Chapter 1: The Pickpocket.

Chapter 1

I pulled up the collar of my jacket, and tucked my chin closer to my chest as I walked. It was a bitch of a night; cold and wet after the sheets of rain we’d gotten only minutes before. Around me, couples and families poured out of the restaurants that lined the boulevard in droves, hoping to make it home before we were hit by another shower.

I navigated through the crowd and crossed the street, heading for my car. So much for a refreshing night out on the town.

Just a little past 7:15 and I was already forced to run back to the quiet apartment that offered nothing in the way of comfort, when all I wanted to do was kick some ass with my buddies down by the bureau.

I stepped into a puddle, managing to drench my jeans, then cursed when I almost slipped on the slick asphalt. High above, I could hear the rolling of the thunder which promised one hell of a night.  When I spotted my car at the end of the lot, I pulled out the keys and quickened my pace, looking forward to the warmth from the heater.

In the cold, the uncomfortable twinge in my shoulder felt more pronounced, and I could already imagine the night ahead; a warm beer, aching shoulder and whatever crap I could find to watch on the TV. I shook my head. A month ago I was chasing criminals through the streets, now one stray bullet had me relegated to house cleaning and an early bedtime.

Cars drove past on their way out of the lot, and not far behind me I could still hear people’s voices, sounding excited in the shitty weather. A gust of wind ruffled my hair just as something slammed into me from behind, sending blinding pain erupting through my shoulder.

I stumbled, and the voice of the offender sounded beside me, apologizing as he held my arm to steady me. I shouldn’t have felt it when the hand slipped into my pocket, not between the pain and general ‘excitement’ of the situation, but the thief’s hand trembled as he went in for the steal, and I spun, latching onto his arm before he could make his escape.

He exclaimed in surprise, fighting desperately against my grip and for a second I caught the glimpse of wide, frightened eyes, before I twisted his arm behind his back and shoved him to the ground. He cried out when his chest made impact, but I held him still before kneeling to look at him.

“Stealing from an FBI agent, kid? Not your best move.” I said.

On the ground, the boy trembled beneath me, and I realized for the first time, that he only wore a thin shirt. It was streaked with dirt, much like the rest of him.

“I’m gonna pull you up now, you make one stupid move and you won’t like what happens next, got it?”

The kid nodded as best he could with his face pressed against the asphalt, and after only a brief pause, I pulled him to his feet, holding his arm securely in a grip he couldn’t hope to break.

I spun him to face me, and I was greeted by a dirty, gaunt face slightly masked by long, curling black hair.

“What are you doing out here kid?  Where are your parents?”

He glared up at me, his eyes glinting. “I look like a kid to you? And I aint got none.”

I continued to stare at him, my eyes travelling from his head to his feet, taking in the shirt with a few missing buttons, the filthy ripped jeans and ratty sneakers. A street kid.

Just what I needed tonight, some starving kid, stealing from people.

“How old are you?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Alright, you don’t wanna talk to me, let’s see how you do in jail.”

“Nineteen.” He said quickly enough, those eyes still narrowed and glaring.

“I’m not in the mood to deal with this.” I pulled him along with me as I made my way to my car. “Come on, a night in lock up will do you some good.” I told him.

At least he’d get some food for the night, then they could release him back into the wild with a warning. He started to struggle then, twisting and turning as he tried to break my grip, and I latched onto him with both hands. He kicked my shin and I grunted, spinning him, and pulling his fighting hands behind his back, still he continued to fight, crying out when he fell to his knees.

“You just assaulted a federal agent. You don’t get a free pass for that.” I pulled him roughly along with me. A set of cuffs lay on the back seat of my car, once I had him secured in them, I could drop him off at the station and wipe my hands clean of the trouble maker for good.

My head ached, my shoulder ached, my shin ached, and I was freezing my ass off, all for a kid who didn’t know any better. He struggled as I pulled him, letting out a string of profanities with each step.

“Curse all you want, I’ve heard plenty worse.” I told him and he fought harder.

“Wait!” he shouted, but I ignored him.

“Wait!” he pleaded again, and finally he stopped fighting and I could hear him panting as I dragged. A few more steps and I’d reach the car.

“Please, my son!” he practically wailed and I shook my head.

“You’re not getting off that easy kid.”

“No, please, he’s my kid, I can’t leave him, he’s all alone! Please!” he pleaded, and when I glanced around to tell him to quiet down, the look on his face threw a moment’s doubt into my mind and I paused.

“This isn’t the time to be lying to me, you’re already in enough trouble.”

He trembled from the cold, shaking his head as he panted. “No, he’s my son. Please.” He said again and my eyes narrowed.

He had to be lying. A kid with a child, living in these streets?

I shook my head and took another step. “Please.” He begged, and with the seed of doubt planted, I gritted my teeth and stopped.

It was freezing cold, and wet. The thought of a child out in this would be enough to get anyone worried.

“Alright, where is he?” I asked the boy and he looked up at me, his relief obvious.

“At our place, three blocks down. He’s all alone, he needs me.” he continued and I cursed.

“If you’re lying to me right now-”

“I aint!”

“Alright, we’re going to my car. I’m gonna cuff you, and you’ll give me directions. If you’re lying, you’ll be on a one way trip to the station. Got that?”

He nodded. “I aint, just lemme go to him, I won’t pick pockets no more, I swear!”

I shook my head. “You give me directions, or I take you straight down to the station. Your choice.”  I told him seriously and finally he nodded, slumping his shoulders in defeat.

“Directions.” He said softly and I nodded.

When I got to my car, I held his arm with one hand, and warned him not to move as I opened the door and pulled out the cuffs. In no time at all, I slapped them onto his wrists and shoved him into the back, where to my surprise, he went without a fight.

I turned up the heat as soon as I got into the vehicle, and a moment later we were off. In the back seat, the kid mumbled the directions but otherwise sat silently without a fuss.

Turned out, it was four blocks away from the parking lot, and with a few turns into a rundown neighborhood, we were there.  From the outside, the place looked abandoned and ready to collapse with the wind. The windows were either broken or gone and from what little light the moon provided, I could just make out the stripping paint and broken wooded stairs, leading up to a front door that I was sure had seen better days.

“You’re saying your son is in there?” I questioned uncertainly, and the boy nodded, his head pressed against the window as he peered out at the house.

I hopped out of the car, pulling my weapon from under the seat and securing it at my waist. When I pulled his door open, I took his arm and helped him from the back, and together we walked towards the house, my hand on his arm and his hands behind his back.

The broken stairs were tricky, but we got up them without much cause for concern, and I pushed the front door open easily enough.

There was nothing there but dirt, stains and shards of wood. He led me through what used to be a family room, and into another space, where my breath caught in my throat. There, sleeping on a filthy mattress laid out on the ground, was a little boy.  On the floor across from him was a flashlight, placed on its back and pointing to the ceiling. It alone, offered illumination in the small room.

The child slept on as we stepped further into the room. He was curled around a ratty looking stuffed rabbit with a torn floppy ear, and the blanket drawn up over his shoulders was as old as the mattress he slept on. I looked at the street kid, then back at the sleeping child, who couldn’t be more than two years old.

“He’s your son?” I asked in awe and he nodded.

“Take these off…please?” he turned his back to me and raised his cuffed wrists slightly, and after only a moment’s pause, I complied.

He went immediately to the sleeping child and knelt there, running an unsteady hand through his son’s curly hair. When he looked up at me, it was with large, pleading eyes.

“Please, I swear I’m done picking pockets, just leave me with him, he needs me.”

My eyes travelled between the two.

“What’s your name?”

“Jason.” said uncertainly.

I nodded my head to the child. “And your son?”

“Timmy…. He’s Timmy.”

He ran his hand possessively through the boy’s hair, his eyes still fixed on me and pleading, but there was no way I could do as he asked. Leaving a young child in a place that could crumble at any minute, with a kid who had to steal to keep them fed, and in weather they didn’t even have the proper clothes for.

I ran a hand through my hair, then shook my head.

“You can’t stay here, I’m sorry.” I told him, and he  pulled the boy into his arms, wrapping his arms around the sleeping child as if to say he could never let him go.

I looked around the room again, then back at him.

“Alright, how about….I take you to my place for the night. You can shower up, I’ll make you both something to eat, and you can sleep somewhere warm. Then in the morning we’ll figure something out. Sounds good?” I asked, but he shook his head.

“We can stay here, just let us stay. I swear I aint gonna steal no more.”

“I’m sorry Jason but I can’t do that. Either you take my offer for the night, or I take you down to lock up and your son to social services. Staying out here in this place, and in weather is not an option.” I said adamantly, and as the seconds ticked by Jason finally nodded.

I watched as he picked Timmy up effortlessly with the stuffed rabbit and blanket, and walked past me. I followed closely behind them, a hand on Jason’s arm as he maneuvered his way down the stairs. When we reached the car, I opened the door for him, and watched as he stepped in carefully with his precious load.

When they were settled in the back, I started the car, cranked the heat higher, and we were off. All the while little Timmy slept soundly in his father’s arms.

AUTHOR'S NOTES

THE IDEA FOR THIS STORY CAME TO ME LAST NIGHT AS I WAS ABOUT TO GO TO SLEEP AND I COULDN'T REST UNTIL I WROTE THE FIRST CHAPTER. I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT.

THANKS FOR READING AND I'LL SEE YOU WHEN I UPDATE!

-DoUbLe.A

-unedited.