He forced himself to block the scene he'd just left from his mind and concentrate on this one. "Got your hands full there, Peabody."
"Yeah." She blew out a harassed breath that fluttered her razor-straight bangs. "The CPS isn't known for being quick on its feet." She glanced up at the building, longingly. If Eve had called for the field kit, that meant there was a scene to preserve and investigate. And she was stuck baby-sitting. "I assume it's inadvisable to take the minor back in, so if you wouldn't mind taking the lieutenant her kit…"
"I'll mind the boy, Peabody."
Her eyes simply lit with gratitude. "That works for me." With more haste than tact, she handed him over. "Don't lose him," she warned and hustled inside.
Roarke and the boy eyed each other with cool calculation. "I'm faster," Roarke said, easily reading the intent. "And I've got more experience." Crouching, Roarke gave the kitten a scratch behind the ears. "What's his name?"
"Dopey."
Roarke felt a smile tug at his lips. "Not the brightest of the Seven Dwarfs, but the most pure of heart. And what's yours?"
The boy studied Roarke cautiously. Most of the adults in his life only knew Snow White as an illegal happy powder. "Kevin," he said and relaxed a little as Dopey was purring hard and loud under the man's long scratching fingers.
"Nice to meet you, Kevin. I'm Roarke."
The offer of the man's hand to shake had Kevin giggling at once. "Meetcha."
The foolish and lovely sound of a child's quick giggle lightened his heart. "Think Dopey's hungry?"
"Maybe."
"There's a cart down the block. Let's check it out."
"He likes soy dogs." Kevin began to skip along beside Roarke, thrilled beyond belief with his new good fortune. The new bruise was a dark and ugly contrast under the pale gray eyes.
"The only sensible choice for the discriminating palate."
"You talk fancy."
"It's a fine way to make people believe you're saying something much more important than you are."
He held the boy's hand lightly, then let it go when the smoke from the glide-cart puffed into the air. Kevin raced happily ahead, bouncing on his toes when he reached the cart where soy dogs and turkey hash rolls were popping with heat.
"Didn't I tell you not to come around here?" The operator started to shove Kevin aside, snarling when the boy danced expertly out of reach. "I ain't got no freebies for dirty little boys." She grabbed up a long-handled, dualpronged fork, jabbing with it. "Keep pestering me and I'll chop up that ugly cat and fry its liver."
"I got money." Kevin clutched his kitten tighter, but stood his ground. His stomach was rolling with distress and hunger.
"Yeah, yeah, and I shit gold turds. Go beg somewhere else, or I'll blacken your other eye."
Roarke stepped up, laid a hand on Kevin's shoulder and had the operator shrinking back with one stony stare. "Can't you decide what you'd like, Kevin?"
"She said she's going to fry Dopey's liver."
"Just joking with the boy." The operator grinned hugely, showing off teeth that screamed an abhorrence for basic dental hygiene. "I've always got a joke and a few later snacks for the neighborhood kids."
"You're a regular fairy godmother, I imagine. Box up a half dozen soy dogs, three scoops of fries, a couple of fruit kabobs, a bag of pretzel twists, two jumbo tubes of – What's your drink, Kevin?"
"Orange Fizzy Supreme," Kevin managed, dumbfounded by the upcoming feast.
"Two, then, and a handful of the chocolate sticks."
"Yes, sir, right away." The operator went to work with a vengeance as Kevin stared up at Roarke, eyes wide, mouth agape.
"Want anything else?" Roarke asked as he reached in his pocket for loose credits.
Kevin only shook his head. He'd never seen that much food in one box before. Dopey, inspired by the scents, let out a wild meow.
"Here." Roarke pulled one of the soy dogs out, handed it to Kevin. "Why don't you take this. Go back to the lieutenant's car – and wait for me."
"Okay."
Kevin turned, took three steps, then, turning back, did something just childish enough to warm Roarke's heart. He stuck out his tongue at the vendor then dashed off.
Roarke hefted the box of food, ignoring the operator's oily chatter. He tossed credits onto the pay board, then stared through the smoke. "I'm in the mood to hurt someone – too much in the mood, which is why you're still standing. But if you ever lay hands on that boy, I'll hear about it. And it won't be a cat's liver that ends up on the grill. Understood?"
"Yes, sir. Absolutely. Yes." Her fingers were already snagging up credits, but her eyes stayed warily on Roarke's. "Didn't know the kid had a dad. Thought he was just another street brat. They're worse than rats around here. Scavenging, making life messy for decent folk."
"Let's put it this way." Roarke clamped a hand over the woman's wrist. It took all his control not to give in to the urge to snap it like a dry twig. "It should take me about thirty seconds to walk back to where the boy's waiting. When I get there, I'm going to turn around. I don't want to see you here."
"This is my corner."
"I'd advise you to find another." Roarke released her and hefted the box. He'd taken no more than two strides when he heard the metallic clang of the cart being moved. It was a small satisfaction. A bigger one was seeing Kevin sitting on the hood of Eve's unit, the cat beside him, and each of them devouring half a soy dog.
Roarke joined them, set the box between him and the boy. "Dig in."
Kevin's hand darted toward the box then jerked back as though he was wary of a trick. "I can have anything?"
"Whatever you can stomach." Roarke nipped out a fry for himself and noted that the cart was gone. "Is she always so unpleasant?"
"Uh-huh. The big kids call her Snitch Bitch 'cause she's always calling the beat droid on them. She keeps a zapper in her cart, too. She was scared of you, though, and you didn't even try to steal anything."
Roarke took another fry, only lifting a brow as he watched Kevin mow through the chocolate. Life, he thought, was much too uncertain for some to risk saving the best for last.
"Tell me about the man who asked you to wait for Lieutenant Dallas."
"He was just a guy." Kevin dug out another soy dog, splitting it in two. Boy and cat ate with the same ferocious concentration and lack of finesse. Then Kevin froze as two black-and-whites turned the corner, sirens screaming. Behind them was an NYPSD crime scene van.
"They won't hassle you," Roarke said quietly.
"Are you a cop, too?"
Roarke's huge, gut-level laugh had Kevin grinning uncertainly. He would have liked to have slipped his hand into Roarke's again as the cops streamed by, but he was afraid to be thought of as a pussy. He contented himself by scooting just a little closer, and thought fleetingly that the man smelled good, almost as good as the food.
"I needed that." Sighing hugely, Roarke ruffled the boy's hair. "A good laugh after a miserable morning. What I am, Kevin, is a grown-up street brat. Here, drink some of this to wash that down before you choke."
" 'Kay." Taking the tube, Kevin sucked up sparkling orange. "The guy, he talked like you."
"How?"
"You know, like singing. The way the words go up and down." He mashed a handful of fries into his mouth.
"You can take the boy out of Ireland," Roarke murmured. "What did he look like?''
"Dunno. Kinda tall maybe."
"Young, old?"
Kevin's answer was a grunt and a shrug followed by a happy belch. "He musta been hot."
"Why is that?"
"He had a big long coat on, and a hat, and a scarf thing and gloves. He smelled really sweaty." Kevin held his nose, rolled his eyes, then, giggling, dug for more food.
"Close your eyes," Roarke ordered and nearly smiled at the speed with which Kevin complied. "What kind of shoes am I wearing? No peeking."