Part 5
Ezra stood at the edge of the Federal building's rooftop and stared out at the darkening Denver skyline. He knew the maintenance department would go into a memo writing frenzy if they ever found out how many times he'd jerry-rigged the door's safety alarm.
The warm updraft from the streets below blended with the cool night air and tousled his hair. Twilight on the rooftop was one of his favorite times. The freeway was lined with pinpoint lights of red and white, snaking their way slowly into and out of downtown. Other office buildings could be caught winking at each other as employees left for the day and cleaning crews started their after-hours shifts.
The rooftop was like being in the heart of the city and in the middle of nowhere at the same time.
Sixteen weeks on a hell of a case. There were times when he felt the line between himself and Ezra Simpson blurring and it was not a feeling he enjoyed in the least. There was too much gray in the world.
It was a silly notion that the line between good guys and bad guys was a black and white one. Yet Special Agent Standish found comfort in the imagined polarity. There were people who belonged in jail and there were people who did not. If you were incarcerated there had to be some legitimate reason behind it.
He rolled the L'Anniversaire Camerron between his fingertips and puffed several times, savoring the flavors of the cigar's smoke as it swirled over his tongue.
Cigars were a necessity. Yes, they were a vice, along with the occasional single-malt scotch and game of cards he allowed himself. One had to have vices; it made you a well-rounded person.
He heard the door open and close behind him and the crunch of gravel under shoes. By the pattern of footfalls he recognized who was behind him, but he didn't bother to turn.
" Evenin', Nathan." He blew out a puff of bluish smoke into the night air.
"Glad to see you back in one piece." Nathan came to stand next to the undercover agent.
The southerner gazed out over the city and the glinting lights with a smile. "Did I miss anything?"
Usually the answer was no, or something menial or something about Buck and the secretary pool. This time however, there was no immediate answer. The pause scared him. He turned his focus sharply to Jackson. "Everyone is fine…correct?"
Nathan sighed. "Not quite." The medic rubbed his hands together. "Vin got into some trouble…"
Ezra searched the face of his fellow agent and friend. "What happened? Is he hurt?"
Jackson shook his head. "Ez, he's in juvy."
The cigar dropped from Standish's hand, glowing on the black rooftop. He didn't comprehend what the medic had told him. "For what?"
"Involuntary manslaughter."
"My God. What happened?"
Nathan barely got the facts of the incident communicated before Ezra headed for the door. Taking the stairs two by two until he reached the eleventh floor, he pushed hard through the stairwell door and headed for Larabee's office. Chris's door was open.
For a moment he studied the man engrossed in a thick case file wrapped in a manila folder. A dim desk lamp illuminated the haggard features. His shoulders were slumped with the heavy burden he carried. Standish cleared his throat to get the team leader's attention.
Larabee looked up. "Hey, Ez, great job on the case."
"What?" Standish shook his head and sank down into the guest chair. "Nathan just told me about Vin. Why didn't--"
"I am getting my son back." Chris gripped the pen in his hand. "It's all been a big mistake."
Ezra rubbed his face. "You should have contacted me. I could have been helpful."
"You were under. Remember? That's your job. My job is to be Vin's parent."
Chris massaged the back of his neck. "A job I don't deserve."
"No, as you said - it was a mistake." Standish wanted to say he wished that he had grown up as lucky as the boys, with two caring parents, but he didn't like to think about his own inadequate childhood.
Chris shook his head. "I counted on things staying status quo."
Standish laughed at the unbelievable statement and responded dryly. "You mean they don't?"
"Things don't change that fast when you have kids, Ez. Time is marked by milestones - first time they lose a tooth, go on a date, drive . . .This isn't one I was expecting."
Larabee slammed his hand down on his desk. "Nothing is as important as your kid and making sure they are safe and that you can be there for them." He let out a sigh. "If I could go back, or change places I would do it in an instant."
Ezra responded in a quiet tone. "Then being a father is a job you deserve."
The undercover agent cleared his throat to suppress the emotions that threatened to overflow. "What happened?" Standish was confused by how such a miscarriage of justice could happen so quickly.
"Bobby's parents were out for blood. When your kid dies you don't want to believe he was a bully." Chris covered his eyes for a moment.
The undercover agent lifted his hand to his chin in thought. "Vin told me about Bobby…" He couldn't remember if he'd told the teen to fight back or not. Ezra's stomach twisted - he told him to fight back.
Larabee gave a wry smile. "Then I found out this team has apparently pissed off a lot of defense attorneys…guess, we're good at our jobs."
"I'll make some phone calls." Standish stood up. "Having six stepfathers sometimes has its merits."
"Ezra…anything they want." Larabee placed his hand out and Standish grasped it. "I'll get a second mortgage on the ranch if need be. He needs to be back where he belongs…I can't stand seeing him in that place - losing himself."
Standish made his way back to his desk, the office was dark except the desk lamp shining over some paper work. Ezra pushed it to the side, and cradled the phone between his ear and neck as he dialed the phone.
"Yes, may I speak to Buster…I'm sorry, yes, Boomer…This is Ezra Standish, just tell him Maude's son…Certainly."
The southerner checked his watch. It was only eight in the evening on the east coast, hopefully Boomer was still awake. Ezra thought he may have been the 'early to bed, early to rise' husband.
Evidently, eight o'clock wasn't too late, and Husband Number Three came to the
phone.
"Fine, thank you…and you?...Sorry to hear that…yes, I agree, the INS doesn't understand that the best gardeners are illegal aliens…Maude is well. I believe I saw you at her latest wedding?...No? My mistake…Bust--, um, Boomer, I remember you always said I could turn to you if I needed any help…yes, that would be time. Excellent memory. It was my seventeenth birthday…yes, we were drinking the Chivas…no, I don't think Mother ever did notice that got broken…so, Boomer - I need your help…"
Standish explained Vin's plight, phrasing things in the most effective way to tug at the heart strings of an attorney who loved children.
"Wonderful, I'll have everything FED-Ex'ed to you…Yes, I'll tell her…Well, I can't make promises, but you never know with mother. Thank you so much. Good-bye."
Ezra punched the disconnect button and smiled. He sauntered back toward Chris's office wearing the self-satisfied grin, good news was always welcomed at a late hour.
---
Vin knew that Ezra had been on a case. He had missed his adopted uncle, but was also ashamed to see him. He didn't want Standish to think any less of him. He was surprised when the undercover agent was there with the rest of his family, and further shocked by the enveloping hug. Since being in the "Mic" he hadn't wanted anyone to touch him, nothing to remind him of what he lost.
Ezra handed the teen a glossy brown bag. Carefully, Vin pulled out the tissue paper to find six bars of Neuhaus chocolate. "Wow, the good stuff." Tanner grinned.
Then the southerner gave the teen a paper grocery sack. "And this is to help you out."
Vin looked inside to find a box of Hershey bars. He nodded in understanding. Tanner thought of some of the older and bigger teens who had been terrorizing him. The box of fifty chocolate bars would buy some protection for a time. "Thanks, Ez, this will help me out."
JD noticing there was chocolate, could not resist temptation. "Can I have one?"
Vin glanced at the Neuhaus chocolate and then at the lesser brand, and decided to give JD the Hershey bar. It may have been mean, but Vin could ration six chocolate bars better than five. "Yeah, sure."
"Thanks, Ez," Vin said softly, leaning into the undercover agent for a moment, before sitting down at the table to join the others in a game of Crazy Eights.
Four hours passed too fast as usual and the announcement was made over the loud speaker that visiting time was ending. Vin shuffled back with the other teens, waving once before turning his back.
"Ez, why the chocolate bars?" Buck asked as he packed up the games to entertain Vin for the afternoon.
"He can trade it for stuff he needs." Standish caught the letter "A" from the Scrabble game in his hand as it jumped from the table.
"Damn, why didn't we think of that?" Buck said to Chris as he handed him the packed games.
"Because, as an uncle, I am supposed to spoil him and think of things that parents don't think of," Ezra said matter-of-factly.
"You're a good uncle, Ez." Buck said, giving Ezra a box of snack foods to carry out to the car.
"The best," Chris said as they left juvenile detention center and headed to the sunlight.
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