Chapter 3

Day 3

Peter's foot struck the tin can and he watched it strike the wall a little further down the alley. He barely noticed the scuff mark on his shoe, something that would've bothered him a few days ago. His world was caving in around him and he wasn't entirely sure what to do about it. His mom barely moved from the hospital bed where his dad was encased in wires. If he closes his eyes, he can see the heartbeat on the screen that shows his dad is still alive.

He kicks another tin can, the sound of it hitting another can vibrating around the alley. Life wasn't fair and he was quickly learning the meaning of that. He swallowed the lump in his throat and then angry at himself for feeling sad, he kicked another can. But this one was bigger, had jagged edges and cut into his shoe like a knife through butter.

Yup, life wasn't fair. But the blood now welling from his shoe and the throb in his toes was his own fault. The common sense installed in him from his parents at a young age took over and he bent down to have a look at his foot.

"Whatcha doing Peter?"

He glanced up at JJ. The other boy was skinny, all bones and nasty. He wasn't in the mood for any of the antics of JJ and not at all happy that the other boy was seeing him like this.

"Just go home, JJ."

"Why?"

Peter stood up, using his height and weight as an advantage. He knew the other boy wouldn't try anything. He was bigger and stronger and JJ knew that.

"It's all right, man. Just heard your old man isn't doing so well."

"He's good."

"Yeah?"

Peter gave a sigh. He knew JJ never knew the concept of a good father. His mom was barely there, a drug addict that took men like some kids ate sweets. He felt sorry for the other boy but he had his own problems to deal with and just wasn't in the mood to chat.

"Just go home, JJ" he reiterated again.

"Ah, screw you," JJ swore and then stormed off, leaving Peter alone. The taller boy watched the back of the other boy, noticing the worn shirt and old sneakers. He shook his head, turned and made his way towards the fire escape. It didn't take him long to have the ladder slip down and he made his way up the stairs to his family's apartment. It was his back-way in. A lot better than the front door that occasionally housed a pimp or junkie looking for a score.

He made his way to the bathroom and gingerly took off his shoe. The cut on his toes wasn't too bad. He cleaned it, put some plaster on the cut and then limped his way to the kitchen.

Everything was dark. Not at all like he was used to coming home too. Usually, his mom would be humming a song while she swayed to it in front of the stove. She loved making fish and the smell of coconut and spices would drift through their tiny apartment.

He opened the fridge and then closed it again. It was pretty much empty, as he knew it would be.

There was no more money in the kitty ornament that was kept aside for emergencies. His stomach rumbled but he wasn't really in the mood to go back down the stairs. Instead, he crept into his bed, closed his eyes and slept.

JJ waited until it was dark. He was fuming but he knew that in a sense, Peter was kinda his only friend. The only one who didn't bully or hit or scream at him. It was bad about Peter's dad but he didn't know what to say. Or do. He waited until his mom had left by the front door, her eyes dark with need as she scurried like a rat down the street. He knew she wouldn't be back until dawn.

Clenching his hands, he wiped them off his pants before strolling into the door of the apartment building. He ignored the passed-out drunks as he wearily made his way up the stairs and then down the hallway to where he stays. A big black man he didn't know brushed past him, carrying two black bags.

"Hey man, watch it."

The other man didn't even acknowledge him, instead he took the stairs two at a time as he bounded down it. He knew he shouldn't get involved, and usually doesn't. But he was still angry at Peter. And he was curious.

So, he did what he did best. He melted away in the background, hiding in a darkened part of the stairwell and waited until the other man came back up. JJ watched as the other man entered an apartment hallway down the hallway, slamming the door shut.

He crept closer, hearing strong whispers. He made his way past the apartment door that had swung open and glanced inside to see a white man lying on the floor next to a radiator. His eyes met the other man's but by that time he heard footsteps coming closer and JJ quickly made his way around the corner, careful not to make a sound as the door slammed shut.

JJ didn't want to get involved.

It'd be better if he forgot what he saw.

Midnight came and went. Mac was still in that crummy apartment, the smell of his vomit at times overwhelming to his senses. His stomach churned but he swallowed the urge, breathing slowly through his mouth. He had run out of time. He was smart enough to know that with the sudden guilty looks Joe would give him while Derrick was splitting the bills into two piles on the coffee table.

"I know this spot in the Palisades. Private. They won't find his body for years," Derrick stated quietly. "He is your mess. Make sure it doesn't come back to bite us."

Mac watched Joe shift from one foot to the other. "My people will find you."

Derrick stopped what he was doing, stepping over to where Mac was lying on the floor. "Good job they've done so far," the black man smirked. Drawing back his foot, he kicked Mac in the side and when the CSI grunted and curled away, he drew his foot back and gave another kick until Joe grabbed his arm. "That's enough. I'm not carrying him out of here." Dropping a swear word, Derrick twisted his arm out of the smaller man's grip and stomped back to the coffee table. Throwing Joe another look, he grabbed the two black bags that were seated on the couch.

"I'll be back in five. Clean up the table."

Mac waited until the door closed before he said, "Joe, it is not too late."

"Just shut up, okay. You have no say in my life. I'm not going to jail, all right."

Mac breathed, praying that Joe would listen. That he could somehow work his magic and get Joe to turn on his partner.

"We can work out a deal. You can turn state evidence..."

Mac trailed off. Joe had walked out the room, leaving him alone. It wasn't long before Derrick returned to the apartment, glancing in his direction. Not seeing Joe, he stepped into the other room. Mac struggled to hear the angry whispered words. What drew his attention was the door to the hallway that had swung open and the pair of eyes staring frightened back at him. It was a different boy this time. Bigger, less street savvy. His eyes glittered in the overhanging low light of the hallway. But Mac could see determination too.

Hope flared briefly.

"Call 911", he mouthed, aware that this opportunity might be short-lived. The boy looked to the side and then he was gone. Mac dropped his head, too tired to fight. He heard a shuffle and then the boy was inside the apartment, eyes wide with fear as he glanced at the door to the other room.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Mac Taylor. Please, I need help…"

"I can't call the cops."

Mac knew there was no time for debate. "Call 555-7845. It's my friend's number." He trailed off when he heard a scuffle in the other room. Then the boy was gone. The door swung silently on its hinges as Joe and Derrick entered the room. Derrick glanced suspiciously at the front door before meaningfully turning to Joe.

"I'm getting the car. Get him ready."

Mac grunted in pain as Joe released the handcuff from the radiator to enclose it again on his wrist.

"Joe?"

"Just don't. Shut up, okay. Just…shut up."

Mac knew it was no use. He gritted his teeth as he was roughly pulled into a standing position. He had no choice but to lean into Joe. They shuffled their way out of the apartment, down the steps and into the back seat of the sedan that Derrick was driving.

And through it all not one of the passed-out drunks and pimps said one word as Mac was forced past them.

"Don't be a snitch. Those are not nice people, Peter. They'd kill you."

"So why did you come to me then?"

"Man, I shouldn't have told you, okay. Just let it go. Please."

"Why?"

"Because, as a friend, I'm asking you to butt out okay. If the cops come here…my mom…man., just forget it okay."

Peter watched JJ. He knew the real reason why the other boy didn't want the cops. But he couldn't get over the fact that this was somebody who needed help.

But he was well aware of the no snitching rule in the community. He turned away from JJ and stared out the window of his family's apartment. Not that there was much to see this early in the morning.

"They left. Just let it be, okay."

He nodded, not entirely sure yet of what he wanted to do. He heard the other boy leave. A short time later he heard his alarm going off and his stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten anything since yesterday morning and he was hungry.

Peter sighed deeply. Ignoring the hunger pans, he made his way out of the apartment.

It's time to find out how his dad was doing.