There was blood on the doorknob.

Lassiter stopped when he saw it, pulling his hand back before he actually touched the wet smear.

He was 85% sure it wasn’t his.

Which could only mean one thing…

Ty was around somewhere.

He grimaced, kicking the door open without touching the knob. “Ty!” he shouted into the dark interior, marching through the kitchen and living room without stopping. There was no sign of Ty yet, but the scattered red splotches across his floor told him he was on the right track.

He followed the blood trail up the stairs and to the bathroom, where Ty was sitting on the closed toilet seat, his long legs stretched out in front of him as his tipped his head back, resting it on the wall behind him. His eyes were closed as he clutched a bloody washcloth over his nose, but Lassiter could already see one of them was swollen and black.

“Ty!” he growled, stopping at the bathroom door. “What the hell is going on?”

Ty’s eyes shot open and he dropped the cloth in surprise, revealing a swollen nose and split lip, both of which were still bleeding fairly profusely.

The eighteen-year-old, who was only a few inches shy of being taller than Lassiter now, nearly fell off the toilet, but somehow managed to maneuver that faltering into standing up before he hit the floor. He snatched the bloody washcloth off the tile, quickly putting it back over his mouth and nose before Lassiter could get a good look at the wounds.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled, his voice swallowed up by the face full of terrycloth. “I’m fine.”

Lassiter grunted, pulling Ty’s hand away from his face, his eyes narrowing at the split lip and bloody nose. “Yeah. You look fine.”

Ty shrugged, dropping the wash cloth into the sink as he sank onto the toilet again. “It’s not big deal, Carl,” he insisted. “It looks worse than it is. I just didn’t want to go home until I got cleaned up a little. Mrs. Henderson freaks out every time I show up--”

He stopped again, groaning when he saw Lassiter’s eyes narrow even further.

“Every time you show up what?” he demanded.

“Nothing!” Ty insisted again, wincing as he exhaled sharply through his throbbing nose. “It just happens sometimes when my dad gets close to town.”

Lassiter sighed, suddenly getting a pretty good mental picture of what had happened. He crossed to the linen closet, snatching a clean cloth off the shelf and tossing it across the room to Ty. The boy caught it, slowly running his fingers over the material before finally standing up again and turning the sink on to wet it.

“Who’d he piss off this time?” Lassiter asked.

“I don’t know,” Ty shook his head, once again burying his bruised face in the soothing, cool dampness. “But I think one of them was wearing a big-ass ring. It sure felt like it.”

“How many were there?”

“Three.” Ty closed his eyes again wearily. “They got me after school. I was walking home…I always cut through the park. They were waiting at the bend in the path. They said something about my dad ripping them off, but I have no clue what they were talking about. I haven’t talked to him in five years.”

He dropped the cloth into the sink on top of the first one, running sleeve under his nose. The blood smeared across his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. Griping the sink in both hands, he glared down at the blood. “I haven’t seen him in five years, Carl,” he almost whispered. “I don’t even know where he is. I just know when he gets close because there’s always someone looking for him, and they usually end up taking it out on me. I wouldn’t mind if I actually got to see him out of the deal…but he’s not coming back. He’s always going to be running. If this keeps up, I’m going to have start running pretty soon, too.”

Lassiter looked up at him. “You’re not running, Ty,” he told him firmly. “Just because your dad’s a stupid ass doesn’t mean--”

“He’s not stupid,” Ty cut in. “He’s smart. He flies under the radar most of the time…he just doesn’t know when to stop. He can never walk away until he makes his one last con. It’s always the last one that gets him caught.”

He sighed, releasing the sink from his grip and standing up, meeting the detective’s eyes evenly. “I don’t want to run, Carl. But I don’t have a choice. There’s always going to be someone after me trying to get to him. What if they go after the Hendersons? Or you?”

“I think I can take on a couple of street punks,” Lassiter snorted. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I know,” Ty nodded, wiping his nose again. “I just want it to be over, Carl. I want to be finished running. But it’s never going to stop, is it?”

“Sure it will,” Lassiter assured him stubbornly, though neither of them believed his stoic confidence. “It has to.”

Ty perched on the edge of the toilet, blinking down at the pink-stained tile floor. “I thought about changing my name,” he murmured. “So they won’t know who I am. It might help…it couldn’t hurt.” He looked back up at Lassiter, clearly wanting affirmation for this plan. “Is that a stupid idea, Carl?”

Lassiter considered for a moment. “You have to petition the court,” he told him. “To legally change it. It’s a lot of paper work and going to court…but yeah. It couldn’t hurt. It might get your dad’s friends off your ass.”

“I don’t want to change my first name,” Ty told him, clearly already haven given this some thought. “My mom used to call me Benji. I like it.”

Lassiter shrugged, tossing a third cloth at the boy. “Then change your last name.”

Ty nodded, turning the sink on again. “Okay. Maybe I will.”

For a moment, the two stood in silence, regarding each other across the room as Ty finished washing the blood off his face. After he turned the sink off and tossed the final rag aside, he wiped his hands off on his pants. “Jones, I guess…” he murmured finally.

“Huh?” Lassiter blinked.

“Benji Jones,” Ty pressed on, clearing his throat, not meeting the detective’s gaze. “It’s simple. I guess that’ll work.”

“Sure,” Lassiter agreed impassively, his features unreadable.

“Or maybe Benji Stein,” he pressed on. “That’s what the dork calls me, anyway.”

Lassiter rolled his eyes. “It’s your last name. Call yourself whatever you want. You’re the one who has to live with it for the rest of your life.”

“Right,” Ty nodded thoughtfully. He scuffed his shoes over the drying blood spackles on the floor, still trying to avoid the detective’s eyes. “The rest of my life…I guess it has to be good, then.”

“Then, Benji Stein’s out,” Lassiter snorted. “Unless you want to get the crap kicked out of you on a daily basis, even when you get to college.”

The silence returned, settling thickly between them as both their eyes roved the walls and floors, looking anywhere but at each other.

“What about Benji Lassiter?” Ty burst out suddenly, finally looking back up. “Is that a good name? Will it get me beat up? I mean, you’d know. You’ve had to live with it since, like…well, forever.”

Lassiter blinked, leaning back against the wall. Ty’s black eyes were wide and hopeful, gazing up at him as if he were only five feet tall all over again, even though in a few years he would be taller than Lassiter.

Lassiter cleared his throat, forcing the next words to come out. “No,” he shook his head. “It never got me beat up.”

“Good,” Ty nodded in approval, smiling. “Then, it worked out ok for you?”

“Yeah,” Lassiter nodded, returning the smile. “It worked out just fine for me.”