14

The address the reverend had written down was in a town not far over the California border. Lazarus knew he had no jurisdiction there unless he was in hot pursuit across state lines, but it didn’t matter. When he flashed the badge and began asking questions, few people asked if he was a cop in the state where they lived.

Lazarus’s car rolled through the worn-down neighborhood, past faded houses hunched with neglect. He pulled up to a house in a cul-de-sac. Its picket fence was weathered and gray. A leafless oak tree stood to the side of the house.

Gravel crunched underfoot as they crossed the driveway and got to the sagging porch that creaked under their weight. A rusted swing swayed with a breeze.

Lazarus knocked and stared at the porch as he waited. Piper glanced up at the old home. Prefabricated and falling apart.

The sound of a chain sliding from its groove and then the door opened. A frail, elderly woman stood in a blue nightgown.

“Afternoon,” Lazarus said.

“Afternoon,” she said, her voice steady and calm.

“We’d like to talk to Jayden if we could, please.”

“He ain’t here.”

“When will he be back?”

“He won’t. He—”

Lazarus didn’t hear the rest of what the woman was saying. His attention was on the sound of something sliding across metal and catching because there was friction. A window. He leaned over to Piper and whispered, “Keep her talking.”

He wandered off the porch, and Piper stumbled with her first couple of words before she asked the mother about where they could possibly find Jayden.

Lazarus rounded the house. There was a dilapidated chain-link fence in the back. He could see a taller man in shorts and a T-shirt with bare feet heading toward the fence. Tattoos on his calves.

“Police, stop!”

Jayden Camden looked back, his eyes going wide as Lazarus and he locked gazes.

Jayden burst into a sprint, his arms churning as he tore through the backyard. With youthful agility that Lazarus knew he himself didn’t have, Jayden vaulted over the fence. Lazarus pursued him, swiftly shedding his jacket and discarding it onto the lawn before jumping the fence.

Between the houses, a dirt path led to a cracked sidewalk. Lazarus tracked Jayden’s sharp turn onto it and kept going, pumping his arms and pounding the pavement.

Cars stretched along the road, and families populated the sidewalk, immersing themselves in the Rockville Zucchini Festival. Festive carts and vibrant tents adorned the streets, forming bustling queues of people waiting in long lines.

Jayden shoved two men aside, their shouts trailing behind him. Lazarus sprinted through the crowd, chest burning. He zeroed in on the tall figure ahead. Jayden tossed a display case behind him, forcing Lazarus to leap over it. Close enough to shoot, he kept his gun holstered.

By the curb, kids were looking at toys. Jayden grabbed the stand and knocked it down hard, making moms and kids shriek. The big stand and the children and families blocked the way. Lazarus went through a taco tent and came out the back.

Jayden made a break for an open bus with Lazarus right behind him. As the rear doors began to close, Lazarus lunged and managed to leap on the steps just in time. The doors clamped onto his arm, sending a sharp pain through him. With a forceful push, he pried the doors open with a crunch and jumped onto the bus.

Jayden, unaware of Lazarus entering through the back doors, was shoving his way toward the rear of the bus. When he saw Lazarus, he had no time to react before Lazarus charged, tackling him around the waist. They crashed onto the grimy floor.

Lazarus cuffed Jayden’s wrist to a nearby seat’s metal beam and stood, watching him intently, breathless. Jayden briefly struggled with the cuff before relenting and reclining on his back, his breaths labored.

All eyes, including the wide-eyed, silent bus driver, were fixed on Lazarus. Lazarus nodded toward Jayden and said, “He didn’t pay for a ticket.”