Chapter 15 Diem
Diem
Diem
The kid couldn’t have been more than one hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet, but the instant we hit the pavement—harder than I anticipated—he went into a frenzy, thrashing and doing all he could to get free.
“Let go of me, you fuck. I’ll fucking kill you. Help. Someone help me.”
When the back of his head collided with the bridge of my nose, sending spears of pain through my face, I lost my grip, and he almost managed to get away. I snagged his coat before he got to his feet and tugged, keeping him on the ground.
He scrambled in a crawl, so I snagged the torn sole of his running shoe and heaved him toward me again.
He rolled and kicked with his other foot, catching me in the ear. Somehow, I managed to keep my wits, but when he tried to crawl away again, I threw myself on top of him and wrapped my arms around his torso, pinning his flailing limbs to his sides before he took out my eye.
He couldn’t move and kept hollering for help until his voice strained.
With my mouth by his ear, I hissed, “Fucking shut up and stop fighting. I only want to talk to you, for Christ’s sake. What’s your problem?”
It took another minute of squirming and thrashing and worming before he seemed to realize he couldn’t get away. Then, he broke down in sobs. “I didn’t do nothing. I swear. Please don’t hurt me. Oh fuck. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Beneath me, his body convulsed as he cried harder. Jesus Christ. What was happening? How had this gone from a friendly house call to a physical altercation?
My left ear throbbed and rang from a blow, aching into my jaw, compromising my hearing. Regardless, somewhere in the distance, above the noisy traffic, I heard a snarky Tallus mouthing off to someone who must have been gawking.
“Mind your fucking business, asshole. Nothing to see here. Keep walking.”
Great. Someone was going to call the fucking cops at this rate, and they would lock me in the slammer. What the hell was I doing? Restraining a child? Stupid kid? For what? I didn’t even know why he’d felt the need to run. I only wanted to talk.
I loosened my grip and brought my mouth to the weeping kid’s ear. “Listen. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to fucking talk. Stop fighting, and I’ll let you up.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll talk. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I ran. Please don’t hurt me. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Good grief.” Guilt the size of a boulder filled my belly, and I rolled to the side, releasing my hold on the blubbering child because that was what he was, a fucking child.
Aching from our tumble, I slowly got to my feet, taking inventory of the pains riddled throughout my body. I was getting too old for this shit.
The boy rolled to his back and cowered like I was going to kick him or plunge a knife into his kidneys.
“Get up,” I croaked, prodding my numb ear, opening and closing my mouth to alleviate the weird sensation of not hearing properly.
The kid took his time, glancing warily between Tallus and me before panning the street like he might try to run again.
“Don’t even think about it.” I scanned the kid from head to toe, looking for injuries. His pants were torn, but I had a feeling they were like that before we tumbled. “Are you hurt?”
He shook his head. His hood had fallen back during our exchange, exposing a mop of dark hair. His bangs fell into his face, sticking to his tear-streaked cheeks. Snot ran in ribbons from his nose to his lips, but he made no move to wipe it.
We’d gone down hard, but I’d done what I could to take the brunt of the fall, knowing my weight was at least double his. As a result, my knees and elbows stung from connecting with the unforgiving cement. The boy had a faint scratch along his jaw but otherwise seemed unharmed.
Tallus touched my arm, offering a tissue.
“Give it to him. He’s got fucking snot to his chin.”
The kid sniffled and wiped it up his sleeve.
“Take it. Your nose is bleeding,” Tallus said.
“What?” I prodded with my fingers, and they came away bloody. “Shit.” Only then did I feel the slow trickle running down my face, circling my lips. Not a gusher. Not broken. “You’ve got a hard head, kid.”
The boy didn’t look sorry in the least. In fact, his worry seemed to deepen.
I accepted the tissue from Tallus and held it to my nose, staunching the blood flow as I took in the delinquent. He couldn’t have been more than twenty. Underweight and underfed by the look of him. His hard life was written all over his body. Greasy hair. Unwashed clothing.
He stared with terror-filled eyes before something akin to recognition pulled his brows together. “Oh shit. You’re him.”
I frowned. “What are you talking about?” But as the words tumbled from my mouth, a memory surfaced. His face. I knew this kid, but how? From where? “Who are you?”
The boy shifted uncomfortably and panned the street. The audience that had gathered during the kerfuffle had dissipated. We were alone. Night blanketed the city. A wash of yellow streetlights reflected off the low cloud cover, leeching the color from our surroundings. It played tricks with shadows.
The boy stared at the ground and mumbled, “You gave me your card once and told me to call if I ever needed someone to talk to. It’s…” He peeked up. “Your face. I remember your face. The scars.”
Between my size and the visible marks I carried from childhood, I was often recognized, but what the hell was he talking about?
I’d offered help? That didn’t sound like me.
I didn’t go out of my way to talk to people, and I especially avoided teenagers or kids in that general age bracket at all costs, and yet…
his face. I knew him, but the memory wouldn’t surface.
He must have recognized my continued confusion and added, “It was about a year and a half ago. I was working at JP Supplements. You gave me the rest of your smokes and a business card. I… I was having a bad day.”
The pieces clicked, and I was back there.
I’d visited the supplement store for a case Tallus and I had been working.
The kid was a new-hire. When taking the garbage out, the bag had burst all over the parking lot, and he’d lost his temper.
I’d recognized something in him. A kinship.
At the time, he reminded me of myself. Boiling on the inside, the frail threads of self-control breaking one by one.
In a rare moment of empathy, I’d reached out, given him my card, and told him to call anytime because I understood the toxicity running through his veins.
He had never called, and I’d forgotten all about the exchange.
Was this who we were looking for? Impossible.
I glanced at his hands, where a line of shitty tattoos decorated his knuckles. The letters were indistinct in the dark. A ring circled his index finger, and he used his thumb to spin the center piece around and around and around, a clear indication he was anxious. Marcy had called it a fidget ring.
It was him. The guy we caught on video at Evergreen. Our imposter.
The one who had scammed Elwood out of tens of thousands of dollars, but the more I thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense. He was a child and barely getting by, if his appearance said anything.
“I don’t remember your name.” I kept my tone light and nonthreatening.
The kid shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and scanned the street, ignoring the question. “Why are you chasing me?”
“Why’d you run?”
He huffed humorlessly. “No offense, but you look like a thug and… Well, I’ve learned the hard way to run first and ask questions later.”
“We want to talk,” Tallus said, speaking for the first time since handing me the tissue.
“Why?” The kid assessed Tallus.
“I have a feeling you know why,” I said.
“The drugs?”
“The what?” I asked.
He shook his head and wiped his nose along his sleeve again.
The boy wore tattered jeans with holes and stains.
His coat had seen better days and reeked of cigarette smoke.
I suspected the zipper no longer worked.
The threadbare hoodie underneath sported a band logo, and the sole of his right shoe had come unglued at the toe.
A dirty sock showed through a significant hole at the end.
This kid rented the rundown basement-level apartment in a brownstone in a shitty neighborhood.
I doubted he had the means to make rent.
Nothing about him fit the profile of a person scamming seniors for boatloads of money.
If he did, where the fuck was the money?
This kid looked two steps away from joining the homeless.
If memory served, the boy I’d met at the supplement store had been living in a group home, playing footsies with the law. He would have aged out of the system, and sadly, a life of crime fit with statistics.
Too many pieces of the puzzle were missing, but I needed to tread carefully, or this would turn to shit, and we might lose our only lead.
“I don’t know anything about drugs. I’m here about missing money. Let’s find a fast-food joint. I’ll buy you supper, and you can tell me who the fuck you’re working for.”
I expected him to deny the accusation or refuse to go with us, but he hung his head and acquiesced.
***
Tallus limped along, favoring his right side. With a querying glance, I asked if he was okay, and he brushed me off.
“Cardio is not my friend, Guns. I’ll be fine. Gotta shake it off, you know?”
“I hate to remind you, but you’re still in your twenties.”
“I feel about sixty-five right now.”
“You and me both.” My knees sang with every step. Both elbows stung. My ear continued to pulse with its own heartbeat. Although my nose had stopped bleeding and prodding had told me it wasn’t busted, I expected I’d end up with matching shiners again. Story of my life.
We stopped at the Jeep to get Echo and followed the kid to a nearby Subway. He ordered a loaded footlong with a Coke, chips, and four chocolate chip cookies, glancing three times in my direction as though expecting me to object.
I didn’t. Whatever made him happy and agreeable.