Annie's Neighborhood (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Fox, Roz Denny

  Sky started to say something, but stopped and half rose out of his chair. He put a finger to his lips, and pulled out his Glock with his other hand. “Shh. I think we have uninvited visitors in your backyard.”

  Annie strained to hear, and sure enough there was a slight rustle, as if someone was shuffling through her flower bed. She glanced at the clock and saw that she and Sky had been talking for nearly two hours. Oddly, instead of concern that a new form of trouble was about to descend, what popped into Annie’s head was that she hadn’t taught Sky how to play cribbage. And another thing―how he seemed to accept her background.

  Sky dropped into a crouch and duck-walked past the sink, staying out of sight under the window.

  Slipping out of her chair, Annie followed his lead.

  The minute he noticed, he motioned for her to stay back. But when he moved, so did she. “This is serious, Annie,” he whispered. “I heard a rattle―could be a gas can. I’m going out. Stay back. Please.” He stood up, threw open the back door and made a flying leap off the back porch. He landed in the flower bed where he’d gauged the culprit to be, and took a would-be arsonist by surprise.

  Annie emerged with a flashlight she’d stopped to retrieve from a kitchen drawer. She snapped it on and the beam bounced off a red gasoline can still rolling on the ground. She swung the light in Sky’s direction. He’d trained his weapon on the guilty party, a scared kid with a box of matches at his feet.

  “Police!” Sky yelled. “Turn around. I’m cuffing you. You have the right to remain silent, and the right to engage an attorney. Outside of that, buddy, you’re in a heap of trouble.”

  “Sky, stop. He’s shaking in his shoes. Can’t you see he’s just a boy?”

  “Yeah,” Sky said, turning to scowl at her. “He’s a boy, all right. A juvenile delinquent planning to burn your house down.”

  “I didn’t want to,” the kid babbled. “Please. Some older guys said they’d hurt my sister if I didn’t pour gas around this house and set it on fire. They left the gas and matches here. Oh, my mama’s gonna kill me.”

  “Bring him inside, Sky. All of this commotion will wake my neighbors.”

  “Annie, for Pete’s sake, he’s a felon. I’m calling Joe Morales, who’s on midnight to eight, to transport and book him. You go back in. I’ll handle this and ride to the station with Joe.”

  “He’d only be a felon if he’d actually sprinkled gas and lit the match. He’s a child, and he’s going to die of fright before you take him anywhere. What’s your name? How old are you?” she asked the boy, shifting the light away from his eyes.

  The kid’s teeth chattered so much, it was all he could do to get the words out. “I’m De...Deshawn Cul...ver. I’m ta...twelve, ma’am.”

  “See, Sky? He has manners. I don’t want to be the cause of the boy’s mama killing him over this, do you?” She gestured toward her open back door with the flashlight.

  Sky said something she couldn’t really hear. But he hooked the cuffs back on his belt, grabbed the collar at the back of the kid’s too-big plaid shirt and marched him up the porch steps. “One wrong move, kid, and you’re toast. You got that?” He gave the kid a sound shake as they entered the kitchen.

  All the boy seemed able to do was bob his head, which was tucked turtlelike between thin shoulders that shook. His whole body shook, Annie noticed. She shut the back door. “Now then,” she said, bending to get a better look at him. “Deshawn, where do you live?”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Sky said, repeating himself. “Annie, you can’t interrogate my suspect.”

  “What suspect? He’s twelve!” She shot Sky a dark frown.

  “Sheesh! Come on. Next you’ll be handing our young hoodlum a plate and inviting him to join us for breakfast.”

  The skinny kid seemed so hopeful, Annie darted a glance from him to her stove and then to Sky, who still held on to the boy’s shirt. “Well, Chief, that’s an excellent suggestion. You two sit at the table. I’ll whip something up. How do pancakes, bacon and spicy apples sound?”

  “An...nie!” Sky stretched out her name, revealing his frustration, and threw up his gun arm in disgust.

  “What? You don’t like the menu? I can do French toast or waffles.”

  “I love pancakes,” Deshawn ventured, gazing worshipfully at Annie. “We ain’t had no breakfast at home most all week. It’s the end of the month, and Mama’s paycheck done got shorted ’cause the bus she takes to work broke down. She missed most of one day cleaning rooms at the hotel, so she didn’t get tips, either.”

  Sky’s eyes clashed with Annie’s over the boy’s bent head. This time he released Deshawn’s collar and threw up both arms in defeat. He tucked his weapon back into his belt and nudged his young perpetrator toward the chair where Annie had been sitting earlier. “There’s no reason I can’t question Deshawn over breakfast,” he said, pulling out another chair. “I’ll ask the questions and, Annie, you butt out.”

  She smiled and said sweetly, “Ask away. I’m just going to cook.” Opening a cupboard, she pulled out a skillet and pancake fixings.

  “Where do you live, and who all lives there?”

  “Me, Mama and my sister, Chantal, she’s fifteen,” Deshawn said. “We, uh, live at the far end of Dusty Rose Street, down from you,” he told Sky.

  That seemed to shock Sky, who traded surprised looks with Annie as she handed him plates, napkins and flatware. “Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me the whole story. How did you happen to be sneaking around this neighborhood before sunup, aiming to set fire to this lady’s house? A lady I’ll guess you don’t even know.”

  “I don’t know her,” the boy admitted, his words laced with guilt. “That’s why I figured I could do what those two guys said. They beat me up after school. If I didn’t, they told me they’d hurt my sister.” Tears sprang to his dark eyes. “She’s smart, and the choir director at our church says Chantal’s got loads of singing talent. We don’t got no dad. He’s dead. Since the glove factory shut down, Mama works two jobs in Louisville. She used to have a good job, and she was always home before and after school. Back then we had food to eat all month long, mister. Uh, am I s’posed to call you Chief Cordova?”

  “Chief is okay,” Sky said, lifting his eyes from the paper napkin he’d been frantically scribbling on.

  Annie had put strips of bacon in a hot frying pan, and the smell permeated the kitchen. The boy kept darting glances at her, and every so often licked his lips. “Do you want milk or juice?” Annie asked the two at the table as she delivered glasses.

  “I love milk,” Deshawn said. “But it’s expensive so I’ll drink water.”

  Annie sucked in a deep breath and made sure she conveyed to Sky her horrified reaction to the boy’s comment. “You’ll drink milk,” she said firmly, and pulled a gallon jug from the fridge and set it on the table with a thump. “Have as much as you want.” She brought the first four pancakes to the table and offered them to Sky, along with slices of crispy bacon.

  He let her fill his plate, but as she did, he connected with Deshawn’s eyes, which could only be described as hungry. Without a word, Sky exchanged his full plate for the boy’s empty one.

  Moved by that, Annie rested a hand on Sky’s shoulder as she set down a bowl of spicy apple slices that she’d taken from the fridge and reheated in the microwave. “More pancakes coming right up,” she announced with a warm smile.

  He stared at her mouth until he shifted in his chair and lowered his eyelids.

  Both adults took note of how fast their morning guest had tucked into his food, which was disappearing rapidly. But the fact that he said “thank you” wasn’t lost on Sky or Annie, who beamed at the boy before poking Sky’s upper arm as if to say, “See?” With the griddle hot, the next batch of pancakes didn’t take long to cook. Annie filled a plate for Sky and one for he
rself. Realizing Deshawn had almost finished his stack, she discreetly plopped two pancakes from her plate onto his. Then she sat. “I know you wanted to ask all the questions, Sky, but you’re busy eating, and I’m curious about how Deshawn and Chantal have stayed clear of gang activity up to now. I mean, I gather this gang’s been operating in Briar Run for a while.”

  “Two years,” Sky said, pausing to pour Deshawn more milk. “You would’ve been ten,” he noted.

  Deshawn wiped his lips on his napkin. “Mama’s real strict. She’s got big hopes for Chantal and me. We do chores before and after school, plus homework. If Mama’s not home by supper, Chantal fixes us food, and I do the dishes.” He pulled the wry face one would expect from a boy who’d rather do just about anything rather than dishes.

  “Do you walk to and from school together?” Sky asked.

  The boy shook his head. “We carpool. There’s four moms who used to work on the line making gloves. They all got laid off when the plant closed. All of ’em have kids. Miz Hall’s heart has problems so she can’t work anymore. Mama, Miz Poole and Miz Morino pay Miz Hall to drive us to and from school.” He shuffled his feet under the table. “She gets some money from the state, but Mama says she’s proud and we can’t talk about that. I could eat a couple more pancakes if you’ve got ’em,” he said, and turned to look hopefully at the stove.

  “I have more batter.” Annie hopped up. “Sky, shall I put a couple more on for you?”

  “No, thanks, I’ve had plenty.” He eyed the boy. “I’ve never seen anyone put away as many pancakes as you. Don’t eat so many it’ll make you sick.”

  The boy blinked a few times. “It’ll be a while before I get to eat again. Chief Cordova, you’ve got to take me to jail.”

  “Why? So your mom doesn’t kill you?” Sky asked with a grin as he folded the napkin with his scribbles and stowed it in his shirt pocket.

  “I know what I said, but Mama loves me.” He fiddled with his plate as Annie slid three more steaming pancakes into the center of it. “Mama will yell at me for sure, but I think the gang guys who gave me the gas and matches, they’re gonna kill me. Or beat me so bad I’ll wish I was dead. If I went to jail for a couple days, and word got out that a cop had the house staked out, that’ll prove to the gang I tried.”

  Annie leaned against the kitchen cabinets. “So you mean if the gang thinks you were arrested, your stock would go up and they won’t beat you up?”

  “Stock? Huh?” Deshawn said, pausing with a forkful of pancake halfway to his mouth.

  “Annie, you’re doing it again,” Sky warned. “He’s my perp. And you can’t deny the fact that he came here intending to do harm.”

  “On behalf of people a whole lot older—who have a grip on this town. I’m getting the picture here. The poor kids who live in Briar Run are pawns in the gang’s chess game. Deshawn,” she said, ignoring Sky, “do all the good kids have to stay in their homes whenever they aren’t in school? What about sports? What about playing kick ball or softball in the street?”

  “Can’t,” the boy said. “It ain’t, uh, isn’t safe. There are drug pushers all over the place....”

  Annie began to pace.

  “Now what’s going on in your head?” Sky groaned. “You’ve got that same look you had when you were talking about your residents’ meeting.”

  “Making homes in this area nicer won’t go far in helping single moms like the ones Deshawn mentioned. I’m beginning to see that the core problem in Briar Run―and this pertains to two-parent families, as well―is that beauty’s only skin-deep.”

  “Huh?” Sky stacked the dirty plates, but it was plain Annie had lost him.

  “One universal truth I discovered while working in the poorest and roughest neighborhoods in L.A. is that kids are a parent’s number-one priority. All moms and dads want the lives of their kids to be better than their own. Better than what circumstances thrust on them. I found it true regardless of background or ethnic origin.”

  “I get that. But fact is fact. The Stingers are targeting kids, and no matter how big our police force is, we can’t possibly safeguard all kids day and night.”

  “Safeguarding doesn’t have to just fall to the cops, Sky.”

  Deshawn’s head whipped from one speaker to the other. His face remained impassive.

  Getting up, Sky carried the dishes to the sink. “I’m sure you’re dying to tell me how you’re going to wiggle your nose and make all of that happen. However, it’s almost 6:00 a.m. I need to grab my duffel bag and collect the gas can and matches for the evidence file. Then I’ll hand Deshawn off to Joe Morales. It’s my day off, remember. I’m going to the zoo.”

  “Six? Cripes,” Deshawn exclaimed. “Mama gets up at six. She finds I’m not in my bed and man, oh, man, I’m gonna be in so much trouble now.”

  “Sky, you take the evidence and do whatever you need to do with it. I’ll give Deshawn a lift home. I’d like to have a word with his mother if she can spare the time.”

  “Annie, you’re interfering in a police case.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Is it a police case if I choose not to press charges?”

  “You don’t have to. I caught him red-handed.”

  “And I need to go get myself booked.” Deshawn sided with Sky.

  Annie glared at Sky and he glared back. She broke eye contact first. “We’ll all go to the station. You’ll book Deshawn, or pretend to, so word of his arrest gets out to the gang. If you don’t phone his mom, I’ve got no doubt that when she discovers he’s not in his bed, she’ll call 9-1-1. I’ll be there to talk to Mrs. Culver when she comes for him.”

  Deshawn propped his skinny arms on the table and buried his head in his hands. “I am so gonna be cooked no matter what. I should’ve told Roy Dell and Heywood I wouldn’t do what they said and let them beat the stuffing out of me.”

  Annie and Sky whirled on the boy, but it was Sky who went down on one knee next to Deshawn’s chair. “Roy Dell who, and Heywood who?” he demanded in his steeliest cop voice. “Are you saying that all this time while you sat here wolfing down pancakes, you had the names of two gang members and kept them to yourself?”

  The boy uncovered his face one half inch at a time. “They said if I snitched they’d cut off my ears. See, they didn’t used to be bad.” Giant tears formed in the corners of his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. “That was after Roy Dell said if I didn’t set this house on fire they’d hurt Chantal. Heywood used to like her....” He grabbed his stomach. “I ate too much. I’m gonna puke.”

  “No, you’re not,” Sky said. “We’ll work this out. You, me and Ms. Emerson,” Sky said, rearing back to pin Annie with a serious gaze.

  “Yes, we will,” she reiterated. “And since you walked over here last night, Chief, I’ll drive us all to the police station in my pickup so we can start the process of helping Deshawn.” She grabbed her purse from the counter.

  For a drawn-out minute Sky seemed unsure about her suggestion. Then, rising slowly, he let a sigh trickle through his tightly compressed lips. “So help me Hannah, if you say one word at the station that even sounds like it undermines my authority, I’ll...I’ll...”

  “Yes?” Annie asked, her exaggerated smile dripping sugar.

  Deshawn sniffled, but took an interest in what had been said. “Who’s Hannah? I thought her name was Annie.”

  “It is,” Annie assured the boy. “Chief Cordova gets confused when he’s been up all night on a stakeout.” Tossing another smile at Sky, Annie nudged Deshawn through the archway into her living room and out another door into her garage.

  With the boy trudging ahead of them, Sky had a chance to lean close and murmur in Annie’s ear, “Are you a thorn in everybody’s side? Or just mine?”

  “Oh, I’m an equal opportunity thorn,” she said, giving him a cheeky grin.

 
Sky’s shoulders relaxed and his lips curved up in his first honest smile since he’d caught Deshawn.

  Chapter Seven

  THE THREE OF them entered the station in single file, Sky bringing up the rear. Koot Talmage rushed to meet them. “Hey, Sky, I didn’t expect you today. I thought you’d be halfway to horse country by now.”

  “The zoo doesn’t open until ten. We have new business.” Sky turned to Annie and Deshawn. “You two sit down out here.” He indicated a few chairs scattered about a narrow entry. “Deshawn, phone your mother. If she can’t come to the station, tell her someone will bring you safely home.” Sky pointed to an old-fashioned wall phone.

  A much-subdued boy wearing a hangdog expression walked over to the phone, his shoulders slumped.

  Sky beckoned Koot into his office and shut the door.

  Through the glass beside the door, Annie watched both men talking and gesturing. Neither sat, but since she couldn’t hear them, she studied the small but serviceable police station. A short hall to her left led to three barred cells, all vacant. In a second office about the size of Sky’s a woman wearing headphones sat behind a large monitor. Annie assumed she was a dispatcher. A large open room held more desks than Sky had officers. Three had computers and were messy with strewn papers and coffee mugs. Four were cleared of everything. Annie figured the empty desks had to be another sign of Briar Run’s decline. Sky had said that money problems had forced cutbacks, and Aaron Loomis, the city manager, said the same thing when she’d asked him about holding her first town meeting.

  Deshawn came back and threw himself into the chair next to Annie’s. “Like I said, I am so screwed.”

  “Is your mother coming to the station?”

  He nodded. “Only, she said her boss at the hotel told her if she was late one more time, she’s fired. She’s more worried about me, I guess. I feel really bad about making her cry.” He picked idly at a broken fingernail.