Hellbent

Draker keened and keened. Finally he quieted. Van Sciver waited for his breathing to slow. After all L had been through, he deserved a few moments of rest before the end.

Draker looked up through bloodshot eyes. “I’ll tell you,” he said. I’ll tell you where he is.”

49 Good Isn’t Enough

“You missed him by an hour, Mr. Man,” the charge nurse said.

A broad woman packed into navy-blue polyester pants and a billowing white nurse coat, she conveyed warmth and authority in equal measure. A sunshine logo on her coat accompanied equally cheery canary-yellow lettering, which read MCCLAIR CHILDREN’S MENTAL HEALTH CENTER.

Evan put away his forged Child Protective Services credential, flapping closed the worn brown billfold. The wallet, in addition to his frayed Dockers and Timex watch, were props that screamed Ordinary Guy on State-Employee Salary.

Tapping his clipboard against his thigh, he hurried to accompany the nurse as she ambled down the hall.

“Missed him?” Evan said. “What do you mean missed him? His caseworker visitation is overdue.”

“Baby doll, the only things here that ain’t overdue are the late notices on the bills. We are bailing out a rowboat with a Dixie Cup.”

In one of the rooms, a kid was thrashing against the wall and bellowing. Two orderlies restrained him, one for each arm.

The nurse stopped in the doorway. “C’mon now, Daryl,” she said. “Act like you got some sense in you.”

The boy calmed, and she kept on.

A few perfunctory posters were gummed to the bare walls, tattered and ripped. Lichtenstein apple. Picasso face. A faded Starry Night. Stacked on a service cart were dining trays filled with half-eaten meals. Watery green beans. Cube of corn bread. Hard-crusted grilled-cheese sandwiches. The place smelled of industrial detergent, bleach, and kids of a certain age kept in close proximity.

Evan knew this place, knew it in his bones.

He cleared his throat as if nervously, adjusted his fake glasses. “You said I missed Jesse Watson?”

Joey’s additional online machinations had confirmed that this was the name David Smith had been living under at the Richmond facility. Joey was outside now in the rented minivan, a block away in an overwatch position near the intersection.

The nurse paused and heaved a sigh that smelled of peppermint. “He ran away.”

“Ran away? When?”

“Like I said, he was gone before seven-o’clock bed check. So call it a hour, maybe a hour and a half. Musta slipped out the back door during the commotion.” Her mouth tweaked left, a show of sympathy. “Girl in six had a grand mal at mealtime.”

Evan shoved his glasses up his nose, a cover for the actual dread he felt rising from his stomach into his throat.

She registered his concern. “We already filed the police report. I’m sorry, but it’s in their hands now.”

“Okay. I’ll just do a living-conditions check and be on my way.”

“We do the best we can do here with the state funds shrinking all the time.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“I do.”

She stopped and took his measure, the raised freckles bunching high on her copper-colored cheeks. Then she blew out a breath, deflating. “Look at us, acting like we on different sides. I’m sorry, Mr.…?”

“Wayne.”

“Mr. Wayne. I know you’re just trying to do the best you can, too. I guess it’s…” Her not-insignificant bosom heaved. “I guess I’m embarrassed we can’t do better by them. I use my own salary for Christmas and birthday gifts. The director, too. He’s a good man. But good isn’t enough sometimes.”

“No,” Evan said. “Sometimes it’s not. Which room was he in?”

“Fourteen,” she said. “We group the kids with less severe conditions in the C Hall. We’re talking ADHD, dyslexia, visual-motor stuff.”

“And Jesse’s condition was…?” Evan flipped through the pages.

“Conduct disorder.”

“Of course.”

She waved a hand adorned with hammered metal rings. “C’mon, I’ll walk you.”

The walk took longer than Evan would have liked, but he held her pace. They passed a girl sitting on the floor picking at the hem of her shirt. Her fingernails were bitten to the quick, leaving spots of blood on the fabric.

“Hi, baby doll, be back for you in a second, okay?” the nurse said.

The girl turned vacant eyes up toward them as they passed. She had beautiful thick hair like Joey’s, a similarity Evan chose not to linger on.

The nurse finally arrived at Room 14, knocked on the door once briskly, and opened it. The three boys inside, all around the age of thirteen like David Smith, lounged on bunk beds, tapping on cheap phones.

In another time, in another place, Evan had lived in this room.

“This is Mr. Wayne,” the nurse said.

The oldest-looking kid shot a quick glance at Evan and said, “Lucky-ass us. Another social worker.”

“Respect, Jorell, or I’ll notch you down to red on the board again.”

Evan asked, “Did any of you see Jesse Watson run away?”

They all shook their heads.

“He didn’t talk about it before? No planning? Nothing?”

“Nah,” Jorell said. “That fool was bent. For a skinny white boy? He was nails. Could fight like a mofo. He had things his own way.”