Life Changing

CHAPTERS 5 - 9

CHAPTER FIVE

Sharon and Palmer paired and guided the boy into the elevator and down a floor to the lobby of their office building. It wasn't really a lobby, just a large foyer containing a directory behind a sheet of Plexiglas attached to one wall and hallways branching off to ground floor offices. Sharon acted as the shepherd with a hand putting gentle pressure on the boy's back to turn him left or right. There was a doughnut shop at the end of the small mall.

"I can't imagine what this young man did to set him off," Sharon added. Turn left.

"Do you think it was him being alone in a room with a young..." Palmer suggested. He was immediately ashamed of what he thinking. He had no evidence Kaide was a pedophile. A bully, a liar, an opportunist, a sexist where women were concerned, certainly, but not a pedophile. As far as Palmer knew.

Turn left. They entered the coffee shop. Sharon glanced back at Palmer and frowned, cutting off Palmer's supposition.

The boy remained compliant as Sharon prodded him, still gently, toward a booth at the rear of the shop. It was a short walk past the only other booth and a round table with three rickety chairs. The boy moved into the booth and Sharon followed him, shoving him over with her hip so he was bordered by her body and the wall. Palmer slipped into the bench on the other side of the booth and faced Sharon. She caught his eyes and canted her head toward the wall side of the booth. Palmer reluctantly slid across the worn leatherette until he faced the boy.

The child, and he was a child as Palmer confirmed with a close study, was likely in his early teens. He was tall for his age but not so tall that he was ungainly. He had a thin body under his well-used jeans, dark blue sweatshirt and light, gray jacket with an obscure brand across its breast. He was a handsome boy, his face composed of rounded features that would become sharper and more defined. He could become a very handsome man in time. His skin could be described as brown or tanned, just two shades darker than Palmer's whiteness and one shade darker than Sharon's olive skin. His face had the clearness and the shine of youth. His eyes, though, were narrowed with fatigue, Palmer saw they were dark brown but with golden speckles that caught the light. He had black hair, tousled and damp with perspiration from his emotional exertions. His eyebrows were thick and black. There was no hint of other hair on his face.

"How old are you?" Palmer leaned slightly toward the boy. The child sat slumped toward the table between them. He turned his eyes up to Palmer. He seemed to think for a moment, considering options.

"Eleven."

"What's your name?" Sharon asked the question in a soft voice, the one she might have used to a deer in the forest so as not to frighten it.

"Carlos." The boy's voice was so quiet Palmer leaned even further over the table to hear. The boy let Palmer come closer. He seemed to be over his fear.

"Carlos what?" Palmer's voice was harsher than Sharon but the boy accepted his tone without demur.

"Carlos Ramos." The boy smiled shyly. Or, Palmer wondered, slyly. "Carlos Fernando Albert Ezequiel Ramos. You know, like Sergio."

"Sergio?"

The boy looked at Palmer with impatience in those brown eyes. "With Real Madrid. Sergio Ramos."

Palmer gave up trying to understand the reference. He knew but only vaguely that Real Madrid was a soccer team in Spain but that had been the answer to a question on Jeopardy and was the limit of his knowledge on that subject.

"Oh," said Sharon brightly. "Football."

The boy also brightened. "Yes. Football." He looked back at Palmer in triumph. How foolish, his look said.