Chapter Text
Connor Britton sighed, stepping into the small interrogation room, his eyes studiously looking at the thick file he held open in both hands. Avoiding looking at the small, stick-thin teenage boy sitting at the table.
“Jackson Jamison Wilcox,” Connor read slowly, although he’d familiarized himself with the file before he’d entered the room. Thirty-two pages of general nastiness that made him hate the world a little bit more, he thought as he came to a stop behind the boy, leaning on the wall lazily.
“Says here you’re fourteen, Jack. Fourteen years old and this is your…” He flipped a few pages absently, already knowing the number. “Tenth arrest. Let’s see here… Four counts of possession of cocaine… Two counts of theft… Two disturbing the peace… One count of prostitution… And now an assault charge. Well, I gotta tell you, Jackie Boy, that is a pretty damn impressive record for somebody your age. Shit, we get thirty year olds in here that ain’t got records that long.”
The small blonde boy didn’t respond, other than hunching further into the chair. His hands –handcuffed together, and to the table –twitched nervously around nothing, his head hanging, shoulder length hair covering most of his face. Other than his hands, he was absolutely still.
With a sigh, Connor moved around to the other side of the table, plopping himself down in the chair, closing the file and setting it on the table.
“What? Got nothin’ to say, Jackie?” Connor asked, tilting his head a bit to try and catch the kid’s eye. “You know, this is usually the part where you say you didn’t do it, you were framed, guy had it comin’… And you got nothin’ for me?”
A slight head twitch was the only response he received from the kid, and Connor sighed again.
“Look… Jack. This isn’t gonna end well for you if you don’t help me out here, alright? You did a lot of damage to that clerk; he’s in the hospital right now. You just… You gotta give me somethin’ to work with, kid. Did he come on to you? Try to force you to do somethin’, for ya into the john with him? He just… say somethin’ that sent you over the edge? C’mon, kid, had to be reason,” He said coaxingly.
“I… I just… I just needed the money.”
Connor leaned back in the chair, a little surprised. For such a small kid, the boy had a baritone voice. But he latched on to the kid’s words.
“For what, Jackie? Why’d you need the money? Drugs? Booze?” He almost felt bad when the kid started to tremble, obviously afraid, as he shook his head ‘no’. “Alright then, what was it, kid? What’d you need the money for?”
Connor could feel the blood drain from his face, as the kid finally looked up, his hair falling to the side, giving the detective a clear view of the bruises covering the kid’s face.
Bruises in all colors of the rainbow. Bruises too old to be from that night.
Only one of the kid’s bright blue eyes was visible; the other was completely swollen shut. Probably from the same blow that’d broken his nose, Connor noted almost distantly. His lip had been busted open –although that was probably from the fight with the gas station clerk, since there was still dried blood flecked around the edges.
But the large, dark yellow bruise was at least a day old. And it looked a lot like a handprint.
Shit.
“Kid… what happened, huh?” Connor asked softly, internally cursing the uniforms who’d brought the kid in looking like that, and not told him. “Why’d you need that money, huh?”
Jack finally met his gaze, biting his lip, fingers twitching a mile a minute.
“I… Nobody… Nobody wants me when… when I look like this. And I… He needs the money, or –“
The young boy cut off sharply, obviously knowing he’d said too much. He bowed his head low again, the hair sliding back to cover his face, tapping his foot against the floor in agitation.
“Or he’ll what, Jack?” Connor asked softly. “What’ll happen?”
“Can… Can I go home now? Please?”
Connor sighed, pushing himself to his feet. “Not yet, kid. I’ll be back in a few minutes, alright?”
He didn’t wait for a response, hustling out the door, and down to one of the payphones typically reserved for those making their ‘one phone call’. He dug through his pockets for a few seconds, until he came out with a quarter, and dialed the number he knew he’d never forget.
“Ms. Evelyn? It’s me. I uh… I’ve got a boy down here I think you should come and see.”
Evelyn had barely hung the phone up when she spotted the shadow in her doorway.
“You know, at one time, I used to handle these things all by myself. Really,” She said, a small smile on her lips as she stared at her oldest son. “No help at all.”
Twenty-one year old Bobby Mercer grunted as he stepped into the room. “Yeah, and I remember how well that worked out with me an’ Angel,” He said darkly as he sat on the bed next to Evelyn. “Who was it?”
“A… detective at the station,” She said quickly, hoping Bobby wouldn’t ask any more than that. From the look he’d given her, he’d noticed her hesitation, but blew it off.
“All I gotta do is put on shoes. Started the coffee ‘fore I came up.”
Evelyn sighed as Bobby stalked back out of the room as quietly as he’d entered, completely at odds with his stocky frame.
Ever since Angel –the latest adoptee to the Mercer family –had arrived, and broken Evelyn’s wrist and nose during a panic attack the first time he’d met her, Bobby no longer let her go to any of her calls alone.
Although ,she thought as she quickly changed from her pajamas to her clothes, it was often nice having Bobby along. There were a few times where having him there had saved her from a lot of pain. Like the boy a few months ago, coming down of crank for example. If Bobby hadn’t grabbed it, the chair the poor thing had thrown probably would have caught Evelyn full on in the face.
“Car’s warmin’ up, coffee’s still gonna be a few minutes,” Bobby said, interrupting her thoughts as he stepped back into her room. “We goin’ to the station, or they already moved him?”
Evelyn shook her head. “The way he talked, I don’t think they’ve even told Social Services yet.
Bobby shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Awesome. That’s just perfect.”
“Detective?”
Connor stood, and forced himself to smile at the elderly woman moving towards him.
“Ms. Evelyn,” He said respectfully, reaching out to shake her hand. “Good to see you.” He turned his gaze to the short, muscular young man shadowing her. “Bobby.”
“Britton..”
“Bobby,” Evelyn said softly. “Play nice.”
Connor could feel the hair rising on the back of his neck as Bobby fixed him with a cold smile.
“Oh, I plan on it, ma. Where’s the kid, Britton, and why the fuck are we here at two in the mornin’?”
“This way, Ms. Evely,” Connor said, grabbing Ms. Evelyn’s arm, and guiding her down towards the interrogation rooms.
“They brought him in a few hours ago, but I just got around to talking to him maybe half an hour ago. I only talked to him for a few minutes before I called you.”
“What was he popped for?”
Connor spared a glare back over his shoulder at Bobby, before turning his attention back to Ms. Evelyn. “He assaulted a clerk at a convenience store. Tried grabbing a handful of cash from the register, the clerk tried to stop him, kid beat the everlovin’ piss out of him.”
“And you dragged my ma down here at two in the fuckin’ mornin’ because…?”
“You know what, Mercer? When I start addressing you? You can start askin’ the damn questions. Otherwise, just shut up, and do your thug thing, alright?” Connor finally snapped, turning, and going toe to toe with the younger man.
After a few moments, Evelyn sighed, stepping in between the two, with a gentle hand on Bobby’s chest. “Boys, please. Have your pissing contest tomorrow?” When Bobby gave her a small, curt nod, she turned her attention back to Connor. “To be fair, Detective, I’m wondering the same thing. While most kids with good, healthy home lives don’t go around robbing gas stations, that doesn’t necessarily equate to you calling me in. Especially this early.”
Connor gave her a grim smile as he stopped in front of the viewing room door, opening it, and ushering her inside. “Take a look at the kid, then I’ll tell you what he said, and you can decide if I made the right call, or if I’m just wasting your time.”
Bobby barely stopped himself from pounding the shit out of the back of Connor’s head as the man shoulder-checked him to get in the small room in front of him. But a backwards glance from Evelyn kept him in check, and he took a deep breath to calm himself before stepping into the room, and getting his first glimpse of the kid.
He sighed. Damn kid couldn’t have been much older than thirteen, maybe fourteen, pacing around the room restlessly, his light-wash jeans hugging his hips tightly, riding low enough that Bobby wondered how he was keeping the damn things up. His white wife-beater clung tightly to his thin, emaciated chest, showcasing his thin arms wrapped around his torso.
And it looked like somebody had taken a damn two-by-four to his face. The hair hid a lot of it, but what Bobby could see looked bruised, bloody, or raw.
“Those don’t look like fresh bruises,” Evelyn said softly, causing Bobby to start. He’d almost forgotten he wasn’t alone in the room.
“They’re not,” Connor said quietly. “I asked him about it, and he said, ‘nobody wants me when I look like this, and he needs the money’. So I called you. Figure he’s either hustlin’ on the streets, and his pimp beat the hell out of him, or step-daddy’s pushing him out there and beating the hell out of him. Either way, somebody’s beatin’ the hell outta this poor kid, and he’s gonna need somebody in his corner. Figured it might as well be you.”
“You haven’t located any next of kin?” Bobby asked quietly, unable to take his eyes off the kid.
“Couldn’t contact anyone at either of his listed address, or at the phone numbers he gave us. Supposedly we’ve got a mother on Brooks, and a father on Mulrauny, but we couldn’t get a hold of either. Both of ‘em have some pretty serious rap sheets of their own though. And little Jackie here is well on his way to a nice long sheet of his own. This is arrest number ten.”
“Priors?” Bobby asked gruffly, his rivalry with the older man temporarily forgotten.
“Four for possession, two for disturbing the peace, two theft, one count of prostitution, and now this assault charge.”
“When was he picked up for the prostitution?” Evelyn asked quietly, shaking her head.
“ ‘Bout a year and a half ago. He would have been around twelve.”
“Shit, ma,” Bobby swore softly. “Why the fuck wasn’t he removed back then?”
Connor shrugged again, a bit guiltily this time. “Couldn’t contact the parents then either. Both him and the john claimed nothin’ was happening, that the john was just a good Samaritan trying to give him a ride, so the detectives didn’t pursue it too hard.
Bobby snorted. “Our lovely tax dollars at work.”
“Well, if your money wasn’t dirty, Mercer, I might actually care what you think,” Connor retorted, but both men could tell that his heart wasn’t really in it.
“So he’s what… Fourteen? Fifteen?”
Connor nodded as he ushered the pair out of the room. “Fourteen. Birthday was two months ago. I uh… I dunno how you wanna play this, Ms. Evelyn. I called you because I thought you’d be able to help. I know… We already failed this kid once… I know I should have went through all the right channels, and jumped through the right hoops, but it would’ve taken all night. Would’ve had to stick him in Holding, and it’s been busy; we’re just about filled to the rafters down there. Figured if he’s an abused hooker, puttin’ him in a room with a bunch of pervs, freaks, and cons probably wouldn’t end well.”
“Aren’t you going to have to put him in Holding anywas?” Evelyn asked quizzically, coming to a stop in front of the interrogation room door. “I mean… he is under arrest, right?”
Connor hesitated for a moment. “If the kid’s advocate were to tell my superiors that he couldn’t be placed in Holding… That it’d be a danger… We could probably either leave him here until we can get a bail hearing in the morning, or maybe even in one of the actual interview rooms.”
Evelyn smiled, patting Connor on the cheek. “I’ll do my best, Detective Britton. But you need to tell your people what’s going on, and have somebody call my people. We don’t want this boy being sent back to his parents because of a technicality.”
With that, she entered the small room, Bobby close on her heels.