Every once in a while she could catch music, sometimes heavy metal, often times classic rock or even folk music on occasion depending on which street she walked down or whatever tavern she happened to pass. She could make out the laughter and the conversations drifting from the local bars. Some stayed with her and lingered while others reminded her there were people having fun, people with normal lives who didn’t wander up and down the streets in the middle of the night.
If someone had bothered asking, she couldn’t have come up with an answer, only that this is what she was destined to do. Long ago, she’d given up trying to explain the whole thing to Harry or anyone else. He hadn’t understood why she felt compelled to go out every night, searching, hunting. All she knew was she couldn’t very well sit on her ass while monsters roamed her turf preying on children. Boy or girl, it didn’t matter. Children were vulnerable. She couldn’t live with the non-doing.
She supposed that was really the bottom line. Night would fall and she had to do—something. No one could possibly understand that or identify with it. But she didn’t much care whether people understood her.
Melody and merriment echoed out and broke into that mindset, reaffirming to Skye that despite the meanness in the world, there were any number of people on any given night sharing their good times with friends or family.
Had she ever had that, experienced it with such a casual refrain that she could taste the warmth of companionship, of friendship?
She didn’t think so. Certainly not since her parents died. All day she’d been pondering that missing element to her life. Friends. There were a few, a handful really. Acquaintances. Sure, people she’d met on the streets, people she spoke to at the market, the bakery, the coffee shop on a regular basis. They all impacted her like a brushstroke.
But boyfriends. Now that was the missing piece. Someone to share a closeness, a bond. No, she’d never had that as an adult and probably never would.
The whimper of a sleepy infant coming from one of the row houses she passed caused her mind to blink reluctantly in another direction. More personal thoughts, she mused. Things she liked to call her what-ifs. What-ifs were indulgences she usually didn’t bother lingering on for too long. She couldn’t. What-ifs couldn’t be changed so why spend time there in frustration and sadness?
A resignation came with the chilly wind that rustled the leaves at her feet and brought her full circle. No point in dwelling on thoughts about a life she’d never have no matter how often they wandered into her brain. Ah, but when those little dings came fast and hard, like tonight, and tried to take root, she had to bat them away into another realm. No, it wouldn’t do to stay there long, mired in what-ifs.
What was wrong with her? she wondered. Why these nostalgic moods today? She refused to even consider that Josh Ander might be the reason because he’d stirred up things inside her. There was no harm in admitting she was attracted. If she couldn’t be honest with herself…what was the point? So she’d admit the nerd in him pulled at her belly. It had to be those wire-rims and the soft gray eyes behind them.
She was just about to turn the corner onto Denny when she heard someone call her name.
“Skye! Skye! Wait up!”
Skye turned, saw Dee Dee run up, breathless. “Dee Dee. How’s it going?”
Dee Dee grabbed her arm. “Skye, I’m so glad I saw you. It’s Lucy. You have to help me find her.”
Skye’s brow furrowed before she remembered which one of the girls was Lucy. “You mean the redhead you mentioned last night?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Nobody’s seen Lucy all day. Skye, you gotta help me find her. The cops won’t do nothin’ to help. And you found that schoolgirl just last night, the one that was on the news. You’re better than the cops at finding people anyway. Help me, Skye, Lucy wouldn’t go off by herself.”
Skye blew out a frosty breath, watched it evaporate before she spoke. After all, it wasn’t that unusual for a hooker to go missing for a couple of days then resurface when she was good and ready. But noting the concern on Dee Dee’s face, Skye didn’t have the heart to say that. Lucy might’ve been a hooker, but the girl deserved to have someone give a shit enough to care if something had happened to her. “Has Lucy ever talked to you about going off on her own maybe leaving the streets behind?”
Dee Dee sent Skye a look of disbelief. “All the time, but Lucy’s pretty much like the rest of us, Skye. She’s got nowhere else to go. Besides, I’m telling you, Lucy wouldn’t just leave without letting me know where she was going. We look out for each other. You know that.”
Because Skye did, she asked, “Do you have a recent photo of Lucy, Dee Dee? And I’ll need her last name, date of birth if you have it and anything else you think might be important.”
“I don’t have her picture with me. But I’ll get it to you. Lucy’s last name is Border. Lucy Border. She’s originally from Portland.”
“How old?”
“Sixteen. Same as me.”
“Then bring the photo tomorrow to the Country Kitchen. If I’m not there, leave it with Velma, okay?”
Dee Dee nodded. “I’ll be there. And thanks, Skye. I knew I could count on you to care.”
“Yeah, well…I haven’t done anything yet. Save the thanks for after I’ve found her.”
While Skye continued on her way, something nagged inside her. Was it a coincidence that Erin had been a redhead who had gotten away? Did Brandon Hiller have a penchant for redheads? If the man was desperate enough, would he settle for a young prostitute in lieu of a schoolgirl?
The first indication that Skye had someone dogging her was when Kiya lowered her head and let out a low, throaty growl in warning. It was then Skye heard the soft footsteps behind her on the pavement. She reeled around just in time to avoid a blow in the back. Her feet kicked out in rapid succession, sending the pipe wrench flying and her assailant stumbling to the ground.
She took a long gaze at the body sprawled on the sidewalk. A frail young teen looked up at her, a stunned realization on his face that his attack had been thwarted. The kid didn’t look strong enough to take down a wet noodle let alone a physically fit, in-shape female.
Even in the dim light from a streetlamp, Skye recognized the boy had the wariness in his huge brown eyes that came from living on the streets. She watched as he immediately put his hands up then curled into a ball. The shaggy-haired adolescent yelled in a high-pitched voice, “Don’t hurt me! I just wanted a few bucks for something to eat. That’s all, I swear.”
“And your way is to try and knock me out with a rusty pipe, take my money because you’re hungry? How about asking next time?” Skye bellowed back.
About that time, Kiya snarled again.
Out of the corner of her eye Skye caught more movement, this time from her right. She whirled around expecting to see one of the kid’s pals coming to his defense from the bushes. Instead Josh Ander made his way out of a crop of dense hedges before running up to them in a huff.
“Are you okay?” he wanted to know, his eyes transfixed on the silver wolf that stood a few feet away. “Do you see that? Do you see that silver wolf over there? It growled just before the kid here tried to attack you and just now at me. A wolf sighting right here in Seattle.” For the first time Josh glanced down at the teen still prone on the ground. It was then he asked, “What’s his deal?”
“We were just getting to that,” Skye grumbled, still glowering at the teenager. “Petty thievery will get you killed in this neighborhood,” she stated stubbornly. “Okay, let’s have it.” Once again, she sized the kid up and waited for what she was sure would be a smartass reply. He didn’t look like he weighed more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. This was no tough guy persona hiding behind those warm brown eyes. “Well?” she prodded, waiting for his reply.
The boy started blabbing. “I got kicked out of my house two weeks ago. My mother’s new boyfriend took an instant dislike to me, a lot more than some of her others. The bastard sent me packing.”
“He kicked you out and your mother let him?” Josh asked in astonishment.
Skye threw the grown man a disbelieving stare. Was he really that unfamiliar with what went on in the real world? She took a step closer, eyeing the yellow-purplish bruises on the teen’s face and around his eyes, some still in the healing stages. “These bumps a gift from your mother’s boyfriend?” she demanded.
“Yeah.”
“You aren’t selling yourself on the streets, are you?” Skye wanted to know.
The kid’s eyes went wide. “Not yet.”
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen,” he replied quickly.
A little too quickly for Skye, as she assessed the boy as much as the lie. “So you’ve resorted to mugging people to eat?”
“No, you’re the first one. You looked alone and I thought I might be able to knock you down, maybe knock you out and take whatever money you had in your pocket, since, you know, you’re a girl.”
Josh couldn’t help it, he laughed outright. “Wow, did you ever pick the wrong woman, kid!”
From the ground the boy looked up at the two adults, acting as though he needed to confess even more. “I’ve been stealing stuff though to survive.”
“Define stuff?” Skye queried, resting her hands on her hips.
“Purses, wallets, jewelry, anything of value I can lay my hands on. I broke into a couple of houses, took some rings and pearls then pawned the stash down at Slade’s on Twelfth.”
Skye sighed. “What’s your name?”
“Zeke Hollis. Are you guys cops?”
“Nope. Want a job, Zeke Hollis?”
“You got one?” The teen shot back, clearly skeptical about the offer of anything from anyone.
Skye pointed to Josh. “Any chance you could use a gofer down at your fancy gaming place?”
Clearly taken aback by the question, Josh tried to think of a reason not to make this wayward youth part of his company. But after several long, strained seconds of silence, he changed his mind, recognizing the look on Skye’s face. He could tell she’d already been suckered in. “He’d have to take a shower and put on some clean clothes first.”
Skye reached out a gloved hand to the filthy teenager to help him to his feet. Up to this point Zeke had been sitting on the ground, wary. His clothes were soiled as though they hadn’t seen a laundromat in weeks which might’ve been why the kid reeked. Reluctantly, Zeke finally grasped her gloved fingers and pulled himself to a standing position.
Skye tilted her head, stared at the guy’s small stature. He didn’t even come up to her shoulders. If this kid was a day over sixteen, then she’d have to be forty.
“Is that agreeable to you, Zeke Hollis?”
“It’s kind of hard to get in a shower at McDonald’s or anyplace else for that matter. And I’m not wasting money washing clothes. I gotta eat,” Zeke admitted.
From two feet away, Skye heard the kid’s stomach rumble. “Yeah, that is a problem,” she reasoned. “We’ll get you a place to stay. How’s that? But first we get some food in you. Good thing Country Kitchen’s open twenty-four.”
“My car’s parked one street over,” Josh disclosed, pointing down the street.
“That’s okay, CK is two blocks up.” She turned back to Zeke. “How does eggs and bacon sound?”
It sounded fantastic to Zeke. But he hadn’t been born yesterday. Two weeks surviving on the streets had made him a lot savvier. When someone did something for you, they wanted something in return. Nothing was free. He needed to know the terms upfront. “Why would you do that?” Zeke asked, clearly stupefied at the offer. He looked Josh up and down. “I’m not blowing anyone not even for a breakfast.”
It was Josh who answered. “Good, because we aren’t really into kids.”
For the time being, Skye ignored the boy’s crudeness. She couldn’t blame his suspicious nature or his hard outlook on life. She lightly took hold of his thin shoulders and turned him around, pointed to head back the other way. “Food’s that way. Let’s go. Where’ve you been sleeping for the past two weeks, Zeke?”
“Since they ran us off the Viaduct, I find any place where there isn’t a crowd—or drunks, or people that want to fight all the time. I avoid the Jungle. I spend the night in the doorways of empty buildings, mostly, or sometimes I sleep in the park in the bushes, can’t sleep out in the open without attracting unwanted attention. And if you’re too obvious the cops will hassle you.”
That assessment had Skye taking in another quick gulp of night air. The kid did indeed have a bleak take on life. She threw a subtle look at Josh, who looked like he needed to be in bed at the moment recovering from his knife wound instead of walking down Dearborn. Jesus, the man looked downright ill. But as they rounded the corner at the end of the block, she decided the Zeke issue needed to be handled before anything else.
Without a word between them, she sent another knowing look at Josh that clearly meant, “This kid needs a hand and we’re it.”
With a slight nod of his head in agreement, Josh cleared his throat, and said, “Sounds like you know a little too much about the streets for a kid your age.”
“What do you know about it? Besides I’m no kid,” Zeke snapped back.
“You’re right.” Skye took the time to meet Zeke’s eyes. “You aren’t a kid anymore. But we do know this. You need a place to stay instead of trying to make it on the streets—alone. A thirteen-year-old has no business dodging street bullies and going hungry.”
“You mean sixteen?”
“No, I mean thirteen, Zeke,” Skye challenged, as she directed him down an alleyway, a shortcut to get to the restaurant. “Is that your real name? Be straight with me.”
“It’s my real name,” Zeke acknowledged, albeit reluctantly. It didn’t matter he thought. He intended to take off right after he scored the meal.
“When’s the last time you ate?”
“This morning.”
“Sure, whatever you say,” Skye muttered, noting the rumbling coming from the kid’s stomach. She opened the door to the all-night diner and heard the jingle announcing a customer. They stepped inside a retro eatery with dated décor. Every booth, every table, every stool was either blue-green or some shade thereof. Even the well-worn, off-white linoleum floor had flecks of green speckling in the pattern.
Skye nudged Zeke toward a booth in the back so their happy little trio could have a heart-to-heart. She waved to the waitress taking orders at another table.
Velma Gentry had probably worked third shift at Country Kitchen close to three decades, certainly longer than Skye had been coming in here either to work or stuff her face.
When Velma sauntered over, her graying auburn hair bunched up in a tight bun, Skye looked up into the face of the woman she considered an honorary aunt. “How’s Bill?” Bill was Velma’s second husband of twenty-five years and a bit of a slacker.
“He’d be fine if he’d ever get his lazy ass up off the damned couch long enough to take me to a movie. I ask you, is a night out, once every two years, too much to ask?”
Skye chuckled at the same complaint she’d heard over and over again for no less than seven years. “Next time I see him I’ll plant that idea in his head for you. How’s that?”
“Good luck with that,” Velma grumbled. “What can I get you kids to drink?”
“Milk for the boy. And I’ll take a coffee. What about you, Josh?”
“Orange juice for me,” he mumbled. He desperately needed to load up on vitamin C, maybe any other vitamins that might give him an extra kick because the pain in his shoulder kept up a steady burn. The discomfort reminded him how much energy it took for him to remain upright. No way would he pass out in front of the starving kid.
Thirty minutes later, over scrambled eggs, bacon, and a stack of pancakes, Josh and Skye did their best to prod reluctant information out of the sulky street kid.
They watched in fascination as Zeke devoured every bite of the food put in front of him.
The poor guy ate like he hadn’t seen food in two days.
But when Zeke started peeling off napkins from the dispenser then wrapping up the extra pieces of toast and flapjacks from Josh and Skye’s plates and shoving the food down into his dirty jacket pockets, Skye stilled his hand. “That isn’t necessary. Where I’m taking you, you’ll have breakfast in the morning and three squares a day. But you’ll have to go to school, Zeke.”
“No way,” the teen replied stubbornly. “School’s almost as bad as the streets.”
“Yes, way,” Josh declared as emphatic as Skye. “School is a non-negotiable part of the deal.”
The boy eyed them both. Now that his belly was full, he intended to set them straight. “I got news for you guys, you two can’t make me do shit. I made that whole story up. And you guys bought it. Suckers.”
“I see.” And because she did, she steepled her fingers, sat back. Without raising her voice, she leaned in closer to Zeke. “So you played us to get a meal, is that it?”
The kid jiggled his knees up and down in a nervous twitch. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“You’re a real pro at this stuff, huh?” Skye tossed back getting into the game. She took out her cell phone for effect. “How about I make a call to the cops? Right now, right here.”
The boy paled. “Okay. Okay. No need to do that. But you don’t got a right to tell me what to do or where to go. Nothing.”
“So you prefer what happened tonight to keep on happening? Let me ask you something, Zeke. What if I’d pulled a knife on you? What if someone else had? What would you have done then? What if I’d told you I was taking you to get a meal, but led you down that dark alleyway, took out a knife and…” She hit the table with the palm of her hand to get Zeke’s attention. “Then bam! I slit your throat.”
Even Josh’s eyes grew wide.
“I’d’ve run like hell. I’m pretty fast,” Zeke said, keeping his cool.
“You can’t avoid the mean that’s out there forever, Zeke. It will eventually catch up to you. It may not be tonight. It may take months, maybe even years. Is that what you want? To spend what’s left of your childhood on the streets?”
Skye Cree Boxed Set Books 1 - 3 Page 12
