Ricky sat up straighter, for the first time releasing his death grip on the door as he stared down at Jack's leg. "I saw you limping. You take a bullet or something? You know, like in combat?"
"No, on the bullet. Yes, on the combat. I landed wrong on a night drop."
And that was all he was going to share with the kid on that particular clusterfuck. The only good thing that had come out of that mission was that everyone made it back to base more or less in one piece. His knee, which had required a major overhaul, had been the worst injury, not that he was complaining. All that really mattered was that everyone had walked away from what could've been a total disaster. It might have easily been so much worse.
He glanced at his companion. Yep, just as he thought, the kid looked disappointed. He probably played video games and thought they depicted actual combat. Yeah, some of the graphics were pretty realistic. It was the stuff they left out, like the smell of blood and the screams of the wounded, that drew a sharp line between a game and the hell of the real thing.
At least the conversation might give Jack a chance to learn a little about Ricky's own situation. "What about you? Anybody in your family ever serve?"
The boy's expression went totally blank. "No."
Rather than press for more information, Jack changed the subject. "I could use your help again tomorrow if you're not busy."
Ricky was back to hugging the door. "Maybe, but I'm not sure where I'll be."
Remembering how he'd been at the same age, living on the edge of fear all the time, Jack nodded. "Okay, if you're there, you're there."
Jack pointed out the window. "That's the restaurant up ahead on the left. The bus stop is over on that corner unless you want me to give you a ride home."
"The bus is fine. You don't want your mom's food to get cold."
Jack lucked out and found a parking spot right in front of the restaurant. "You go find us a table by the water before they're all taken while I place the order."
Ricky nodded and headed off down the beach. There was actually no rush in grabbing a spot to eat because several tables were available. Jack just needed a minute away from the kid to get his temper back under control. He wasn't mad at Ricky, just the adults who should've been looking out for the boy.
Short of calling the cops, which Ricky would see as a betrayal of the highest order, there wasn't much Jack could do until the boy trusted him enough to ask for help. After they ate, he'd have to drive away and hope Ricky would show up to work again in the morning. It would kill Jack to leave him out there on the streets. But if Jack tried to drag him home to his place right now, Ricky would only take off.
On the other hand, maybe Jack could circle back around and see which bus Ricky took. At least that way, if he didn't show up for work tomorrow, Jack would have a starting point to start tracking him down.
He'd reached the front of the line. "I'll take two three-piece dinners with the works and two large chocolate shakes."
Once he had the food, he headed over to join Ricky at the table, where the kid practically inhaled his dinner. As soon as he was done, he got up to leave.
"Wait a minute before you go." Jack pulled out one of Joe's business cards and a pen. He scribbled his name and cellphone number on the back and added the twenty dollars he'd promised him. "If you ever want to get in touch with me, the number on the front is our landline. The one on the back is my cell. Call anytime, day or night."
Ricky shoved both the card and the money in his pocket. "Thanks."
"I hope to see you tomorrow, Just Ricky."
The kid grinned and walked away. It was damn hard to watch him leave, but there wasn't much else Jack could do. Hopefully Ricky would show up tomorrow. If not, Jack would go on the hunt and wouldn't stop until he found him.
He'd also talk to Marlene about the boy when he got home and see what suggestions she might have. God knows she had plenty of experience in dealing with emotionally and physically battered kids. Meanwhile, he ordered dinner for her and Mikhail, all the while keeping an eye on Ricky to see where he went. Since he'd already let one bus go by, he was likely waiting for one headed in a specific direction.
Luck was with him. Jack's order was ready just as Ricky got on a bus. After memorizing the route number, Jack got in the truck and followed the bus, taking care to hang back far enough to make it hard for Ricky to spot him. At a stoplight, he called home. "Mom, sorry, but dinner is going to be awhile. I'll explain when I get there."
His patience was rewarded a short time later when Ricky got off the bus and ducked down an alley. As Jack drove by, he saw the boy handing his sandwich to another kid and passing out the cookies to a few more. Jack couldn't risk following him any farther for fear of being seen. Ricky was skittish enough without him getting the idea that Jack was some kind of predator.
Knowing the boy wasn't completely alone left Jack feeling marginally better about the situation. That didn't mean he'd stay safe out there on the streets indefinitely, but maybe it would give Jack time to figure out how to help him.
"Joe, I wish like hell you were here. You would know what to say to him, but I'll do my best to help the kid."
And once again, he heard his father's voice in the back of his mind saying, "Your best is all anyone can ask of you, son."
That might be true, but what if his best wasn't good enough? He didn't need anyone to answer that question, because he already knew what would happen. It would be Ricky, and not Jack, who paid the price for his failure.
Chapter 3
"Son, wake up! Someone is here to see you."
Jack went from unconscious to fully awake in a heartbeat. The adrenaline rush from being jerked out of a dead sleep burned away all the cobwebs, leaving him alert and staring up at his mother. Kicking his legs free of the sheets, he sat up on the edge of the bed.
"Who is it?"
"The police. They want to talk to you."
Well, shit! He didn't bother to exchange his flannel pajama bottoms for jeans before following his mother downstairs and across the driveway to her house. She'd left the two officers waiting in the living room. From the grim expression on the police officers' faces, Jack knew the news wasn't going to be good. But then there was never a happy reason for the cops to come calling in the middle of the night.
"Hello, Officers. I'm Jack McShane. I hear you're looking for me."
"We are, Mr. McShane." The older one of the two stepped forward. "I'm Detective Daily, and this is my partner, Detective St. John. We wanted to know if this is your card."
Jack only gave it a cursory look before nodding; he already knew it was his. The only question was what had happened to Ricky since he'd last seen him. The boy showed up the second day to help, but Jack hadn't seen him since, even though he'd told him where his next job site would be. He'd done a couple of drive-bys in the area around the alley where Ricky had gone that first day, but he hadn't spotted him or any of the others who'd been there with him.
"Yes, it's mine. Why do you ask?"
"Can you tell me how Richard Patton came to have it?"
So at least now Jack knew Ricky's full name. "I gave it to him. Ricky approached me at a job site a few days ago to see if I could use some help. He looked like he'd been living on the streets, so I offered him twenty bucks to pick up trash for me."
The younger cop spoke up. "And you're an expert on what homeless kids look like?"
Jack sensed his mother moving up beside him. For her sake, he crammed his temper down deep and under tight control. "I make no claim to be an expert on the subject, Detective. I can speak to the fact that Ricky looked a helluva lot like I did at that age when I was living on the streets myself. Clothes a mix of too small and too big, everything badly worn and in need of being laundered. I'm guessing he also hadn't bathed in a while. When I shared my lunch with him, he wolfed down one and a half sandwiches but made sure to put the other half away for later. He was also sporting an impressive set of faded bruises."
The cops both went on point. "Why didn't you report the kid to the authorities?"
"Because I didn't know anything about him other than he told me to call him Ricky. I had no idea if that was even his real name nor did I know how old he was." Jack weighed how much to tell them. "He came back again the next day to work, but that's the last I saw of him."