Runaway Justice (David Adams)

by Chad Zunker

  Around midafternoon, all the boys were released into the courtyard for an hour of playtime. A big group of them headed over to the basketball court. Several of the younger kids hit the playground. Parker mostly hung by himself. He wasn’t ready to interact with the others just yet. He wanted to get the lay of the land first. See if he could begin to identify the alpha kids—those who might pose a threat to him. Plus, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Mr. Adams had said earlier regarding the FBI wanting to talk to him. That scared the crap out of him. Where did they get a video? Did they for sure know he was there when it happened?

  He wondered if Mr. Adams would truly be able to take care of it. Did he actually believe Parker? Could he keep the FBI away? Parker wanted to call him and ask him more about it—just to try to calm his own nerves—but he figured that would only draw more suspicion onto himself. Parker didn’t want to screw this up. He hated lying to Mr. Adams because he really liked him. The man reminded him a lot of his dad. They were around the same height and weight and had similar brown hair. Both of them also had an easygoing manner about them. Even the way Mr. Adams had put his hand on Parker’s shoulder earlier to comfort him was similar to what his dad used to do when Parker was all worked up about something.

  And, Mr. Adams was going to take him to the football game next Saturday. No way did he want to mess that up. Parker hoped if he just played it cool, everything would be okay.

  After watching some of the other guys play basketball for a little while, Parker made his way over to the corner of the courtyard next to the tall wrought-iron fence. He watched cars going up and down the street and then spotted a young guy out by the stoplight wearing saggy jeans and a white tank top, holding a cardboard sign asking for money. Parker thought he recognized the guy from the group of runaway teenagers he’d been hanging around with recently. Jester? Jericho? He couldn’t remember his name right now.

  Parker had to admit it was nice to have walked straight into Hand-Up’s big cafeteria earlier and received a tray filled with good food. Instead of begging, stealing, or walking miles across the city for a crappy free meal. The bed in his new room felt soft, and the covers were clean. Parker was on the top bunk. But the kid in the bottom bunk offered to switch if Parker was more comfortable below. The boy’s name was Grayson. He was a year younger than Parker and seemed okay. Parker said he was fine on top. He actually looked forward to going to sleep tonight for the first time in a really long time.

  Parker’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a husky voice coming from the shadows on the other side of the protective courtyard fence.

  “Hey there, Parker.”

  Parker squinted but didn’t spot anyone at first.

  “Over here.”

  Parker moved closer to the fence, then let out an audible gasp. His throat closed up, and his legs locked in place. He couldn’t believe it. Standing ten feet away from him, beneath the shade of a tree, was the same guy who had chased him through the woods with a gun the other night. He immediately recognized the goatee and the jean jacket. He would never forget the guy’s face. The man was puffing on a cigarette and letting the smoke slowly leak out a corner of his mouth. A sinister smile spread across the guy’s face as he stepped even closer to the fence. They were now only five feet apart—just the fence between them—and Parker felt his bladder wanting to give out.

  “Remember me, kid?”

  Parker knew he should immediately turn and run like hell. Go find Keith and tell him everything. But he couldn’t get his feet to move. He felt paralyzed. Was this real? Was the guy actually standing there and talking to him? How could this be happening? It didn’t make any sense. How could the guy have found him? The goateed man pulled his jacket slightly open, revealing a gun shoved into the front of his blue jeans.

  He blew cigarette smoke toward Parker. “You better keep your damn mouth shut, kid, if you know what’s good for you. I can get to you in here. I can get to you anywhere. You understand me?”

  A couple of younger boys kicked a soccer ball into the corner of the courtyard near him. This seemed to make the man uneasy. He quickly closed his jacket, took several steps away from the fence. Parker finally got his legs moving. He began slowly stumbling backward, but his eyes never left the guy. Then the man made a finger gun with his right hand, aimed it at him, and pulled the trigger. Parker turned and ran as fast as he could through the courtyard toward the building while trying hard to not piss his own pants.

  ELEVEN

  David rolled over in his bed, grabbed his phone off the nightstand, and squinted at it with blurry eyes. Keith? From Hand-Up Home? Calling him at three in the morning? What the hell? David suddenly thought of Parker, felt a chill move through him, and quickly answered.

  “Hey, man, everything okay?”

  “You better get over here, David,” Keith said.

  “What happened?”

  Keith sighed. “Parker ran away.”

  David sat straight up in bed. “You’re kidding?”

  “I’m afraid not. I’ve got the police here now.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  After throwing on a pair of blue jeans, a T-shirt, and his brown leather jacket, David jumped into his truck and sped through near-empty city streets straight to the youth facility. A steady rain was now coming down. David had been hearing the thunder throughout the night. Two police cars were parked in front of the building. He hopped out of his truck, sloshed through the rain, and found Keith standing inside the main lobby speaking with one of the officers. It looked like a couple of staff members were also there.

  Keith excused himself and made his way over to David.

  “What the hell happened?” David asked.

  “Better I show you rather than try to explain.”

  Keith led David into a small room close by that had eight security TV monitors hanging on a wall above a desk. Sitting in a swivel chair, Keith began typing on a keyboard and said the monitors were for eight different cameras located around the facility—monitoring the cafeteria, the courtyard, the hallways, and the activity rooms.

  “Watch the fourth camera,” Keith said. “This was about forty minutes ago.”

  David leaned in from behind the director and spotted Parker stepping into the hallway fully clothed. The boy looked in both directions. The hallway was completely empty. Parker crept down the hallway to his right and carefully walked past the other rooms. When he reached the end of the hallway, a second camera picked him up from the opposite direction. David studied the boy’s face. He looked scared but determined. Parker tried to open the door to what Keith explained was the cafeteria. Then he tried another door to the courtyard. Turning around, Parker made his way back down the hallway to the opposite end. David watched as Parker tried to open another door that was also locked. David remembered that all the doors in the facility were secured and needed electronic card keys. The boy stared intently through the window in the door. Then Parker knocked on the hallway door a couple of times and tucked back away out of sight. What was he doing? After slowly peeking around, Parker knocked again. Another glance through the window. Then the boy slipped inside the first bedroom and outside camera shot.

  “We don’t have cameras in the bedrooms, of course,” Keith mentioned. Then he pointed at another camera. “This is Tucker. He works on our night staff.”

  David watched as a pudgy guy wearing a black polo shirt and blue jeans made his way toward the door on the opposite side of the hallway from where Parker had been knocking. He used his card key, opened the door, and stepped into the same hallway. For a second, he paused, looked around. David swallowed, hoping he wasn’t about to see Parker do something really foolish. Tucker took a peek inside the same room where Parker had disappeared. David held his breath. But thankfully, nothing happened. Parker must’ve somehow hid out of sight. Then Tucker made his way to the next bedroom, looked inside, and ambled over to the third bedroom. That’s when Parker made his reappearance. He stepped back into the hallway, sl
ipped in behind Tucker undetected, and suddenly snagged something from the guy’s side.

  “That’s Tucker’s card key,” Keith clarified. “It was clipped to his belt.”

  Tucker turned around, said something, but Parker was already running away. The kid made his way back to the hallway door, opened it with the card key, and quickly pushed it shut behind him just before Tucker could get there. It looked like Parker might’ve said something to Tucker through the door window. Then David watched Parker run down other hallways, through several more security doors, flying past another unwitting female staff member, before he finally escaped out the front doors. Parker’s last few seconds on camera showed him tucking his head against the pounding of raindrops before he disappeared.

  And that was that. Parker was gone.

  Keith turned to him. “Tucker called me right away.”

  David cursed, shook his head. “I don’t get it, Keith. Did something happen to provoke him?”

  “I don’t think so. I was with him most of the day yesterday. He seemed fine, although he kind of closed up on me toward the end of the day. I figured he was just worn out by everything that had happened.”

  “Did Parker steal something? Why’re the cops here?”

  “Just standard protocol. We have to call them when something like this happens. I’m not aware that he stole anything. Tucker actually told me Parker said he was sorry to him through the door window after locking him inside the hallway.”

  David sighed. “This doesn’t make any sense. Parker swore to my face that he wouldn’t cause any trouble. I don’t understand why he’d do this.”

  “Kids are unpredictable, David. Especially kids like Parker.”

  “Maybe. But I can usually read people well.”

  Keith shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m sorry this happened.”

  “No, I’m the one who should be apologizing. You did me a favor. And all I’ve brought you since yesterday morning is a big headache. First, the FBI. Now this. I’m just glad no one got hurt.”

  David climbed back into his truck after speaking with the two officers and informing them he knew nothing about Parker’s current whereabouts. He asked if they would call him if the boy turned up somewhere. Everyone agreed they just wanted him safe and off the streets. He sat there for a moment, again trying to make sense of what had happened. Why would Parker run? The kid seemed genuinely happy about being there. David knew he wasn’t faking it. The kid wore his emotions on his sleeve. Had their conversation about the FBI spooked him so badly that he made a run for it? David considered it. Could Parker have actually had something to do with the man’s death in the park? A sinking feeling hit his gut. Had he completely misread the kid?

  David checked the time on his cell phone. Four in the morning. He wondered how long it would take before Harry Zegers came bursting through his door, giving him hell. With his eyes on his phone, David spotted a voice mail notification. He tapped the icon and found a twenty-two-second message from a random number left just over an hour ago—right before Keith had woken him up. He hadn’t noticed it before now since he’d been in such a rush to get over to the facility.

  He pressed “Play” and listened. It was Parker’s shaky voice.

  “Mr. Adams, this is Parker . . . I’m, uh, so sorry . . . I, uh . . . I had to leave the Hand-Up Home . . . I really wanted to stay there, like I promised you . . . but I couldn’t. Someone . . . I, uh, I can’t say, or he’ll hurt me bad, but I just had to get out of there . . . I’m sorry . . . I really wanted to go to the game with you next Saturday . . . sucks that I can’t now . . .”

  The message ended. David listened to it again. Then a third time. His heart was pounding. Parker didn’t run away tonight just because he was a rebellious kid. Something had happened. He’ll hurt me bad. What was Parker talking about? Who would hurt him bad? David called the same number from the voice mail message, listened to it ring four times. Then it went to an automated greeting. Whose phone had Parker used? David left a brief message, identifying himself as an attorney, and asked whoever owned the phone to call him back ASAP.

  Then he called Jess Raven.

  TWELVE

  David parked in front of a midtown brown-brick duplex off Forty-Fifth Street with a small front yard and a carport on the side that currently held a black Ford Explorer. Jess greeted David at the door with groggy eyes, wearing red flannel pajama shorts and a gray GO NAVY, BEAT ARMY T-shirt. She had her black hair pulled up into a messy bun and was sporting stylish, black-rimmed glasses. David thought she looked attractive even in her early-morning getup. Although she was seriously frowning at him right now.

  “Listen, buddy, I don’t know what you think ‘pro bono’ buys you these days, but I promise you a four a.m. wake-up call is not part of the package.”

  “I’m sorry,” he offered. “But this is urgent.”

  “Fine. Come in. But don’t expect me to be nice.”

  She led him inside the duplex. A tiny living room with a sofa, a chair, and a small TV sat to the right. All neat and well decorated. There was a cool piece of abstract art hanging on the front wall with lots of blues and grays that looked kind of like a huge tidal wave exploding in the ocean. David noticed the initials JMR painted in the bottom-left corner.

  Jessica Michelle Raven was her full legal name.

  “Did you really paint that?” he asked her.

  “Depends. You like it?”

  “I love it.”

  “Then, yeah, I painted it.”

  “Wow. Didn’t figure you as the artist type.”

  “My mom loves to paint. She’s a terrific artist. So I dabbled with it some growing up. I picked it up again a couple of years ago as an outlet while going through a rough stretch.”

  “You should paint something for the office,” he suggested.

  “That place could definitely use it. But coffee first.”

  They went into the kitchen. A golden retriever came out of a back hallway and greeted David with tongue wagging.

  “That’s Bailey,” Jess said. “She’s more of a morning person.”

  “I can tell,” David said, giving Bailey some vigorous petting.

  “You want coffee?” Jess offered.

  “Sure, if you’re making it for yourself.”

  “Well, I won’t be going back to bed after this. Once I get up, I’m up for good. Might as well get my day started.”

  David noticed a three-inch scar on her right thigh just above the knee.

  “Gunshot,” she said, following his eyes.

  “For real? You’ve been shot?”

  She nodded. “Suspect shot right through his front door my rookie year and caught me good. So I got to join an exclusive club early in my career.”

  “There’s a club for getting shot?”

  “Informal. I don’t have, like, an official T-shirt or anything.” She placed a pod in the Keurig. “What’s so urgent?”

  “Parker ran away from the children’s home an hour ago.”

  She turned from the Keurig. “I thought you said that facility was on full lockdown.”

  “It is locked down. But he stole a staff member’s card key right off him, locked the guy in the hallway, and then made a go for it through several more secured areas and out the front door. I watched the whole thing unfold on security cameras with Keith, the director, a few minutes ago.”

  “Well, that sucks. Why do you think he ran?”

  “I don’t know. But he left me this voice mail right after breaking out of there this morning. That’s why I’m here.”

  David pulled out his phone and played her the message.

  “That’s interesting,” Jess said. “How did he call you?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I called the number back but didn’t get an answer.”

  “I’ll track down the number first thing.” She brought him a cup of coffee along with creamer from the fridge. “What do you think he’s talking about? Who’s going to hurt him bad?”

&nb
sp; David took a sip. “No clue. But something clearly happened after I left him there today. I can tell by the sound in his voice.”

  “You sure? You don’t really know this kid that well.”

  “I’m sure, Jess. He may have been a bit worked up by our whole FBI conversation today. But listen to him now? He’s moved beyond being upset. The boy leaving this message is straight up frightened.”

  “Maybe another kid there did something to him.”

  “Keith says he was with Parker for most of the day. He never witnessed anything and got no reports of such a thing. They watch these kids closely.”

  Jess made herself a cup of coffee, and then they both sat around the small kitchen table. The golden rested her head in David’s lap, so he gave the dog more petting.

  “Why do you think the kid called you?” Jess asked. “Seems like an odd thing to do right after breaking out of that place.”

  “I agree. Again, I have no idea. I don’t know whether his running is tied to the death of this federal witness, but I don’t like the idea of Parker being out there on the streets while the FBI still wants to talk with him.”

  “Harry Zegers is going to give you absolute hell.”

  “Yeah, I’m surprised he’s not banging on your front door right now.”

  “He better not be. I don’t want that egomaniac at my house.”

  They shared a quick grin. She went back to the kitchen and began poking around in the fridge. On a buffet cabinet against the wall of the kitchen, David noticed several framed photographs of Jess with the same guy. One with them dressed in ski gear on a mountain. At the beach holding hands. Both kneeling next to a younger version of Bailey. In another photo, the guy was dressed in a full-on police uniform. A patch on his arm showed he worked for the DC Metropolitan Police Department. David wondered who he was since Jess had mentioned she didn’t want to date anyone right now.