Run to Me (2 page)

They waited, expectant.

‘You gotta stop following me around everywhere.’

‘How come?’ Reece
said.

‘Well, I got things to do, that’s why.’ Not to mention how uncool it was to be seen with a five- and a seven-year-old.

‘Why can’t we do them with you?’

‘Because the places I go aren’t safe for little kids. Like yesterday, that old building. It’s okay for me to go in, I’m big, but you could get hurt in dumps like that. Plus you can’t run as fast as me. I mean, what if one of those guys
had spotted us?’

‘What guys?’ Reece said.

‘There, ya see, you didn’t even notice.’

‘I saw him,’ Corey piped up. ‘The one with the suitcase.’

‘Sports bag. And I didn’t mean him. One guy on his own wouldn’t matter; I’m talking about the others that showed up after him. You gotta pay attention to stuff like that. You get caught doing what I do and they put you in jail.’

They sat absorbing the
weight of his words.

‘So why do you go in places like that?’ Reece said.

Zack stuck his chest out. ‘To lift stuff. Buildings that aren’t used any more have all sorts of junk lying around, stuff you can hock or get a deposit for.’

From the front of the house came a knock at the door. Zack got up.

‘You mean you steal stuff?’ Corey said, his eyes like saucers.

‘Where do you think your candy
bars come from? Think Frank buys ’em for you?’ Zack left them with their mouths hanging open and walked to the living room.

He unlocked the front door, and opened it just enough to peer out. On the other side of the tattered screen stood a man and a woman, each with a briefcase.

The man stepped forward. ‘May we speak to Frank or Julie Leary, please?’

‘Not home,’ Zack said.

‘When will they
be back?’

‘How should I know?’

‘Do you know where we might find them?’

Zack gave a laugh. ‘The nearest bar?’

‘Son, it’s very important we speak to your parents.’

He jerked the door back. ‘They’re not my parents.’

A second’s pause. ‘Yes, of course. Any idea when they’ll be home?’

‘You got shit in your ears? I said, I don’t know.’

‘Well, would you mind if we waited for them?’

Zack took
a closer look at the man. Gelled brown hair slicked back off a male-model, clean-shaven face. Younger than Frank and a lot more polite. The woman’s dark hair just skimmed her shoulders. Pants, smart jacket, big round eyes. They seemed safe enough. But the briefcases, the man’s suit and tie . . .

‘You’re not Mormons, are you?’

The man smiled. ‘No.’

‘Jehovah’s Witness?’

‘We’re not from any church.’

Zack shrugged. ‘Guess you can wait as long as you want then.’ He started to close the door but the man spoke up again.

‘What I meant was, could we wait inside for them?’

‘Nup, can’t let any strangers in.’

The man nodded, then tilted his head. ‘I’m guessing you’re Zackary Ballinger, is that right?’ He opened his briefcase and pulled out some papers.

‘How’d you know that?’

‘You look the right
age. Nine, isn’t it?’

‘Ten,’ Zack corrected, standing taller.

‘That’s right. And the others? Let’s see . . . Reece Dennings, seven; Corey Ingles, five. They inside too?’

‘Maybe.’ Zack frowned. ‘Hey, who the hell are you?’

‘I’m Mr Westgate and this is Ms Knowles. We’re with the New Hampshire Department of Child Welfare.’

Zack went still. Social workers. Just like the ones who’d brought him
to this dump, and the ones who’d brought him to the dump before that. He didn’t know these particular workers but he knew what a visit from one could mean. ‘What do you want with Frank and Julie?’

‘It’d be better if we discussed that with them.’

They stared at each other.

‘So.’ The man slipped the papers back in his case. ‘Now that you know who we are, may we come in?’

Zack squinted up at
them. Would anyone say they were a social worker if they weren’t? Robbers maybe. But there wasn’t anything worth stealing here.

‘Lemme see something.’

‘You mean an ID?’ Another smile. Then the pair pressed laminated cards to the screen, complete with their pictures. Their names were Westgate and Knowles all right.

Still Zack hesitated, imagining what Frank’s reaction would be if he came home
and found these strangers in his house. Then again, knowing what they were probably here for, it might just be worth it to see Frank squirm.

He unlocked the screen door and held it open.

Westgate stepped into the tiny living room and stopped as though he’d been slapped in the face. ‘Christ, what’s that –?’ He cut himself off.

‘What’s what?’ Zack said, pretending innocence. He’d never grown immune to the smell but at least he was used to it.

The man’s gaze swept over the dirty dishes heaped on an end table, the mouldering remains of food that clung to them, the grease-stained
furniture, the take-away wrappings, the overflowing ashtrays. ‘Never mind.’

The woman pulled a handkerchief from her bag and held it to her face. She was thin and tough-looking like she worked out a lot, like maybe the padding in her jacket’s shoulders wasn’t all padding. ‘Is the place normally this . . . untidy?’

‘Hell, no. Usually it’s worse.’

She pursed her lips at him.

‘Go ahead and sit
down if you want,’ Zack said, warming to the game of baiting them.

‘We’ll stand, thank you.’

‘You sure? They could be a while. It’s pay week and they usually stay till closing. Unless Frank gets in a fight, of course, and gets kicked out before that.’

The man had moved to one of the doors that opened off the living room. Zack watched him survey the rickety bunk bed and single mattress on the
floor of his bedroom. With his fancy clothes and slicked back hair he looked like some kind of trendy businessman. Up this close he even smelled clean. What would he think of the dirty clothes that littered the floor, the bedding that hadn’t been changed in months?

The woman stood eyeing him. ‘How did you get that bruise on your cheek?’

‘Baseball. A pitch came back at me.’

‘So you’re a pitcher,
eh?’ Westgate swung away from the door. ‘Bit late in the season for baseball, isn’t it? Would’ve thought you’d be playing football in September.’

‘Like I’m really big enough to play football.’

The man stepped closer and lowered his voice. ‘That’s not how you got the bruise, is it, son?’

Zack said nothing. It wasn’t that he wanted to cover for Frank, it was that he didn’t know whether he could
trust these strangers any better.

The man waited a moment longer then, realising he wasn’t going to get an answer, moved to the next door. ‘Hello, boys, I’m Mr Westgate. It’s okay, you go right on eating; we’re just having a look around.’

Zack hurried over to stand beside him. He was starting to regret having let the pair in. Social workers or not, dump or not, he felt suddenly resentful of
these smartly dressed strangers poking through the house.

Westgate scanned the kitchen from the safety of the doorway – the dish-choked sink, the grimy stove, the cascading rubbish bin – ending with the plate of crackers on the table.

‘Ritz and Cheese Wiz,’ he said to the boys. ‘That your dinner?’

Reece and Corey, frozen with crackers poised at their lips, looked to Zack.

‘Yeah, that’s dinner,’
he answered for them. ‘We’re fresh out of lobster.’ He took the man’s arm and pulled him back into the living room. ‘I think you better go and come back tomorrow.’

‘We’d like to ask you a few more questions, if that’s okay,’ the woman said.

‘I don’t want to talk to you anymore.’

‘Come on, Zack, help us out here.’ Westgate flashed him a kid’s-best-friend smile. ‘If you do the right thing we
might be able to get you and the others out of here.’

Zack felt his cheeks get hot. Where were these people when there wasn’t even crackers and Cheese Wiz to eat? When Julie spent days drunk on the couch? When Frank went apeshit and knocked them around?

‘What if we don’t want to leave?’

The man gaped at him. ‘You can’t . . . I mean . . .’ His smile returned. ‘You don’t understand. I’m saying
we can get you out of here for good.’

‘And take us where? Some other dump? Some other
family
that doesn’t give a rat’s ass about us?’

Zack turned away. Bad Boy Ballinger strikes again. If he could only learn to control that side of him – the part that was like a whole other person inside his head, the agro punk who never took shit, no matter who from – maybe he wouldn’t keep getting sent to
places like this.

Westgate leaned down, his expression softened to one of sympathy. ‘I know the system’s failed you in the past, son, but I give you my word –’

The promise was cut off by shouts from the kitchen. ‘Little shits! What are you doing with those?’

Zack heard Corey yell his name then Reece give a shriek. The next instant both boys burst into the living room, ran towards him and hid
behind his back.

Franklin J. Leary waddled out after them, stumbled to a halt and stared dumbly at the strangers in front of him. Before he could speak, Julie swayed through the door behind him. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Frank and Julie Leary?’

‘Who the hell are you?’

The pair introduced themselves and showed their IDs.

A series of expressions crossed Frank’s face – confusion, surprise, fear, hostility
– then he turned and shot Zack a look so savage it made him step back.

Corey reached up and tugged at his arm. ‘Zack, what’s happening?’

‘Dunno, just listen.’

Westgate cleared his throat. ‘Mr and Mrs Leary, I’ll come straight to the point. Our department has received a number of calls from concerned individuals regarding the treatment and condition of the boys in your care.’

Frank and Julie
spluttered in outrage. ‘What goddamn individuals?’ Frank demanded.

‘That’s confidential. All you need to know is that, upon our initial inspection of these premises, we’ve found those reports largely substantiated.’

‘Aw, now come on.’ The ingratiating smile looked like a grimace on Frank’s round face. ‘You don’t want to go believing everything these fellas tell you. They’re just kids.’

‘The
boys told us very little, Mr Leary. They didn’t have to.’ The woman glanced around in disgust.

‘Well, sure, the place is a mess at the moment.’ Frank waved a hand. ‘My wife’s been sick. It isn’t like this all the time.’

‘It’s more than just the state of the house,’ Westgate said.

‘The food, is that it? You’re wondering why there’s nothing to eat? Well, hell, I only got the cheque today. We
just haven’t done the shopping yet, that’s all.’ Frank took in the man’s doubting expression. ‘All right, I’ll admit we may have let a few things slide. But we’ll take care of everything the minute you leave. I give you my word.’

When Westgate said nothing, Frank exhaled. ‘There, see? All sorted out. So what happens now? Some kind of slap on the wrist, I suppose.’

Westgate glowered. ‘It’s going
to be more than that, I’m afraid. For starters your support payments are hereby terminated.’

‘What? You can’t do that!’

‘In fact we can. What’s more, once our report has been processed these boys will be removed from your care and you’ll be banned from ever fostering children again.’

Zack heard Corey gasp behind him. ‘What did he say?’

Reece grabbed his other arm. ‘Are we getting out of here?’

‘Shut up, I’m tryin’ to listen.’ The excitement in their voices made Zack think twice. He hadn’t believed Westgate the first time he’d said it, but maybe there was a chance he was telling the truth.

Frank sneered. ‘Aw, you mean I don’t get to wipe no more snotty noses and listen to all their pissing and moaning?’

‘I said those measures were for starters, Mr Leary. Once we conduct a full investigation
there’s a good chance criminal charges will be laid.’

So much colour drained from Frank’s face, Zack thought he was having a stroke. Though the house was cold, sweat broke out on his fleshy features. He swept a plump hand over his cue-ball head.

Stepping towards Westgate, he lowered his voice. ‘All right, look, you know that cheque we got today? We ain’t spent more
than a hundred of it. The
rest is yours.’ He whispered an amount. ‘If you just . . . well . . . tweak that report a bit.’

Zack slumped. No way Westgate would turn that down.

Silence engulfed them. Westgate looked at Zack and the boys. Some kind of change came over his face. Here it was then. In a minute he’d walk out, leaving the three of them to face Frank’s fury.

Westgate drew a steadying breath. ‘Mr Leary, nothing
would give me greater pleasure than to see you do a spell in prison. However, if we proceed through the proper channels, these boys might have to remain in your care for as much as another week. I don’t know if I could live with myself if I let that happen.’

Frank frowned. ‘What are you saying?’

The man pulled some papers out of his briefcase. ‘If you and Mrs Leary would sign this form, agreeing
to let us take the boys now, tonight . . .’ he hesitated, as though his next words were distasteful to him, ‘I won’t report either your attempted bribe or the more serious offences I’ve witnessed here.’

Frank’s eyes widened. ‘Shit, yeah, I’ll sign that right now!’

‘You understand the other conditions still apply.’ The woman produced a pen from her bag. ‘Your payments are terminated and you’ll
never foster children again.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I get it, we’re off your Christmas list.’ Frank passed the form and pen to his wife. With a final burst of swearing he turned and stormed back into the kitchen. A moment later Julie followed him.

‘He signed it,’ Reece whispered. ‘What does that mean?’

Westgate slipped the form back into his case. ‘It means you don’t have to stay with these people any
more. It means you can leave here with us right now and we’ll find you another place to live.’

Corey and Reece slowly emerged from behind Zack’s back. Their grips on his arms had grown positively painful.