instead of a career criminal.
Yeah, he knew the price. She'd thrown him with that business with Tim, but it made no difference that she had more spirit than he'd expected. The lady wanted a week of romance—even after her morning case of nerves. He didn't mind admitting that the idea of dragging Claire behind the bleachers and kissing that tempting mouth of hers senseless had a lot of appeal.
As for the risks: He had condoms in his wallet, and neither he nor Claire was signing on for more than seven days. The risks were negligible, so long as he remembered the agenda.
He found Ellie baking bread in the kitchen at the group home.
"Jake's not here," she told him. "He didn't show up last night, and if he doesn't show up by noon, I'll have to notify Don."
"Shit. Any ideas?"
Ellie shook her head. "He doesn't hang out with the other boys from the group home. I don't think he's been into drugs again since the overdose, but I'm not sure. He won't talk to me."
"Me either. Call my cell phone if he shows up, okay?"
"Absolutely."
After he left the group home, he checked a couple of the downtown places where he hoped he wouldn't find the kid, then finally spotted a familiar head of shaggy red hair in a parking lot. The boy's shoulders were drooping as he stared out over the rough water.
Eleven-thirty.
Mac pulled out his cell phone first and dialed Ellie. "Don't sound the alarm. I found him."
Ellie wouldn't call Don, but it was going to take more than that to get a favorable result at Jake's next hearing. Mac approached the kid slowly, tamping down his irritation and the urge to shake Jake.
The wind whipped Mac's jacket as he stopped at the edge of the water beside Jake.
"Anything worth seeing out there?"
"Whad'ya want?"
Mac turned his head and managed to pin the kid's eyes. "Do you want a ride to the shipyard?"
Jake's shoulders hunched up against his ears. "Sawdust and stinky varnish. I got better things to do."
"Like letting friends shoot you up with enough smack to kill you?"
"I'm not stupid. I'm clean."
Count the cost, Mac thought, but hadn't a clue whether his words would shake sense into the kid, or send him running.
"Listen, Jake, you've got about one more chance here. Nobody wants to send you into juvenile detention, but if you don't give them a reason to give you a break, it's going to happen."
No eye contact.
"The system doesn't give a damn," muttered Jake.
"You're right. But I give a damn, and Don Henley does, and so does Ellie. The fact is, it doesn't matter what we do when you're so damned busy proving to the system that nothing we do can make a difference.
"The power's yours, Jake. The power to dump yourself in juvenile detention where you can get a good head start on a criminal career, or take control and make something of yourself."
"What the fuck am I supposed to make of myself?" The kid looked as if he might be about to cry.
"What do you want to make of yourself?"
Jake shrugged and looked away. Mac hadn't a clue if he'd lost him or stirred him to thought. At moments like this he respected the hell out of his stepfather, James Denver, for asking questions like that and having the courage to sit and wait when no answer came.
He waited it out, watching the back of Jake's head as he stared out to sea, trying to measure the immeasurable.
When the kid kicked at a rock on the ground, Mac figured it was time to break silence.
"You want that ride?"
The kid shrugged and turned toward the parking lot. When he'd gone two steps, he stopped. "Where's the truck?"
"No truck." Mac unclipped the spare helmet from the back of the bike. "You mind riding on the bike?"
Jake caught the helmet. "Naw, I don't mind."
A crack, thought Mac with a surge of victory. A crack in the kid's armor. He'd gotten the bike out this morning because of Claire, because he figured she'd want to back out of the deal she'd negotiated the night before, and he wanted to get under her skin.
He should have tried the bike on
Yeah, he knew the price. She'd thrown him with that business with Tim, but it made no difference that she had more spirit than he'd expected. The lady wanted a week of romance—even after her morning case of nerves. He didn't mind admitting that the idea of dragging Claire behind the bleachers and kissing that tempting mouth of hers senseless had a lot of appeal.
As for the risks: He had condoms in his wallet, and neither he nor Claire was signing on for more than seven days. The risks were negligible, so long as he remembered the agenda.
He found Ellie baking bread in the kitchen at the group home.
"Jake's not here," she told him. "He didn't show up last night, and if he doesn't show up by noon, I'll have to notify Don."
"Shit. Any ideas?"
Ellie shook her head. "He doesn't hang out with the other boys from the group home. I don't think he's been into drugs again since the overdose, but I'm not sure. He won't talk to me."
"Me either. Call my cell phone if he shows up, okay?"
"Absolutely."
After he left the group home, he checked a couple of the downtown places where he hoped he wouldn't find the kid, then finally spotted a familiar head of shaggy red hair in a parking lot. The boy's shoulders were drooping as he stared out over the rough water.
Eleven-thirty.
Mac pulled out his cell phone first and dialed Ellie. "Don't sound the alarm. I found him."
Ellie wouldn't call Don, but it was going to take more than that to get a favorable result at Jake's next hearing. Mac approached the kid slowly, tamping down his irritation and the urge to shake Jake.
The wind whipped Mac's jacket as he stopped at the edge of the water beside Jake.
"Anything worth seeing out there?"
"Whad'ya want?"
Mac turned his head and managed to pin the kid's eyes. "Do you want a ride to the shipyard?"
Jake's shoulders hunched up against his ears. "Sawdust and stinky varnish. I got better things to do."
"Like letting friends shoot you up with enough smack to kill you?"
"I'm not stupid. I'm clean."
Count the cost, Mac thought, but hadn't a clue whether his words would shake sense into the kid, or send him running.
"Listen, Jake, you've got about one more chance here. Nobody wants to send you into juvenile detention, but if you don't give them a reason to give you a break, it's going to happen."
No eye contact.
"The system doesn't give a damn," muttered Jake.
"You're right. But I give a damn, and Don Henley does, and so does Ellie. The fact is, it doesn't matter what we do when you're so damned busy proving to the system that nothing we do can make a difference.
"The power's yours, Jake. The power to dump yourself in juvenile detention where you can get a good head start on a criminal career, or take control and make something of yourself."
"What the fuck am I supposed to make of myself?" The kid looked as if he might be about to cry.
"What do you want to make of yourself?"
Jake shrugged and looked away. Mac hadn't a clue if he'd lost him or stirred him to thought. At moments like this he respected the hell out of his stepfather, James Denver, for asking questions like that and having the courage to sit and wait when no answer came.
He waited it out, watching the back of Jake's head as he stared out to sea, trying to measure the immeasurable.
When the kid kicked at a rock on the ground, Mac figured it was time to break silence.
"You want that ride?"
The kid shrugged and turned toward the parking lot. When he'd gone two steps, he stopped. "Where's the truck?"
"No truck." Mac unclipped the spare helmet from the back of the bike. "You mind riding on the bike?"
Jake caught the helmet. "Naw, I don't mind."
A crack, thought Mac with a surge of victory. A crack in the kid's armor. He'd gotten the bike out this morning because of Claire, because he figured she'd want to back out of the deal she'd negotiated the night before, and he wanted to get under her skin.
He should have tried the bike on
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