Page 29 of Target Acquired

Micah nodded and bit his lip. “I always tell the truth.” He rubbed his nose and looked down for a second before he sighed. “Well, maybe not always, but I will with this, I promise.”

“Thank you for that. How old are you?”

“Twelve. I’ll be thirteen next week.”

“Where’s your mom?”

“At home, I guess.”

So, not being held hostage. “Dad? Brothers and sisters?”

“I have two brothers and two sisters and two cousins who live with us because my aunt and uncle died in a car wreck. I’m in the middle of them all. Don’t have a dad. He left when I was nine because he didn’t want to be ‘saddled’”—Micah wiggled his fingers around the word that he’d probably overheard—“with two more kids.”

And he was the middle kid of seven children living in the home? “Money tight?”

Micah swallowed and slid his gaze away from Cole’s once more but gave a subtle dip of his head.

“Understandable. You can look at me. It’s okay. Nothing to be ashamed of.” Micah met his eyes. “Tell me who paid you to throw a hand grenade out the window.”

Before Micah could answer, James and Butler returned. “It’s clear,” Butler said. “No one else in here but the rats and roaches.”

“Okay. As soon as you get the all clear, get Magic Man in here with the medical supplies. Kenzie can help if he needs it.”

“Copy that.”

They went to pass on his instructions and he turned back to Micah. “Sorry about that. Go ahead.”

“This cop came up to me and asked me if I wanted to earn some money.”

“A cop?”

“Uh-huh. He was dressed like you.”

Cole blinked. “In SWAT gear?”

“Yeah, but . . . different. He had his face covered. I could only see his eyes.”

Some SWAT officers used gaiter-like face coverings as part of their uniform.

“What color were his eyes?”

“Blue, I think.” He frowned. “Maybe.”

“How tall?”

Micah studied him. “Can you stand up?”

“Sure.” Cole did so. Micah stood next to him and looked up. “Not as tall as you. Maybe like to your nose.”

He was six feet two inches, so the guy Micah was describing was less than six feet tall. Five ten or five eleven. “Good, good. That’s helpful. Keep going. How did you meet him?” Cole sat down again and motioned for Micah to do the same.

“I live in the trailer park up the road. We have a basketball court. Sort of. Anyway, I was playing with some friends. They left and I stayed behind to shoot some more hoops even though the ball is almost flat. I wanna play on the high school team and I only got two years to practice. Just as I was about to leave, this dude dressed like you walks up to me and says y’all are doing a training thing today and he needs me to throw a fake grenade out the window.” He shrugged a bony shoulder. “Then he slipped me a hundred, brought me here, told me to be real careful because it was like a flash bang and could hurt my eyes and ears if I didn’t pull and throw. He said there was just smoke in there, I swear.”

“That’s what he said. ‘Pull and throw’?”

“Yeah. He made me repeat it after him like ten times and practice on a pretend one. He said the team would be coming toward the building, and as soon as they got close, I was supposed to throw it. So I did. I pulled and threw just like we practiced.” He swallowed. “But the one I threw, that was a real one, wasn’t it?”

“It was.”

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