Runaway Justice (David Adams)

by Chad Zunker

  All of the boys offered another friendly hello to Jess. Even though David had assured her they could help, Jess clearly did not know what to make of this misfit group. Just the same, she gave a quick but awkward wave of the hand.

  David turned to Doc. “Do you have the copies of Parker’s photo?”

  Doc nodded and handed out copies of a profile photo David had pulled from Parker’s official CPS file.

  “This is Parker Barnes,” David began. “He’s a twelve-year-old runaway whom I helped get out of the juvenile justice center yesterday morning and took over to stay at an at-risk youth facility called the Hand-Up Home. He’s a good kid who’s had a really rough start to life. Tragically lost both of his parents early. Been abused in foster care. Ran away from an awful foster dad about a month ago and has been living on the streets here in Austin.”

  “I think I remember this kid,” Larue chimed in, staring at the photo. “He’s hung out with Skater some, right?”

  “Correct,” David replied, then added, “Which is why he got picked up for stealing purses the other night.”

  Larue rolled his eyes. “I keep trying to get that cat some real work so he’ll stop doing that BS.”

  “Keep at it, Larue. Anyway, Parker ran away from the facility last night and is back out on the streets. We need to find him fast before he gets hurt. That’s why you’re here this morning. You’re my eyes and ears out there.”

  “Who wants to hurt the boy, Shep?” Shifty asked.

  “We’re not sure yet. I should tell you, there is a bigger story at play here. The FBI thinks Parker is somehow connected to a fatal shooting that happened six nights ago over in Pease Park.”

  “That dead federal witness?” Curly asked.

  David turned, surprised Curly knew about that.

  Curly shrugged. “Someone usually brings a newspaper to the construction site. I mostly scan the sports section on breaks, but the story of the dead witness caught my attention.”

  “Curly is right,” David said. “The dead guy was a federal witness who was set to testify. Someone made sure that didn’t happen. The FBI showed up yesterday wanting to interrogate Parker, but I wouldn’t allow that. He seemed too rattled. Now they’re pissed at me because Parker has up and vanished. Because of that, they seem hell-bent on hunting down a scared little boy like he’s some most-wanted criminal.”

  “Shep, you mean it’s us against the FBI?” Shifty asked.

  “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

  There were some blank stares at each other across the room.

  Larue said, “Well, that doesn’t really seem like a fair fight.”

  Beside him, Shifty began to smile and snicker. “Yeah, the FBI don’t stand no chance. We know these streets like the back of our hands.”

  Everyone laughed. David even caught Jess grinning in the corner.

  “I’m counting on that, Shifty,” David said. “In all seriousness, guys, I’m very concerned for Parker. I’m not sure yet how he’s connected to this slaying, but Jess and I believe he’s in real danger. We think he ran away from the children’s home last night because someone threatened him.”

  David had wheeled out the TV from his office on a rolling cart. He cued up the video showing the interaction between Parker and the mystery man by the courtyard fence, pointed out where Parker was standing, and then allowed everyone to watch.

  “Who is that guy?” Curly asked, stepping closer.

  “We don’t know yet,” Jess replied. “But we think he might have had a gun hidden beneath the jacket that he flashed Parker.”

  “You can tell the boy’s scared,” Doc suggested. “Poor kid.”

  Jess stood and moved in next to David. “Parker called David and left a voice mail right after he ran away early this morning. Said he could no longer stay there or else someone would hurt him. That call happened at the corner of Thirty-Eighth and Lamar. That’s the boy’s last known location.”

  “He could be anywhere,” David added. “I need you guys out there ASAP working the streets, talking to your friends, and getting the word out.”

  “You can count on us, Shep,” Larue said.

  “Yeah, we won’t let you down,” Curly concurred.

  “Thanks. Keep me posted.”

  The guys quickly dispersed.

  Alone, David huddled with Jess again.

  “What do you think?” he asked her.

  “Interesting guys. Do any of them even have cars?”

  “Only Doc.”

  “Then how the hell are they going to cover the city?”

  “You’d be surprised. These guys are some of the most resourceful human beings I’ve ever been around. And the most loyal.”

  “I’ll take your word for it. But I don’t like our chances. Zegers probably has a dozen drones canvassing Austin at this very moment. Speaking of the FBI, I want to show you something.” She took David by the arm, walked him into his office and up to the window overlooking Congress Avenue.

  “Gray Buick on the curb below,” she said, pointing.

  David peered down and noticed two guys sitting in the front seat of the sedan. He recognized them as part of Zegers’s posse from yesterday. Agents Hernandez and Jeter?

  “What are they doing out there?” he asked her.

  “They’re watching you. In case Parker tries to make contact. Just know you’re probably going to have a tail everywhere you go today.”

  SIXTEEN

  Parker carefully watched the front doors of the Walgreens, looking for his best opportunity to go inside unnoticed. He knew if he walked straight in all by himself that a store clerk might wonder what a kid his age was doing there all alone and monitor him more closely. Parker couldn’t take that chance. Not now—not with what was at stake. So he waited behind a concrete column about ten paces down the sidewalk right outside the store.

  His stomach was wrapped up in knots, both from not eating anything since last night and being up all night without a wink of sleep. He felt exhausted but wondered if he’d ever be able to sleep again. After bolting from the Hand-Up Home, he’d run deep into the bowels of the city, trying to create as much distance as possible away from the facility—just in case someone was out there looking for him. He had no idea how far he’d actually traveled. At first, he was counting the blocks—just to give himself some kind of bearings. But he’d stopped counting after twenty. Then he’d hid in the woods behind a new medical center until daylight.

  Standing there, he could still feel a chill in his bones from wearing rain-soaked clothes during a cold night. At least the rain had finally stopped. Parker noticed a minivan pull into a parking spot close by the front doors. A mom got out, along with two boys probably around his age. The boys were pushing each other playfully like brothers often do. Parker had always wanted a brother. His dad had told him they’d planned to have another child before his mom got sick. The mom told the boys to stop goofing around, and then they trailed her toward the doors to Walgreens.

  With his hoodie up over his head, Parker took that moment to hurry up and step in behind them, as if he were part of the family, and they all entered the store together. A female clerk at the front register half glanced over for a moment. The mom was telling the boys to get one snack and meet her back at the register. Parker grabbed a package of peanut butter crackers from a shelf and then moved into the back section of the store, where they offered healthcare and other assorted medicinal products. He went up and down the aisles, searching for a specific item. He finally found it on the fourth aisle with all the hair products. Electric hair clippers with batteries included. He grabbed a small box off the shelf.

  Glancing up, Parker looked for video cameras. He spotted one in the corner. Positioning his back to the camera, he quickly shoved the box with the hair clippers and the peanut butter crackers into the front of his jeans beneath the hoodie and pulled the sweatshirt way down. From there, he swiftly walked toward the front of the store again, searching for the mom of the two boys. He found he
r kneeling in the makeup section and looking at lipsticks. Her oversize brown purse was sitting inside a red shopping basket on the floor right next to her.

  Parker glanced toward the front of the store. The female clerk was busy checking out a couple of other customers. Parker had spotted another clerk three aisles behind him putting some items back on a shelf from a cart. And a third clerk was in the back corner near the pharmacy. The brothers were still over in the candy aisle. He could hear them messing with each other. Parker quickly snagged an expensive pair of sunglasses off a rack that had one of those security tags attached to it and slowly moved in behind the mom. She was still busy choosing lipsticks. He took a quick breath, let it out quietly. Then as carefully as he could without being noticed, he bent over and set the sunglasses down inside her big purse—like he was playing that Operation game and trying not to touch any of the walls and get buzzed.

  He let go of the sunglasses, pulled his hand back, stood straight. At that moment, the mom turned to look up at him. He gave her a quick smile, pivoted, and walked away. His heart was racing so fast. After creating some distance, he turned around to see if the mom had noticed him with the sunglasses. She snagged the red basket with her purse inside without a second look and then walked up to the front of the store, where she found the brothers poking through gum on a front rack.

  Parker eased up toward the front of the store with his eyes on a bin filled with discounted items, but he was watching the family in his peripheral vision. The brothers put giant candy bars up on the checkout counter next to their mother’s makeup items from the basket. One boy had chosen Butterfinger, and the other had chosen a KIT KAT. Parker watched to see if the clerk wondered why the third son was not putting anything on the counter. But she just scanned everything, looking bored.

  After paying, the mom and the boys moved toward the front doors. Parker darted in right behind them. When they passed through the security detectors, a beeping alarm suddenly went off. All three of them stopped and looked at each other. But Parker just kept on walking out the doors, his heart in his throat. Behind him, he heard the clerk ask the mom to bring the bag back over to see if she’d missed a tag or something. Parker turned the corner away from the front doors and then took off at a dead sprint.

  He ran across the street to another retail strip and then hid behind the buildings near the dumpsters. Pulling out the package of peanut butter crackers, he tore off the wrapper and placed one in his mouth. Then he tossed in two more crackers before he’d even swallowed the first. He and his dad used to stop at a convenience store after every soccer practice. He would always get peanut butter crackers and a blue Gatorade. His dad liked to get nacho cheese Doritos and a Red Bull. They would usually sit on a bench outside the convenience store, eat their snacks, and talk a little about life before going home. He missed his dad and those talks so much.

  With his stomach starting to feel a little better, Parker tore open the small box that held the hair clippers. He’d never used these before but had watched his dad use a device just like this to trim up the sides and back of his hair. It didn’t look too difficult. The black handheld device easily fit into his hand. Parker put the batteries into the device and then turned it on. The trimmer came to life with a gentle hum. Although he didn’t have a mirror, Parker didn’t think it really mattered. This didn’t have to be perfect. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had his hair cut.

  Here goes nothing, he thought, then pressed the clippers to his forehead and began slowly moving them up into his hair. Big clumps of brown hair began to immediately fall onto his face. Using his free hand, he knocked the loose hair off and continued the buzz job. Several times the clippers got locked up in a thick patch of hair. There was probably a much better way to do this, but he didn’t know how. So he kept pressing forward. Within a few minutes, all his shaggy brown hair was sitting in a pile beneath him. He brushed a lot of it off his clothes and then rubbed the palm of his hand up and around his now-bald head. He found a few remnants still hanging on and used the clippers to clean himself fully. He didn’t know what he looked like right now—and didn’t care to find out—but he felt assured that he appeared a lot different than he did yesterday. That’s what mattered most.

  Leaning up against the building, he finished off the rest of his peanut butter crackers. What was he going to do now? Just hide out on the streets and hope the goateed guy wouldn’t find him? But what about the FBI? Would they be out looking for him, too?

  Feeling cold and alone again, Parker felt tears forming in the backs of his eyes. He quickly shook his head and scolded himself. No more crying, you big baby. Don’t be such a wimp. You can do this. He’d been trying to give himself this same pep talk ever since he’d run away last night. But it wasn’t helping much. He had to think and sort out what he was going to do next. Should he make a run for another city? Stow away in another horse trailer? Maybe he could steal a car and drive for the Mexican border? Surely no one would find him in Mexico.

  He’d driven a truck the one summer he was with the Bidwell family. Judd’s grandpa had a ranch in south Texas with an old truck on it. He and Judd took turns behind the wheel on the wide-open land. At the time, Parker could just barely reach the pedals and had to stuff cushions under his butt to see over the dashboard and through the windshield. He gave himself whiplash for about an hour before finally getting the hang of it. Then both he and Judd had a blast all week driving that old truck up and down dirt roads and all over the ranch land. It really wasn’t too difficult. But that was ranch land without any other cars around. Not the highway.

  Parker sighed. He really didn’t want to start all over again in a new city. He was just getting comfortable on the streets of Austin and learning how to take care of himself. He didn’t want to leave. Maybe if he hid out for a week or two, it would all just go away. That’s what he wanted the most. For it to all just go away, and everything to go back to normal. He grinned to himself. As if a kid his age living on the streets was normal. He thought about calling Mr. Adams again. But he knew he couldn’t. Mr. Adams would probably want him to go back to the Hand-Up Home. He wouldn’t understand that Parker couldn’t do that. Parker had probably already gotten Mr. Adams in big trouble with the juvie judge. Mr. Adams might even be mad at him.

  He took another deep breath. He would just hide. Wait it out. He could do that. The only reason anyone had found him in the first place was because the police had picked him up. So as long as he didn’t do anything stupid or illegal, he should be fine. Parker remembered he’d just stolen again and kind of laughed. Okay, no more. This was the very last time.

  If he kept to himself, he could hide out for months. Heck, he could hide out for years, if that’s what it took. The pep talk seemed to be working.

  SEVENTEEN

  David and Jess left the office and began going door-to-door to all the businesses surrounding the Hand-Up Home, searching for additional security camera footage. David hoped to find something more on the mystery man who had threatened Parker in the courtyard yesterday afternoon. He presented himself as an attorney working in partnership with the FBI to find a runaway child who might be in serious danger. Part truth, part fiction. But he figured people would respond more willingly when they heard he was connected to an official authority. It worked. Most businesses were indeed helpful and allowed them access to their camera systems. In order to be efficient, they narrowed their search to the couple of hours on both ends of the fence encounter.

  Unfortunately, none of the three businesses directly across the street from the courtyard fence—a Laundromat, a dry cleaner, and a veterinary clinic—had a camera that captured Parker’s time with the man. So they were unable to see the man’s approach and where he went right after he left. They also reviewed footage from behind the Hand-Up Home and the opposite side of its buildings, without success. David was growing frustrated. And annoyed by the sight of the gray Buick parked just up the street from his truck. The two FBI agents were not subtle
in their surveillance. They were clearly okay with him knowing they were back there, waiting, watching—as if David had Parker hidden somewhere and was looking for an opportunity to slip away to reach him. Jess encouraged him to simply ignore them.

  Their tedious search efforts finally paid off when they found something from a camera at a day care center directly across the street from the front doors of the Hand-Up Home. The friendly director gave them free rein inside her personal office while she had a meeting with her staff down the hallway. Jess sat at the desk behind a large computer monitor that showed the day care’s full set of security cameras. David leaned in closely from behind, again finding himself distracted by Jess’s fragrance.

  Jess worked the video controls for a few minutes before David spotted something.

  “There,” David said, pointing at the computer screen. “That’s him, right?”

  “Same goatee, jean jacket, jeans, and boots.”

  Jess rewound the video, and they watched again. At exactly 3:37 p.m., according to the time log on the video, the same man who’d approached Parker had come around the corner of the sidewalk near the front of the Hand-Up Home.

  “This is a much better shot of him than the inner courtyard video,” Jess said.

  “Are you able to zoom in even closer?”

  Jess paused the video, enhanced the guy’s face until it began to blur on the screen.

  “I’d guess midtwenties,” Jess said.

  “Rough-looking guy. Let’s see how far we can track him.”

  Jess pressed “Play” again. The guy quickly walked to a black Ford truck that was jacked up with big mud tires. Because it was parked parallel to the curb, David couldn’t get a clear look at the license plate. The guy climbed into the vehicle, lit up a cigarette, and then pulled away.