Concealed in Death (In Death #38)(31)

“Is that so?”

“I like to know what I’m about. The plans are to build a proper facility for children, those who get sucked into the system through no fault of their own, but are mistreated or neglected by those who should tend to them.”

As she had been, Eve thought.

“And the others—the lost, you could say—who end up on the street trying to find a way just to survive.”

As he had.

“We’ll work with CPS, educators, therapists, and the like. Not that different, I suppose, from what it was when Seraphim was there. Maybe it’s the building’s fate to house the troubled and lost, to give them a refuge, a chance. We didn’t have one, you and I.”

“No, we didn’t have one.”

“They’ll have a safe place, but with boundaries, with structure. Rules, as you’re so fond of rules. They’ll have therapy, medical treatment, recreation—as I think fun’s important and too often left out. Education, of course, with the opportunity to learn practical skills as well. Summerset gave me that.”

“He taught you to steal, too.”

“He didn’t, as I already knew how. Though he may have polished a few rough edges there.” He grinned at her. “Still, they were practical skills of a sort. We won’t have classes in lifting locks or wallets, Lieutenant.”

“Good to know.” She thought a moment. “It’s a lot to take on.”

“Well now, I’ll have those trained in all those areas to do the taking on once we’re up and running.”

But your hand will be in it, Eve thought. You won’t just dump the money, then walk away.

“Do you have a name for it?”

“Not yet, no.”

“You should call it Refuge, since that’s how you think of it. And you should stick with the Irish, like Dochas. What’s Irish for Refuge?”

“An Didean.”

“That’s what you should call it.”

He took a hand off the wheel to lay it on hers. “Then we will.”

She turned her hand under his, linked fingers. “I guess I’m definitely punching you back later.”

“Praise Jesus.”

He found a spot, street level, within a half block of Clipperton’s building. Eve deduced not many people parked their vehicles along this block or two if they wanted to come back and find it in one piece.

She wasn’t worried, not with the shielding and theft deterrents on her DLE.

“You ought to buy this building,” she said as they approached it. “It’s more of a dump than the other one.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Just don’t . . . Okay, we got lucky. That’s him, coming out of a dive to head to his dump.”

Roarke saw the man in a padded canvas work jacket stumble out of the door of a place called Bud’s, make a weaving turn in their direction.

“Apparently he’s made good use of the dive,” Roarke commented.

He was obviously impaired, his balance iffy, but apparently his vision and cop radar wasn’t affected. He spotted them halfway between dive and dump, did a flash take, a fast, wobbling one-eighty. Then beat feet.

“Seriously?” Eve shook her head and sprinted after him.

He shoved through pedestrians, succeeded in knocking a woman and her bag of groceries to the sidewalk. A trio of anemic oranges rolled out. Eve jumped over them.

“Take care of her,” she shouted to Roarke. “I’ve got this.”

Her target opted to veer right at the corner, or his upper half made the turn while his bottom half tried to catch up.

He tripped over his own feet and skidded along the sidewalk, taking out another pedestrian.

Eve pressed her boot to the back of Clipperton’s neck, glanced over at the stunned pedestrian sitting on his ass clutching a tattered briefcase.

“You okay?” She pulled out her badge. “Are you hurt?”

“I . . . don’t think so.”

“I can get medical assistance if you want it.”

“I’m hurt!” Clipperton shouted.

“Shut up. Sir?”

“I’m okay.” The man pushed to his feet, shoved a gloved hand through his hair. “Do I have to give a statement? Honestly, I’m not sure what happened. I think he more or less fell into me, and I was off balance.”

“That’s fine. Here.” She managed to pull out a card and increase pressure with her boot when Clipperton wiggled under it like a snake. “If you need to contact me regarding this incident, you can reach me here.”

“Oh, thanks. Okay. Um. Then I can go?”

“Yes, sir.” She unclipped her restraints, bent down, and clapped them on Clipperton.

“Was he running away from you?”

“He was more stumbling away from me.”

“Is he a criminal?”

Eve gave the bystander a last glance. “We’re going to find out. Up you go, Clip.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

His breath was cheap brew and ancient beer nuts. To avoid at least the worst of it, Eve shifted slightly to the side. “Why did you run?”

“Wasn’t running. Just . . . walking quick. Gotta ’pointment.”