The Kid On The Bike - 8. Chapter 8

Elena got up early the next the morning and drove out route 10 toward Northampton. She’d probably driven the road thousands of time but not looking for a place to park and not be seen. Soon after leaving Waldron, the road became a two-lane highway with fairly wide unpaved shoulders bordered by low, open fences, telephone poles, and mailboxes. But there wasn’t much near the Scotts’ long gravel driveway to hide behind. The best she could think to do was park as far as she could still see from east of the driveway and watch for when Henry Chang left. Then she’d casually overtake him, turn around closer to town, and park again, this time just off one of the suburban streets, waiting for the boy to pass. That should give her a look at his face.

Despite what Owen had warned, she also planned to take a picture from her phone, but even the one she used for business didn’t have a telephoto lens. There hadn’t been reason to own one, since most of the pictures she took as possible evidence were close-up.

At seven-thirty, about twenty minutes after she’d started to wait, Henry Chang rode out of the Scotts’ driveway on his bike, and Elena let him go till he was nearly out of sight. Then she waited for a pick-up truck and two SUVS to pass her, and joined them in their drive toward town. They all quickly passed the boy, Elena drove another minute, then turned left onto a local street, where she turned around and, at the corner, parked facing out. Soon, she could see Henry Chang. His bike was an old racer that Ervin Scott might called “used,” but Elena quickly recognized it as a classic. It couldn’t have been cheap.

The boy was riding with the traffic, his eyes fixed on the road and only occasionally glancing to his left when a vehicle passed. Even though Elena was pointing a cell phone at him from just above her steering wheel, he probably wouldn’t see it. And as he passed, two lanes – maybe twenty feet – away, she got a clear look at his profile.

The problem was that he was fairly nondescript: dark, slightly shaggy hair, just then windblown though normally it might hang over his forehead, and he wasn’t so much good-looking as maybe cute. He could have been thirteen.

Right after he passed, Elena pulled onto the road, again blending with traffic, and drove into town, following Henry Chang to the high school. She had to stop twice to not overtake him, and during one stop, she glanced at the burst of ten photos she’d taken. They were clear, but even when she zoomed in, the boy’s face was really too far away to identify. Still, she was sure she could make it sharper once she got back to her desk. Then she’d carefully show the picture to anyone she thought needed to see it.

Don took one look at it and said, “Yep, that’s the kid on the bike. And the one from Theo’s –that’ll make it easier.”

“Good,” Elena agreed. “I’ve seen him there, too, and I’ll bet so has everyone else in the station. But I don’t recall ever talking to him.”

“You might not’ve had the chance,” Don observed. “He mainly does odd jobs and clears away once people have left. I don’t remember him ever waiting tables, working the register, or selling at the counter.”

“Is there a minimum age for kids to do that in Massachusetts?”

“I don’t think so. They can’t work till they’re fourteen and have to knock off at seven PM. But I was washing cars and mowing lawns at ten.”

“With Owen?” Elena smiled imaging that. Don simply laughed.

“With our whole gang.”

“Whew!”

“And if things haven’t changed,” he went on, “you still need a permit to work under eighteen.”

“He’s nowhere close,” Elena estimated. “In tenth grade, he shouldn’t be. Unless he’s way behind.”

“In that photo, he looks twelve.”

“Because of the distance.”

“I wonder if he’s being bullied for that,” Don said. “It could explain the rumors.”

“The baby drug dealer?” Elena shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Still, it’s a good cover. And if we keep coming back to him...”

“I’ll check him out this afternoon,” she promised. “I’ll start at Theo’s.”

She did, waiting until after school let out at 2:00 and then walking to Theo’s, two blocks from the station. But that day, Henry Chang wasn’t there.

There were at least a dozen places to eat along the downtown half mile of Main Street. Further out, it curved and changed names, from Northampton Road at one end to Holyoke Street at the other. And that count didn’t include probably another dozen restaurants and fast food places on side streets and on College Avenue after it branched west off Main. But, just walking, Elena found Henry Chang in a pizza place overlooking the dam. She knew he’d be there because his bike was out front, locked to a street sign.

She’d been to the place for pizza, though not often enough to be known. There were other restaurants she preferred, along with more varied kinds of food. At first, she stood at the counter seeming to study the wall menu but really looking for Henry Chang. When she didn’t see him, she ordered iced tea, a chopped salad, and a personal pizza, figuring those would take a while to sip, crunch, and chew through. She also thought that if she got a conversation going, she could add a cannoli and more tea. What she didn’t finish, she could leave in the station refrigerator. The late shift was always foraging.

Sitting in a far corner – she didn’t want to be seen through the sidewalk windows – she figured Henry Chang was working in the kitchen, and she soon was proved right when he came to deliver her tea and a container of sweeteners.

“Thanks,” she said, but he didn’t look at her. He didn’t even nod, just went back to the kitchen. Her first impression – up close – was he looked serious and definitely not cute. Not twelve, either, but a middle teen, aware of life in the city and the girls who lived there. He also didn’t come back soon, so Elena munched bread sticks and waited for her next chance for conversation.

He brought her salad next, she said, “thanks” again, and asked for a little more dressing. He got it, once more, she said “thanks” and he left without looking at her.

That was odd. Elena knew she could normally relax people and start them talking easily. She didn’t even need eye contact, though it helped if they could see her smile. Usually, people reactively smiled back, though with Henry Chang, she almost wanted to ask, “Bad day?” His face at rest seemed almost a scowl. Maybe she could start with a joke.

“Know why Greek people laugh so much?” she asked, next time he was near. This time, he did look at her – but like she was a lunatic – so she knew not to waste a good punch line. Instead, she smiled, explaining, “It’s just an old joke...”

He didn’t even shrug, simply turned and went back to the kitchen, and she wondered if he knew she was a cop, maybe from seeing her at Theo’s.

She recognized him from there, too – as the boy who was always focused and busy. He was only there a few afternoons a week, and she couldn’t remember which ones – there’d been no reason. There’d also been no reason to try to chat before.

When he brought her small pizza, she again smiled and said, “Sorry, I ordered too much. Could you pack this all up?” She indicated the partly-finished salad.

Any other waiter might say, “Sure,” and smile back, and Elena was depending on that. Again, he barely paid her attention, just took her plates and went into the kitchen.

She wondered if he somehow thought she was trying to pick him up. She clearly wore a wedding ring, which usually offered protection. It was just the band she wore at work, simple, in case it was damaged, but he must have noticed. He seemed to take everything in.

She decided he knew she was a cop, possibly because he remembered seeing her before. Or maybe Ervin Scott had mentioned her visit and for some reason described her. Either way, Elena doubted she’d get through to him that afternoon, which was something of a disappointment. Still, maybe she’d have better luck at Theo’s, where she was a regular.