“I guess I might have. I talk to people I game with.”
“So if someone was looking for you and didn’t know how to find you in person, could they get into that game?”
“Sure. But why? I mean what reason would they have to be looking for me?”
“You tell me.”
Derek sank down on the bed. “Maybe because they knew my folks. But if that’s the case, why didn’t that guy just say so when he came by the diner?”
“Who were your folks? Someone important?”
Derek chewed his lip then looked up at Charlie. “I don’t know.”
Charlie sat down beside him. “What do you mean, you don’t know? How could you not know?”
“I don’t remember them,” Derek told him. “I don’t remember…anything from before the accident.”
Charlie studied him for a minute. “How come you never told me this after all these months? What accident?’
Derek explained, giving him the same story he’d told Mel, leaving out anything to do with Michael.
“So as far as you know, your dad could have been just a normal guy, or he could have been mixed up in something—or hell, he could have been some big crime figure.”
Derek couldn’t dispute that, so he didn’t, other than to say, “Or he could have been a good guy going after the mob. I mean, if I have to choose, I’d rather it be that.”
“Yep. Possible. But why would these men be looking for you? Do you have anything with you? Something that was found in the wreck maybe?”
“There wasn’t anything. The car burned up.”
“Okay. So you don’t have any memories and no personal items of theirs. But the men who are looking for you might not know that.”
“I know.” Derek looked around the room. “I should leave. Staying here…well, it could get you in trouble, especially since all the neighbors have seen me around. If those men ask them, or already have…” He got to his feet quickly, going to the closet to get his backpack.
“Where will you go?” Charlie asked, without even suggesting he should stay. That hurt a bit but Derek knew Charlie was being practical.
“To a shelter, I guess, for a day or so anyway, until I figure something out.”
“What about the diner?”
“Damn. I have to let Mel know I won’t be back.”
“No. I’ll do that. It’s safer for both of you. How much does he know?”
“Not much,” Derek told him as he began packing. He frowned when he discovered the backpack wasn’t nearly large enough for everything he’d accumulated over the last seven months. “He knows about the accident. That’s it.”
Charlie got up, told Derek to hang on a minute, and left. He came back carrying what looked like an army-issue knapsack. “Try this, it’s bigger.”
Derek quickly transferred everything from the backpack to the knapsack, shielding what he was doing from Charlie when he moved the tin box. When he was finished, there was still room for a few more clothes. He decided to use the backpack too, for his personal items from the bathroom and the laptop.
“You got enough money on you?” Charlie asked when Derek was finished.
“Yep. You know I don’t spend much.” Derek chuckled morosely. “Which, right now, I guess, is a good thing.” He hefted the bags over his shoulders and looked around. “I’m going to miss this place. I’m…I’m going to miss you.”
“Let’s not get maudlin,” Charlie said. But he came over to give Derek a fast hug. “You keep in touch. You have my number. Though come to think of it, it might not be a good idea to call if what I see on TV is true. They might be able to track you.”
Derek nodded. “Maybe…”
Charlie held out his hand. “Give it over. I’ll put it somewhere safe and if they find your number, try calling or tracking it, they’ll think you’re still here. Or better yet, I’ll toss it in the dumpster. That should make them wonder when it ends up in a landfill.”
Derek handed him his phone. “Anything else?”
“Not that I can think of. You take care of yourself. Okay?”
“I’ll try.”
“And go out the back way. No sense asking for trouble if those guys are still in the area. I’ll take a stroll out there first, to see if I spot anything suspicious.”
Derek followed Charlie back to the kitchen, waiting until his friend came back inside to tell him it was all clear. They said one last goodbye and then Derek snuck out, keeping well in the shadows, thankful that at least it had stopped raining.
An hour later he was halfway across the city, heading to one of the shelters.
And from there, where?
Chapter 4
It had been two days since Derek had left Charlie’s place. The first night he spent at the shelter. He didn’t sleep much because he couldn’t shut off his mind. He kept coming up with plans then discarding them.
The next morning he came to at least one decision. It would be better and easier if he found somewhere safe to leave most of his things for the time being. His first thought was one of the lockers at the bus station but he wasn’t certain how long he could leave stuff in one of them. Then he considered the library. He’d seen lockers there but for all he knew, they cleaned them out every night so they’d be free for the next day. He had one last recourse, although it could be asking for trouble. Still, if Charlie had kept his word and let Mel know what was going on, it might work.
After leaving the shelter, Derek found a pay phone and called Mel. He had to listen to a bit of a rant from him about why he hadn’t trusted him to help. Once he got Mel calmed down, he told him he did need his help, and he’d explain everything to him when he got there.
“Don’t come in through the front, obviously, or even by the back door,” Mel cautioned. “You know the trap door on the roof? I’ll unlock it after we close. That should be safe enough and we can hope, if they’re watching for you, they’ll figure you’re not coming by anymore.”
Derek agreed. With the rest of the day to kill, and not wanting to be out in public more than necessary, he went to the library close to the shelter. Deciding it might be safer not to use his laptop, he found a vacant computer and settled in to do more research, something he’d been neglectful about the last few weeks.
He decided to do what he hadn’t before, a more thorough search on Michael at the genealogy sites. It was painstaking work but in the end, he found three men who just might be the one he wanted. They were in the right age range and they had all been in the Marines. Unfortunately there was no information about their discharge dates. He printed out what he’d found just before one of the librarians announced it was closing time.
Damn. Is it that late? Mel’s going to be pissed, if he even bothered to wait. Pissed—or worried something happened to me.
It took fifteen minutes to get to the diner then another five while Derek waited in the shadows of the alley behind it to be certain no one was watching. Then he made his way to the roof, keeping low just in case, and a minute later he was dropping down to the floor in the storage room.
“You finally made it,” Mel said grumpily, when Derek found him in his office. But he looked relieved.
“Sorry. I lost track of the time.”
“You’re forgiven, this time. Sit and tell me exactly what’s going on with you. The account Charlie gave me was garbled at best.”
So Derek did, telling him everything, even about Michael. He felt he owed Mel that much, if not more. When he was finished, Mel leaned back, looking at him.
“How does a kid your age manage to get himself in such a mess?”
Derek smiled wryly. “It wasn’t easy.”
“So what do you need from me, other than a safe place to leave some of your stuff?”
“That’s it. I don’t want to get you in trouble with whoever’s looking for me.”
“They were here today, I think. Not the man from yesterday but another one. He came in, ordered coffee and something to eat, then sat in the back boot
h for way too long, just watching everyone—especially anyone who looked even remotely close to your age.”
Derek hissed in a breath. “Then I’d better get my ass out of here and not come back.”
“Or—” Mel looked thoughtful “—you could do your own watching, from the roofs across the street. If you see the men, you could try following them.”
“I’m not a spy,” Derek replied, with a bit of a laugh. “Still, it might not be a bad idea.”
“Better than just running and hiding. You won’t learn a damned thing that way.”
“True. Okay, it’s worth a shot.”
Derek opened the knapsack and the backpack, transferring what he wanted to take with him to the backpack, sticking the rest, including the laptop, into the knapsack.
Mel watched him then asked, “Is that the box you were talking about?” when he saw it.
“Yeah.”
“Let’s see the gun.”
Derek handed it to him. Mel checked it out thoroughly before giving it back. “It’s in good shape, but it won’t do you any good if it’s not loaded.”
“Like I could shoot anyone,” Derek muttered, but he did load it anyway.
“If it comes down to you or them, you might be surprised.” Mel paused, tapping a finger on his desk. “Stay here tonight. It should be safe enough. That way you’ll get some decent sleep, which, from the look of you, you need.” He nodded toward the sofa along one wall of the office. “Just be out of here before we open, in case they’re watching.”
“Thank you! I will be, I promise.”
* * * *
Derek was on the roof across from the diner before the sun came up. He felt rested, thanks to Mel. Not bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as Charlie used to say, but better than he had since he’d left Charlie’s house.
With his pack beside him and open, the gun lying within fairly easy reach underneath a pair of jeans, he also felt relatively safe. Not, as he’d told Mel, that he really could shoot anyone, but he could certainly threaten. He’d proved that with the punks at Charlie’s house.
The roof was flat with a barely six-inch tall parapet on the side facing the street. That meant he had to lie flat, just in case anyone passing by two stories below happened to look up. It did have one advantage, though. It was higher than the diner’s roof and the ones on either side of it. If whoever was looking for him thought they could watch from above and be close enough to get down fast to get to him, he’d see them before they tried.
He spent most of the morning taking quick checks of the street below, the roofs opposite him, and what he could see of the diner’s interior. If either of the men planned on coming back, they didn’t before noon.
By then, with nothing to protect him from the sun, Derek was getting too warm. Scooting back to where he thought it was safe, he sat up, and stripped off his T-shirt, leaving on the tank he wore under it, tucking Michael’s Saint Christopher medal in so it wouldn’t get caught on anything. He was halfway back to his observation point when he thought he heard something move behind him. Spinning around, he saw nothing, but he couldn’t shake the sense that someone was nearby. He slithered forward, grabbed his pack, slinging it over one shoulder, and gripped the gun without taking it out. Then he crawled his way to the back of the roof and the fire escape.
The moment he got there, the man from the diner appeared in front of him.
“Please put your hands where I can see them,” he said, pointing a small pistol at Derek. “Both of them.” When Derek hesitated, he spat out, “Now!”
Derek did, and the man came the rest of the way onto the roof. He yanked the backpack from Derek’s shoulder then moved back out of reach. With the gun still trained on Derek, he used his free hand to rifle through the pack, taking out the tin box. Opening it, he swore angrily. “Where’s the rest of what was in here?”
“It’s all there,” Derek protested.
“Like hell.” The man closed it, putting it back in the pack, and hooked his arm through the straps before gripping Derek’s arm, pulling him to his feet. He steered him to the fire escape, telling him one false move and he’d get to the alley much faster than if he climbed down. “But you’ll still be alive enough for us to question you,” he said threateningly.
Swallowing hard, Derek began descending. As far as he could tell, the man was alone, not that it was much consolation at the moment.
When they got to the alley, the man prodded Derek toward one end. For a second, Derek considered trying to make a run for it, but another shove with the gun made him decide it wouldn’t be the best idea he’d ever had.
When they reached the end of the alley, a car pulled up in front of it. The man ordered Derek to get in when the door swung open. When he did, the man slid in beside him and the car took off.
“Who are you?” Derek asked, trying hard to keep his voice from shaking.
“Someone with a vested interest in what Sergeant Long gave you.”
“Who is Sergeant Long?”
The man’s reply was a hard smack to Derek’s cheek with the barrel of the gun.
“I swear. I never heard of him,” Derek said through teeth gritted against the pain.
“You just happened to find this box lying in the middle of nowhere,” the man growled.
“I-I found it in a vacant cabin when I was hiking. There was money in it, so of course I took it. And how did you even know I had it?”
“We went back the next day to do a more thorough search of the cabin. His body was gone, buried out back we figured from the look of it. We found the cellar under the cabin and the place where he’d hidden something. From the marks in the dust, we thought it was probably a box of some sort.”
“But you couldn’t have known it was me who took it,” Derek protested.
“No, but we got lucky. Someone started doing an Internet search on Sergeant Long’s name. It didn’t take us long to figure out whoever it was also liked to playing online games.”
“Charlie was right,” Derek whispered.
The man snickered. “Meaning we used that to track you down? Yeah. You’re a bit too trusting. Talking about where you worked wasn’t smart. Of course, it would have been easier if you’d told me where you lived, but at least you seem to know better than that. My companion here—” he nodded to the driver “—was able to hack in and find out the real name behind your screen-name, which gave us something more to work with.”
“So now what?” Derek asked, fingering his cheek where the man had hit it.
“Now we’re going to take you to a nice, private spot, and you’re going to tell us what you did with the item we’ve been looking for.”
Derek clenched his hands together. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Now why don’t I believe that?”
Derek wanted to say, “Because you’re an idiot”, just to relieve some of his tension but decided it would only get him hit again. Turning away, he rested his forehead against the car window, watching where they were going. He inched his hand between his body and the door, testing the handle. It gave slightly but still…He checked the lock button and, unbelievably, it was up.
If I can jump out and run…He shifted slightly and felt the backpack press against his butt. I could wait for them to stop at a light, grab the pack and…No, forget the pack. Whatever they want, it’s not in the box. But if I get away, I won’t know who they are. But if I don’t try it, they’re going to kill me or worse.
The idea of ‘or worse’ was all it took. Derek waited through two traffic lights, working up the courage to chance running for it. From what he could see, they were in a warehouse area of the city at the moment with lots of buildings packed closely together, just narrow cut-throughs separating them. Ahead of them the light turned red and the car slowed to a stop. Shoving down hard on the door handle, the door started to open. He shoved it the rest of the way open and half jumped, half fell out, landing on one knee. He thanked whoever was watching over him it was his good leg
, as he staggered up and took off.
He heard a shout of rage behind him then pounding footsteps. Dead ahead of him was a narrow cut-through. He ran into it then took a sharp right when he saw another one perpendicular to it. He made it to the end, breathing hard, and took a left. Ahead of him, a warehouse door stood half open. Without a second thought, he darted inside. A dark-haired, Hispanic man looked at him in surprise for a second before going back to what he was doing. Derek skittered past him and ducked behind a pile of crates.
Moments later, he heard the man who had kidnapped him ask, “Did you see a kid, black hair, jeans, wearing a tank, run by here?”
“No comprende, señor.”
“A kid, umm, niño. Running rápido.” When the worker didn’t reply, the man said, “Fuck it,” and moved on.
A minute later, the worker came over. “Okay, it’s safe to come out.” Derek looked at him in surprise and the man chuckled. “Figured if I spoke Spanish, he’d give up and move on.”
“Thank you. Why didn’t you tell him I was here?”
The man shrugged. “I didn’t like the look of him. Should I have told him?”
“No, no, he snatched me. I took a chance and ran when we got to the light.”
“Maybe he figured you’d make a good sex-slave.”
Startled, Derek said, “What?”
“You know, like human trafficking. There’s a lot of that going around. If you run around like that in just a skimpy tank…” The guy shrugged.
“Oh. Not usually. In fact, never.” Derek suddenly felt almost naked under the guy’s frank stare. He knew the guy caught that because he chuckled.
“I’ve got an old work shirt you can have. Hang on.” He disappeared through a door, coming back to hand Derek the shirt.
It was definitely old and beyond that, but Derek had no qualms about putting it on while thanking him. “I wish I’d been smart enough to get the license number,” he said with a sigh.
“You’re jumping out of a moving car, running to save your virtue, and you would have stopped to look? I don’t think so,” the guy replied. “But maybe I can help you out. The company that owns this building owns another one on the street. They have security cameras up. Let’s see if one of them caught anything. By the way, I’m Steve. Well, Estaban, but everyone calls me Steve.”
D-Boy Page 5
