He ignored the comment and stepped out ahead of her, hoping to hurry her up a bit. His car could get towed for all he cared. They would need paperwork filled out, likely.
The nurse stopped still. When he spun back to see why, her eyebrows arched and she tipped her head in the direction of his still idling Z3. Her lips pursed like a perturbed mother.
Could the woman show any less concern? His gaze dropped to Dakota. Her eyes remained closed and her face was red and blotchy. “She’s really sick.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll get her taken care of. Feel free to come inside after you’ve parked your car.”
An ambulance pulled in just behind him at that moment, lights flashing. The nurse quickly put the brake on Dakota’s chair and pointed him once more to his car as she hurried toward the ambulance.
Dakota looked up at him through squinted eyes. “I’ll be fine. Just go.”
Torn between staying with Dakota and getting out of the ambulance’s way, Justus gave in to the inevitable. “I’ll only be a second.” He jogged back to park the car. It took driving down two rows to find a spot and when he finally dashed across the parking lot, Dakota still sat curled over in the wheelchair exactly in the place the nurse had left her, her head propped in her hands. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
The ambulance was gone, presumably along with the ER nurse. Dakota had apparently been demoted on the triage list. But they could at least have taken her inside! Just as he was about to step off the curb to cross to her, a red Civic peeled into the drop off zone, going way too fast for a hospital parking lot. Justus pinwheeled his arms to keep from landing in its path.
At that moment a flash of color behind Dakota caught his attention. A little body darted out from behind a bush near the emergency room entrance, making a beeline for Dakota.
What in the world—
The metallic red car screeched to a halt right in front of him under the ER portico and a man lurched out. “I’ve got you, honey, just hold on!”
Justus craned to see Dakota beyond the man’s shoulder.
The kid snatched Dakota’s purse and kept sprinting.
“Stop!” Justus lurched forward. He and the man from the car nearly collided near the trunk of the little red coupe.
“Watch it, buddy, we’re having a baby here!”
“Sorry.” Justus spun to avoid a full on collision with the man who was still darting for his wife’s door, tossed a glance at Dakota to make sure she was still doing okay, and then took off in full pursuit of the boy who was just disappearing around the corner and headed toward the street.
The boy was quick, but Justus was quicker and within several strides he had the little purse snatcher held aloft by his collar.
Dakota’s purse tumbled to the pavement and the boy grabbed on to Justus’s arm, kicking and hollering. “Let me go!”
The familiar voice snapped Justus to attention. “Wait a minute!” He set the boy down and spun him around, gripping his shoulders firmly. “You?”
The boy kicked out and his toe connected solidly with Justus’s shin.
Justus grunted and on reflex let the kid go, but the boy only got two steps away before Justus had him firmly in grasp again.
It was the same boy he and Dakota had almost run over the other day. His red hair stood from his head in tangled patches and his freckles sharply contrasted with his pale face. “I didn’t mean any harm, mister, honest I didn’t.” The boy squirmed, trying to free himself.
But eight years of working with troubled youth had taught Justus a thing or two about keeping hold of one when he wanted to without hurting him. “Didn’t mean any harm, but you snatched a sick woman’s purse?” Another wave of pain shot up his leg. “And kicked me?”
At least the kid had the decency to hang his head.
Across the street a group of laughing teen boys drew his attention. They kept glancing his way and then dissolving into another fit of laughter and back slapping. Justus would bet his bottom dollar the boy, who was dressed in designer clothes and didn’t look like he’d gone without necessities a day in his life, had been dared to snatch the purse.
Justus kept a firm hold on him as he bent down and retrieved Dakota’s bag. “You’re not going anywhere until we can talk to the cops, but first I need to help my friend. So you’re coming with me.” He marched the kid back toward the emergency room entrance.
Some chord of familiarity begged for his attention. It wasn’t that he’d seen the kid before so much as that he reminded him of someone. That same ring of familiarity had been there the first time he’d seen the kid too. Who was it the kid reminded him of? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
Thankfully Dakota was no longer sitting in the wheelchair outside the entrance. Hopefully she was not only inside but was being taken care of.
In his relief, he relaxed his grip.
Like a slippery fish on an unbarbed hook, the boy twisted with lightning speed and darted away again.
Justus rolled his eyes. The boy didn’t have a chance against his long stride. “You’re not making this easy, kid.” Justus wrapped one hand firmly around the boy’s upper arm, bringing him once more to a halt.
This time he wasn’t taking any chances. He detoured to his car. Popping the trunk, he pulled out his Oregon Juvenile Justice badge and the set of handcuffs he kept inside. How many times over the years had he had some kid handcuffed to his wrist to keep track of him? He’d lost count. But when he ratcheted the lock into place around the boy’s wrist and then did the same to his own, the boy’s eyes widened and filled with unshed tears. This was obviously a first for the kid. Good, maybe this would teach him a well-earned lesson.
“My dad will take you to court.”
Justus almost felt sorry for him. “Actually, reasonable suspicion is all I need to detain you until the police can get here. And you and I both know I have a lot more than reasonable suspicion.”
“This is child abuse! You can’t do this, Mister!”
Justus’s lips thinned. “I just did. And if you had any idea how many times a kid has said that to me… You don’t think what you did to that woman was abuse? She’s sick and vulnerable, and you take advantage of her? You know what?” He pointed to the surveillance equipment in the corner of the portico. “There is going to be video footage of you. Did you ever think about that?”
The kid’s face paled and he looked a little startled at that thought.
When Justus strode back into the emergency room, Angry-Mom-Nurse looked up from behind the triage desk. “Oh, your wife is in the back…” Her words trailed away as her gaze settled on the shiny links connecting his wrist to the boy’s.
Justus dropped Dakota’s purse on the counter and flashed the nurse his badge. It really wasn’t anything more than proof that he was certified as an Oregon juvenile detention agent, but he hoped it would keep questions to a minimum.
He tipped a nod from the boy to the purse. “He stole her purse. I’m a correctional officer and will be keeping track of him till the police can come. How is she?”
The nurse was slightly bug-eyed. “She’s in the back being looked at by a doctor now.”
“Good. First, she’s not my wife. Second, she has a tropical disease specialist she was supposed to see this afternoon at four thirty. I don’t remember his name. But I didn’t think she should wait that long. Can you please see that she gets this purse while I deal with the kid?”
The woman nodded slowly and picked up the bag.
“Thanks.” Justus dropped one hand against the boy’s shoulder. “Now, let’s have a little talk, shall we, before I call the police.”
The boy swallowed visibly.
“What’s your name, kid?”
The boy’s eyes narrowed and his jaw jutted off to one side. He refused to meet Justus’s gaze and tried to affect an indifferent stance by folding his arms, but was brought up short with the reminder that one of his wrists was cuffed to Justus.
“Okay, so you don’t want to te
ll me your name. Fine. I’ll just call you Kid. How about you tell me why you snatched my friend’s purse, Kid?” He deliberately put a little emphasis on the last word.
“I don’t got to say nothin’ to you.”
“Fair enough.” Justus scrubbed the back of his neck, trying to figure out how he was going to stall long enough to have Kylen be the one who showed up. Right now Kylen would still be at the wedding. To give himself time to think, he propelled the little thief across the waiting room to the vending machine. “You hungry?” He put in a dollar and punched in the number for a Snickers bar.
The boy eyed him like he might be half crazy. “First you cuff me and now you offer me candy?”
Justus shrugged and took a big bite of his candy bar. “Figure we might as well make our time together as pleasant as possible.”
“Fine. I’ll take the Junior Mints.” He shuffled his feet and wore an expression that said he half expected Justus to laugh and tell him it had been a joke.
What kind of a home had this kid been raised in? Justus nodded and inserted another dollar. “Good choice.”
When the boy had his Junior Mints, Justus led him back across the room to two chairs that were empty near one corner. He was itching to check on Dakota, but something told him that maybe he’d been brought to this time and place for a reason other than just helping her.
The kid plopped into one of the chairs with a sullen curse. “Call the cops already.” His box of candy remained untouched.
Justus took a leisurely bite of his chocolate and sank casually into the chair next to Mr. Personality. “All in good time.”
“Creep! You can’t keep me chained to your wrist forever, you know. My parents are going to be wondering where I am!”
Kid, they should have been wondering about your whereabouts long before now. “Your parents…who are they?”
The boy huffed, and for a minute Justus thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he blurted, “People you should be afraid of, that’s who. My dad is going to go off on you when he learns about this, man.” Another string of curses followed as the boy tried to emphasize how scared Justus should be of his father.
“I think I liked you better when you were scared spitless because I’d almost just run over you.”
Sadly, the kid might be right about his parents’ reaction, but what the little punk didn’t know was that Justus had faced down, and lived to tell about, parents who were much scarier than his father likely was. In fact, in the long run, most parents ended up thanking him for the changes he helped foster in their children.
The nurse approached from across the way. “I thought you should know that Doctor Dallas happened to be on campus and is in with Dakota now. And,” her lips pressed into a thin line as though she couldn’t fathom a reason for her next words, “Dakota is asking for you.”
Justus saw another opportunity to stall in calling the cops. “Good. The kid here has something to say to Dakota, anyhow.”
The boy rolled his eyes. “No I don’t.”
Justus sighed, took hold of the half-size villain’s arm, and stood. Someone had better get a hold of this kid real soon or his attitude was going to lead him down all kinds of troubling paths.
“Come on, Kid, don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
With a begrudging grunt, young Mister Purloin dragged his feet beside Justus as they followed the nurse to Dakota’s room.
She lay under the covers, her hospital bed tipped up slightly and her face looking pale against the pillows. Her fine blonde hair splayed all around her. But her eyes opened when she heard them enter and she seemed a little more lucid than she’d been a few minutes earlier. A bag of what he presumed was saline and hopefully fever reducer dripped down a tube into her arm.
Her gaze flickered from him to the boy. “I thought someone took my purse. Was I dreaming?”
At the raspy quality of her voice, concern made his insides go soft. “I’m afraid not. But I got it back.”
She took in the boy by his side and her brow furrowed. “Isn’t he—?”
“Yep. Same kid. In fact, he has something he’d like to say to you.” He pegged the kid with his sternest look and raised his brows.
The kid only shuffled his feet and glowered at the floor. “Told you I got nothin’ to say.”
In that moment Justus wished he had the right to give the kid’s skull a good rapping. Especially since a troubled look tightened Dakota’s face.
Instead of manhandling the kid, he leaned over Dakota and brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. He spoke to get her mind off the boy’s unrepentant attitude. “How are you feeling?”
Her nose wrinkled. “Better now that the pain meds are kicking in.”
“Good. I was really worried about you. Just rest. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
She sighed and nestled a little deeper into her pillow. Her eyes dropped closed and she murmured. “I kept trying to figure out who he looks like. It’s Riley.”
Next to him, the boy jolted as if he’d been stuck with a pin. Justus rubbed his jaw and studied the scrawny red head. That was what he’d been seeing. Yes. The kid really did resemble Riley.
Justus pulled him over to one corner of Dakota’s room and kept his voice low. “Riley Ross…Do you know her?”
The kid couldn’t have looked more dumbstruck if Justus had announced that he was an alien from outer space. But he recovered even if he did stumble over his words. “I-I don’t h-have any idea wh-who you are talking about.”
Justus eased out a breath. Riley’s brother? Most likely. He was even more glad now that he’d waited till he could talk to Kylen and not just dump the kid into the system. He glanced at his watch. It had been a little over an hour since he and Dakota had left the wedding. The reception was likely winding down. Maybe Kylen could find time to talk to him for a few minutes.
He slipped his phone from his pocket and pressed on Kylen’s number.
While he listened to it ring, he removed the cuff from his own wrist and ratcheted it around the arm of a chair, motioning for the kid to sit. With a grumble and a roll of his eyes, he plopped into the seat and then snapped his head back against the wall.
Satisfied that his charge wasn’t going anywhere for the time being, Justus stepped into the hallway.
“Hello?” Kylen finally answered.
Justus filled him in quietly. “Better bring Riley too. I think she might know him.”
The sound of a vacuum whirred in the background. “Okay. We’re almost done here and will be there as soon as we can. Marie and Reece just left to catch their flight, and Taysia’s cleaning up.”
Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Justus returned to the room. Dakota was sound asleep and breathing deeply. The kid had been crying but swiped madly at his cheeks. Justus gave him his dignity and strode to Dakota’s side as though to check on her.
Lord, help me to reach this kid.
The prayer stopped him. How many times had he prayed that prayer for one boy or another over the years? Too many to count. And how many had he reached? Far fewer than he would have liked. But God hadn’t called him to share the gospel so long as it “worked.” The call was simply to share.
He looked at the woman lying in the bed and swallowed. It was probably a good thing she’d turned him down for that date. Because he suddenly knew what his answer was. He couldn’t abandon his ministry to the boys God kept entrusting to his care. He’d be going back to work at Deschutes Rejuvenation just as soon as his vacation time was up at the end of the week. And – the image of Helene’s wide staring eyes flashed into his mind and he shuddered – he couldn’t take a woman into that ministry with him.
Relief mingled with sadness as he crossed the room and sank into the chair next to the angry adolescent. Maybe his own story would get through to him. He glanced once more at Dakota. She was still asleep so he didn’t need to fear her overhearing. He wanted her to hear this only when she was ready. He had so much remorse for
all the pain he’d caused others in the past. He didn’t want to cause more with the telling of it.
He leveled his gaze on the boy. “When I was just a few years older than you I served four years of jail time.”
The boy’s eyebrows went up and he looked over, curiosity apparently overriding his desire to look like he didn’t care.
“Want me to tell you why? Forget that.” Justus shook his head. “Let me tell you why.” He took the still unopened box of Junior Mints from the kid, opened the top, and handed it back. “I grew up in a small town in Oregon a lot like Marinville. When I was fifteen my father, who was a sawyer, worked for a logging outfit. A tree he was falling snapped back on him. Widow Makers they call them.” Justus tipped his head against the wall. “Good name for them, I guess, because that’s exactly what that tree made of my mother. She went to work full time and then some. And I went to work full time being angry at God.”
The boy snorted. “God don’t exist, Mister.”
Justus chose to ignore that and went on. “There was a group of guys in town that weren’t worth much. They were reprobates who did nothing but cause trouble and disrespected everyone, but I decided I wanted to be one of them. Mother was busy working two jobs and didn’t notice that I was gone from home most of the time. We did stupid stuff. Tipped over porta johns during the town fair, spray painted our sign all over town, and dared each other to jack loot from the local supermarket.”
The kid wiggled in his chair but otherwise held his silence.
“Pretty soon though, those things didn’t hold the excitement they once had. We started doing drugs and stealing booze.”
The kid rolled his eyes. “Jump to the part where you’re in jail. I like that part.”
Justus grinned. He liked this kid’s spunk. Channeled in the right direction, God could do a lot with it. But as his thoughts turned back to his story, all humor faded.
He rubbed his palms against his knees. “On the corner of First and Pine, old Mr. McKettrick ran McKettrick’s Convenience Store. Mick’s we called it. First day back after spring break, the boys and I decided to skip school and hit up Mick’s for some fun. He had a whole aisle of booze and we figured he’d be easier to get past than the security cameras down at Safeway.”
Song of the Surf (Pacific Shores Book 3) Page 11