God yanked the ID out and scanned it. Curtis Lamont Jackson, he lived four blocks from here and was only seventeen.
“I-I’m seventeen, sir,” the kid stammered. Sweat was pouring down his face and his arms shook while he kept them raised with his fingers linked behind his head.
“Put your fucking hands down for Christ’s sake,” God snarled, looking the kid up and down. “You’re a goddamn baby, out here playing a big boy’s game.”
He stepped back from the trembling kid and saw that his light blue eyes were glistening with fear, or maybe it was sadness. He couldn’t tell.
“I’m not a baby, sir.”
“Pfft, please. I can smell the Similac on your breath from over here.” God huffed.
Day came around the corner with a small brown bag, and leaned casually against the hood. “Dude, is that team Edward on his wallet?” Day doubled over with laughter.
“Shut up, Leo. Did you get a statement from the clerk?”
“Yep.” Day held up the piece of paper.
“Sir, I’m really sorry. Please, I swear I wasn’t going to shoot anyone,” he whined.
“I know that. Your gun doesn’t have any bullets in it,” God said drily.
The boy looked at him in shock.
“I didn’t know that until I picked it up… it’s too light. But I still could’ve shot you before I knew that.”
“Sir, my mom is sick. She’s on a hemodialysis machine and she has to use it every night, sometimes twice during the day, or she’ll get extremely sick. She has acute renal failure. They cut our power off last night.” Curtis looked down at the pavement. “The machine runs on electricity.”
God knew the boy wasn’t lying. No one—especially his age—could come up with that kind of lie and look as heartbroken as he did.
“So robbing someone was your solution?” Day asked.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. My entire paycheck went to the rent, and I didn’t qualify for another extension for the electric. I did try to think of other options… but there are none. I can’t go to jail, please, my mom needs me. I’m all she’s got.” A single tear fell down his red cheek.
“Get in the truck,” God ordered.
Curtis’s gaze frantically darted between them. “Please, I’m begging you. I can’t go to jail. My mom will die. I have a good job. If I don’t show up tomorrow, I’ll be fired.” The tears were flowing down his face, and God’s heart clenched. He knew what it was like for a young man to take on the responsibility of caring for his mom. It wasn’t fair, but it was life.
“Get in.” Day backed him up.
God practically tossed the boy in the back seat and went around to the driver’s side. Day climbed in on his side and turned to look at him. They were looking at each other, communicating just as effectively as if both were talking. He knew what Day was thinking… he usually did. They turned and looked at the kid. He had his knees pulled up to his chest as he rocked back and forth.
“I swear, I’d never hurt anyone, even if I’d had bullets. I would never have shot him, and I would’ve paid it back. See?”
God watched the boy pull out a crumbled piece of paper from his back pocket that had IOU written in large bold letters.
Curtis wiped more tears. “I was only borrowing it. During the middle of the month, I usually have enough to pay back any loans I get because I get a bonus at work for best sales. Please don’t make me lose that job. No one else will take a chance on giving a decent job to a teenager. I can work something out with you guys if you let me go.”
God’s and Day’s heads both jerked up at hearing those words.
“I can do community service or some volunteer work at a shelter. I’ll go back in and apologize to the clerk, and I’ll do any type of work he needs done in the store. I’m pretty good with basic maintenance stuff.”
Oh thank you, Lord. For a split second God thought the kid was offering something else.
Curtis’s blue pleading eyes were zipping between them.
Day reached out his hand asking God for the kid’s wallet and pulled his cell phone out of his coat pocket.
God knew what he was doing. Because he knew the sensitive man that was his partner.
Day dialed the three numbers for the information operator. “I need the number for the power company.”
He’s too fucking generous for words.
God drove Curtis home and pulled into the narrow driveway. It was a small house with tan siding and blue shutters. While there were no flowers or landscaping, the yard still looked neatly maintained. He could immediately tell the boy really took care of his home. He didn’t bother to ask where the father was, because if he was around, he wouldn’t have his son robbing stores to get their lights back on.