by Jana DeLeon
Saul nodded. “You all right?”
“Yeah. Is he dead?”
“I’m pretty sure.” Saul looked over at Hustle. “We’ve got a problem here. I have to call the police and they’re gonna want to talk to you, seeing as how you were the one he was attacking.”
“You’re not going to get into trouble, are you? I mean, you was just protecting me.”
“I’ll be fine,” Saul said, and pointed to a security camera behind him. “If they don’t want to take my word, I’ve got proof. But you’re underage and got no family. The police will take you into custody, for your own protection.”
“No! They’ll put me in one of those homes again, and I won’t be able to help find Jinx.”
“I figured you wouldn’t like that too much, so this is what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna tell the cops you’re my buddy’s kid, visiting for a week while my buddy and his wife are on a camping trip. The kind where cell phones don’t work, if you catch my drift.”
Hustle stared at him. “You’d do that for me?”
“That man took a big risk trying to kill you right in front of my hotel. That tells me you know something that very bad people don’t want anyone else to know. I don’t like bad people in my neighborhood. I’m trying to help turn this area around. And even if I didn’t know shit from Shinola about you, what I do know is that Shaye Archer wants you protected. If Shaye is invested in you, then it’s not by mistake.”
“What do I say? I mean, they’re gonna ask a lot of questions.”
“Say very little. You’re in shock, after all. I’ll probably need to take you to the hospital for them to check you out. I’m sure you know how to feed someone a line of bullshit. Get ready to do it.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “This is Saul Bordelon at the Bayou Hotel. I just shot someone attacking a visitor. Send the police.”
Saul slipped the phone back in his pocket. “Call Shaye and let her know what happened. Tell her it’s probably best if she steers clear until the police are gone. She can meet us at the hospital.”
Hustle nodded and pulled out his phone, but before he made the call, he leaned over and took a picture of the man in the mask. He reached down to remove the mask, and Saul grabbed his arm.
“Don’t touch anything,” Saul said.
“I have to see him…before the police get here.”
“Shit. If you know him, you might react and how could you know someone if you don’t live here.” He ran one hand through his thinning hair. “Okay, but let me do it. I can claim I was checking his vitals.”
Saul bent over and pulled off the mask. Hustle leaned over and stared at the man, searching his face for some sign of recognition, but whoever he was, Hustle had never seen him before.
“Do you know him?” Saul asked.
“No.” He took a picture and dialed Shaye’s number, already dreading the upcoming conversation.
Chapter Seventeen
Shaye burst into the emergency room, Jackson right behind her. Saul jumped up from a chair and hurried over. “He’s all right,” he said, clearly anxious to calm her down. “He’s limping pretty bad, but that’s it.”
“What happened?” Shaye asked, her voice low. She glanced around the room. “I didn’t see any police cars.”
“They didn’t come with us,” Saul said, and directed them outside.
“How did you manage that?” Shaye asked. “I figured they’d take him into custody as soon as they found out he was living on the streets.”
“I told them he was my buddy’s son who was visiting while his parents were camping in some cell phone–free zone.”
Shaye stared. “Holy crap, Saul. Promise me you won’t ever move to the dark side. That was some fast thinking, especially given that you’d just shot a man.”
Saul scowled. “That piece-of-shit excuse for a human being wasn’t a man.” He gave her a sheepish look. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Shaye said. “I share your opinion. I don’t know whether to hug you or chastise you. You’re going to be in trouble once the police find out you lied.”
“Trouble for what? Lying about the boys’ living situation because I don’t want him going into one of those homes? The cops can get over it or arrest me.”
“They won’t do anything,” Jackson said. “Some might find it annoying, but it’s not a surprising opinion. Plenty of people, including cops, don’t think much of the homes these kids are put into.”
Jackson’s words relieved a bit of Shaye’s worry, but there was still the entire situation to take into account. “So what happened with the police at the hotel?”
“We answered questions,” Saul said, “and Hustle played off being in shock so he didn’t have to say much. Then I insisted on coming to the hospital, not because he’s hurt, but to get Hustle away from the cops before they dug too deep.”
“That will only work for so long,” Shaye said. “You killed the man attacking him, right? Even though it’s a justifiable shooting, they’ll still have to dot the i’s and cross the t’s.”
Saul nodded, and Shaye looked over at Jackson.
“Do you know the cops’ names?” Jackson asked.
“The one I spoke to was a Detective Elliot. I didn’t catch the other one’s name.”
“Elliot’s good,” Jackson said. “He won’t make something out of it that it’s not.”
“Meaning?” Shaye asked.
“The prosecutor won’t even read the file,” Jackson said. “You got a man attacking a child with a hypodermic needle. Given the current tension in the department for crimes against children, you’re more likely to receive a thank-you than a reprimand. But they’re going to be back to talk to Hustle.”
“We’ll figure something out,” Shaye said. “Right now, there are more important issues at stake. What can you tell me about the man you shot?”
“He was wearing a mask. Hustle said it was like the one he’d seen before. He was a big guy, white, probably midthirties.”
“Did Hustle recognize him?” Jackson asked.
Saul shook his head. “He took a picture, though, before the police got there. Maybe he’ll recall something later.”
“I doubt it,” Shaye said, remembering Hustle’s recount of the stalker in her previous case and his drawing of Jinx. “I think Hustle might have eidetic memory. When he sees something, his ability to describe it or re-create it in a drawing is far beyond that of a normal person. If he’d seen the man before, he would have remembered.”
“Can you tell us what happened?” Jackson asked.
“I was at the front desk and heard the boy yelling for me,” Saul said. “I could tell by the sound of his voice that he was in trouble, so I grabbed my gun and ran outside. The piece of sh—crap had Hustle on the ground and was about to stab him with a needle so I fired. Hit him right in the chest.”
“Did Hustle say anything else?” Shaye asked.
“Just said he knew someone was watching him when he got to the street the hotel was on and he took off running. The guy came after him and he yelled for me when he knew he wasn’t going to make it. I turned the security video over to the cops to cover my butt; otherwise, I’d show you.”
Shaye put her hand on Saul’s arm. “Thank you. If you hadn’t been there…”
“And a damned good shot to boot,” Saul said, and smiled.
“And a damned good shot,” Shaye agreed.
A nurse walked outside and gestured to Saul. “Mr. Bordelon, the young man is ready to leave now.”
“To keep up appearances, cover the bill,” Shaye said. “I’ll reimburse you.”
Saul nodded and headed inside to handle the charges. Shaye hung back with Jackson, not wanting anyone to overhear what she had to say.
“I need you to talk to Detective Elliot and find out who the man was,” Shaye said. “This ‘visiting friend’s son’ story isn’t going to hold for long. The cops will be back and they’ll want Hustle’s name, address, the works. How much trouble is Saul going to be
in when they find out he lied? The truth?”
Jackson blew out a breath. “The video will back up his defense story for the shooting, so I don’t think he’ll have any issues at all with that part of things. If he claims he didn’t want to see the kid go into the system, he probably won’t get more than some stern words. It’s not like the police aren’t aware of kids living on the streets.”
“Good. If you hear they’re going to try to make more of it, let me know. I’ll get Saul a good lawyer.”
“And that would probably be the end of it. There’s nothing worthwhile to pursue, especially if he lawyers up.”
“So that potential problem is covered, but we have a bigger one now,” Shaye said. “That man was our connection to Jinx, and without a legit case, you can’t butt into Elliot’s investigation.”
“No, but he was also our connection to Peter Carlin, assuming the mask was the same. I need to call Detective Grayson and fill him in. He’s handling the Carlin case. I don’t think Elliot will have any problem turning it over to Grayson. He doesn’t have the ego some of the others do, and finding Peter Carlin is a top priority right now.”
“Good. Then you get a hold of Grayson and work on Elliot, and I’ll figure out something to do with Hustle. I can’t send him back to the hotel. I guess I’ll have him stay at my place again.”
“No way. There’s a really good chance this guy wasn’t working alone. If that’s the case, then there’s someone else out there who knows about Hustle and probably about you. If you’ve poked the hornet’s nest with your investigation, your place could be under observation.”
“My place is as safe as they come,” Shaye argued.
“Inside. But all someone has to do is wait for Hustle to step out the door and then put a bullet in him.”
“They could do the same to me. I don’t have a choice. I don’t have anyone else I trust to protect him.”
“Sure you do.” Jackson stared at her.
“Oh no. I’m not moving us in with my mother.”
“Why not? It’s away from Bywater and the Quarter. You’ve got armed policemen parked outside, and the house is probably secured better than Fort Knox.”
“The thought of me moving back home right now isn’t one I can entertain. I can’t go running back to Mommy every time I’m in danger. I took this job knowing the risks.”
Jackson didn’t look happy, but he also knew when it was a losing battle. “Then at least get Hustle to stay with her.”
Shaye shook her head. “I can try, but my mom is a social worker. Getting Hustle under the same roof as her won’t be easy.”
“It will if the choice is her house or the police station.”
“That’s just mean.”
“That’s probably the way he’ll see it. But until we know for sure this man was working alone, we can’t assume the threat to Hustle has been eliminated.”
Shaye nodded, trying to formulate a good argument for her upcoming talk with Hustle, when Saul came hurrying outside.
“You better get in here,” Saul said. “Hustle’s pitching a fit.”
Shaye ran inside after Saul and past the startled nurse at the front desk. Hustle was standing outside a doorway and arguing with a paramedic.
“You gotta let me in,” he yelled.
“Sir,” the paramedic said, clutching Hustle’s shoulders. “If you don’t calm down, I’m going to have to call the police.”
“What’s going on?” Shaye asked as she ran up.
“That’s Scratch!” Hustle said. “They just brought him in on a bed and they won’t tell me nothing.”
Before Shaye could say a word, Jackson stepped forward and presented his badge. “The police have been looking for the young man you brought in. We suspected he was the victim of foul play. What can you tell me?”
The paramedic released Hustle, who backed up and leaned against the wall, slightly lifting his right leg.
“We got a call from a park ranger over at Lake Maurepas. They found the boy on a trail.”
“What was his condition when you found him?” Jackson asked.
“Not good,” the paramedic said. “He was unconscious and hasn’t regained. His vital signs are weak.”
“Did he have any injuries?”
“A bunch of scrapes and bruises and a good knot on the back of his head.” The paramedic glanced at the others before looking back at Jackson. “He was wearing handcuffs. The chain in the middle was broken, but the cuffs are still around his wrists.”
“Anything else?” Jackson asked.
“He was wet. All over. And had a bunch of swamp mud on him.”
Jackson pulled out his phone. “I’d like the name of the park ranger.”
As the paramedic gave him the name, his pager went off. “I have to go,” he said.
Jackson handed him a business card. “If you think of anything else, give me a call.”
The paramedic took the card and ran down the hallway and out the back door.
“Can’t somebody tell us something about Scratch?” Hustle asked.
As if on cue, the door to the room opened and a doctor stepped out. He looked a bit surprised to find them all standing there.
“You can’t be here,” the doctor said. “You have to wait in the lobby.”
Jackson flashed his badge again. “Can you tell me anything about the boy you just saw? What his condition is?”
“He’s nonresponsive and weak. We’ll know more after we run tests.”
“But he’s going to live, right?” Hustle asked.
The doctor frowned. “I’m afraid I can’t say until I know the extent of his injuries. If you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare the techs.”
“Let’s go,” Jackson said. “He can’t give us anything yet.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Hustle said. “I’ll sit in the lobby all night if I have to.”
“It wouldn’t matter,” Shaye said. “The doctors won’t give information to anyone but family or the police.”
Hustle looked expectantly at Jackson, who shook his head.
“I have to pursue information on your attacker and try to contact this park ranger. It would be a waste of valuable time for me to sit here doing nothing. I’ll leave my contact information with the front desk and they’ll let me know when they have something concrete.”
“Is he safe here?” Hustle asked.
“I don’t know, but I’ll have someone stationed outside of his room.”
Hustle didn’t look happy, but he knew it was as good as he could get. “Fine, then I guess I’ll go back to the hotel with Saul.”
Shaye held in a sigh. “About that…we need to talk.”
* * *
Jinx checked her watch for the hundredth time in the last hour. Ten more minutes. Six hundred seconds and it would be exactly three hours since the crazy man had brought them dinner and almost two hours since the sun had gone down, extinguishing all light in the barn.
“Is it time yet?” Spider asked.
What the hell. Ten minutes wasn’t going to make a difference. It was dark outside. Time to get the hell out of here.
“Yeah,” she said and pulled the lock pick she’d made from her pocket. She stuck her hands through the bars and grasped the padlock, feeling the bottom for the keyhole. She stuck the pick into the hole and leaned up against the bars, listening as she felt her way around the inside of the lock. It took about ten minutes of delicate twisting, but finally, she heard a click and the lock dropped.
“I got it,” she said. She let herself out of the cage and walked across to Spider’s cell, her arms in front of her as she went.
“Oh my God!” Spider said as she grabbed the lock on the door to his cage. “You’re serious. You really did it.”
“Of course. Did you think I was lying?”
“I’m so scared, I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“Just give me some time, and keep quiet so I can listen.”
She made quicker work of the secon
d lock and opened the door to let Spider out. “Do you remember where everything is?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’ve been reciting the steps all day.”
“Okay, then go collect your items, and move slowly. We can’t afford to make any noise or we’ll alert the dogs.”
Jinx moved to the right until she felt the door to her cage, then walked at a deliberate pace ten steps ahead, then turned and walked five steps to the right. She waved her arms in front of her but felt only air. Leaning forward, she reached out again and her fingers brushed the edges of the workbench she’d been trying to reach. She took two more steps forward and inched her hands over the surface of the bench until she felt the hard cylindrical object she’d been seeking.
“I got the flashlight,” she said.
“I got the rope.”
“Good. Start for the door. Be careful not to hit that engine. There’s all sorts of things balanced on the top of it that would make noise. I’ll meet you at the door as soon as I get the crowbar.”
They’d been scouting the barn all day as the sunlight moved through the cracks, exposing one inch at a time. The flashlight was critical, and Jinx prayed it worked. The rope might be needed given the terrain, and the crowbar was the lightest-weight object that made a good weapon. She worked her way down the bench, using her fingers to keep her straight until she reached the end where the bench turned. She stopped and slid her hand across the surface until she felt the cold, hard iron rod.
She lifted the crowbar and turned to the left, then walked fifteen more steps. “Spider?”
“Right here,” he said, his voice sounding only inches from her.
She moved closer until her shoulder brushed against his, then reached out and ran her hands down the door, looking for the knob. She unlocked the door and twisted the knob, easing the door open only a crack. She peered through the crack, but couldn’t see anything. She pushed the door open another inch and saw a patch of light coming from the porch of an old farmhouse.
The dogs she often heard barking were nowhere in sight, but that didn’t mean they weren’t outside and on the job. Slowly, she pushed the door open a bit at a time, hoping the old wood didn’t creak too loudly. When there was enough room to slip through, she eased out and held the door while Spider did the same.