Page 8 of Ultimate Justice

Noah shrugged. “Don’t know. Never played on a team. Just with Caleb.”

“Who’s Caleb?” He already knew the kid had no siblings and no other blood relatives the state was aware of.

“My friend. I think he got caught. He—”

Caught?

Squealing came from the hallway as Dr. Strobie wheeled in two more chairs, positioning one beside Evan’s and leaving the other at the foot of the bed for Kinnemara.

Strobie sat and scooted his chair closer. Noah stopped petting Blue and tugged the sheet on his lap higher, gripping it tightly in his fists, as if forming a protective shield. The kid really didn’t like the hospital shrink. If he could eject the doc from the room, he gladly would. The man’s presence had the same effect as slapping a strip of duct tape over the boy’s mouth. Strobie had also procured a legal-size notepad and sat poised with a ballpoint pen in his hand.

This guy was a pain in the ass. The best way to establish rapport and trust with a child was to show them you were listening and that you cared. Not by writing down every word.

“Noah?” Evan leaned forward, willing the kid to look at him. “Do you know why I want to talk with you today?”

Noah stared at his lap, twisting his hands together and biting his lower lip. He looked to Marlie, as if waiting for permission.

“Young man,” Strobie said. “Answer Agent McGarry’s question.”

Marlie’s lips compressed as she shot Strobie a look hot enough to melt lead. “He is not a young man. He’s a boy. I suggest you remember that, Doctor Strobie.”

Strobie’s nostrils flared. He opened his mouth, but Evan held up his hand, cutting him off.

Aside from his unexpected connection to the hospital custodian, Noah’s experiences with adults had been epic fails, and the doctor wasn’t helping any. How had this dickhead managed to get a psychology license?

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk right now,” he said, hoping to defuse the situation before the custodian leaped over the bed and tackled the doctor, whose face had, again, turned as red as a radish. “How ’bout this? I’ll talk, and you jump in if you want to. Okay?”

As he had before, Noah shrugged. “Okay.”

Now if only Strobie would keep his big trap shut. “Blue and I are part of a special team that finds missing children. We spend a lot of time talking to kids, keeping them safe. I’d like to find out what happened to you.”

He let that sink in for a moment. The doctors had already informed him there’d been no evidence Noah had suffered any kind of physical abuse. But something terrible had happened to him and, possibly, to the other children whose photos had been in that basement. Including Evan’s sister.

“You can say anything you want to me,” he continued. “If I ask you something you don’t understand, tell me. If you don’t know the answer to my question, just say so. Only tell me what you actually remember. Okay?” The boy nodded. “Is it all right if I ask you more questions?”

When Noah looked at Marlie, Evan caught her subtle nod of approval.

“I guess so,” Noah answered.

“Thanks.” Getting a child’s narrative first was essential. Afterward, he’d ask about the who, what, where, how, and when. “Can you tell me what happened to you?”

Noah started chewing on his thumbnail. Evan thought he’d been making headway, but he was missing something. Whatever was keeping the boy from opening up. “Are you afraid of getting in trouble?” he asked.

Slowly, the kid nodded. Marlie watched Evan with raised brows, as if waiting for him to say the words Noah needed to hear.

He scooted his chair closer to the bed. “There’s nothing you can say to me that would get you in trouble. I promise.”

Beside him, Strobie grunted and jotted something on his pad. What a pencil-pushing dick.

Marlie gave the boy’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “You should tell him everything. It might help him find Caleb.”

Noah’s face lit. So that was the key. Caleb. And the custodian knew it.

“Can you really find him?” Noah asked.

“I’m going to try.” He appreciated Marlie’s input. Unlike Dr. Strobie’s, her words were encouraging. She knew just what Noah needed and what it took to get him talking. “But I’ll need your help, so start from the beginning. Maybe with why you ran away. In as much detail as you can remember.”

The boy put his fist to his mouth and began chewing on his knuckles. Looked like he’d need a little prompting.