His response was immediate. Practical. "I care about not having to explain to Inspector Murphy why you fell off a building chasing a teenager."
I pulled myself onto the narrow ledge of the roof. Rain pelted me as I caught my breath in the humid air. Below, his flashlight beam remained fixed on me. Steady. Unwavering. I'd spent a week telling myself I didn't need his approval. His attention. His concern.
Liar.
So why did knowing he was watching make me feel both stronger and more vulnerable than I had in years?
I turned away from the edge. Focused on finding Min. One problem at a time.
Chapter 13: What Falls From a Rooftop
Ryan
The rooftop was gravel-strewn and needed repairs. I pulled myself fully onto the surface. Crouched low. Scanned the area. The utility structures Hawley had mentioned stood like small concrete blocks against the gray sky. Perfect hiding spots for someone who didn't want to be found.
A blue tarp stretched between two ventilation units near the closest one. Anchored with bricks. Beneath it, a flattened cardboard box served as flooring. Relatively dry despite the downpour. A small backpack rested against one side, alongside an empty instant-noodle cup and a half-drunk bottle of water.
This wasn't just a temporary hiding spot. Someone had been living here.
At the far end, a metal entrance led into one of the utility structures. Slightly ajar. A chair propped against the inside handle. A crude but effective block.
My footsteps became deliberately audible as I approached. No point in startling an already frightened kid.
"Min?" I kept my voice gentle. "I'm from 51 Division. Your mother is worried sick about you."
Silence answered me, broken only by the patter of water droplets against the tarp. I sensed movement behind the entrance. Waited.
"I know you're in there. We just want to make sure you're safe."
After what felt like minutes, hesitation crept through the gap. "Is he with you? My stepdad?"
"Just me and my partner." I pressed my palm against the metal. "We're here to help, not force you back. Can we talk face-to-face?"
More silence. The mental calculation happening on the other side was almost palpable. Weighing risk against need. Fear against exhaustion.
"I'm not going back there." Stronger now, but with an unmistakable tremor.
"Nobody's making you go anywhere right now." My breath fogged in the cold air. "We just need to talk. Make sure you're okay."
The scraping sound of the chair being moved came next. Then the creak of hinges as the entrance finally opened. Just a crack at first, then wider. A thin boy with hollow eyes and unwashed hair appeared. Clutching a backpack with white knuckles. His clothes hung loose on his frame. Dark circles shadowed his face.
"I know why my mom called the police. I was never going to meet that guy online." The words tumbled out in a defensive rush. "I just needed somewhere to go."
I kept my distance to avoid spooking him. Nodded. "Can I come in out of the wind? Just to talk?"
He hesitated. Then stepped back, allowing me into the small utility room. Barely bigger than a closet. Concrete surfaces. Afew electrical panels. The chair he'd been using as a brace. The space smelled of dampness and instant noodles.
"How'd you find me?" The backpack stayed clutched between us. He wouldn't let go of it.
"Good detective work." A brief smile. "Plus, you left a trail. Videos, cheap cigarettes, instant-noodle cups from the 7-Eleven downstairs."
That earned me a flicker of amusement before his face closed again.
"Your mom's been searching for you since you disappeared. She filed the missing persons report right away." I leaned against the concrete to make myself less threatening.
"Not him, though, right?" Hardness crept into his voice. "He probably said I was just being dramatic."
"Something like that." No point lying to the kid. He'd see through it immediately. "Want to tell me what happened that made you leave?"
