“What’s your name?” she asked.
He started to back up. “Just please leave me alone.”
“I’m trying to help you. My partner and I almost hit you back there.”
“Your partner?”
Michelle decided a lie was better than the truth right now. “I’m a cop.”
“A cop?” He looked at her suspiciously. “Let me see some ID.”
She put her hand inside her jacket and withdrew her PI license. In the dark she hoped it would look legit enough. She flashed it.
“Now will you tell me what this is about? Maybe I can help you.”
He looked down, his thin chest rising and falling quickly with each of his uneven breaths.
“Nobody can help me.”
“That’s a big statement to make. Things can’t be that bad.”
His lips started trembling. “Look, I… I need to get back home.”
“Is that where you ran away from?”
He nodded.
“And where you got the gun?”
“It belonged to my dad.”
Michelle pulled her wet hair out of her eyes. “We can give you a ride there. Just tell us where it is.”
“No, I’ll walk.”
“That’s not a good idea. Not in a storm like this. You might get hit by a car or have a tree fall on you, both of which have already almost happened. What’s your name?”
He said nothing.
She said, “My name is Michelle. Michelle Maxwell.”
“Are you really a cop?”
“I used to be one. After that I was a Secret Service agent.”
“For real?” Now he sounded like a teenager. An awed teenager.
“Yep. I’m a private investigator now. But I still act like a cop sometimes. Now what’s your name?”
“Tyler, Tyler Wingo,” he said.
“Okay, Tyler Wingo, that’s a good start. Now let’s go to my car and…” She glanced behind him but had no time to say anything.
Sean grabbed Tyler from behind, knocked the pistol from his grip, kicked it away, and twirled him around.
Staggered, Tyler started to run off again, but Sean clamped a hand around his wrist. At six-two and over two hundred pounds, he had the size to keep the kid from going anywhere.
“Let me go!” yelled Tyler.