Renegade (2013) by Mel Odom Page B

those were bad things.
    Pike stretched his legs and smiled a little at the memories. Those had been good times. As good as they got in the orphanage, anyway. Getting to know Petey had changed Pike’s life. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out, just the way he had back in the orphanage at night after lights-out. Sitting there on that bench in genpop, he felt more relaxed than he had in weeks.

    After breakfast—a cold biscuit sandwich made with powdered eggs that stank and had an off taste—Pike got sprung. That surprised him because he’d figured with it being Friday night when he got popped, he’d be in jail for the weekend. Instead, shortly after nine o’clock, the trustee came for him and let him out.
    The trustee was a young black guy who looked clean and neat but had eyes that said they’d seen too much. “Got your clothes in the changing room. Drop the jumpsuit in the laundry hamper, then go out the other door. There’s a detective waiting for you.”
    “Who?”
    The trustee shook his head. “I don’t know. They just told me to give you the message.”
    “Thanks.” Pike turned to go.
    “Hey, Marine.”
    Surprised, Pike turned back to look at the young guy.
    “I saw your file. I’m Marine Reserve too. I just got activated. You?”
    Pike shook his head.
    “You probably will be soon. Things are heating up in Afghanistan again. The tangos are on the warpath with a vengeance. You don’t want to sit this one out, do you?”
    “No, I don’t.” With the way he was feeling and how things were going, Pike needed a war.
    “Keep it together, man. Sounds like you got picked up on a bogusbeef. I hear nobody’s filing any charges. You protected that woman. Ain’t nobody gonna cry foul over that. Guy you busted up is shipping back to prison on Monday. Way I hear it, that couldn’t happen to a more deserving guy.”
    Pike nodded and reached out to shake the young man’s hand. “Good luck, Marine.”
    “You too.” The young man’s grip was sure and strong.

    Dressed in yesterday’s grease-stained clothes and wanting a shower and maybe a more substantive breakfast, Pike followed the paint line on the floor that would take him out of the jail. When he stopped at the property room to claim his personal effects, Detective Tom Horner stood there waiting on him.
    The detective had on a suit and looked freshly shaved, his cheeks gleaming. He sipped from a Styrofoam cup, and the strong smell of coffee wafted to Pike’s nose.
    “Mr. Morgan.”
    “Detective Horner.” Pike stepped to the property clerk’s window.
    “I thought maybe we’d have a word.”
    “Go ahead, but I’m not going to be here long.”
    Horner scowled, but he waved to the property clerk. “Get squared away here first.”
    Behind the bars, a young black woman with gold highlights in her hair and long blue nails looked at Pike, then at the computer monitor to one side. “Pike Morgan?”
    Pike nodded and stood there as she reached for a manila envelope with his name written on it. She dumped the contents onto the counter in front of her, checked his driver’s license, then took out the inventory list and checked the items. There wasn’t much. Pike traveled light.
    After he’d signed the inventory sheet, Pike turned and headed down the hallway, still following the painted line to the outside world. Horner fell into step beside him.
    “No charges were filed against you.”
    “Good to know.”
    “If you hadn’t hurt that man so badly last night, the detectives probably wouldn’t have brought you in.”
    “They were just doing their jobs. I got no complaint. As far as hurting that guy, he came at me with a knife. Things could have gone a whole different way.” Except that would have been even worse for Hector, and Pike knew it. During the night he’d worried about Hector, hoping the boy was doing all right in spite of everything that had happened.
    “I know that. I also know that you were careful not to kill anybody at that