Learning To Trust
Summary: A twelve-year-old girl and her five-year-old brother get involved in Peter and Neal's newest case.
Warning: Contains discussion of past child abuse.
Warning: This story does not contain spanking of minor children, but it is the first in a series of stories that do.
Note: Set a little after the season two premier.
Note: I plan on turning this into a series, if people like it. I really don't have a life, so I should be able to make frequent updates. Maybe every day or at least every other day. I would love to hear from you to know if anyone wants me to continue this series.
Some of the stories in the series will be funny and rated G. Others will be darker, dealing with tough issues and will be rated T or M. I will have warnings for all of my stories.
Note: In my series, Clinton Jones has custody of his twelve-year-old nephew. His sister and her husband were killed by a drunk driver two years ago.
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Twelve-year-old Erica sat on a park bench, watching her little brother play tag with three other little boys. It was a warm morning, and the young girl knew that within a couple hours the temperature would reach in the upper nineties. She planned on being back at the hotel by then.
The two kids had been living on their own for the past two months, since their Mom was killed by her drunken boyfriend. Being in charge of her five-year-old brother wasn't new to Erica, she had been the one who had been taking care of him since his birth. Her Mom brought him home from the hospital, handed him to the then seven-year-old Erica and told her he was hers.
It had been Erica who had changed his diapers, fed him, sat up with him when he was sick, taught him to read and write, and everything else. Their Mom had barely spoken to the young boy.
Erica loved her brother and didn't resent having to care for him, but at times she just wanted to be a normal kid.
A woman in her mid thirties sat down on the bench beside Erica, and sat her purse between them.
"Good morning." The woman greeted.
"Morning." Erica replied, noticing that the purse was slightly opened and that the woman's wallet was laying right on top.
"Lexis." The woman called out to a little girl climbing up the slide. "Be careful."
While the woman's focus was on the little girl, Erica carefully reached over and pulled the wallet from the purse. Then she tucked the wallet into her own blue jean shoulder bag that was sitting at her feet.
Pick pocketing was one of the many talents one of her Mom's boyfriends had taught her. Allen Marsh was a career con artist and thief, and had taught Erica the trade during the three years that her Mom dated him.
Allen had been the only one of her Mom's boyfriends that the young girl liked, most were either abusive or just plain idiots. Allen was nice to the young girl and Erica had dreamed that one day him and her Mom would marry, but they never did. But from the age of eight to eleven, Erica was schooled in the art of the con.
She was very good at small cons and pocket picking, which had came in very handy in her short life. Her Mom was always gone for weeks at a time, leaving her and her brother alone with no money. But Erica made sure they never went without, she was determined to provide for them.
"Joey." She called out, catching her brother's attention. "Time to go, sport."
"Just five more minutes." The little boy pleaded, giving her his best puppy eyes. "Please."
"Five." Erica said, holding up five fingers.
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Neal walked into Peter's office and sat down. "New case?" He asked the older man.
"Yeah. What do you know about Allen Marsh?"
"Never heard of him."
"He's a small time con man and thief, just got of prison a month ago after serving four months for art theft."
"You think he's up to his old tricks again?"
"The FBI received a tip stating that Marsh has plans to rob an art gallery on Matthews Street in a week."
"Reliable tip?"
"Not really, ex-girlfriend."
"You think she was lying to get back at him for something?"
"Probably, but we're going to check it out anyway." He stood up and headed for the door. "The gallery has a lot of expensive art on display."
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Peter and Neal walked into the art gallery and Neal's attention was instantly drawn to a painting of a rocky beach and ocean scene.
"Peter." He said. "This is an original Grant painting, they are very rare. And very expensive, about two hundred grand."
"You are correct." The two men looked up and saw an attractive woman in her early thirties walking towards them. "We have two of Grant's paintings up for sale, would you like to see the other one?"
"Yes."
"No."
Neal and Peter both answered at the same time.
"I'm Agent Peter Burke. FBI." Peter showed her his badge. "This is my consultant Neal Caffrey, we would like to speak to the owner."
"You are." The woman replied. "I am Angela Brier, how can help you?"
"We have reason to believe that someone will try to rob your gallery within a week."
"Please, come into my office." The woman lead them into a spacious office.
"How sure are you?" She asked, once they were in the office.
"We received a questionable tip, but we are taking the threat seriously." Peter replied.
"Have you noticed anything odd the past few days?" Neal asked. "Anything out of the ordinary?"
"No."
"I'm assuming you have surveillance camera's in place." Peter said.
"Of course."
"We will need to review them."
"I will give you anything you need."
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Erica and Joey walked into their hotel room and the young boy instantly turned on the tv.
"One hour." Erica said. She tried to limit his tv time.
The hotel they were staying at was run down and in desperate need of repair. But their room was clean and no one bothered them. The manager didn't seem to mind two kids being alone, as long as Erica paid her bill every week.
The room consisted of two single beds, a small tv on a table, a microwave, and a small refrigerator. Joey laid on his stomach on his bed, watching cartoons. Erica sat cross legged on her bed, her shoulder bag in front of her.
The young girl pulled the wallet that she stole out and flipped through it. There was a debit card, a couple credit cards, a few pictures, driver's license, and seventy three dollars.
Erica got off the bed and walked into the bathroom, then she climbed on top of the sink. The young girl carefully removed a loose heating vent and then pulled out a thick envelope. She put the money in the envelope, then tossed the wallet and other stuff into the trash can. Erica replaced the envelope and the vent cover, then she jumped down and went back into the main room.
Allen had taught her to either use the credit cards right after the theft, or to throw them away. He told her never to hang onto anything that could link herself to a crime. She didn't have to worry about the maid finding the stolen wallet in the trash; the hotel didn't have a maid. If you wanted the trash taken out, you had to be the one to take it out. That suited Erica just fine; it made it so much easier to hid stuff in the large dumpster behind the hotel.
The young girl rolled her eyes when she heard the familiar theme song of Sponge Bob Square Pants. She hated that show, but her little brother loved it.
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Peter and Neal sat in a conference room at the FBI headquarters, watching video footage from the art gallery's security camera. They had been at it for over two hours and had yet to find anything out of the ordinary.
"How many more hours of this do we have to watch?" Neal asked.
"Forty six." Peter replied, causing the younger man to groan loudly.
They watched for several more minutes, then they saw Allen Marsh enter the gallery. They watched as he walked around the showroom, looking at the paintings.
"He keeps scanning the room for possible exits and for security." Neal said. "It's subtle, but it's what he's doing."
"How would you rob the place?" Peter asked.
"I'm reformed Peter, I wouldn't rob the gallery."
"How about if you weren't reformed."
"I've been thinking about that. When we were there, I noticed that they had a pretty good security system. They have motion censors around the more expensive paintings, and a fairly complicated alarm system on the front and back door. The windows are also alarmed."
"Air vent system?"
"Too small for a person to fit, unless you were a midget."
"Marsh is just under six feet tall."
"And has broad shoulders." Neal said. "He couldn't fit."
"Then how is he planning on doing it?"
"No idea."
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Back at the hotel, Erica and Joey were sitting on Erica's bed. The little boy was sitting in his sister's lap, as she read him a book about knights and dragons. They heard a knock on the door and looked at each other.
"Stay here." Erica said, as she slid him from her lap and stood up. She walked to the door and called out. "Yes?"
"It's Allen." A familiar voice answered.
The young girl quickly opened the door and smiled at the man standing there, a man she hadn't seen in a little over a year.
"Hey, Erica." He smiled, hugging the girl.
"Hey." She said, returned the hug. "It's good to see you."
Allen Marsh shut the door and said, "I was sorry to hear about your Mom. I would have come sooner, but I was in prison." He saw the little boy still sitting on the bed. "Hey Joey, remember me?"
The young boy shook his head.
"Well, you were only four the last time I saw you. In fact, you had just turned four."
"Joey, this Allen. He's a friend of mine."
"Hi." Joey said shyly.
Allen looked around the small room and then looked at Erica. "Why the crappy hotel? You're a good enough con artist to be living in the Ritz."
"Places like the Ritz ask too many questions when two kids try to check in alone." Erica replied. "Right now, we have to keep a low profile."
Marsh nodded and said. "Makes since." Then he smiled and asked. "How would you like to make a ton of money, and have a real home."
"Joey." The young girl said, taking a hold of her brother's hand and helping him off of the bed. "Allen and I need to talk; I want you to wait in the bathroom."
"Why?" He asked, as she led him into the bathroom and sat him on top of the closed toilet seat.
"Cause I said so." She said, turning on the shower and the sink. "Do not turn these off, our conversation in private."
"How long do I have to stay here?' Joey whined.
"Just a little while, Sport. I promise."
Erica shut the bathroom door and looked at Marsh. "I'm listening."
"What's with that?" The man asked, nodding towards the closed bathroom door.
"I figure your plan involves some kind of con."
"It does."
"I don't want Joey involved. He's a good kid; I want him to succeed in life without becoming a con artist."
"You enjoy a con." Allen said, giving her a strange look. "Maybe he will too."
"No." Erica said, firmly. "Joey does not get involved."
"Ok." Allen smiled. "How about you?"
"I'm always up to a good con." She returned the smile.
"There is an art gallery on Matthews Street, we can get a few hundred thousand. Plenty of money for us to start over."
"Us?"
"Us, I want you and Joey to live with me. If your Mom and me had married, then I'd be your step father. What do you say?"
"Joey stays out of every con, every deal."
"Of course."
"Sounds good." Erica knew the man had an arterial motive, knew she was being used. But she figured that she could use him as well. With an adult, at least they would be able to check into better hotels.
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Peter and Neal sat at the dinning room table in the Burke's home, trying to figure out how someone could break into the gallery.
"There is only one way." Neal said. "This vent here." He pointed to a vent on the blueprint they were looking at.
"A grown man could not fit in there." Peter said. "And most grown women couldn't either."
"How about a kid?"
"A kid?"
"Yeah, some cons use kids to do the dirty work."
Peter nodded grimly and pulled out his phone, he had seen many cons where children were involved. "Jones." said into the phone. "I need you to do a deep background check on Marsh, I need to know of children he may have had contact with. Yeah, he may be planning on using a kid in the gallery heist."
Peter hung up about the same time the front door opened and Elizabeth walked in, carrying bags of Chinese take out food. Both men stood up and helped her with the bags.
"Smells great Honey." Peter said, kissing her tenderly on the lips. "I'm starved."
"Me too." Neal said.
"Then dig in boys." Elizabeth said.
The three friends set the food out and made their plates, then they sat at the table.
"New case?" Elizabeth asked.
"Yeah, we think a man named Allen Marsh is planning on robbing an art gallery." Peter said. "We just have to figure out how."
Peter's phone rung and he answered it, then thanked the caller and hung up. His expression told the others that the news was bad.
"What's wrong, Peter?" Elizabeth asked.
"That was Jones." Peter replied. "Marsh dated a woman named Norma Milton for about three years; Milton had two children at the time. The oldest, a girl named Erica, was arrested when she was ten for running a three card Monty scam. The police believed it was Marsh that taught her how to do it, but there was no proof. They stopped dating about a year ago. Erica is now twelve."
"You think he's going to use a kid?" Elizabeth asked, sadly. "That's horrible."
"A lot of con artists do." Neal said. "Sometimes kids can do things that adults can't."
"You have pulled countless cons." Elizabeth said, looking at Neal. "But I know you have never used a kid like that."
"How do you know?" Neal wanted to know.
"Because I know you, I know you have a good heart."
"Thanks Elizabeth." Neal said. It meant a lot to him to know that was how Elizabeth felt. "And you're right about me not using kids." Then he grinned and added. "Well, I have been known to pay one twenty dollars to deliver a message to the FBI surveillance team. But I would never get a kid to do something illegal or put them in any type of danger."
"You paid that brat twenty bucks?" Peter asked glaring at the younger man. "He stuck his tongue out at me and called me a goon with a stick up my ass."
"He was a very observant lad." Neal said, earning him another glare.
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How do you like it so far?