Dead Center (The Rookie Club Book 1) (29 page)

Jamie frowned. "Polymer? What the hell was it?"

"I don't know. Roger was on his way back to Devlin's office to look for a match."

"A letter holder or something?"

Hailey shook her head. "Not heavy enough. Had to be three or four pounds. Paper weight, maybe?"

Just then, Jamie's cell phone rang. She recognized her home number. "Hey."

Tony's voice was breathless. "Christ, Jamie. Thank God."

She halted. "What's wrong?"

"Marchek was here, Jamie. In the yard."

Jamie stood from the table. "Marchek? Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Are you okay? Is he gone?"

"I'm fine. Marchek's gone—took off in a white van, but there's a kid here. He was in your yard—he's hurt."

She frowned, listening to the way Tony dragged his S's. "Jesus, Tony, you've been drinking."

"He's bleeding. For Christ sake, Jamie. He's hurt!"

"Is he breathing?"

"Yeah. He's breathing, but there's blood all over him and I can't find the source."

"Call 911."

"I already did, but I need you."

Jamie turned and ran from the room. Hailey started to follow. "I'll call you," Jamie told her. To Tony, she asked, "Where are his parents?"

"He looks homeless, Jamie. I think maybe he was living in your backyard."

Homeless. Christ. "How's his pulse?" She took the stairs, two at a time, running as fast as she could.

"Steady."

She heard a whine in the background.

"The ambulance is here."

At her car, she yanked the door open, shoved the key in the ignition, revved the engine. "Can you ID Marchek? Did you see him?"

"He was wearing a ski mask."

She pounded the steering wheel. "Shit."

"Don't rule it out, though. I saw his eyes."

She shoved the car in gear, sped out of the lot. She shifted into second, heart ramming in her chest. "They'll take you to Marin General. Go with the ambulance and I'll meet you there, Tony. You'll be okay. I'll be there as soon as I can. Call me if you need to. Hang in there."

There was an explosion of voices in the background.

Jamie listened as paramedics beamed questions and Tony tried to respond. A kid. Christ. Why was he in her yard?

Jamie closed the phone with a snap, tossed it on the seat beside her.

Marchek had been at her house that very night. While she was out walking the streets and smoking, Marchek was stalking her house. Jamming the pedal to the floor, she sped toward home. She shuddered as she considered why Marchek had been there.

He'd come for her.

Chapter 29

Jamie and Tony didn't speak during the ride home. The young boy sat silent in the backseat. The doctor had discharged him from the hospital with a clean bill of health. Social services had been notified, and Jamie had agreed to keep him until other arrangements could be made. The other option was to send him to the jail for the night. She couldn't do that. Wouldn't. He was only a kid. And despite the fact that she had no experience, she could manage. She requested additional surveillance, but Jules had denied it. Without any hard evidence, the cost was too much to approve. Otherwise, the department would be patrolling every scumbag 24-7. She didn't like it, but she understood.

The boy looked somewhere around seven, but he was probably older. She knew from experience that homeless kids were usually small for their age. And she knew he was homeless. There was no doubt about that—his uncut lice-ridden hair, his dirty face. Plus, he ate two entire hospital dinners. Any kid who'd spent time with a family that fed him mac 'n' cheese wouldn't have touched the gray turkey and soggy green beans.

When they got home, Jamie found a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt for him. "They'll be too big, but at least they're clean."

The boy held them to his chest, looked around.

"I'd like to know your name if you're going to stay here. I don't want to call you 'it' or anything."

The boy didn't break a smile. He glanced at Tony, then back to her, wide-eyed.

"I'm Jamie. And this is Tony."

The kid said nothing, didn't move. Only his gaze hopped back and forth between them like the white ball in a ping-pong match. "Are you still hungry?"

Silence.

She started to back toward the kitchen and the boy watched her.

"He ate a lot at the hospital," Tony said.

Jamie nodded, remembered a victim from her first year in Sex Crimes—a homeless girl of about thirteen who had been repeatedly raped and sodomized then left for dead. She'd lived—or rather nearly died—in some discarded cardboard boxes until trash day came and the garbage men found her and called the police. After her initial exam, during which she'd had to be strapped down so the doctors could look at her, she ate her way through roughly three times more food than Jamie ate in a day. Then she'd thrown up and started again. The doctors had forced her to slow down for fear that her shrunken-down stomach would burst from the pressure. This kid didn't look as bad as she had, but Jamie thought a little more food might do the trick. Actually, what she had in mind was better than food.

She pulled open the fridge and searched for her stash of Cokes. She found two left and set them on the counter. She dug in the bottom drawer of her freezer for the emergency candy supply. Inside it were a half dozen assorted candy bars—Butterfinger, Snickers, Twix, and a couple of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

She emptied the bag on the counter beside the sodas, pushed the freezer closed with her backside.

When she looked up, the boy was halfway across the room. Tony leaned against the doorway and watched.

"I've only got two," she said to Tony, motioning to the Cokes. "You want one?"

He shook his head, smiling just slightly. "No, thanks. I'm going to stick with water for a while."

She pulled a stool to the counter and cracked open a Coke. Then she took a long drag on the soda, making as much noise as possible. She looked at the boy. "Oh, sorry. Do you want one?"

He hesitated, nodded, but still made no move to come closer.

She pushed the other can toward him. "Here you go."

The boy watched them both. Jamie continued drinking her soda as she fingered the candy bars.

From the corner of her eye, she could see the boy inch toward her. He stopped at the counter without touching the drink.

"It's all yours."

He picked it up and mumbled what she thought was "Thanks," then gave his full attention to the sweating red can.

She thought about his speech. Okay, so he did talk. This was good.

Using two long, dirty fingernails, the boy popped the top open and lifted it with both hands as though it were too precious to hold with just one. After his first, quiet sip, he smiled.

Jamie laughed. "Good, huh?"

He nodded and set his gaze on the candy bars.

"You can have one of these, too."

His eyes widened.

"But you have to tell us your name."

The boy frowned.

"I need to know who you are. I can't have a stranger living in my house. And I know somewhere there's someone who's probably really worried about you."

The boy looked at the Coke can and blinked, his dark eyes glassy.

"I bet your mom's missing you."

He shook his head. "No, she ain't." He straightened his back, stood proud. "She left."

Jamie nodded slowly. "Okay, then someone else. You can tell me who."

He shook his head.

Tony shifted against the doorway but said nothing.

Jamie turned to the candy bars. "I think my favorite is Twix. Is that yours?"

He shook his head quickly.

She lifted another. "Snickers?"

He hesitated, then shook his head again. "Reese's," he said, pronouncing it "Rees-eys."

She lifted the peanut butter cups, cold to her touch, pushed the package toward him. "There are two in there—one for each name. You tell me your first name, you get one. Another for your last name."

His gaze narrowed. "You going to call those folks with the foster houses?"

She glanced at Tony, then back to the boy. "Tonight you can stay here with me and Tony."

She didn't want to promise anything else. If the boy knew what a foster home was, he'd been in one. And that meant there might not be a family waiting for him.

He started to reach for the candy bar.

She pushed it toward him.

"Zephenaya."

She frowned.

The boy looked up at her, furrowed his brow. "That's my name. It's from the bible."

"Your first name?"

He nodded. "You can call me Z. That's what Shawna calls me."

"Shawna's your friend?"

"No," he said as though not knowing who Shawna was made her stupid. "My sister. You know. That's why I came here."

Jamie nodded. Now they were getting somewhere. "Where is Shawna?"

He shrugged. "Last time I saw her was with you."

Jamie frowned. She didn't remember her. Child victims weren't usually handled by Sex Crimes. "How old is she?"

He didn't answer. Instead he focused on the candy bar and took small drinks from the Coke.

Jamie tore open the Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and pushed them toward Zephenaya. "Here, Z. You can have one."

He reached in and took one of the brown cups out. Using both hands, he unwrapped it like a present.

"How old are you, Z?"

"Ten," he said matter-of-factly.

Damn, he was small.

"How old are
you
?"

Jamie laughed and Z smiled sheepishly.

"She's almost forty," Tony called out.

She shot him a glare. "I'm thirty-four, thank you very much."

"Forty," Z said. "What's that come after?"

"Thirty-nine," Jamie told him.

He nodded slowly, chewing. "Forty. I forget that one." Z glanced out at the back of the house and Jamie wondered what he was thinking about. She glanced over at Tony, but he was focused on the kid, a half smile on his face.

He hesitated then and looked up at her. "I got something to tell you."

"Okay."

"It's about your dog."

Jamie felt her stomach clench. Not trusting herself to speak, she simply nodded.

"I was here when he got hurt."

She nodded again. "What happened?"

He shook his head. "I didn't do it."

"Who did?"

"A man. A white man with a knife."

He looked over at Tony. "Wasn't him, though. Another white man." He turned to Jamie. "Wasn't the first time someone been in your yard, neither. Another time a man was looking in your windows, but it wasn't the same one as hurt the dog."

Jamie considered who might have been watching her house, suppressed a shudder. "The one with the knife, what did he look like?"

"Lightish hair and kinda small. He came around the house when I was getting ready for bed. It was real late. I was tired and my eyes get all itchy. I'd gone to take a—to do some business by the tree and he came around the house."

The description sounded like Scott Scanlan. "He had a knife?"

Z nodded. "A big one—long like they have in the scary movies. He was right by the garage. I think he was going to steal your car, lady." He looked around and blinked. "Then your dog came up. The dog didn't bark or nothing, but I think just seeing that dog scared him and he jabbed that knife right into his back." He blinked hard and licked his lips. "I didn't move. I just stayed real still 'cause I didn't want him coming at me with that knife." He started to quiver.

Jamie put a hand on his shoulder.

He looked up, blinked twice.