Page 30 of Cross the Line
I followed his sight line upward. Noticed for the first time the service ladder attached to the adjacent structure. It started about seven feet up. Difficult to access without assistance. But not impossible for a desperate teenager.
"What about up there? That storage facility has a flat roof with those utility structures. Perfect shelter."
His eyes narrowed as he studied the ladder, then the rooftop. "Good sight lines. Multiple buildings to cross if needed. Sheltered from wind." A nod. A ghost of approval on his face. "It's where I would go."
I crouched beside him. My knees sinking into the wet gravel. He'd gone completely still, the way he did when he'd found something significant. His flashlight beam illuminated a small collection of trash nestled against the building's foundation. A discarded instant-noodle cup and scattered cigarette butts.
"Look." His words barely audible above the downpour.
I leaned closer. Our shoulders nearly touching as we examined the evidence. The cup sat upright, protected from rainfall by a slight overhang.
"The cup's still damp but not filled with liquid." I picked it up carefully. "Recent. And these cigarettes..."
"Cheap brand," he finished. "The kind a teenager with limited money would buy."
I nodded. Let my attention drift back to the service ladder that disappeared into shadows above us. "So he was here. And if I were hiding..." I trailed off. Mentally plotted the safest route for a scared kid.
"You'd go up." He was already moving toward the ladder. "High ground, good visibility, shelter from the elements."
Rain streaked down his face as he examined the bottom of the ladder, which hung frustratingly out of reach. I stepped closer. Pointed to a faint muddy smear on one of the lower rungs.
"Someone's been up here recently."
A nod. The micro-change I was learning to recognize as his version of excitement. "I'll secure the perimeter and call for backup. You check the roof."
I glanced up at the slick rungs disappearing into shadows. Then back at the ladder's seven-foot starting point. "Shouldn't we wait? If he's scared, an unexpected approach might spook him."
The rain intensified. Plastered my hair to my forehead. Moisture trickled down my neck, beneath my collar. My partner stood motionless. Seemingly impervious to the discomfort.
"He's been running for nearly forty-eight hours." His words unexpectedly gentle. "Patrol officers or uniforms might spook him. You're..." He paused. Seemed to choose his words carefully. "Better with people than I am."
I blinked. Caught off guard by what might be his first compliment. Rain had softened his usually sharp features. Made him appear younger somehow. Less severe.
"Was that almost a compliment? I'm touched."
The corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. But close. "Just climb the ladder, Carlson."
I stared up at the first rung, which hung well above my head. Then back at him. He understood immediately. Interlaced his fingers to create a foothold.
"I'll boost you up."
I hesitated for a fraction of a second before placing my foot in his cupped hands. His grip was solid. When he lifted, the strength caught me off guard. He boosted me up with such ease that I nearly overshot the rung. I scrambled for purchase. Grabbed the cold steel and pulled myself up.
His strength shouldn't have surprised me. I'd seen him at the boxing club. Had witnessed the controlled power in his movements. But feeling it directed toward helping me was different. Unsettling in a way I couldn't quite define.
As I gripped the first rung, he added quietly, "Be careful. It's slippery."
The concern in those words sounded unpracticed. As if he wasn't used to expressing it. I glanced down. Found him watching me. His face half in shadow.
"Worried about me, Hawley?" I couldn't help the teasing lilt. My default response to moments that felt too sincere.
He didn't answer. Just took a step back. Rain streaming down his face. "I'll be right here." His cadence returning to its usual professional clip. "If you find him, talk first. No sudden movements."
I nodded. Began to climb. The steel cold and slick beneath my fingers. Rainfall made each rung treacherous. Forced me to move with deliberate care. Below, his flashlight beam tracked my progress. A steady point of light in the shadows.
As I neared the top, his voice floated up from below. "And Carlson, if he runs, don't chase him across the rooftops. Wait for me."
I paused. Peered down at my partner's upturned face. "Didn't know you cared."
