CHAPTER 4
"Have a seat, bud." Houston sat down in the chair opposite the boy in the break room of the Sheriff's Department. "Are you hungry?"
"Nuh uh." Continuing to look down at his feet, the boy gave Matt the impression that he wasn't used to talking a lot – or getting much to eat.
"You're not a very good liar." The statement had the desired effect: the kid's head jerked up. "They've got some pretty good burritos in that machine over there – or we could get pizza...or burgers."
"A burrito would be good." The voice was very quiet.
"Alright." Pulling money out of his pocket, the detective walked over to the machine. "Beef and bean?" The answer was a nod and he went to another machine for a bag of nacho chips. "What about a Fizzy Pop?" Once again there was a nod. Setting the food down in front of the kid, Matt went over to the coffee pot and poured a cup, returning to the table as the boy knocked out the last bite of the burrito. "You know, if I knew your name it would make this conversation a lot more interesting."
"Marshall."
"Nice to meet ya. I'm Houston." He watched as the bag of chips was ripped open and the boy began crunching. "Got a last name?"
"Hickerson."
"So, Marshall Hickerson – what brought you to the train yard?" The crunching stopped momentarily as the boy sized him up. "Did you do anything wrong?" A negative head shake followed. "Then you've got nothing to worry about."
"I was hiding."
"From?"
"My mom's boyfriend."
"Don't see eye to eye with him?" Another negative head shake.
"He hit you?" Matt had spied a couple of bruises on the boy's face once they had entered the station. After a pause Marshall nodded again.
"What's his name?"
"I don't want to cause a problem."
"You didn't." He gave the boy a minute to think it over. "I don't really think you want to go to CPS tonight, do you?"
"Nuh uh." Hickerson stared at him again and then finally cleared his throat and spoke. "Eric Duncan."
"What's the address?"
"516 Erastus – but please don't say anything to him."
"Why'd he hit you?"
"He..." Marshall stopped. "I told him to quit hitting my mom."
"What's your mom's name?"
"Sharon."
"Alright. We'll go talk to her in a little bit. But first I want you to tell me what you saw in the train yard."
"Nothin'."
Houston continued to look at the kid, his stare not intimidating in the way that he used on adults, but more of an "I dare you to tell me" expression that seemed to work on most kids. Minutes ticked by and the detective got up, walking over to the machines and dropping in quarters before punching in the numbers for a bag of cheese curls, then two honey buns. Sitting back down at the table he opened the chips and slid one of the honey buns across to the kid who opened it up and dove into it. When he had a mouthful he looked back up at the detective who was still halfway smiling and giving him the look. The pastry dissappeared as Houston began popping the snack into his mouth. "I saw a guy chasing Bennie. When he caught up to him, they got into a fight and the dude knocked him down. Stuck him in the back with a knife and when he rolled over, dude poured somethin' on him. Bennie screamed and ran off, but the guy ran after him and knocked him down again. That's when he set him on fire."
"Didja see what he used?"
"Nuh uh."
"So Benny ran a little further and then hit the ground again." The boy nodded. "Which way did the guy go when he left?"
"South."
"Ever seen him before?"
"No."
"What'd he look like?"
"White, about forty maybe?"
"Fat, skinny?" The detective began jotting down the information.
"He wasn't really fat – kind of, you know, muscled up. He was wearing a t-shirt."
"What about hair color?"
"He had a hat on – baseball. Blue."
"Jeans?"
"Yeah."
"Anything else?"
"Nuh uh."
Houston slid the other honey bun across the table to the kid who immediately picked it up and opened it. "When was the last time you ate anything?" A shrug was the answer. "Your mom work?"
"Yeah."
"What about the boyfriend?"
"No."
"Come on..." He stood up and poured the last of the cheese curls into his mouth, refilled his coffee cup and put the trash that the two had generated into the can. "I need to go get this discription put out." Without a word, the kid followed him into the cubicles where Matt's desk was located. Vince was sitting in his chair with his feet propped up.
"Is that my coffee?" The former cop arched an eyebrow at his friend.
"Nope. Break room. Have at it." Matt waited as the man vacated the seat and along with Roy went to get a cup.
"Have a seat." Matt motioned across the walkway to the desk of his childhood friend and fellow detective Chuck Wiley. In a minute he was putting out a BOLO on the suspect, and then pulled up the record for Benjamin Lee Starks. As expected he had been convicted for possession and drug sales. Next he looked up Eric Duncan. The man was twenty eight and had a record of drunk and disorderies and assaults. His longest jail term had been thirty two months for an assault charge and his probation had ended eight months earlier. He also ran a check on Marshall's mother but came up empty.
"Let's take you home." He stood and the boy hesitated. "I'll have a little chat with Eric..." The tone and crooked grin seemed to give the boy reassurance and he walked alongside the detective who snagged a deputy to go with him. They met up with Roy and Vince who joined them. "We're gonna give Marshall a ride home."
"I had a friend named Marshall when I was in the Navy..." The elder Houston began telling one of his stories and before they reached their destination all four were laughing.
They made it back to the small house that sat next door to the burnt out wreckage of what had once been a car and home. The empty lot across the street had been turned into a neighborhood dumping ground. As Matt cut the engine he looked back at the boy who looked scared once again. "You stay here for a minute, okay? Keep an eye on Vince here." His answer was a nod.
Sliding from the SUV Houston, followed by the other deputy, casually adjusted the ball cap on his head as he strolled up the sidewalk to the house, the front window of which had been cracked and repaired with duct tape. He rapped on the frame of the screen door and waited as the TV that was blaring inside was turned down and the door was opened by Eric Duncan. "Whaddaya want?"
"Eric Duncan?"
"Yeah, what of it?"
"My name's Houston – HCSO." He tapped the badge on his belt.
"Congratulations." Duncan attempted to close the door but was stopped by the detective's arm.
"Now that's just rude." Quickly, he ducked inside the house, his eyes immediately landing on a woman who looked scared to death. "Evenin', Miss Sharon." The shock on her face was evident as he gave Duncan a shove toward the couch. "You're Marshall's mom, right?"
"Yes."
"He's outside in my truck."
"Is he okay?" She jumped to her feet.
"He is...but before I let him come in I believe Eric and I need to talk."
"What the hell do you want?"
"I want to tell you that if you so much as think of laying a hand on this lady or her son again, you better think again. Because if you do..." His voice began a swift descent down to a very threatening tone. "You'll be dealing with me." Duncan started to come back with a remark and was silenced when Houston spoke again. "As a matter of fact, put your hands on top of your head."
"You can't..."
"I can do a lot of things that you probably never dreamed of..." The voice was a low rumble. "Now would be a good time." His hand rested on the butt of the pistol riding on his right hip. Grumbles started from Duncan until he heard the man clear his throat and did as he was told.
"Lousy..."
"You have the right to remain silent..." He told Duncan his rights. As the deputy walked him to the front door he gave Sharon Hickerson an angry look.
"Now..." Matt opened the door and watched as Ducan was leaned against the patrol car and frisked. "If I find out you let him come back, and if he lays a hand on that boy out there, he won't be the only one going to jail." Reaching back for his wallet he pulled out $400 and one of his cards. "Call that number if you have any problems. And don't let that man get that money from you. Has he got a key?"
"Yes."
"You rent this place?" She nodded. "What's the landlord's name?" Jotting it down on a piece of paper, Hickerson gave it to him with a shaking hand. "I'll make sure the locks get changed tomorrow."
"Thank you." She stood in the doorway as the detective went back out to the truck.
Marshall slid out of the truck as Houston reached into the backseat, found a sweatshirt, and handed it to the boy. "It's big but it'll keep you warm." The detective handed $100 and his card to the kid. "Go get yourself some clothes tomorrow. And if by some chance he comes back or causes any other problems you let me know, okay?"
"Uh huh..." The boy nodded, tucking the money into his pocket as he started toward the house. Turning back he held out his hand to Matt. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. Stay out of trouble – and out of the rail yard, ya hear?"
"I will."
Houston walked back around the truck and got behind the wheel, watching as mother and son hugged and then went inside the run-down house. Turning the vehicle around, he followed the patrol car back to the station.
"Think he'll stay away?" Vince had seen the likes of Duncan too many times in his years as a cop.
"He better." Matt reached for his phone as it rang. "Yes ma'am?" He listened and stopped at a light. "Okay...works for me." There was a pause as she spoke again. "I just took him back home. His mom's boyfriend is on the way to booking on domestic assault charges times two." He listened for a minute. "Okay, talk to you later." Disconnecting the call, he went to the station to retrieve his cuffs and sign the paperwork on Duncan and then went home for the night.