The Incident (Chase Barnes Series Book 1) (35 page)

              “Well, where the hell are the other kids?”

              “I didn’t get that far,” I said.

              “And where the hell would Esteban run off to?” Fitzgerald asked the question more so to himself. 

              “I think I might have an idea,” I said and pulled out my phone. 

NINETY FIVE

I hadn’t checked my phone since I killed Source and saw that I had six missed calls and two voicemails.  Four of the missed calls were from Fitzgerald.  I had an idea what he was calling so many times about.  His message demanded that I immediately call him and let him know what was going on.  Done.  One missed call was from a number I didn’t recognize.  The other message was from Jamal.  He insisted that I also immediately call him because he thinks he has something I had been looking for.  Vague, yet intriguing. 

              Fitzgerald was talking with the two uniformed cops that picked up Klein then made his way over to where Klein’s injuries were being tended to.  As much as I’d wished Klein bled to death in the midst of the crash or burned to death I also wanted him to live and suffer a miserable lifetime in jail.  I wanted him to know that his true identity was revealed to his family, his faculty, and his students.

              Jamal answered on the first ring and told me about the intriguing discovery that he thought I’d find to be so interesting.  Esteban.  This kid was much smarter than I gave him credit for, I thought.  I told Jamal I’d be over there to pick him up as soon as I could.  After ending the call I met up with Fitzgerald again.  He looked at me with the same fierce look he delivered when he initially arrived on the scene.  The uniformed cops were trying to direct traffic in a there’s- nothing- to- see- here fashion.  The EMTs were bagging up the body of one of Klein’s goons from the front seat of the van.  The fire had been contained.  Smoke was still rising from the smoldering van and the ashy scent stuck in my nose.

              “I don’t know what to say, Barnes,” Fitzgerald said to me. 

              “About what?” I asked as if I didn’t already know.  I watched him eyeball the crispy van and everything in and around it as his answer to my question.

              “I don’t know how to answer that, Fitz.  I’ve never been in a predicament quite like this one.”  I kept my answers short and flat because, despite the thrills of the last couple of hours, I still couldn’t shake my conversation with Drew and what he told me about the politics behind kicking me out of the department.  Fitzgerald gestured like he was going to say something but I didn’t want to stick around for it.

              This was the first time I realized how dark it was getting outside.  I had no idea what time it was. 

              “I gotta run,” I said.  Fitzgerald was off guard and it didn’t matter to me.

              “Where the hell you going, Barnes?”

              “I can’t stick around here.  I have a job to do.  Besides, it looks like you have everything in order here.  I’ll come by your office later on,” I said as I drifted off to where my car was parked.  Fitzgerald knew he wasn’t going to get any more out of me so he let me go.

              I made it to Jamal’s apartment in about fifteen minutes and he buzzed me in when I told him I was there.  Jamal led me to where Esteban was sitting on the couch.  I wondered if Jamal told Esteban who I was and why I was going to be there for him.  Esteban fixed his gaze on the television and didn’t acknowledge me when I sat next to him.  I couldn’t blame him since he didn’t have a clue as to who I was.  He wore clothes he got from Jamal because they hung loosely for his scrawny frame.  Jamal turned the television off.  He stood near both of us. 

              “Hi, Esteban,” I said.  He met my eyes and nodded his head in my direction.  “Do you know who I am and why I’m here?”  He still didn’t say anything.  “My name is Chase, Esteban, and I’ve been trying to help you since you were taken.  I’ve been looking for you.”

              “Well, you didn’t do a very good fucking job of it, did you?” Esteban said.

              “Sometimes it’s just not that easy.  The guys who took you were tough and tricky to locate.  But I’m glad to see you are here and safe.  You’re very smart to be able to escape on your own like that,” I said.

              He perked up when I said he was smart and was aware that he handled himself pretty well.  “Don’t you fucking know it.  Gotta get shit done right on my own.”

              “Man, your mother was right about your mouth,” I said.  He was startled at the mention of his mother.

              “Fuck you know about my mother?”

              “I’ve been by your house a couple of times to talk to your mom.  I was trying to see if she had any clues or knew anyone that could help me find you.”  I debated telling Esteban that I had talked to his friend Joey Alvarez on his Facebook page but I opted not to.  “And on my way over here, I called your mom telling her that you were safe and that I’d take you home.  She’s expecting you.”

              “Fuck you do that for?  Who said I wanted to go home?” Esteban said.

              I looked at Jamal.  “Where else you gonna go?” I asked.

              “I don’t give a shit,” Esteban grumbled.

              “That’s where you belong.”  I said it a little too firmly but the message must’ve been received.  Esteban reluctantly got up from the couch and I escorted him out of Jamal’s apartment. 

NINETY SIX

Fighting crime apparently causes you to lose track of time.  I saw it was after seven by the time I had finally persuaded Esteban to get in my car.  Esteban refused to sit up front with me in my Santa Fe and claimed a seat in the back.  The ride across town was a short one but it felt like an eternity.  The awkward silence thickened the air in the car.  Esteban stared out his window watching the sights as if he were seeing them for the first time.  I caught periodic glimpses of him in my rearview mirror and realized how my original image of Esteban had changed. 

From what Lindsey and his file told me, Esteban appeared to have a rough, rugged exterior with a lot of pent up anger waiting to be displaced on others.  But seeing him in the back seat, his body seemed incredibly deflated and weak.  I wondered what was done to him during his time under Klein’s watchful vengeance.

              We pulled up in front of Esteban’s house.  He still hadn’t muttered a sound and didn’t appear anxious to run up the steps and leap into the open arms of his mother.  I didn’t expect his mother to be waiting with an affectionate embrace either.  I got out and opened Esteban’s door.  He turned the other way.

              “Look, Esteban.  We’re home and you’re safe.  Is there a reason you don’t want to go home?” I said.  “Was being out wherever the hell you’ve been better than this place?  If it were me, I’d sure as shit be thrilled to be at home,” I said.

              “Just leave it alone, man,” he said.  His body was still turned away from me but I didn’t care since I finally had him talking.  “You don’t know shit,” he added.

              “I can help you, if you just tell me how.”

              He finally faced me and said, “How?  You gonna tell my mom to leave me the hell alone?  You gonna get my baby brother and sister to stop screaming in the middle of the night and waking the whole house?  You gonna get my grandmother to stop yelling at me for every little thing and hitting me with a belt or a broomstick?  I didn’t think so.  So just leave me here and go about your business.”

              My god.  What a life for a twelve- year old boy.  All of that on top of the severe physical abuse he suffered at the hands- and other body parts, I’m sure- of his uncle. 

              “If it were only that simple, Esteban.  See, I’m a guy that likes to help people, especially kids.  So, I’m offering a way to help in any way you think I can.  I may be able to talk with your mom about some of the things you mentioned.  Or maybe I can get your teacher, Mrs. Barnes to do it.”

              “You know my teacher?” Esteban asked.  His face brightened a bit.

              “I’m married to her,” I laughed.  He actually laughed to himself a little bit, too. 

              “That makes sense.  You both are a pain in my ass,” Esteban joked.  I let him have that one. 

              “C’mon, let’s get inside and show your mom that you’re safe,” I said and lightly tugged Esteban’s elbow to get him out of the car.  The door slams must’ve been enough to trigger the eager nosiness of Esteban’s younger brother and sister because they opened the front door and screamed Esteban’s name.

              We walked up the front walk and climbed the steps to greet the little ones.  They each embraced a leg, making it difficult for Esteban to walk into the house and he patted them both on the back. 

              “What the hell is this?”  Esteban’s mother was charging through the center hallway, wondering what all of the commotion was and why the front door was open.  She couldn’t see us through the evening darkness but as we approached up the center sidewalk Esteban’s mother said, “Well, I’ll be damned.  Are you all right?”  She pulled Esteban in for a hug that seemed too forced and Esteban waited a few beats before accepting the embrace and wrapping his own arms around his mother.  Definitely awkward.

              Ms. Cruz invited me in and thanked me for bringing her boy home.  We sat at the kitchen table and I told her what I knew and Esteban told her everything, including how he’d escaped and made his way around town all by himself.  After a half hour, Esteban wanted nothing more than to take a shower, something substantial to eat, and lie in the comfort of his own bed.  I stayed a little while longer and spoke to Ms. Cruz about some of the things Esteban told me about outside in my car.  She was resistant at first and told me more or less to mind my own business.  I believe the actual words she used aren’t suitable for young ears.

              “Look, Ms. Cruz, Esteban’s a good boy.  You’ve even said so yourself.  I want nothing more than to see a kid like Esteban just be given a chance for once.  Not saying that you don’t provide for him and give him a place to sleep but with your permission I’d like to help a little more,” I said.

              “How?” She lit a cigarette while holding one of the twins on her lap.  He was preoccupied by a coloring book and Sesame Street stickers. 

              “Again, I’m trying not to overstep my boundary here, but I’d like to come by once or twice a week to check on Esteban and make sure he’s ok.  I’d like to be a sort of mentor for him.  Maybe help him with homework or something.  Be the big brother that his big brother couldn’t be,” I said.  The last sentence seemed to uncontrollably fall out of my mouth and the words were too heavy to pick up and shove back in.  I watched her for a reaction.  She took a long pull of her cigarette and turned her head to the right to blow the smoke out of our direction and disregarded my comment. 

              “I think I see what you’re saying,” she said and I was surprised by the way she said it.  Ms. Cruz seemed to be in agreement with what I had said about Esteban’s older brother, who was in jail.  “If it’s all right with him, it’s all right with me.  He’s a big boy that can decide for himself.”  But can he really?, I thought.

              “I could take him out to the movies, the mall, or to eat.  Places a twelve- year old boy should be frequenting.”  In my head, I sounded like a pedophile preying on the weak but Ms. Cruz appeared to coincide with what I was offering.  We talked for a little while longer.

              After I left, I sat in my car and watched the house from a distance and wondered if my offering would go over well with Esteban himself and even if he did, would it make a difference?

NINETY SEVEN

Earlier, I mentioned that I had a plan that would require Jamal’s assistance.  Well, since Esteban was back home safe and sound and Klein was in police custody that plan was as useful as a three- sided nickel.  But, I’ll tell you what I had in mind anyway.  I thought since Klein wanted Jamal’s head on a platinum platter I could use Jamal as bait and stage a meeting between the two at a remote location in town and take Klein down that way.  Kind of boring, now that I think of it.  Instead, I got caught up in a high- speed chase down a major interstate, which ended in a fiery crash.  I guess when all’s said and done, the same result occurred.  Klein was taken down, which led to Garvey’s demise once Klein was strung up by his loafers.  Fitzgerald sent a team over to Garvey’s house and arrested him on the spot after Klein sold him down the river.  It didn’t take long for Fitzgerald’s boys to break Klein.  I guess the threatening bravado was a thin coating over a soft and squishy center.