Runaway Justice (David Adams)

by Chad Zunker

  “Look, I’ve got to run, okay? But I’ll be checking on you every day. And you have my phone number if you need anything.”

  “I’m good, Mr. Adams. I swear.”

  “Okay. Remember not to make any plans for next Saturday. We’ll head over to the stadium early to get you some Longhorn gear to wear.”

  “I can’t wait!”

  SIX

  After saying goodbye to Parker at the computer lab, David followed Keith back to the lobby of the main administrative building, where they stepped right into the middle of a commotion. Four imposing men were all hovering around the receptionist, who looked completely overwhelmed. Three of the guys wore the same dark-blue windbreakers. The midthirties man wearing the black sport coat in front seemed to be the most hostile of the bunch, leaning heavily onto the front counter with both hands and glaring at the young woman.

  “What’s going on here?” Keith asked, stepping into the fray.

  The front man turned to Keith. “You in charge?”

  “Yes, Keith Bagley, the director. How can—”

  “FBI,” the man barked. “We need to speak with one of your new residents right now.”

  “Well, sir, we have certain protocols here. You can’t just—”

  The man interrupted again. “Did you not hear me say FBI?”

  “Yes, I did, but—”

  “Parker Barnes. Where is he?”

  David stiffened. “Parker?”

  The man turned to look at David. “You work here?”

  David shook his head. “No, but—”

  “Then this doesn’t concern you.”

  “I beg to differ. I’m Parker’s lawyer.”

  The man’s face slowly bunched up. “Are you kidding me? You’re the kid’s lawyer?”

  “Yes. David Adams.”

  If the FBI agent was trying to hide the fact that an attorney was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now, he failed miserably. The man let out a disgruntled sigh and rolled his tongue around in his mouth like he was trying to keep himself from vomiting.

  “What’s going on?” David asked.

  “I’m Special Agent Harry Zegers,” he finally said, and then introduced the other men with him in rapid fire as Agents Farley, Jeter, and Hernandez. They were all guys around David’s age. “So, you’re the one who got the kid out of the detention center before we could get over there this morning and speak to him. How the hell does a runaway like Parker even have an attorney, anyway?”

  “That’s really none of your business.”

  “Everything is our business.”

  “You might want to check your little FBI book again.” David wasn’t going to be intimidated by this guy or his little posse. Clearly, Zegers’s strategy was to bull-rush his way into the building and make sure he got whatever he wanted, regardless of the facility’s strict privacy and security policies. “Why do you want to talk with my client?”

  “Because the kid is connected to the killing of a federal witness five days ago over in Pease Park.”

  That statement stunned David. “What? How?”

  “That’s why we need to chat with him. Find out what he knows.”

  “This is ludicrous. He’s just a kid.”

  “So what? Kids are killers these days. Don’t you watch the news?”

  David’s head was spinning. He now recalled seeing something a couple of days ago about the death of a federal witness. The man had been shot multiple times in the park and found the next morning. But Parker? A killer? No way.

  “You can’t possibly think Parker shot that man.”

  Zegers shrugged. “Until I talk with him, I’m ruling nothing out.”

  “How are you even putting him at the scene?”

  Zegers turned, snapped his fingers at one of his cronies, who quickly pulled something up on an iPad and handed it to him. Zegers pushed “Play” and gave it to David. “This video was taken from a gas station security camera about a hundred yards away from the crime scene at the exact same time we’re estimating for the death. We’ve been searching for your client ever since. One of the deputies at the detention center matched him with a photo we’d sent out a few days ago.”

  It was a grainy video that looked to be from a security camera above one of the gas pumps. The view caught the majority of the pumps below, the corner of the building, and the side parking lot. There were a couple of people casually standing at the pumps, staring at their phones, waiting for their cars to fill up.

  David squinted. “I don’t see anything relevant.”

  “Wait for it,” Zegers instructed.

  A second later, someone suddenly appeared from the wooded area on the other side of the parking lot. Looked like a boy in a T-shirt and blue jeans, carrying a backpack. The boy immediately took a tumble, rolled several times out onto the concrete. For a second, he sat there, staring into the woods behind him. Then he got back on his feet, took off running again—but zigzagging oddly as he did—until he got closer to the camera. He sprinted underneath the camera by the gas pumps and disappeared from view.

  David wasn’t convinced. “That could be any boy. You can’t really see his face. Why do you think it’s Parker?”

  Zegers snatched the iPad away from him, pulled up a photo, then showed David an enhanced close-up still shot of the boy’s face. “You’re telling me that’s not Parker Barnes, buddy?”

  David hid his surprise. He had to admit the boy looked a lot like Parker. Still, it was a fuzzy shot that caught only part of the boy’s face. Plus, these agents were acting like they wanted to throw Parker in a dark room right now, blind him with a bright light, and interrogate the hell out of him. David would never let that happen.

  “I don’t know,” David countered. “Boys his age tend to all look the same. It’s not definitive, if you ask me.”

  “Do you think a grand jury would find it definitive?”

  David tilted his head. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Look, David, let’s not make this difficult. How about we just go ask him together? Let’s find out where Parker was the night in question. If you’re right and we’re wrong, we can put this all behind us.”

  David gave the agents another quick glance. They looked like a pack of hyenas wanting to go after a vulnerable animal.

  “I’ll go talk to Parker. You guys wait here.”

  David sat alone with Parker in a small classroom.

  The kid was all smiles. “You should see this computer software, Mr. Adams. I can take a picture of myself with the computer’s camera and then put it on the face of a superhero I created. Then I get to be the main character in this video game. It’s so cool!”

  “That’s great,” David said. “I’m glad you’re already having fun.”

  “Yeah. Maybe this place ain’t so bad.”

  David pressed his lips together, his forehead tightening. “Hey, I need to talk to you about something.”

  The smile on the boy’s face instantly vanished. “What’s wrong? Am I in trouble? Did I do something?”

  David was disheartened at how quickly Parker had shifted from a state of joy to one of fear and trepidation. Reminded him of a rescued puppy that would cower in the corner every time someone in the room made a sudden move. This was probably a condition Parker had developed after years of feeling betrayed by the system. David hated that for the boy. It made him angry to even have to bring this up right now. But Zegers wasn’t going away.

  “No, it’s nothing like that,” David said, forcing a smile, trying to help Parker relax. “I just need to ask you some questions, that’s all.”

  “Okay.”

  “Parker, where have you been staying at night this past week?”

  The kid shrugged. “Wherever I can find a warm spot where someone doesn’t mess with me. Why?”

  “Do you remember where you were five nights ago?”

  Parker shifted a bit. “Uh, not really. I think I probably stayed over by the Methodist church on the UT campus. That’s w
here a lot of the guys I’ve been hanging around stay at night. They serve breakfast at the church a couple of days a week.”

  “You ever stay in Pease Park?”

  Parker noticeably swallowed. “No.”

  “That’s not too far away from campus. You sure?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “There was a man who was shot over in Pease Park the other night. Do you know anything about that?”

  David watched the boy closely.

  Parker quickly shook his head. “Why’re you asking me?”

  “Well, some men are here from the FBI who want to talk with you about it. They seem to think you might have been around the park that night when this guy was shot.”

  Parker’s eyes went wide. “The FBI?”

  “Yes. But you don’t need to be concerned.”

  “I don’t want to talk to them, Mr. Adams.”

  “Why? They’re the good guys.”

  “They won’t believe me, no matter what I say.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes it is, Mr. Adams. I watched that movie The Fugitive with my dad. The guy on the run was innocent, but the FBI didn’t believe him. So he had to keep running.”

  “Well, that was the US Marshals, not the FBI. And it was just a movie.”

  “Still . . . why do they want to talk to me? I don’t know anything.”

  “They have a video of a boy running close to the park who looks a little bit like you.”

  Parker’s eyes again widened. “It ain’t me, I swear.”

  David tried to be reassuring. “You can talk to me, Parker. As your lawyer, I don’t have to share anything you say with them. You’re safe with me, okay?”

  “It wasn’t me, Mr. Adams. I’m not lying!”

  The boy’s eyes began watering, and his bottom lip started to quiver. David put his hand on Parker’s shoulder and squeezed. Although he wasn’t sure what the truth was, David wasn’t interested in bringing on any more trauma today. Screw the FBI. He would take the heat for the boy. And deal with the fallout tomorrow.

  “Hey, I believe you, okay? I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

  David returned to the main lobby and found Zegers and his squad of look-alikes standing in a tight circle. Keith was still waiting next to the receptionist, clearly not wanting to leave her alone with the FBI. They all turned to David with anticipation. David swallowed, cleared his throat. The last thing he needed right now was for his voice to crack like a pubescent teenager’s.

  “Sorry, Harry. There will be no chats with my client today.”

  Zegers threw up his arms. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  “I’m afraid not. But thanks for stopping by.”

  Zegers stepped close to David. So close, David thought he could smell maple syrup on the man’s breath.

  “You don’t want to go toe-to-toe with me, David.”

  “This isn’t about you and me.”

  “What’s he hiding? If he’s unwilling to talk with us, the boy clearly knows something about what happened that night. Why won’t he talk?”

  “This was actually my decision.”

  The agent shook his head. “You’re only delaying the inevitable here. I’ll get a subpoena. I’ll force the boy to talk to us.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  Zegers turned, snapped his fingers, and the whole group of them stormed out the front door to the parking lot. David exhaled for the first time.

  Keith walked over to him. “Well, that kind of thing doesn’t happen around here every day.”

  “Sorry for the intrusion, Keith.”

  “No, it’s okay. That guy was a jerk. How’s Parker?”

  “I’m not sure. He seems rattled.”

  “I’ll keep my eye on him all day.”

  “Thanks.” David watched as a black Tahoe filled with FBI agents tore out of the parking lot and then turned back to Keith. “Hey, promise me that no one from that crew talks with Parker without me knowing about it first.”

  “Don’t worry. We’re as protective as you are of our kids.”

  SEVEN

  David returned to the office and found his feisty new pro bono investigator comfortably reclining in his office chair, a file in her hands and her black high heels resting on top of his messy desk.

  “Please, make yourself at home,” David quipped, slipping out of his suit jacket and hanging it on a coatrack by the door.

  “Well, it’s not like you have another office available to me in this dust bowl. A girl has to sit somewhere and work.”

  David grinned. “Did you have your own office over at Rossali, Meekins, and Tobian?”

  “Of course. With a high-end glass desk, a plush leather office chair, three computer monitors, and a flat-screen TV on the wall. The works.”

  David whistled. “Nice.”

  “I’m sure you had something even better at Hunter and Kellerman. That firm spends way more than Rossali on over-the-top luxury.”

  “You investigating me now?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. A quick Google search. Why’d you leave?”

  He shrugged. “Long story. Let’s just say my former boss did way more than grab my ass. You got anything for me?”

  David had called Jess immediately upon leaving the Hand-Up Home to fill her in on his tricky situation with Parker and the FBI. He asked her to dig up whatever she could about crime scene details and the FBI’s investigation into the death of the federal witness. Jess pulled her heels off the desk, stood, and began slowly pacing the office while ticking off details from memory.

  “The dead guy is Max Legley, a fifty-two-year-old businessman. Legley was shot twice in the chest and once in the head, all at close range, about fifty feet away from a small parking lot at the south end of Pease District Park. An early-morning dog walker discovered the body and called 911. Legley was dressed in running shoes, black jogging pants, and a maroon windbreaker. Legley’s vehicle, a late-model Cadillac Escalade, was still parked in the lot. Police found his cell phone sitting in the cupholder. There were twelve missed calls—all from Legley’s wife. That’s about all I could gather about the crime scene itself.”

  “What do you know about the federal case?”

  “Legley and his business partner, Rick Kingston, both had been charged with federal tax fraud. They owned several restaurants around town. Feds got Legley to turn on Kingston. He was set to testify in court two days ago. But of course, that didn’t happen. The federal prosecutor got the trial temporarily delayed. Legley’s wife says her husband was paranoid that his former business partner might do something drastic to keep him from testifying. He was worried about their safety. Kingston’s lawyer denies his client had anything to do with the death.”

  David stepped in front of his second-story office window and stared out over Congress Avenue. The downtown lunch crowd was out, and the sidewalks were growing busy. Jess moved in right next to him, also watching the crowd. With the high heels, she was about the same height as David. Her straight black hair came down just past her shoulders. He took in a whiff of her fragrance, which caught him off guard. It was the same perfume worn by his ex-girlfriend Jen Cantwell, who had moved back home to Virginia last year. Although it had been nearly a year, he still hadn’t gotten over her yet.

  “You ever have any dealings with the FBI?” he asked Jess.

  “Sure. All the time back in DC. Why are they after this kid?”

  “They think he was at the crime scene around the same time the guy was shot. They showed me footage from a security camera at a gas station near Pease Park. A boy who looks like Parker runs out of the woods from a trail that connects right back to that very spot in the park.”

  “Is it Parker?”

  “He denies it, but I suspect he may be lying.”

  “Why would he lie about it?”

  “I don’t know. He doesn’t trust easily. Can’t blame him. The FBI agent I spoke with told me he considers Parker a suspect until prov
en otherwise.”

  “A twelve-year-old hit man?”

  “I’m sure it was a bully tactic to scare me into cooperating.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Almost,” he admitted. “The guy was super aggressive.”

  “The feds can be ruthless when it comes to these situations. I once watched them toss a mother in jail back in Maryland when they believed she was hiding her daughter. The daughter wasn’t even a suspect. Just a potential witness. A lot of it depends on the agent in charge.”

  “Well, this guy Zegers seems ready to hang Parker by a rope Old West–style before asking him any questions.”

  “Harry Zegers?”

  He turned with a raised eyebrow. “You know him?”

  She laughed, rolled her eyes. “Sort of. I went out on a blind date with him a few months ago. A friend of a friend set us up. She thought we might get along because we have similar investigative backgrounds. She couldn’t have been more wrong. What an egomaniac. He talked about himself the entire time. He hardly asked me any questions. The guy actually thought it would be cute to order my meal for me before I cut him off with the waiter. I can order my own damn food, thank you very much.”

  “Sounds like him. A real charmer.”

  “You better not let on that I’m working with you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  A mischievous grin crossed her lips. “I faked illness during the date and got the hell out of there. I couldn’t take one more second listening to that guy blab on about himself. He called me for a week, but I never answered. The guy just couldn’t take a hint, I guess. I finally had to block him.”

  David smiled. “Real classy. But can’t say I blame you.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not sure I’m ready to date yet, anyway.”

  “Bad breakup or something?”

  “Or something,” she said, but didn’t expound. “So, what are you going to do about the boy?”

  “Figure out how to best protect him if Zegers somehow comes back with a grand jury subpoena. I can’t let him go after Parker. That kid has been through hell already without having to deal with a buffoon like Zegers.”

  “Yeah, I read his file. Parker has definitely been through the wringer.”