All Good Deeds (15 page)

“You know there weren’t. He was quiet, observant. He used to watch Layla with us and look almost confused. I always wondered if he ever saw any real sort of affection.” Her face went slack, her skin suddenly looking weathered. “You think that’s why he did it? Because he was jealous of her relationship with us? He sexually assaulted her. Why? I never understood that. Or any of it. Why didn’t he ever tell anyone why he killed my daughter?”

“I don’t know.” We’d had this conversation so many times. The answer resided in Justin’s impenetrable head. I found myself again wondering what the hell I was doing here. “I’m not sure he even knows.”

“I can’t believe he’s living over there in Poplar, no one knowing what he’s done.” The corner of her mouth twisted in a vengeful sort of smile. “I guess they know now, though.”

A quick jolt of energy flicked through me. “I never told you he lived in Poplar. How did you know that?”

“I…”

“Jonelle, is it you?”

“I didn’t take that girl!”

“I don’t think you did.” She wasn’t that good of a liar. “But are you the one driving around Poplar, checking up on Justin?”

“No. If I went near him, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off his neck.”

“Then how did you know where he lived?”

“I heard about the girl on the news, Lucy.” Jonelle ducked her head, messing with the hem of her shirt. “Kailey Richardson, missing from Poplar since yesterday afternoon. When you called her Kailey a few minutes ago, I put two and two together.”

That sounded like a load of bull. “What about Frank?”

She actually laughed, but the sound was rough, a pseudo-smoker’s cough. Anger coated her lungs, not nicotine. “That man wouldn’t have the cajones to do anything like this. He thinks we should forgive that boy and consider what must have happened to him to make him do such a terrible thing. As if I could forgive him!” She smacked a meaty fist on the table, fat tears welling in her eyes.

Fatigue washed over me. This woman’s pain, Jenna’s pain, my own memories. I was sick of wallowing in death and despair. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Down the hall,” she pointed, “last door on the right.”

“Thanks.” On my way, I glanced into the open bedrooms. Both belonged to the twins, and both were typical. I didn’t have to go to the bathroom. I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in hours. Perhaps that was why my head was spinning, and my equilibrium issues had nothing to do with the increasing sense that I was chasing my tail while the answer danced just outside of my vision, laughing and pointing at the dummy.

I splashed water on my face, rubbed my temples. Coming here had been a long shot, but not checking Jonelle out would have driven me crazy.

So I was back to square one. Still waiting on Kelly to get into Harrison’s computer, and still wondering if Justin had anything to do with Kailey’s disappearance.

S
tuck in traffic
on the way back to the city, I obsessed over Justin’s whereabouts. I didn’t believe Todd knew where his brother was, and despite the police’s lack of evidence to hold him, the idea that Justin roamed free while Kailey was still missing made me extremely anxious.

I called Kelly and asked her to go over the information we’d gathered on Justin since his release last year. “Is there anything that might give me a hint of where he could be hiding?”

“You called his job, right?” Kelly’s voice crackled over the speaker.

“Twice. He’s taking some personal days. And Jenna says he hasn’t been at home since someone spray-painted his duplex.”

“Convenient.” Kelly hummed as she searched, the snappy click of her computer keys echoing over the line. “We don’t have much on the details of his release since it was kept out of the media. God forbid the state explain why they chose not to register him as an offender.”

“I know, but I did tail him for a few days, and there were a few places he frequented. They should be in his file.”

“Let me look.” More clicking noises from the other end. “I lost Slimy Steve on the forum, by the way. Looks like he’s using a different I.P. I don’t know if he moved or what. I’m going to have to dig him up all over again.”

“Awesome.” Guys like Steve knew how to roam online without being seen. Kelly would find him again, but in the meantime, who knows how many girls he would solicit.

“Okay, here we go,” she said. “For the first sixty days after his release, he had a pretty solid routine. Ate way too much McDonald’s and took the bus to his work every day, plus three days a week he spent time at a homeless shelter in Spring Garden. West Garden Shelter on Noble Street.”

My heart rate kicked into high gear. “That’s right. We thought he might be volunteering as part of his release.”

“Check it out,” Kelly said. “But be careful. Whether he’s innocent or not, he’s going to be pissed off at you.”

“Believe me, I’m used to it by now.”

Spring Garden is
a mostly residential area of the city loaded with brownstones and cultural attractions, namely the Philadelphia Museum of Art. I’ve visited several times, spending hours with the paintings, gazing at the portraits that have such brilliance and depth it is as if the subject were staring at me through a window. Kenny, of course, stood on the “Rocky Steps” of the museum, where the movies were filmed, and had his picture taken. But not all of the neighborhood is bright and shiny.

The words
colossal mistake
dominated my thoughts as I pulled up to the shelter on Noble Street. Less than a mile away from Northern Liberties, this section of the city was vastly different. Instead of the smells of the bakery down the street or the wafting scents of a food truck, Noble Street had an industrial feel. A tire factory was just a few blocks away, and the exhaust from the factory’s enormous stacks made the area smell like cooked rubber. Two blocks north was the abandoned Spring Garden subway station, a place loved by urban explorers and anyone looking to hide out from the cops. I hoped I found Justin at the shelter and didn’t have to venture into the station.

I locked my car and headed into the shelter, head down against the wind and hands in my pockets. To my complete irritation, I found my mind wandering to Chris.

Had our escapade at Harrison’s house scared some sense into him?

I hoped so. I didn’t want to see him again. Except I had questions. Did he really consider himself a sociopath? I’ve dealt with my fair share of mental illness and personality types. Sociopaths are more terrifying than schizophrenics because of their ability to appear completely normal. The best ones wear humanity like a perfectly tailored suit, a second skin. Either Chris wore the best fitting suit I’d ever encountered or he was lying to himself, or me, or maybe both.

West Garden Shelter housed men only and stood two stories tall. It reminded me of my old elementary school, right down to the blue shades. A couple of men sat on the concrete stoop, both nodding to me as I approached. I wondered if offering them cash would be considered an insult.

Unlike a lot of homeless shelters I’ve been in, West Garden was warm and smelled relatively clean. Still, the atmosphere weighed heavily. I was immediately struck with the instinct to be silent and respectful, not unlike the smothering nervous energy I felt every time I walked into a church.

“Can I help you?” A short man with ill-fitting clothes, a pastor’s collar, and weary eyes stood in the doorway of a small office.

“I hope so. I’m looking for a young man named Justin Beckett.”

The pastor smiled. “A lot of the guys here don’t give us their names. At least not their real ones. Can you describe him to me?”

“He’s tall and lanky,” I said. “Shaggy, dark-brown hair and a baby-face and tends to slouch. He’s a nice looking kid. I think he volunteered here a year and a half ago.”

“You must be talking about Jay,” the man said. “Nice, quiet kid. He’s one of our best volunteers. Does a wonderful job rounding up supplies and food. And he’s a heck of an artist. His drawings decorate our main room. I think he’s there now, actually, working on something new.” The pastor’s voice lowered as he glanced down the hall. “He’s stayed with us the past few nights. I’m not sure what’s happened, but he knows he’s always welcome.”

I thanked the pastor for his help and found my way into the main area. Shaped like a giant rectangle, the room was full of neatly made cots. Men were scattered throughout, talking quietly. Justin sat in a plastic chair against the wall with a sketch pad balanced on his legs.

He’d lost weight. His slender hands moved quickly as he worked, sketching and erasing. Several pencil drawings, mostly of different places in the city, hung on the wall to his right. He was a talented kid.

As if he sensed someone staring at him, Justin’s head slowly raised, and our gazes locked. The angular planes of his face twisted into anger. His bright blue eyes were cold as ice.

“My brother told you to leave me alone and stop following me.”

“I haven’t been following you,” I said evenly, quickly crossing the room. I stopped a foot in front of him, out of arm’s reach. “This is my first time.”

“Bullshit.” Up close, his face didn’t look as youthful as I remembered. Baggy shadows layered his eyes; a day’s worth of scruff made his face look dirty. “A black car has been tailing me for weeks.”

“Like I told your brother, you know how many black cars are in this city?”

“I’m not a car guy.”

“No,” I looked at the sketches. “You’re an artist. You like to draw outside. Landscape portraits, or have you moved on to living models?”

He winced. “I didn’t take that little kid, and I don’t have to answer to you.”

“No, you don’t. But why didn’t you tell the police right away you and Kailey were buddies?” Part of me wanted to believe whatever he told me. Maybe this boy could be the exception to the rule. He’d been a victim too. He deserved to be the exception. But I was too much of a realist to believe he actually had a chance.

“Because I was scared, and I hadn’t done anything wrong.” His knuckles whitened as he gripped the pencil hard enough to snap it. “She needed a friend, and I felt sorry for her. Stupid on my part.”

“I know the search of your place turned up empty,” I said. “Police haven’t found any evidence you took her. And yet you’ve run off.”

“I haven’t run off,” he snapped. “People in my neighborhood are mad. Someone sprayed my place and then later tossed a brick through my window telling me if I stepped outside, I’d get my ass kicked. My brother had to come and get me.” His cheeks heated. “I couldn’t stay with him. Not right now.”

“So here you are. And Kailey is still missing.”

He finally broke the pencil. “And you’d love to railroad me into admitting I took her. But I didn’t.”

“Is that what you think happened when you were a kid?”

He took a sharp breath, closed his eyes, nodding his head like he was counting. “I haven’t done anything to break the terms of my release. I go to counseling like I’m supposed to. I stay away from areas with kids.”

“Why did you communicate with Kailey, then?”

He scrunched up his nose, stuck out his trembling jaw. I realized he was trying not to cry. “Like I said, I’m stupid. But I know what it’s like to feel you don’t have anyone. It was all email. I was never alone with her. And I don’t have to tell you anything. Wait until my brother knows you’re still harassing me.”

Any reaction from Todd was worth it if I could find something that would lead me to the missing little girl. “I’m just trying to find Kailey.”

“I didn’t take her!” Justin’s voice cracked. “Why do you assume I’m going to hurt someone? Yeah, I did something really freaking terrible when I was a kid. I’ll never forgive myself, but I won’t do it again. I’m not like the others.” Moisture invaded his eyes, his shaking chin jutting out the way a toddler’s does when he’s in trouble but can’t admit he’s done wrong.

A tiny part of my dark heart cracked for him. He really believed that. And he’d been a victim himself. “I’m sorry I can’t accept that. Every one of you says the same thing.”

“Of who?”

“Pedophiles. It’s in your genes. You can’t stop. Maybe you can go dormant, but the urge can’t be squashed.”

“I am not a pedophile.” Anger turned his face puce, his fists clenching. I held tightly to the pepper spray making sure he could see it.

I glanced around, lowering my voice. “You raped a nine-”

The broken pieces of pencil clattered to the floor. “There are things you don’t know.” Justin grabbed his head with both hands and pulled at his thick hair until it stuck out in crazed-looking tufts. “I didn’t want to…there’s so much more…you don’t understand.”

He gasped and put his fist to his mouth as if to shut himself up.

“Justin.” I used the same tone I would with a scared child because in so many ways, that’s exactly what Justin was. His emotional growth had been stunted long before he made the decision to attack another kid. I wanted to kneel in front of him, but I’d likely end up with a swift kick in the face.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me who hurt you?” I didn’t want to betray Todd’s trust and admit I knew it had been his parents. “I tried to get you out of that house.” I had no idea why I was telling him this now, but I owed him, didn’t I? “Remember when I saw that jagged scar on your arm? I knew that wasn’t from an accident. But I was young and new to the job. More worried about security than doing what was right. My boss said I didn’t have enough evidence, that my gut couldn’t be filed as evidence. And I backed off. For that, I am very sorry. If I’d tried harder, maybe your life would have been different.” My voice cracked. I swiped a tear from my cheek.

He blinked and stared. “You … are you being honest? You’re not just feeding me a line of manipulative crap? Cause in my experience, your kind is pretty damned good at that.”

“Social workers? I know, the system is pretty screwy. Although it worked out better for you than it does a lot of people. But don’t worry, I’m not a social worker anymore.”

“Not social workers.” His angry eyes roamed my face and then looked me up and down. “You’re all good at fooling a guy. Mindbanging us until we’re so twisted up we don’t know what the hell is going on. Especially ones with power and authority.”