by Chad Zunker
It was him. He’d found Parker. But why was the boy running away from the truck stop toward the warehouses next door? David was about to yell out Parker’s name when he spotted two men chasing the boy. David cursed. He took off running in the same direction.
It couldn’t end this way. He wouldn’t let it.
FIFTY
Parker sprinted up to the dark warehouse buildings, looking for somewhere—anywhere!—to hide. He couldn’t believe he was only one mile away from his freedom in Mexico, and they had found him. He should’ve never let himself fall asleep. That was so stupid. But how did they find him? How could they have possibly known he was there? He was so confused. All the big garage doors were closed on the first warehouse. He ran up to two regular-size metal doors, but they were both locked. Pivoting, Parker could see the two men quickly crossing the parking lot and making their way toward him.
Turning around, Parker raced up to the next warehouse building. Just then, one of the big garage doors opened and began to slide all the way up. Two trucks were parked out front, and Parker figured workers must be getting the facility up and running for the day. He tucked his head down and ran as hard as he could toward the open garage door. Not even pausing, Parker darted inside. The warehouse was well lit, which he was not too excited about. He spotted a guy with a cap across the way, staring at a clipboard. But the guy didn’t notice him. There were probably a dozen two-story metal shelves in the building, all filled with boxes and crates. Parker rushed down the center of one aisle, wondering how he could get himself lost in here. Maybe if he could hide out long enough while more workers showed up, the guys with the guns would get spooked and go away.
Unlike earlier in the parking garage, where Parker had found the courage to slip away in a front hiding spot, his fear drove his feet all the way to the back wall of the warehouse. Maybe he could find a back door somewhere and slip out. But the row dead-ended into another tall row of shelves filled with crates. Parker peered left, right, then chose right and ran again. Sweat was pouring down his face. He tried to wipe it away with a wet hand. He saw movement off to his right from another row, and it made him pause. Was that one of his pursuers? Or just a worker?
Looking to his left, Parker spotted a crawl space between two huge crates. It was dark back there behind the crates. While it felt more natural to keep running, Parker knew he couldn’t do it forever. He had to hide. Getting down on his knees, he slipped in between the crates. One of the crate edges caught his side. Because he had no shirt on, Parker felt it cut into his skin. He grimaced but kept moving all the way behind one of the crates, where he pulled his legs up to his chest. He tried to hold his breath, but he was shaking so much, it was difficult.
After waiting for about ten seconds, he poked his head slightly around the crate to see if anyone was nearby. Someone was—the man with the goatee. And the man’s eyes were looking straight into the crack between the two crates at Parker. Then a sinister smile touched the guy’s lips.
All Parker could think about in that moment was his mom and dad. He missed them so much every day.
At least he would get to see them again soon.
FIFTY-ONE
David hustled into the warehouse not ten seconds after the two guys who were chasing Parker. He saw no sign of them, so he hit a row in the middle at full speed. He had to again fight the urge to yell Parker’s name. If the kid was well hidden, David didn’t need to be drawing him out. But where were Richie Maylor and the other guy? David made it to the end of the row and dead-ended into the back wall. He looked left, then right, and that’s when he noticed Maylor standing ten feet over from him with his gun raised at something among the crates against the wall.
David felt his heart in his throat. If the target was Parker, it was about to be over. He ran toward Maylor and then hurled himself in the air. The man caught a glimpse of him, began to turn, but it was too late. David tackled Maylor with a strong shoulder right into the man’s side, like a linebacker smashing a quarterback. Maylor let out a gasp. The gun in his hand suddenly went off, the sound of a bullet exploding into a nearby box. David drove Maylor all the way into the concrete. The man’s head hit hard on the floor, and the gun bounced from his hand and skidded away from them.
Getting up, David felt a searing pain shoot up his left arm. He thought he might have broken his wrist. His fingers felt like they were on fire. Maylor seemed dazed and dizzy. He tried to push himself up but then slumped back down to the concrete. David looked around but didn’t see where the gun had settled. Again, Maylor tried to get up, but David didn’t let him. He stepped over and kicked the man straight in the gut as hard as he could. Maylor let out a gasp and collapsed again. David searched the floor but couldn’t find the weapon. He needed the gun. He knew Maylor had someone with him. Where was the other guy?
“Mr. Adams?”
David turned, spotted Parker appear from between two crates. The boy wasn’t wearing a shirt and looked so frail and scared standing there. He rushed over to the boy, grabbed him by the arm. “We have to get you out of here right now.”
David spotted the other guy out of the corner of his eye. He was about thirty feet down the aisle from them, gun already raised in his hand. With his good arm, David immediately pulled Parker behind him just as the guy pulled the trigger. The bullet caught David in the right bicep and sent a second wave of shooting pain through him. The impact made his whole body spin around. But without slowing down, David grabbed Parker, shoved him into another row, and then followed him. Another gunshot rang out. A bullet ricocheted off the metal of the shelves.
David pushed Parker forward, yelling, “Go! Go! Go!”
They both ran as fast as they could up the row, back toward the front entrance to the warehouse. David made sure to run directly behind Parker. If more bullets started flying, he would be sure they hit him first. Not the boy. The opening for the huge garage door was about ten paces ahead of them. They were almost to the outside again. Five more steps. Three. Two. One. David and Parker burst into the parking lot and were immediately blinded by a wave of bright headlights.
Reaching out to Parker, David yanked him to a sudden stop. He was unsure what was happening. Had more of Dyson’s guys arrived to go after them? Were they about to be met with more gunfire? David pulled Parker completely behind him. He would die if he could save the kid. David squinted into the glare and braced himself. But he could now hear sirens and see more cars arriving and screeching to a stop all around the front of the building. A group of five or six men was running up to them with their guns drawn.
“Get down! Get down!” one of them was yelling.
David grabbed Parker, pulled him to the ground, wrapped both arms around him, just as the men started firing their weapons. David turned slightly, looked behind him, and watched Richie Maylor and the other guy take direct hits to the chest and shoulders. Both men instantly dropped to the pavement a few feet behind them. David turned his attention to Parker beneath him. Was the boy okay? Was he hurt? Parker had his eyes closed and his arms wrapped around David’s waist so tightly, he could barely breathe. David could now hear a helicopter somewhere above him. Several men circled around David and Parker within seconds.
“FBI,” one announced. “Are either of you hurt?”
Another FBI agent answered for David, who was too stunned to even speak at the moment. “Get a medic! He’s bleeding badly.”
David started to get dizzy. In his blurred state, he spotted more police cars arriving on the scene, sirens wailing, lights flashing. It looked like the helicopter was landing in the parking lot just behind them. Two people jumped out of the chopper. David squinted. Zegers? Jess? Was it really them? Or was he beginning to hallucinate?
One of the FBI agents got right in David’s face. “Sir, you’re going to have to let go of the boy so we can properly care for him.”
David looked down, realized he still had a fully flexed arm locked tightly around Parker’s midsection. He didn’t want to let go. Ever.<
br />
FIFTY-TWO
David opened his eyes. He was staring up at a dark sky. For a moment, he wondered if it was all a dream. Had he actually saved Parker? Was the boy really safe? He tried to sit up, realized he was lying on top of a stretcher in the parking lot right in front of the same warehouse where FBI agents had swarmed him. His right arm was completely wrapped in thick white bandages. His left wrist had some kind of brace on it.
“Take it easy, Mr. Adams,” said a kind voice to his right.
He turned, noticed an EMT with black spiky hair adjusting some kind of kit that had tubes attached to his wrist. “Where’s Parker?”
The EMT looked over at him. “The boy? He’s fine. My partner has him up in the ambulance running routine tests. But you don’t need to be making any sudden movements. You lost a lot of blood, sir.”
“I got shot,” David stated, more as if reminding himself of what had just transpired.
The EMT smiled. “Yes, I know that. I’ve had a good look at it. Fortunately, it was only a flesh wound. No serious damage. On the other hand, I think your wrist is fractured in multiple places. We’ll need to get a better look at it when we get you over to the hospital in a moment.”
David spotted Parker off to his right, sitting in the back of an ambulance with another female EMT. The boy looked okay. Someone had put a jacket on him. Right next to the boy sat Jess Raven. David hadn’t been hallucinating. She was actually there. Jess was holding the boy’s hand while the medic searched his eyes with some kind of light. Over to his left, David noticed Harry Zegers speaking with two FBI agents wearing dark windbreakers. There were more agents and police officers all over the place. It felt like a war zone. Zegers turned toward David, noticed he was alert, and then came right over to him.
“Glad to see you up and at ’em again,” Zegers said.
“What . . . happened?”
“Jess finally got word to me. We immediately jumped into the chopper to race down here. I’m sorry it took me so long, but it looks like we got here just in the nick of time.”
“Is Richie Maylor . . . ?”
“Dead, yes, along with his friend, Manuel Garcia.”
“What about Farley?”
Zegers sighed, nodded. “We arrested him. I’m really sorry, David. I guess the man had a gambling addiction I knew nothing about. Left himself vulnerable with a huge debt he couldn’t repay. And it almost cost us everything.”
“I’m sorry, too. I know you trusted him. What about your son? Is he okay?”
“Yes, he’s safe. Dyson is one sick bastard.”
“Did you get him?”
Zegers nodded again. “Yeah, we got him. And Christina Legley. That woman cracked almost immediately upon opening the door and finding FBI agents outside. She pinned it all on Dyson. Said he came up with the plan and talked her into going through with it. We’ll see what the truth is as we make our way through official interviews.”
“So, is it . . . over, Harry?”
“Yes, thanks mainly to you and Jess.”
“What about Parker?”
“He’s free to go, David.”
“You mean that?”
Zegers pressed his lips together. “Hell yeah, I mean it. I owe that boy more than his freedom, but it’s the best I can do right now. I just hope Parker can somehow come out of this okay. He’s been to hell and back.”
“I plan to make sure of that.”
Zegers let out a heavy sigh. “Been a helluva day, huh?”
David actually chuckled. “You can say that again.”
“How about you and me grab a beer when the dust settles?”
“Yeah, sounds good. But you’re paying.”
Zegers smiled. “Deal.”
Zegers’s phone rang, so he picked up the call and wandered off.
Jess slipped in beside David. “Hey, you,” she said, placing a warm hand on his bandaged shoulder. “How’re you feeling?”
“Better by the moment because of whatever my EMT friend here is starting to pump through this tube.”
They shared a grin. Her hand stayed on his shoulder. Jess looked so damn beautiful standing there and staring down at him. Maybe it was the morphine, but he really wanted to pull her in close and kiss her. But he still wasn’t sure how she really felt about him. Their entire brief relationship had been a roller-coaster ride of life-and-death emotions and fever-pitched adrenaline. It was difficult for him to tell what was real and wasn’t real at the moment. Plus, Jess still seemed to be healing from her husband’s tragic death. Although he felt very close to her right now, David wanted to take it slow and be patient.
“Thanks for coming,” he said.
“We barely made it.”
“But you made it—and that’s all that matters.”
She sighed, shook her head. “You got yourself shot, David.”
“I know,” he said with a wide smile. “How about that? Do I get to join your exclusive club now?”
Jess laughed, then scrunched up her mouth. “I don’t know. Yours was barely a flesh wound. I’ll have to think about it.”
“Fair enough.” David glanced over toward Parker. “He doing okay?”
She nodded. “Probably the toughest kid I’ve ever been around.”
“Zegers said he’s free to go now.”
She gave a slight smile. “You really did it, David.”
“No, we did it,” he clarified. “Seriously, Jess, I couldn’t have managed any of this without you. I owe you so much.”
She shrugged. “Just fulfilling my judicial responsibility.”
“Right. I guess your forty hours are nearly up, huh?”
“Nearly.”
“Does that mean you’ll be headed back to one of the big firms?”
“I don’t know. I’m actually starting to like this gig and my new friends. And I need to help get Bobby Lee back on his feet so he can return to his guard post. So maybe I’ll hang around your dust bowl a little longer. See what happens next. If that’s okay with you.”
She offered him a guarded smile. But the look in her eyes let David know she was hanging around for much more than her new homeless friends.
“I’d like to see what happens next, too, Jess.”
Parker was finally brought over to see David. The boy had a few scratches on his forehead and a big bruise on his chin but otherwise looked to be in good shape.
“How’re you doing, kiddo?” David asked.
“Better than you, Mr. Adams.”
David smiled. “What? This?” He nonchalantly held up his bandaged arm. “This is no big deal. I’ll be fine in a few days.”
The boy grinned. Then his face drooped. “I’m real sorry I ran again.”
“Don’t be. I would’ve run, too, Parker.”
The kid noticeably swallowed, stared at the ground. “Do I have to go with the FBI now, Mr. Adams? Will they be putting me into that Witness Protection Program we talked about?”
“Good news, kid. You’re done with the FBI.”
Parker lifted his head, eyes narrow. “You mean it?”
“I do. This thing is over for you.”
Parker’s face lit up with relief but then quickly dimmed again.
“What is it?” David asked him.
“I’m glad it’s over, Mr. Adams. But . . . where do I go now?”
There was a desperation in the boy’s question that immediately made David’s eyes well up with tears. But David already knew the answer to that question. He’d been thinking about it from the moment he’d first met Parker. There was something deep in the aching heart of the boy that reached out to him in a way he couldn’t explain. He now understood there was a bigger reason why he was the one who’d walked into the juvenile detention center the other night. He knew it the moment he watched Parker run away from him after escaping the ambush downtown. David knew it when he jumped into his truck back in Austin to race down to the border to try to save this precious boy. He knew it when he’d pulled Parker in behind him to shield h
im from that bullet. Hell, maybe he knew it in his heart from the very first time he set eyes on him. They were meant to be together.
“How about you come stay with me?” David said.
Parker tilted his head. “For real?”
“Yes. I would love to have you with me.”
“Okay, that would be so cool . . . but for how long, do you think?”
David pulled the boy in close to him. Tears hit his cheeks.
“Forever, Parker. I’m thinking forever.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
For the past fourteen years, I’ve had the life-changing opportunity to build genuine relationships with so many homeless individuals, including runaway street kids like Parker Barnes, through my work with a nonprofit called Mobile Loaves & Fishes and the Community First! Village—a fifty-one-acre master-planned community in Austin that provides affordable, permanent housing and a supportive community for those coming out of chronic homelessness. I write about these experiences and how they helped inspire the David Adams series on my website at www.chadzunker.com.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2019 Amy Melsa
Chad Zunker is the author of the David Adams legal thriller An Equal Justice, which was nominated for the 2020 Harper Lee Prize for Legal Fiction. He also penned its sequel, An Unequal Defense, and The Tracker, Shadow Shepherd, and Hunt the Lion in the Sam Callahan series. He studied journalism at the University of Texas, where he was also on the football team. Chad has worked for some of the country’s most powerful law firms and has also invented baby products that are sold all over the world. He lives in Austin with his wife, Katie, and their three daughters and is hard at work on his next novel. For more information, visit www.chadzunker.com.
