Part 2
Buck and Chris pulled up in front of the old building, eyeing the group of teenagers loitering in front of the place. The teens, in turn, watched warily as they stepped from the vehicle. The moment both of them were visible to the group, someone yelled, The group immediately scattered in several different directions.
What the hell? Buck muttered, pulling his weapon as he scanned the area.
Let's find out. Chris drew his own gun and the two approached the door, swinging it open. Inside, they heard yelling and cursing, intermingled with crying and screams of pain.
Sharing a look, the two men took off at a run, calling out a warning to whoever was inside. To their surprise, they found a grown man lying on the dirty floor, blubbering like a baby, while a teenager stood over him, waving a baseball bat threateningly and cursing. The man on the floor was whimpering in pain, clutching his arm tightly to his body. The teenager was red-faced with fury as he spouted a string of curses that would have made a sailor blush, gesturing with his baseball bat for emphasis.
Buck and Chris drew closer, unnoticed by both the of the parties, until they stood a mere ten feet away.
Drop the bat, son, Buck ordered, getting the attention of the angry boy, who had a look on his face that bordered on feral. The boy took a step toward him, lifting the bat as if preparing to attack. Come on, now. Just put the bat down.
The kid, upon seeing their guns, looked up in confusion. He stared at them in alarm, then complied with their demands, slowly placing that bat on the floor and raising his hands in submission.
Chris approached the young man, unsurprised at the defiance he saw radiating from the blue eyes. Step over here, kid.
The boy silently did as he was instructed, moving to stand in front of Chris. Eyeing him warily, Chris searched him, finding no other weapons except for a Swiss Army knife in his back pocket. The kid looked longingly at the knife for a moment before returning his gaze to Chris's face.
Turn around.
There was a flicker of fear in the boy's eyes before he reluctantly did as he was told. Chris took his wrists, snapping the cuffs on gently. The boy stiffened, a tremor running through him before he turned around, eyes firmly on Chris once again.
Gonna need an ambulance for this guy, Buck called to him from his position next to the whimpering man. Better call the PD, too. This guy has enough drugs on him to stock his own pharmacy.
Chris made the appropriate calls, keeping his eyes on the boy, who was trying not to look frightened.
What's your name, kid? Buck asked, sidling up next to the boy, who completely ignored him. He sighed. Okay, be that way. He turned to Chris. I'm gonna check this place out.
Chris scrutinized the boy standing before him. He didn't look quite like the usual street kids. His hair was down to his shoulders but it was clean, as were his clothes. That alone was different from the kids they usually encountered in places like this, and Chris was curious to find out who he was and what he was doing there.
Want to tell me what's going on? Chris asked him.
The boy just continued to stare at him.
Aw hell! Buck's angry voice came from the far side of the building.
What is it, Buck?
I found Digger, Buck said sadly. He's dead, Chris.
His heart still pumping wildly, Vin studied the blond cop, wondering what ATF agents were doing in this place. As far as he knew, MacDermott and his crew dealt drugs, not guns, so there was no reason for the ATF to be there. He admitted to himself that he was a little pissed that they had interrupted before he could finish with MacDermott. There were a few more things he wanted to say to that scumbag... and a few more shots with the bat he would have liked to dispense. He stifled a smile at the sound of the drug dealer whimpering behind him. After what he had tried to do to Ezra, Vin had no sympathy for him. In all the confusion, he had lost track of Ezra, and he hoped his friend had gotten away clean. It was bad enough that he was in custody without the other boy getting dragged into it as well.
Vin's wandering mind snapped back to reality with the dark-haired cop's announcement that Digger was dead. He felt a pang of sadness at that, and knew Ezra would, too. Digger Bowen had been a drunk, but he was an affable man who never hurt anyone. He had even helped him and Ezra when they first came to Denver, pointing out the people and places to avoid when looking for somewhere to crash for the night.
Vin looked back at the blond and found the man watching him with interest. He mentally kicked himself, realizing that he must have reacted when the other guy mentioned Digger. Masking his reactions was one skill he had not completely mastered, unlike Ezra, who had the best poker face he had ever seen.
You know something about what happened to Digger? the blond asked suspiciously.
Vin pondered the question, then shook his head.
Whatever the man was going to say next was interrupted by the entrance of the ambulance crew, followed by the police. Looking regretfully toward the door he had used to enter the building, Vin's eyes widened in surprise when he saw Ezra's green eyes staring out from between some old pipes. Giving a minute shake of his head, he turned back to watch the activity, hoping that Ezra would be able to get away.
Come on, kid, the blond growled, grasping his upper arm. I've got a few questions for you.
The building was crawling with police and Ezra feared his hiding place would soon be discovered. But the police were concentrating on MacDermott and the body of Digger Bowen, paying little heed to the area where he was hiding. He sighed softly. The old man had been nice to them and wouldn't have hurt a fly. He didn't deserve to die like an animal in a filthy old building like this.
Ezra's fists clenched when he thought about what that slug, MacDermott, had done.
MacDermott dragged him inside the building, one hand twisting Ezra's arm behind him, the other roaming over his body. It was all too clear what his intentions were, and Ezra felt his stomach clench in fear. The drug dealer ordered his group of flunkies out, so he could have some privacy. The teenagers left, snickering at what MacDermott had planned. He had just started grabbing at Ezra's clothes, when he was interrupted by the drunken entrance of Digger Bowen.
Get out of here, Digger! MacDermott commanded. This ain't your concern.
Leave im Digger said, swaying slightly as he approached. You're a no good bum, MacDermott.
And you're a fuckin' drunk! In his frustration, he yanked on Ezra's arm, roughly jerking it up behind him.
Ezra yelped as something in his shoulder popped and a flash of pain shot through him. Digger moved toward him, presumably to help.
I won't tell you again, Digger, MacDermott warned. Get your ass out of here.
You're gonna get yours, you dirt bag, Digger said, shaking his finger at MacDermott. I'm tellin' the cops about those guns you been stashin' at the old grocery store.
MacDermott went strangely silent and turned to Digger. What did you say?
Digger, in his drunken haze, continued to taunt the dangerous man. I called a cop buddy o mine. He'll put your ass in jail, just you wait.
You stupid son of a bitch! MacDermott snarled. Who did you talk to?
Digger didn't seem to hear him, babbling on about MacDermott going to jail.
Big mistake, Digger, MacDermott said menacingly. In one quick move, he had pulled a gun and fired it at the old man.
Digger looked up at him in surprise as a red spot blossomed on his chest. Without another word, he toppled over backward, raising a cloud of dust when he hit the dirty floor.
Several of MacDermott's gang rushed back into the building at the sound of the gunshot.
Lose this. MacDermott handed the gun to one of the boys, who nodded and took off at a run. And get that out of my sight. He gestured to Digger's body and immediately, two of the boys hurried to drag it out of view behind some junk. Once that was done, he dismissed his minions again and turned back to Ezra, grinning lasciviously. Now, where were we. He shoved Ezra over a crate and grabbed his buttocks, squeezing them suggestively.
Ezra panicked, and started pleading with MacDermott to release him. That was when Vin made his startling entrance.
Ezra sighed, his heart still pounding with fear. It wasn't the first time someone had wanted him like that. He and Vin were both aware that they were considered attractive by a lot of people and had been forced to fend off a lot of advances – some more forcefully than others. But this was the first time he had come so close to... He shook his head, not wanting to think about it any more. There were more important concerns, like how he was going to extract Vin from the clutches of the police.
During a break in the activity inside the old building, Ezra took the opportunity to slip out of his hiding place. Ignoring the pain in his arm, he made his way silently out the door, pausing in the alley until he was certain it was clear. A crowd had gathered nearby, drawn by the lights and sirens, and Ezra was able to carefully creep out of the alley and join them. Blending in was a skill he had acquired at an early age, and he managed to quickly ease his way to the front of the crowd. He was relieved to find that Vin was still there, seated in a black truck next to the dark-haired cop he had seen inside the building.
Ezra memorized the license plate, vowing to do whatever he needed to find his friend. He owed Vin a lot, and he wasn't going to leave him at the mercy of the police any longer than was necessary. The blond agent climbed into the driver's seat of the truck, and moments later, pulled out into traffic, disappearing from view.
Ezra watched until the taillights vanished before turning around and heading toward home.
Buck glanced at the silent teenager curiously. Most street kids in his position would be putting on the tough-guy act, cussing and strutting with a false bravado that the streets seemed to instill in them. This one kept quiet, complying silently with their demands. What was more noteworthy, though, was that Chris seemed to have taken an unusual interest in the kid. By all rights, he should have turned him over to the DPD and washed his hands of the matter, but, for some reason, he wanted to talk to the boy personally.
Something wrong, Buck? Chris looked over at his friend, aware of his scrutiny.
Buck answered casually. Just wonderin' why the kid's comin' with us.
Chris smiled. He figured Buck would be curious about his motives. Digger was a good guy, Chris said. He was harmless. I want to know why someone killed him and what it was that he wanted to tell us.
Buck's eyebrows lifted in surprise when the boy turned to look at Chris. Interesting. Chris must figure the kid knows something.
Chris met the teenager's gaze and smiled. Buck nodded, agreeing with his friend's assessment. Now they just had to get the kid to talk.
Ezra walked numbly down the dark street, his knees still shaking from what he had experienced. He clutched his left arm tightly with his right. His shoulder had been pulled out of place again and throbbed fiercely. It wasn't the first time it had happened, and he had long ago learned how to fix it by himself, since he didn't always have access to proper healthcare. It would have been preferable to have a professional fix it, but he was not up to dealing with the inevitable questions tonight.
After slipping inside his apartment, Ezra braced himself and then slammed his shoulder against the wall, crying out as the joint grated back into place. He slid to the floor, leaning his head back against the wall as he sucked in some calming breaths. It always hurt like hell when he did that, but it was better to take care of it right away, since the pain would increase the longer he put it off.
His bed was beckoning him, and Ezra would have liked nothing better than to crawl under the covers and sleep for a week, but there were still things he needed to do. Pulling himself to his feet, Ezra rummaged in their box of first aid supplies, withdrawing the sling he had kept after suffering his last dislocated shoulder. He didn't like wearing it, but it did ease the pain a bit. Slipping it on, he quickly left the apartment, heading in the direction Mr. Benevito's Italian restaurant.
Ezra started to do his usual clean up work at the restaurant, but when Mr. Benevito spotted the sling, he immediately insisted upon taking over the cleaning himself, refusing to allow Ezra to continue. After arguing unsuccessfully with the determined man, Ezra finally conceded defeat and made his way home, secretly grateful for the chance to rest his aching arm.
Back in his apartment, he sank into a chair, depositing the package of food the restauranteur had insisted he take home with him. He smiled faintly at the outrage the portly Italian had expressed on his and Vin's behalf, cursing in both English and his native language. Mr. Benevito was an example of the many good people in the neighborhood, and it was a shame that scum like MacDermott had to make things harder for them.
Thoughts of MacDermott brought the memory of the day's events crashing down on him and Ezra started to shake. He had tried to push it away, focusing on Vin and the work at the restaurant, but he could not keep it in check any longer. The despicable thug had nearly succeeded in his assault. If not for Vin's timely arrival, Ezra had no doubt that MacDermott would have raped him. His stomach clenched and Ezra barely made it out the door before he vomited violently, leaving the meager contents of his stomach on the pavement beside the door.
Still trembling, Ezra stumbled back inside, trying vainly to stifle the sobs that were building in his chest. Finally, he could hold out no longer. Crawling onto the mattress, he curled into a tight ball as the wracking sobs shook his body. He had never felt so scared and helpless in his life. He could still feel the man's hands groping along his body, squeezing and touching him while he struggled to escape. It left him feeling violated, even though MacDermott had not completed his intended act.
Vin had rescued him from that horrible fate, but he had been caught by the police in the process. Ezra beat his fist on the mattress. It was all his fault. If he had been more careful about avoiding MacDermott, Vin would never have needed to rescue his worthless hide. How could he have been so careless? A new rush of tears started at the thought of his best friend languishing in police custody because of his lack of vigilance.
The sobs finally abated, leaving Ezra bleary-eyed and spent. He lay limply in a miserable huddle on his bed, trying to formulate a plan to retrieve Vin from police custody, but his mind was too clouded with pain and exhaustion. Giving up, he finally fell into a fitful slumber.
The room was sterile and quiet. Vin looked around nervously, avoiding the mirror that he knew was two-way glass. He had been in an interrogation room a couple of times before, but they still made him nervous. It was disquieting to know that someone could be watching you at any time through that blasted mirror.
Vin fidgeted in his seat, then straightened, remembering what Ezra had taught him about not showing fear. It was a lesson that had served him well. He quickly learned that others were less likely to mess with you if you didn't display any fear. Keep your weaknesses hidden, and no one can exploit them, Ezra had said. He was right.
His thoughts drifted to his friend. Vin hoped Ezra was all right. The fear and pain he had seen in the other boy's eyes worried him, and he knew Ezra had to have been terrified to resort to begging. A renewed anger flared within him briefly at the thought of what MacDermott had been about to do. That bastard deserved everything he got, and then some. Vin wished he could have done some more damage before the two cops had arrived.
Worry for Ezra slowly turned into fear. What if Ezra didn't wait for him to come back? Living the way they did was difficult enough without having to do it alone. He felt a pang of loss at the thought of never seeing Ezra again. The other boy was more than just a friend; he was a brother, or at least the closest thing to a brother he was ever likely to have. Vin's mind was whirling with these thoughts when the door to the room finally opened.
Chris watched through the door as the emotions played across the boy's features. His face was not as expressive as most, but Chris was good at reading people and could tell the kid was worried and scared. All of a sudden, the boy's face changed, almost as if he sensed he was being watched. The emotions were gone, replaced by a flat, bland expression. Chris shook his head, thinking that it was a shame to have to learn that kind of skill at such a young age.
Josiah walked up beside him, handing him a file folder. Got this when we ran the prints.
Chris opened the folder, reading through the pages quickly before snapping it shut. Grinning at Josiah, he reached for the door. Let's see what Vincent Michael Tanner has to say for himself.
Chris strolled through the door, watching as the kid flinched slightly at the sudden disturbance. He took a seat across from the boy, dropping the folder in front of him. Tapping his finger on the folder, he said, My name is Chris Larabee. Says here your name's Vincent Michael Tanner. You ran away from your foster home in Fort Worth two and a half years ago. He gave the kid a hard look. That true, Vincent?
The kid just stared at him.
I know you speak English, Chris continued. I heard you cussing up a storm at that guy you creamed with the baseball bat.
The boy still said nothing.
Why'd you beat him up, Vincent?
After a moment, the kid said softly,
Excuse me? Chris inquired, knowing perfectly well what the kid had said.
Call me Vin, the boy said, a faint drawl evident in his voice.
Okay, Vin, Chris complied. You want to tell me why you hit Jerry MacDermott?
Anger flared in Vin's eyes, and he said with a self-satisfied smirk, 'Cause he deserved it.
I know he's a scumbag, Chris said conversationally, but what did he do to piss you off so bad?
Vin just shook his head, refusing to reply.
Okay, then what do you know about Digger?
Vin replied.
You sure? Chris prodded. He hadn't been dead for too long before we found him.
There was a flicker of something in the boy's eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, making Chris wonder if he had seen it at all.
Look, if you're afraid of someone hurting you, we can protect you, Chris reasoned. Just tell us who killed him and we'll keep you safe.
Vin looked down at the table, making circles on the scarred wooden surface with his thumb. Didn't see nothin', but it was prob'ly MacDermott.
Why do you think that?
MacDermott's an asshole, Vin said heatedly. Wouldn't be the first time he got rid of someone who got in his way.
You got any proof?
No, but I can get some if ya let me outta here, Vin said hopefully.
Chris snorted. Nice try, kid. You know we have to send you over to juvie.
This time, there was no mistaking the fear in the boy's eyes. Chris frowned, resolving to read the file more closely later to see if there was anything to explain what that was about. In the meantime, he would see what else he could get from the boy himself.
You don't want to go to juvie?
Vin rolled his eyes.
Why not?
Vin looked at him, seeming to mull the question over before replying, Bad crowd in there. Ain't good to associate with them miscreants.
You don't want to associate with miscreants? Chris repeated softly. The words sounded strange coming from the boy in front of him.
The blue eyes flashed and Vin lifted his chin defiantly. I ain't a criminal.
What do you call breaking a guy's kneecap with a baseball bat?
Vin replied evenly, glaring at him.
Gasping for breath, Ezra sat up, staring wildly around the dark room. Tremors rattled through his body and he ran a shaking hand through his sweat-dampened hair. Repressing a shudder, he pushed away the remnants of the nightmare that had jolted him from his sleep. He was alone in his room, not back at the old factory being mauled by MacDermott. The drug dealer was behind bars and couldn't hurt him anymore. Ezra repeated that to himself, hoping to avert a recurrence of the nightmare, but he doubted it would work. Somehow, unpleasant experiences always seemed to make repeated visits in his dreams. Sighing, Ezra wondered why the good times never seemed to linger as long.
Ezra gazed at the side of the bed where Vin usually slept, wondering what his friend was doing. Was he in the police lockup, alone and scared? Shivering, Ezra hoped that was not the case. Vin was only defending a friend, and didn't deserve to be treated as a criminal. MacDermott was the only one for whom that kind of treatment was warranted.
Ezra climbed out of bed, wincing at the renewed pain that lanced through his shoulder. He shuffled to the sink in his stocking feet and poured himself a glass of water. Returning to the bed, he rifled through the box of first aid supplies until he found a bottle of aspirin. Ezra shook three into his hand and swallowed them with a sip of water, hoping they might dull the throbbing pain in his arm. Sinking back into his pillows, Ezra closed his eyes, hoping that Vin was all right, wherever he was.
Vin watched the blond's frustration increase as he refused to give him any more information. There was no way he was going to tell the man what he wanted to know. That would bring Ezra into the picture, and that was something he was simply not going to do. Vin Tanner did not rat out his friends.
Well, I'm afraid we'll have to send you to juvie, miscreants or not, Larabee said. Assault is still a crime.
Vin felt a stab of fear, knowing that MacDermott had connections in juvenile hall. He was as good as dead if he ended up there. Vin swallowed hard and looked away.
Something wrong?
Vin stared at the cop, looking in his eyes. Something told him that this guy might actually give a damn. He had seemed sincerely distressed over Digger's death. Maybe he could be trusted with some information. You a friend of Digger's?
Larabee raised his eyebrows at the question. Why do you care?
Digger was okay, Vin said after a brief pause. He was nice to me an'... an' some of the other kids. He silently chastised himself for the near-slip.
I knew Digger for a long time, Larabee answered. He used to give me information about some of the... miscreants he knew about.
Vin smiled faintly at Larabee's use of his word. It was one that Ezra had taught him, and he had always liked the sound of it.
So, you have anything you want to tell me?
Vin bit his lip, then decided it wouldn't hurt to tell him, as long as he kept Ezra's name out of it. MacDermott was tryin' to hurt a friend of mine. He shrugged. He's bigger n me so I figured the bat was the only way to stop him.
Is your friend all right? Larabee asked him, looking honestly concerned.
Think so.
What was MacDermott doing?
Vin looked away, not sure he wanted to say anymore.
MacDermott likes boys, ya know? Vin said hesitantly. And he don't care if they ain't willin'.
Larabee's face darkened and he suddenly looked like he wanted to spit nails. I guess that's a good reason to bash him one. I wish I'd let you hit him a couple more times.
Vin gaped at him, surprised that the man even believed him, let alone agreed with him. In his experience, adults tended to dismiss or ignore anything they didn't want to hear, especially if it came from someone like him.
We found enough dope on MacDermott to bust him for dealing, so he'll be inside for a long time, Chris said reassuringly.
You'll probably have to spend at least a few nights in juvie before social services takes over, Larabee said with a sigh.
He's got friends in there, Vin blurted out, cursing himself for the tremor in his voice.
Vin nodded, desperate to stay out of the juvenile detention facility. I heard he had one kid knifed so he wouldn't talk.
You know this kid's name? Larabee asked doubtfully.
Terry Keppler, Vin replied without hesitation. He remembered hearing about the other boy's death. He and Ezra had known Terry but hadn't hung around with him, since he was part of MacDermott's crowd until he was arrested for drug possession. Terry's death had bothered Vin, since he had been the same age as himself and Ezra. It was scary to think of someone your own age being dead and it reminded him of just how dangerous life could be. If he or Ezra had made some different choices, it could have just as easily been one of them bleeding to death in a dirty bathroom stall.
I'll check on it, Larabee promised. And I'll see what I can do about keeping you out of there.
Vin stared at him for a moment, looking for signs of insincerity, then nodded. Thank you, sir.
Larabee paused momentarily at the respectful address, then nodded in return before leaving the room.
Watching him leave, Vin wondered if he had made the right decision in saying as much as he had. Nothing he had told the man would endanger Ezra, and if he could keep himself from being locked up, he would be back where he belonged that much sooner. Vin hated the thought of Ezra having to make do on his own, and shuddered to think about what would have happened to the other boy if he hadn't shown up when he did. Sure, Ezra was smart and tough and would be able to manage on his own, but they were a team. Everything was just so much easier when you had a friend by your side.
What do you think? Chris asked Josiah, who had watched his discussion with Vin through the glass. Josiah's psychology background gave him good insight into people and Chris wanted his take on the boy before taking any further action.
Josiah rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He's worried, and not just about himself.
You think he's protecting someone?
Josiah nodded. I think so. Did you notice how he never named his friend, yet he didn't hesitate to tell you any other names?
Chris said. I caught that. I figure this other kid has got to be a good friend, if Tanner was willing to take on a big man like MacDermott in his defense.
Kid seems to have a strong sense of honor, Josiah added. He looked positively insulted when you insinuated that he was a criminal. That glare was almost as good as yours.
Chris chuckled. Yeah, I noticed. Did you think it was strange when he said he didn't want to associate with miscreants?
I picked up on that, Josiah said. It sounds like something he heard from someone else, though I don't doubt he knows what the words mean. He strikes me as being fairly intelligent.
He's definitely different, Chris said. For one thing, he's a lot cleaner than most of the street kids we come across, and he doesn't look malnourished like they usually do. Doesn't seem to be a junkie, either.
That is unusual, especially for a kid who's been on the streets for more than two years, Josiah said, turning to look through the window again.
He called me Chris said, an amused look on his face. When was the last time anyone we put in that room called me
Josiah laughed. I don't think I've ever seen anyone do that. They're more likely to call you other things.
Someone taught him manners at some point in his life, Chris mused.
He's a puzzle, I'll give you that, Josiah said. What are we going to do with him?
Chris sighed. He should turn the kid over to the Denver Police, but something about Vin made him hesitate. This wasn't a badass street tough who would end up spending most of his life behind bars if he was lucky to live that long. There was a sense of pride and determination in Vin Tanner, and Chris found he wanted to know more about this unusual young man.
Josiah looked at his boss, who seemed lost in thought.
I'm going to put him in protective custody, take him out to the ranch with me tonight, Chris said, surprising even himself with those words.
Josiah's eyes widened.
Chris met the big man's pale blue gaze. I'm not really sure. I just know it's the right thing to do.
Might be, at that, Josiah said thoughtfully. The boy certainly doesn't belong in juvenile hall.
Chris nodded absently, wondering at his snap decision. Maybe it was the fact that he saw a lot of himself in the boy. Stubborn and prideful: words that had been used to describe him more than once, could equally be applied to young Vin Tanner. He admired the kid's resolve and didn't want to see that fire dimmed by being forced to associate with miscreants. Chris smiled, thinking of what Buck would have to say about all this.
Are you nuts?! Buck said. The kid will probably steal you blind the minute your back's turned.
Chris said with a shrug. But I don't think so.
This is crazy, Chris, Buck continued, shaking his head at his friend's lunacy. You should just ship him down to juvie where he belongs.
Juvie would destroy this kid, Buck, Chris said. I don't want to see that happen.
Buck stopped, and then turned to look his old friend in the eye. He got to you, didn't he?
Chris opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his lips. With a sigh, he said, There's something about him, Buck. He's different. He reminds me of me, you know?
Buck groaned. Lord help us; two Chris Larabees. His expression turned serious. You sure about this?
Hell, no, Chris said, his lips curling in a smirk. But I know I have to do this.
Okay, then. Buck shrugged. I'll help, too. You want me to bring anything?
Bring some food, Chris said with a smile. My cupboards are bare.