in most of the places he had lived. Some foster parents had children of their own; others took in more than one foster child. None of the kids had ever treated him with anything other than contempt or indifference, however. Given a choice, he preferred to be ignored – it was much less painful.
Ezra had been different, though. Vin had never met anyone quite like him before, and found himself drawn to the other boy. Despite the arrogant façade the other boy had initially displayed, he had been able to sense that, underneath, Ezra had a good heart. It had taken some doing, but he had finally gotten the other boy to talk to him. They had become fast friends and, after recovering from the last beating their drunken foster father had dispensed, had left that place together and never looked back.
With a sigh, Vin washed and dried his hands, venturing back out into the living room.
“Hey, Vin,” Larabee said. “It’s getting late. How ‘bout I show you your room?”
“My room?” Vin said, sending a puzzled look to his host. He had expected to be sleeping on the couch.
Larabee and Buck exchanged a look, then his blond host smiled at him. “It’s down here.” He pointed down the hall. “I have two extra bedrooms, so you can have whichever one you like.”
“Oh.”
“Come on.”
Vin followed him silently, still trying to process the fact that he was being given a whole room to himself. He had always had to share in his foster homes, sometimes sleeping on the floor due to the lack of available beds. Larabee showed him into the first room, and Vin looked around tentatively, taking in the large room with the big bed and attached bathroom.
“What do you think?” Larabee asked him.
“This is nice, sir... I mean, Chris.” He swallowed nervously, not sure how to respond to the benevolence this man had shown him.
“Good,” Larabee said. “Buck can take the other room. Do you want a t-shirt or something to sleep in?”
Vin nodded mutely.
“I’ll be right back.”
Larabee left the room and Vin moved hesitantly to the bed, sitting down on the edge to remove his shoes.
Larabee returned a few minutes later, handing him a t-shirt and a pair of light sweatpants. “These are JD’s. We figured they’d be the closest to your size.”
“Thank you,” Vin said shyly as he took the proffered items.
“The guys tend to crash here a lot, so they all keep some extra clothes on hand,” Larabee explained. “Do you need anything else?”
Vin shook his head.
“Okay, then,” Larabee said. “We need to leave by seven tomorrow morning to get to the office. I’ll make sure to wake you.”
“Thank you,” Vin repeated softly.
Larabee smiled at him and left, closing the door behind him.
It didn’t take Vin long to change his clothes and climb into bed. His mind whirled with all the events of the day and his last thought before drifting off to sleep was that he hoped Ezra was safe.
Chris grabbed a couple of beers and went to sit next to Buck, handing him a bottle.
“Damn,” Buck said quietly.
“Yeah,” Chris agreed. “Something tells me that boy hasn’t seen a lot of kindness in his life.”
Buck snorted. “You see the way he watched that movie? You’d think he hadn’t seen it before.”
“He hadn’t,” Chris said abruptly.
Buck looked up sharply. “Seriously?”
Chris nodded.
“Damn.”
“Kid’s real quiet, too,” Chris remarked. “Like he’s afraid to say the wrong thing.”
“How the hell can people treat kids so bad that they think livin’ on the streets is better?” Buck asked, a pained look in his eyes.
“Don’t know, Buck.”
“Shit.” Buck sighed. “Guess I know why you brought him home.”
“He gettin’ to you, too?” Chris eyed his old friend, knowing he had a big and caring heart.
Buck smirked at him. “Hell, yeah.”
The morning was colder than the one before, but, dressed in his new clothes and warmer coat, Ezra didn’t feel it as much. His step was heavier than usual and he moved stiffly, his muscles protesting the previous day’s abuse. His thoughts were occupied with Vin and he almost walked past the diner. With a self-deprecating shake of the head, he pushed open the door.
“Good morning, Mrs. Milford,” he said as the diner’s owner stepped out to greet him.
“Hello, Ezra,” she said, puzzled by his presence, since it was Vin’s turn to help her that day. Her eyes narrowed as she took in his appearance. “What happened to you?”
Giving her a wan smile, he gave her an abbreviated explanation of what had occurred the previous day, leaving out the part about what MacDermott had planned to do to him. From the look he saw in Rosie’s eyes, though, he had a feeling she already knew.
Frowning, she grabbed hold of his good arm and led him to a booth. “You sit.”
“But...” Ezra started to protest, but was cut off by her stern look.
“Sit,” she commanded, disappearing into her kitchen, reappearing a few minutes later with a toasted bagel slathered with cream cheese. “You start with that. I’ll bring you some eggs in a couple of minutes.”
“But, ma’am, I haven’t...”
“Ezra, you are in no shape to work today.” She put her hands on her hips and eyed him sternly. “You just relax and eat your breakfast..”
It was futile to argue with the determined woman, so Ezra swallowed and nodded sheepishly. “Yes, ma’am.”
Rosie brought him a heaping plate of bacon and eggs and wouldn’t let him leave until he finished all of it. Finally, he was done and Rosie nodded at him, satisfied.
“At least let me help you with these,” Ezra insisted, carrying his plate into the kitchen.
Rosie followed him, shaking her head. “Stubborn child.”
“But you like me anyway,” Ezra said, giving her a dimpled grin.
Laughing, Rosie gave him a gentle shove. “Off with you now, boy.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ezra said, giving her a two-fingered salute as he headed for the door. Feeling a little better, he started back toward his home, contemplating his plans for the day. The only thing he knew for certain was that he was going to do whatever it took to find Vin.
His eyes snapped open and he sat up with a gasp, looking around him wildly. A few moments later, he remembered where he was and flopped back down into his pillows. For a minute, it had all seemed like a very strange and twisted dream. Vin looked over at the clock on the night stand. It was a few minutes past five – a little early, even for him. Gazing at the door to the bathroom, he wondered if Larabee would mind if he had a shower. The man hadn’t told him he couldn’t, and he did say to make himself at home. Vin grinned and headed into the bathroom.
After his shower, Vin dressed and wandered out into the hallway, leaving the borrowed clothing in a folded pile on the neatly-made bed. From the other guest room, he could hear some snoring, indicating that Buck was still asleep. The house was quiet, so he kept his steps light, moving softly into the living room. He sat on the couch and looked around the room. He didn’t want to wake the two men with the television, and he didn’t think Larabee would appreciate him snooping around his house, so he sat quietly until the boredom finally got to him. Levering himself off of the sofa, he ambled toward one of the two tall bookcases that flanked the fireplace.
Larabee had a large collection of books, most of which appeared to be either westerns or mystery novels. Vin perused the many volumes, finally settling on one that was familiar to him. The synopsis on the dust jacket sounded interesting, and he had seen Ezra reading it at the library last year, so he figured it was something he might like. Settling on one end of the sofa, he started reading, using his finger to help him focus on the individual sentences.
Half an hour later, Vin heard the muffled sound of a shower running and figured that one of the agents was awake. He debated with himself for a minute, then nodded decisively. Setting the book aside, he went into the kitchen and rummaged around until he found the coffee. One of the tasks he usually did at Rosie’s diner was preparing the first pots of coffee for the day. He figured it was the least he could do to repay Larabee’s generosity.
Stifling a yawn, Chris headed for the kitchen, stopping short at the welcome scent of coffee brewing. “Buck?” he called, pushing into the kitchen. The coffee maker was bubbling away on the counter, but the kitchen was empty. Frowning, Chris turned around, listening intently for the sound of the shower. All he heard was Buck’s muffled snoring. “What the....?”
“Good mornin’.”
Chris spun around to see Vin watching him from the sofa. “Morning. You’re up early.”
Vin shrugged. “I always wake up early.”
“I hope you make good coffee,” Chris said with a smile, moving closer to the couch. “Buck can be a real bear if he doesn’t get his morning dose of caffeine.”
Vin gave him a hesitant smile.
Noting the book in the boy’s hands, he said, “I see you found something to read.”
Vin looked down at the book then back at Chris, his eyes flickering with apprehension. “I... um... I didn’t think you’d mind?”
“Nah, go ahead,” Chris said, smiling reassuringly. “Reading’s good for you. ‘Least, that’s what Sister Mary Catherine used to tell me in the fifth grade.”
Vin smiled, the tension leaving his posture.
“Which one caught your eye?”
Vin held up the book.
“Patriot Games.” Chris nodded approvingly. “One of my favorites.”
“Looked interestin’.”
Buck chose that moment to come shuffling down the hall. “Hey,” he said in a sleep-muffled voice. “Coffee ready?”
“Just about,” Chris replied.
“Good.” Buck flopped onto the couch with a sigh.
Vin hid a smirk, turning back to his book.
“What’re you smilin’ about?” Buck said, frowning at Vin.
Looking up nervously, Vin relaxed when he saw Chris chuckling behind his friend’s back. Tilting his head thoughtfully, Vin pointed to Buck’s hair. “Bed head.”
Buck ran his fingers through his unruly curls, which were currently sticking up in all directions. “The ladies like my bed head,” he sniffed.
“Ain’t no ladies here, Buck,” Chris pointed out.
“Fine,” Buck said. “I’m going to take a shower.” He pushed himself off the couch and stomped down the hall to the bathroom.
“Like I said,” Chris explained. “He’s a bear before he has his coffee.”
“Guess so,” Vin agreed.
“What say we get ourselves some?”
“’Kay.” Vin followed him into the kitchen, heading directly for the coffee pot. “Want me to pour you some?”
“Sure,” Chris answered, pulling some mugs out of the cabinet.
Vin poured him a cup, then filled one for himself. “Can I have some milk for this?”
“Go ahead. There’s some in the fridge.”
After returning to the table with the milk, Vin looked up and asked hesitantly, “Sugar?”
“Over there on the counter.” Chris pointed to the sugar bowl, sitting near the coffee maker.
Vin retrieved that as well, dropping a healthy spoonful into his coffee. He stirred it carefully, then took his first sip with a smile.
“Buck takes cream and sugar in his, too,” Chris commented absently, taking a sip from his cup. “This is pretty good. Where’d you learn to make coffee?”
Vin shrugged, answering vaguely, “Around.” Much to his relief, Chris didn’t press him for further details.
“Want to help me rustle up some breakfast?”
Nodding, Vin joined Chris at the counter as he gathered what he needed. Together, they whipped up some pancakes and sausages, and had just finished eating when Buck strolled into the kitchen, his hair still wet from the shower. He immediately poured himself a cup of coffee, taking a deep gulp.
“Whooee!” Wide-eyed, Buck looked at the cup in his hand. “This stuff’ll put hair on your chest for sure.”
“You don’t like it?” Chris asked mildly.
“Nah, it’s good.” Buck waved dismissively. “Just a mite stronger than your usual brew.”
“Well, I didn’t make it,” Chris said. “Vin did.”
Buck took another sip. “Not bad, kid. We’ll have to get you to make some of this at the office. It’s way better than the dishwater Nathan makes.”
Vin’s face reddened slightly at the compliment. It was a small thing, but he felt inordinately pleased that these men liked his coffee.
“Eat up, Buck. We left you some breakfast on the stove,” Chris said. “Vin’s gonna help me feed the horses.”
Buck waved them off and started in on his breakfast. Chris and Vin got their coats and headed for the barn. Inside, Vin looked at the horses with a smile.
“You ever ride, Vin?” Chris asked while he was filling a feed bucket.
“Yeah,” Vin answered. “Stayed on a ranch for a while. Had my own horse.” He had loved that horse. His foster father, Eugene Reed, had let him name the animal when he had purchased him. Seven-year-old Vin had named him Dusty, because his coat was a grayish-brown color that looked like he was covered in dust. Mr. Reed had laughed at that reasoning, but had agreed with him. He sighed, wishing he had been able to stay there. Then again, he never would have met Ezra if he had stayed with Mr. Reed. As far as tradeoffs went, he would take a brother over a horse any day.
“Maybe we can do some riding this weekend.”
“Really?” Vin looked at him, stunned that the man would let him ride one of his horses.
“Yeah.” Chris grinned at him. “The boys were planning to come over this weekend for a barbecue, while the weather’s still nice enough to have ‘em.”
Smiling, Vin turned to pet the nose of the horse nearest to him. It was something to look forward to... if he was still here on the weekend. As nice as this place was turning out to be, it was still missing one thing: Ezra. No place would feel right to him without his brother. The two of them had been through too much together to let fate screw up their plans now.
After making the rounds of the shops where they worked, to inform them of Vin’s absence, Ezra made his way to the library.
Ms. Peterson took one look at him and immediately rushed to his side, guiding him to a seat. “What happened?”
Ezra repeated the explanation he had given Rosie, making the previous night’s unpleasantness sound like a simple scuffle as opposed to the attempted sexual assault that it was. Thus far, all of Ezra and Vin’s adult friends had been understanding about their desire to remain outside of the reach of Social Services, but if they thought the boys were in real danger, they would not hesitate to bring in the authorities. Ezra disliked lying, but he was even less fond of the child welfare system, so he had fabricated a less disturbing story to explain his injury and Vin’s absence.
“What are you doing here?” Ms. Peterson chided sympathetically. “You should be resting.”
Ezra sighed. “I was rather bored.”
“And worried about Vin?” Ms. Peterson guessed.
“I need to find him,” Ezra said earnestly.
“Ezra...” she began.
“I just need to know where he is,” Ezra pleaded. He paused, then looked her in the eye. “I have to make sure he’s safe.”
“All right,” she said with a sigh. “Let’s start with what you know.”
“It was the ATF that took him away,” Ezra said, relieved that she was going to help him.
“They probably handed him over to social services. Unless...” she frowned, tapping a finger against her chin.
“Unless what?”
“Well, they might have pressed charges, which would mean he would be taken to a juvenile facility.”
Ezra paled at that thought. Having spent some time in such facilities, he hated the thought of Vin being stuck in a place like that.
“I’ll make a few calls and see what I can find out, okay?” She patted his hand gently, then walked back to her desk.
Ezra nodded, leaning back in his chair. He picked up the daily newspaper and attempted to concentrate on the headlines, but his thoughts kept turning to Vin and what he might be going through. Giving up on the paper, he pulled a pack of cards from his pocket and began shuffling them one-handed. The cards had been one of the few gifts his mother had ever given him, and even though she had had an ulterior motive in giving them to him, he still kept them with him all the time. It was a mystery, even to himself, why he didn’t throw them away... like his mother had done to him.
Ms. Peterson’s return roused him from his gloomy reverie. “Well?”
“He’s not at juvenile hall,” she said with a smile.
“Thank god,” Ezra said, slumping back into his chair.
“Social Services doesn’t have him either.”
“What does that mean?” Ezra asked, his fears returning. “Where is he?”
“The ATF had him last, so perhaps that’s the place to start.”
“What would they want with Vin?” Ezra wondered aloud. Then it hit him. The two ATF agents had known Digger. The dark-haired one had seemed upset upon finding the old man’s body. They probably thought that Vin knew something about who killed him... or about the weapons Digger had mentioned in his short drunken discussion with MacDermott. Ezra wondered if one of the agents was the ‘cop friend’ Digger had called about the weapons.
“What is it, Ezra?” Ms. Peterson said, her voice betraying her concern.
“Nothing,” Ezra assured her. “I’m just worried.” He had not told anyone about witnessing Digger’s murder, and now Vin was being detained in his place. It was all his fault.
“Maybe Vin will be able to call at some point?” she offered. “He knows this number, doesn’t he?”
Ezra nodded. “He will try to contact me, if it is safe to do so.”
“Of course he will,” she said encouragingly. “Now, why don’t you just relax and pick out a book to read. You won’t do yourself or Vin any good if you make yourself sick with worry.”
“I’m rather tired,” Ezra said. “I’m afraid I didn’t sleep much last night. I think I’ll go home and take a nap.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”
“Will you apologize to the children for me?” he asked sincerely. “I do hate to disappoint them, but I fear I’m not up to reading to them today.”
“I understand, dear,” Ms. Peterson said comfortingly. “You get some rest.”
Giving her a weak smile, Ezra trudged out of the building, already planning his next move. There was no way he was just going to give up and wait. Vin wouldn’t do that if their positions were reversed, so he wasn’t about to give up on him, either. The ATF had Vin, so that was where he would start his search. With a new determination in his stride, Ezra headed for the federal building.
The massive gray building loomed upward, eighteen stories of government bureaucracy located within its concrete domain. Ezra stared at the building from his position in a doorway across the street, like he had been doing for the past hour. Now that he was here, he was at a loss as to what to do next.
“Stupid, Ezra,” he chided himself. What had he hoped to accomplish by coming here? Vin was nowhere in sight and he had no clue as to how he was going to find him. He couldn’t exactly stroll inside and ask for him. He sighed and started walking back the way he came, threading his way through the lunchtime crush of pedestrians.
Scanning the crowd warily, as he usually did, Ezra pulled up short at the sight of the big, mustached ATF agent he had seen at the old factory the previous night. Turning on his heel, he ducked into the doorway of a copy shop, pretending to read the flyer that was taped to the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the man approached, chatting animatedly with a shorter, dark-haired man.
“... long is he staying with Chris?” the younger man said.
“Don’t know,” the tall man – named Buck, if he remembered correctly – said in reply. “Chris thinks the kid’s interesting. I think he wants to....”
The rest of the man’s words were drowned out by the engine noise from a passing garbage truck, and Ezra turned to follow him and his companion. He felt suddenly energized, certain that they were talking about Vin. Their walk ended a few minutes later when the two men turned into a small restaurant. Ezra walked up to the building cautiously to take a closer look. The windows were made of frosted glass, so he couldn’t see inside, and it was too risky to attempt to enter the establishment, so he continued past the doorway, stopping in front of a row of newspaper vending machines. He kept one eye on the door while he made the pretense of scanning the headlines.
He didn’t have to wait long. Five minutes later, the two men exited the restaurant carrying several large paper bags. Affecting a casual stride, Ezra followed, hoping he could overhear more of their conversation. His efforts were wasted, however, since the only thing the two men discussed during their return trip to the federal building was the upcoming football season.
Watching the two men disappear inside the imposing building, Ezra blew out a breath and leaned against a mailbox, processing what he had learned. There was no doubt in his mind that the ATF agents still had Vin, and from what the big man had said, he was staying with a man named Chris. At the factory, he had heard the blond ATF agent identify himself to some policemen as Chris Larabee, so that gave him a place to start. All he had to do now, was find an address to go with the name.
He stared at the federal building while his mind considered and discarded various possibilities. His eyes slid to the underground garage he could see on one side of the building. Crossing the street, Ezra strolled casually along the sidewalk in front of the building, giving careful study to the metal garage door. At the end of the driveway was a post, topped by a card reader that controlled access to the garage. A camera mounted above the door provided extra security, monitoring vehicles entering the building. The door was marked ‘Entrance Only’, and Ezra assumed there was another similar exit door on the other side of the building. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he contemplated the possibilities.
“Food’s here, guys,” JD called out as he and Buck carried their bags into the break room.
Vin, who was sitting at the table concentrating on his book, looked up quickly, startled by their boisterous entrance. Hurriedly, he marked his place in the book with the paper he had been using to assist his reading, and jumped up from his seat, retreating to a chair in the corner.
“Where ya goin’, kid?” Buck asked. “We got you some lunch, too.”
Vin stared at him, surprised that they had bothered.
“Hell, we ain’t gonna let ya starve,” Buck said, pulling out some sandwiches and potato chips.
Wouldn’t be the first time, Vin thought to himself as he hesitantly made his way to the table.
Chris, Nathan, and Josiah joined them, eagerly digging into the pile of sandwiches.
“What kind of soda do you want?” JD asked as he poked his head into the refrigerator.
“Anything is fine,” Vin said quietly.
“How ‘bout Coke?”
Vin nodded, accepting the bottle from the young agent. Buck handed him a sandwich and joined him at the table, tearing noisily into a bag of chips. The noisy camaraderie at the table gradually drew him in and Vin again found himself relaxing in the company of this unusual group of men. His eyes met Larabee’s across the table and the blond tipped his bottle of soda toward him, giving him an encouraging smile. Vin returned the smile with a tentative one of his own, before lowering his eyes and starting in on his lunch.
After lunch, when all the mess had been cleared away, Larabee approached him and inquired casually, “Are you doing all right? Getting bored with just sitting around here?”
“No, I’m fine,” Vin answered succinctly, holding up the book. “This is enough for me.”
“Okay,” Chris said. “I’ll try to find something more interesting for you to do tomorrow, though, okay?”
Vin nodded, trying not to think about the future. He had contemplated running away from Larabee’s ranch, but after waking twice during the night to find one or the other of the agents checking on him, he decided to bide his time until an opportunity presented itself. There was no way for him to get out of this building unseen, especially with five men watching over him, so he had not even bothered looking for a way out. He also thought about calling the library or the diner to check on Ezra, but did not want to risk drawing attention to his friend.
Despite the kindness these men were showing him, Vin needed to get back to his home and his friend. This situation wouldn’t last for long, anyway. Sooner or later he would be sent to another foster home, and there was no telling how bad it would be this time. Sure, he could wait and just run away from there, but he had realized something yesterday in the interrogation room. While he didn’t know anything about Digger’s death, he couldn’t say the same for Ezra.
When he had arrived at the factory, he had heard his friend say to MacDermott, “I won’t tell anyone.” At the time, Vin assumed Ezra was talking about what MacDermott was attempting to do to him, but in retrospect, he realized that it was more likely that the other boy was talking about what had happened to Digger. If he was right, Ezra could be in danger. MacDermott might be in custody, but his gang of thugs was not, and they may well view Ezra as a threat to their boss. It was frustrating not to know whether or not his friend was all right, and the thought of him facing off against those goons alone was unacceptable. He and Ezra were a team and he was going to do whatever he could to get back to where he belonged.
When he spotted the entrance to the parking garage, Ezra had gotten a sudden flash of inspiration. Vin often teased him about the occasional leaps in logic he would make, cracking jokes about seeing a light bulb floating above his head. Initially, he had bristled at the comments, believing that Vin was making fun of him, but eventually he came to realize that it was just the kind of teasing that friends often did. Now, he teased his friend right back, reveling in the warmth of the friendship they shared. That friendship was what brought him to this place and inspired the plan that was slowly forming in his head.
The obvious place for him to have started looking for Agent Larabee’s address was the phone book, but he doubted the man would be listed. His mother had told him once that most members of law enforcement preferred to be unlisted, hoping to prevent miscreants from discovering where they lived. It made sense, so Ezra figured he would need a better means of getting the information he required.
After escaping from the factory building, Ezra had gotten a good look at Larabee’s truck, including his license plate. If he could find that truck, he could take a look at the man’s car registration, which was certain to have his address on it. Getting into the parking garage would be tricky, but Ezra believed he could do it without being detected. Finding the truck was another matter. He didn’t know what kind of camera surveillance they might have inside, or if Larabee’s vehicle would even be there. For all he knew, the man had stayed home today. But he had to try.
Turning around, Ezra hurried back to the newspaper vending machines he had seen earlier, purchasing a copy of the local paper before crossing the street. Nonchalantly, he approached the federal building, scanning the headlines of the paper he held in his hand. He selected a spot to the right of the garage door and took a seat on the ground, leaning back against the wall. It was difficult to hold the paper with just one hand, so he gently eased his other hand out of the sling and affected a relaxed pose, peering around the edge of the paper toward the driveway.
Two hours later, Ezra was starting to reconsider his plan. His legs were getting stiff from sitting on the ground and his shoulder was beginning to ache. He had just started to fold the paper when a car approached. Watching surreptitiously, he waited until the car had entered the garage, then dropped his paper and slipped over the raised side of the sloping garage entrance, staying out of the line of sight of the camera. Keeping low, he ducked under the garage door as it started to close, darting immediately to one side and hiding behind the nearest car while he studied the area around him.
The pounding of his heart seemed loud in his ears, but Ezra smiled, pleased with his accomplishment. No one had seen him, judging by the lack of response to his presence during the ten minutes he had been crouched behind the vehicle. He hadn’t spotted any cameras inside, other than the ones by the elevator and stairway, and that would make his task much easier. Slowly, keeping himself hidden behind the cars parked in the garage, Ezra made his way around the perimeter of the first floor of the underground facility, searching for the black truck.
He finally located his quarry, parked against the far right side next to an old pickup truck. After he verified the license plate, Ezra crept along the side of the truck, peering inside intently. There was no sign of an alarm system, but that meant very little, since the newer systems were much less obvious than older ones.
He had learned a lot about car alarms during his time in New York. One of the other boys in his first foster home had spent some time in juvenile hall for car theft, and he had taught Ezra everything he knew about stealing cars. It was something he had never even shared with Vin, not wanting his friend to think less of him for wanting to acquire such skills. He never intended to use what he learned, other than in an emergency; he was simply curious about the process. The only thing that his mother had ever appreciated about him was his inquisitive mind, and he made sure to put it to use as often as possible.
Removing his lockpicks from his