Runaway Justice (David Adams)

by Chad Zunker

  David turned when he heard a sudden knock on the restaurant window. Jess was enthusiastically waving him back inside. He said goodbye to Doc, hung up, and hurried back inside the café.

  “Tell me,” David said, sliding into their booth.

  She slid the phone list in front of him. She’d circled one of the numbers. “This phone number belongs to someone named Dillon Dyson. So I looked him up. Get this: Dyson owns the Burping Goat.”

  “Then that’s got to be our Dilly, right?”

  Jess showed him her phone screen, where she’d pulled up an article from a local music magazine. There was a photo of a fiftysomething man in a gray suit with his arm around country star Willie Nelson. The caption below the photo said, “Dilly Dyson hosts Willie Nelson Night at Dance Texas.” David examined the man. Fit and tan, Dyson looked kind of like a young Jeff Bridges.

  “This was from a couple of years ago,” Jess explained. “Since then, Dyson filed for bankruptcy and had to close down his bar Dance Texas, along with several others. I think the Burping Goat might be the only bar he still has open.”

  “Great work, Jess.”

  “Thanks. According to the phone bill, Maylor called and received calls from this number several times leading up to the end of this statement’s billing cycle.”

  “So the two men have some kind of established relationship.”

  “It would appear so. But I can’t find a connection between Dyson and Kingston. I just ran an online search, and nothing popped up tying the two men together in any way.”

  David considered that. “I guess this could be nothing. Hard to know for sure if what the girlfriend said was truly legitimate.”

  “What if I call the number? Just see if he answers?”

  “And if he does?”

  “I’ll ask him about Maylor and see what kind of response we get.”

  “Okay, go for it.”

  Jess typed in the number, put her phone on speaker, and set it between them. It rang four times and then went to an automated voice mail. She hung up. “I’d rather we have a live conversation with him to better gauge his response.”

  “The Burping Goat is not far from here, right?”

  “Right. Let’s go see if he’s there.”

  As they began collecting papers from the table, David’s phone buzzed. A random number. He hated picking up calls from people he didn’t know. He wasted a lot of hours on the phone giving legal advice to strangers who’d gotten his number from one of his homeless friends. But he couldn’t take the chance of ignoring any calls today.

  “This is David,” he answered, rubbing his forehead.

  A long pause, then, “I’m scared, Mr. Adams.”

  David stiffened, felt adrenaline course through him.

  “Where are you, Parker?”

  Jess looked over at him with wide eyes. David nodded.

  “Hiding.”

  “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  “I’m okay. Just . . . scared. I don’t know what to do.”

  David glanced out the café window. The gray Buick was parked in the lot. For a second, David wondered if the FBI would’ve tapped his phone. It was the first time he’d even thought about it. Could they be listening in on this conversation? He doubted it. Surely there was no way a judge would have granted a phone tap at this point.

  “I’m scared, too, Parker. I’m not okay with you being out there on the streets. It’s not safe.”

  “I have no choice, Mr. Adams. People are after me.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “The FBI is not very happy with me right now.”

  “Not just the FBI. Other bad people.”

  David wondered what Parker knew about Richie Maylor. “What other bad people, Parker?”

  “That’s the thing, Mr. Adams. I don’t know. I need your help.”

  David was glad to hear him say that. “How are you calling me?”

  “I’m in a grocery store. I borrowed a phone from a lady. I told her I needed to call my parents. She’s standing about ten feet away from me but can’t hear what I’m saying. But I need to be quick.”

  It was the same smart maneuver the boy had used last night to get a phone and leave him the voice mail. As Jess had mentioned, he was resourceful. Not too many people were going to turn away an innocent-looking boy like Parker who wanted to call his parents. David was beginning to formulate a plan.

  “Are you anywhere near downtown?” David asked.

  Parker didn’t respond.

  David pressed him. “You have to trust me right now, Parker.”

  “I want to. I really do. But I’m scared to trust anyone.”

  “Do you know where the Paramount Theatre is on Congress Avenue in the middle of downtown? It has the big vertical sign outside that says Paramount.”

  “Is that the place that has the shows and movies?”

  “Yes, that place.”

  “Yes, sir, I know it.”

  “Can you easily get there?”

  “I can walk there. It’ll probably take me twenty minutes or so.”

  David checked his watch. “Okay, I want you to meet me in the alley behind the Paramount Theatre in twenty minutes. Will you do that?”

  More silence, then, “Yes, sir. I’ll be there.”

  Parker hung up. David felt his heart racing.

  “Twenty minutes?” Jess asked him.

  David nodded. “Hopefully enough time for me to ditch my annoying shadow.”

  “How’re going to do that?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Yes, by going to the bar. See if you can find this Dyson guy.”

  “Okay. Keep me posted about Parker.”

  As Jess moved past him toward the café’s front door, David grabbed her by the hand. She turned to look at him.

  “Be safe, okay, Jess?”

  “I think you know by now I can take care of myself.”

  “I do. But I have a bad feeling about this.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I will.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  David felt his adrenaline suddenly racing. He was at once relieved to hear Parker was okay but now fully stressed about how to get to the boy without bringing the FBI along with him. He quickly drove back to his office and parked in a nearby paid lot. As he headed for the front of his building, he watched the gray Buick ease to the curb of Congress Avenue. David bounded up the stairs to the second level. Once inside his personal office, David reached into his desk drawer, found a second cell phone that he’d been allowing Doc to use here and there for law firm business. He turned it on to make sure it was fully charged, then turned it back off to preserve the battery. He then circled around his desk, hit the stairs again, and left the building. The sidewalks were busy with people shopping and heading out early to bars and restaurants. From the corner of his eye, he caught the two federal agents pop out of the Buick behind him.

  Darting in and out of people, David kept a brisk pace. But not so fast as to lose the two agents—yet. He wanted to lead them as far away as possible before hopefully ditching them. Walking north up Congress Avenue, David made his first pass outside the Paramount Theatre. The place was one of those classic old-school theaters that had been around since the early 1900s. If there was a feature film coming out with some kind of connection to Austin—either by being filmed around the city or through a famous local actor—it usually premiered at the Paramount. David had mentioned it to Parker because he thought the kid might know its exact location.

  David continued to head north, pausing at streetlights as cars passed, taking brief moments to make sure the two agents were still back there somewhere. He cut across to the other side of Congress Avenue two blocks from the Texas Capitol building. Jeter and Hernandez stayed right behind him. At that point, David pulled out his phone, brought up the Uber app, and—while continuing to walk—requested a ride. He chose a pickup location two blocks away and tried to time it ju
st right. He paused at a streetlight while watching a block ahead of him for the white Jeep Cherokee that his Uber app said was about to arrive. When he spotted the vehicle, David hustled forward. He was running now. He didn’t care if the two agents figured out what he was doing. It was go time.

  Getting to the Jeep Cherokee, he jumped in the back and immediately told the driver, “Please go, now. I’m in a hurry!”

  “Sure, pal.”

  The driver—a midforties man named Dennis with a crew cut—quickly pulled away from the curb into traffic. David turned around and spotted the two FBI agents trying to run toward the car. David knew if Dennis didn’t make it all the way through the next stoplight, Jeter and Hernandez might catch up. If they did, David had no idea what would happen next. Would they pull the car over on foot?

  “Come on, Dennis. I need you to get me there.”

  “I’m on it. You’re only going five blocks. Did you really need a lift?”

  “Yes. Just go!”

  Dennis maneuvered into a crowded right lane, cut someone off, and then swiftly sped up. The car easily made it through the stoplight. Then Dennis turned right on the next street. Watching through the back window, David could no longer see the two agents in pursuit. They had gotten lost behind a set of buildings. But David knew they were probably already calling in the license plate of the Jeep Cherokee. He needed to get out right away. Within a few seconds, Dennis pulled his car over to the curb. David hopped out without a word, jumped up onto another crowded downtown sidewalk, and then cut into the first alley in sight.

  Unless the FBI had a tracking device on his body somewhere, David was sure he had lost them. He checked his watch. He had five minutes to get back to Congress Avenue, where he prayed he would find Parker waiting for him. Arriving, he found the alley behind the Paramount surrounded on both sides by tall buildings. There were dumpsters and shadows but little else. It was a good place for a secret meeting. But where was Parker? David hoped the boy hadn’t changed his mind. He heard a noise come from his left, but it was just a guy tossing trash into a dumpster from the back door of a business down the alley. The guy went back inside and closed the door.

  David checked his watch again: 5:27. Come on, kid. Don’t do this to me. More pacing in a nervous circle. If the kid didn’t show, David didn’t know what to do next.

  At 5:28, David heard a voice behind him.

  “Mr. Adams?”

  He spun around, found Parker standing there wearing his black sweatshirt hoodie with the hood up over his head. The kid had somehow slipped into the alley without David ever hearing him. Parker looked uneasy. Like it took all the trust he could muster just to get to the alley, but he wasn’t sure if he could take another step. David didn’t make him. He hustled right over to the kid, knelt down, and hugged him tightly. Parker nearly collapsed into his strong arms, as if the weight of the whole world was falling off the boy’s shoulders. David felt tears forming in his eyes. He didn’t realize how much tension he’d been carrying around for the past fourteen hours—ever since he’d gotten the call from Keith that Parker had run away.

  “I’m happy to see you,” David said.

  David pulled back to examine the boy, make sure he really wasn’t hurt. That’s when he noticed that all Parker’s hair was gone. The kid was fully bald. “What happened to your hair?”

  “I cut it off. So they couldn’t find me.”

  David nodded. Again, resourceful. He would ask later how the boy went about doing that. He didn’t want to waste time on things that didn’t matter at this point. They were still vulnerable to the FBI finding them.

  “Will you come with me, Parker? I need to get you to a safe place so we can talk about what’s happened.”

  “Is anywhere really safe, Mr. Adams?”

  David swallowed. Fear was pouring out of every part of the boy right now. He needed to be reassured that it was possible to be safe. That someone would take care of him and protect him.

  “Yes,” David replied. “I know the perfect spot.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Because the FBI might try to track his next Uber ride, David grabbed a taxi so he could pay cash and get them out of downtown proper as fast as possible. Parker sat low in the back seat next to him. David had instructed him not to say anything during the ride. They didn’t need their taxi driver overhearing something that might put them in some kind of jeopardy. Ten minutes into the drive, the driver pulled over into the parking lot of a Rudy’s Country Store and Bar-B-Q and dropped them off. But they were not there to eat. The combo restaurant–gas station sat alone on its own property and backed up to the woods. Quickly guiding Parker around to the side of the building, David headed straight for the trees.

  “Where are we going?” Parker asked, clearly confused.

  “The safest place I know in this city. Trust me.”

  David took one more peek behind them, making sure no one was watching them. They were in the clear, so he turned and found a narrow strip of a trail that he knew well by now. They marched forward into the woods, cutting in and around tall trees and up and down small hills. There were no signs of this being a well-known path that people used regularly. David knew that it had been created by only one man. A good friend who liked to camp in complete isolation. A person he trusted probably more than anyone right now to protect Parker with his life.

  About a quarter mile into their hike, just as the sun was setting and the skies were growing dark, David found the small clearing with the solo camping tent sitting next to a campfire. A small brown dog with a white spot that looked like a star on its back barked once, seemed to recognize David, then came bouncing over to him with great enthusiasm. David scooped the Yorkshire terrier right up.

  “Hey, Sandy,” he said, as the dog tried to lick him all over.

  Then came a grouchy voice from inside the tent. “What the hell?”

  A second later, a man in his late thirties stepped out. He had a full head of reddish-brown hair that flowed down past his shoulders and one of the thickest mustaches David had ever seen. Lean and muscular, the man wore a blue pearl-snap long-sleeve shirt, mostly unbuttoned, with blue jeans and cowboy boots.

  “Hey, Rebel,” David said. “How’re you doing?”

  The angry look on the man’s face instantly vanished upon seeing David. It was quickly replaced with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. “Well, I’ll be! If it ain’t the Lawyer.”

  David handed the dog to Parker, who gladly started holding and petting Sandy. Then David and Rebel gave each other a hug. David had represented the homeless man six months ago on a big case. They had been good friends ever since. David tried to visit him here and there. He was probably the only person who even knew how to find Rebel.

  “You doing okay?” David said.

  “You know me, Lawyer. I’m causing trouble everywhere I can.”

  They both laughed.

  “I’d expect nothing less,” David said.

  Rebel glanced over at Parker. “Who’s the kid?”

  “I want you to meet my friend Parker. We need a safe place right now.”

  Rebel glanced at David with narrowed eyes. “Yeah?”

  “I need your help,” David said, taking a more serious tone. “He’s in danger.”

  “Well, all right. You came to the right place. Why don’t I get this campfire going a bit more so we can all stay warm?”

  Rebel shook Parker’s hand, told a funny story about Sandy, and then invited them to sit around the campfire while he gathered some more wood to get it going again.

  “You okay?” David asked Parker.

  Parker nodded. The dog was sitting in his lap, enjoying every moment of the petting and attention the boy was giving him.

  “I guess you like dogs?” David said.

  “I love dogs. We had a golden retriever named Jordan. They took him away after my dad died and they hauled me off. I don’t know what happened to Jordan.”

  “I’m real sorry. About everything that’s ha
ppened to you.”

  Sandy kept crawling up Parker’s chest and trying to lick his face. The boy didn’t seem to mind. It was nice to see the kid grin.

  “Your friend is funny,” Parker mentioned. “Is his name really Rebel?”

  “No, it’s a nickname. He likes to call me Lawyer.”

  Another small grin. “I’m going to start calling you Lawyer, too.”

  David matched his grin. But it was time to get serious. “Parker, we need to talk about what all has happened, okay?”

  Parker’s grin disappeared. “I know.”

  “I need you to be truthful with me. It’s the only way I can protect you.”

  Another nod. “I’m sorry for lying to you, Mr. Adams. I was there in the park the night that guy was killed. I was scared. And I just wanted to be left alone. But I guess that can’t happen.”

  “No—not yet, at least. So what happened that night?”

  Parker put Sandy down on the ground. The dog immediately raced off to go find Rebel in the woods around the campsite.

  “I was sleeping in the park. On one of the picnic tables. A few of the guys I knew had been over there throwing a Frisbee around. They wanted to walk back over to campus when it started getting dark. But I was too tired. So I just decided to stay there and lie down on a picnic table. I was dead asleep when I heard this truck pull up to the park. The headlights woke me up. I jumped off the picnic table because I didn’t want anyone to see me. And I kind of scooted off to the side behind some trees.

  “A guy got out and just kind of hung out near the front bumper while smoking a cigarette. I wasn’t sure what he was doing. I thought maybe he just drove over to the park to smoke or something. But a few minutes later, another car arrived. One of those fancy Cadillac Escalades. An older man got out and walked up to the other guy. And then it happened . . .”

  Parker paused, noticeably swallowed.

  “It’s okay, Parker. Take a moment.”

  “It was scary, Mr. Adams. The guy smoking the cigarette suddenly pulled out a gun and aimed it at the other guy. They said a couple of things to each other, but I couldn’t hear much. And then the younger guy shot the older guy in the chest. I think he did it twice, but it was real fast and loud. Not loud like a bang. It looked like the guy had one of those silencer things attached to his gun, like I see in movies sometimes. But the sound still vibrated in my chest. The older man staggered and fell down on his back. Then the guy with the cigarette stood over him and shot the man in the head. I couldn’t believe it. I felt like I was having a nightmare or something. But it was real. I just sat there behind that tree, like, frozen or something.”