Chapter Eleven
Jedidiah loved torun. She’d run occasionally in the past, especially when getting in shape for her undercover work. But in the last couple of years since she’d had desk jobs, she’d found that if she didn’t run regularly, she felt crappy all day. She took an occasional day off but she was happiest running every day. Weekends were for long runs. Since starting her new job, she usually started her weekday run around seven since she didn’t have to be at Trevor’s until nine. But today she was out the door earlier than usual since she planned on stopping by Java Café and picking up coffee and pastries.
She needed a run. She used the time to work out problems. Problems like what was she going to do about this inappropriate reaction to Trevor. Her boss. But when she’d gone to Austin with him, he hadn’t felt like her boss. Riding back, she’d had to fight the urge to lean her head against Trevor’s back and snuggle closer. She hadn’t, because that would have been a stupid move. But she couldn’t help wondering how he would have reacted if she had done so.
Really, what would it hurt to give in to this desire? Trevor was attracted to her. She could tell by the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. The same way she looked at him when he wasn’t looking.
She was using the curb to stretch her calves when she happened to glance over at the dumpster just in time to see someone hanging their head down over the edge of the metal bin.That’s weird.Whiskey River didn’t have much of a homeless population. That she knew of, anyway. What few there were hung out in the Barrels or stayed at the shelter, which was on the edge of the Barrels. Generally they went to the bigger cities.
It was hard to tell from this distance but she didn’t think it was an adult. As she watched the person fell in and she heard an exclamation of pain.
She trotted over to the metal bin, peeked over the top, and peered down into it. A child, about ten years old, lay on his back amid the trash sacks and refuse. He—she thought he was a boy but wasn’t positive—looked more angry than hurt but his expression changed to fear when he saw her.
“Are you hurt?” she asked. “Do you need some help?”
“No.” He started scooting away but when he put his left hand down to help, he yelped in pain. Ignoring it, he scrambled backward. “Leave me alone.”
“My name’s Jedidiah. What were you doing in the dumpster?” Looking for food, she’d bet. Something told her she might be looking at a runaway. “Are you hungry?”
“Go away.”
“If I go away, how are you going to get out? It’s hard to climb with only one good arm.” She reached out and let her hand hang down. “Let me help.”
“Nuh-uh. You’ll call the cops.”
“No, not if you don’t want me to.”
“I don’t believe you. Grown-ups lie. The cops will take me back tothem.”
He said the word ‘them’ with such loathing she was nearly certain now that he was a runaway. But who from? His parents?
“I promise I won’t call the police unless you tell me it’s okay.” Technically, she should. But she knew he’d flee the instant he could if she did that. He might anyway if she couldn’t gain his trust. He had freckles, brown hair, and big brown eyes. He looked a bit like Trevor’s little friend, Andy, except older and his hair was brown instead of red. Even with suspicion clouding his face, he was cute as a bug. “What’s your name?” When he hesitated she added, “Just your first name.”
He seemed to be weighing his options. Finally, he said, “Ricky.”
“Ricky, will you let me help you out? You don’t want to be stuck in here when the trash truck comes.” That thought had her shuddering, thinking about what could happen if the workers didn’t see the child before the truck automatically picked up the bin.
“Promise you won’t call the cops? Or CPS neither?”
CPS. Probably foster parents, then. “I promise I won’t call either of them if you’ll let me help you.”
He still looked suspicious but he got up and, stepping on bags and other stuff she didn’t even want to think about, came over to where she was. “Grab my hand with your good hand and I’ll pull you up.”
Luckily he wasn’t very heavy and she had decent upper body strength thanks to the weight lifting she’d added back into her schedule a few months ago. She managed to heave him up and grab his pants to pull him the rest of the way over. She set him down on the concrete, her hand grazing his back as she did so.
He gave an exclamation and immediately grabbed his arm. The uninjured one. “Don’t run away. I know you’re scared but I promise I just want to help. Are you hungry? I have food at my apartment.” Not a whole lot, but at least she had cereal.
He perked up at the mention of food. “Okay.”
She kept hold of him until they reached her apartment. “If I let go of you will you come in and not run away?”
He studied her, as if trying to decide if he was hungry enough to chance it. Hunger won. “Yeah.”
After unlocking the door she opened it and stood aside for him to enter. “The bathroom is down the hall. Why don’t you wash up before you eat?” Lord knew what his hands had been in. “I’ll wait right here,” she said, unwilling to leave him alone for long, but at least her bathroom had no windows he could escape from.
A short while later he came out looking somewhat better. The worst of the grime was gone from his hands. He’d even tried to clean his face.
She led him to the kitchen and waved at the barstool. “I usually eat up there. Cereal okay or would you rather have a sandwich? I don’t have a lot of other food. I eat out a lot.”
