“Yeah, I heard the story.”
Koos smiled. “Have you met Brad’s rottie, Marciano? I brought him a pound of ground round and a bag of Cheetos. We’re friends for life.”
Brad said brightly, “The peanut butter cookies didn’t hurt your cause either.” He looked at Adam. “And guess what Diane named her Jack Russell?”
He assumed it wasn’t Toto.
“Otis Spunkmeyer!” Bronson laughed so hard it went into a cough.
The phrase Now I’ve seen everything took on new meaning for Adam.
Uncomfortable in this no-man’s-land between the twilight zone and the outer limits, Adam said, “Listen, I need to find a table for the guys. Uh . . . have a nice day.”
From where he now sat, Adam could still hear Bronson’s voice: “. . . he charged at me, and my forehead met him halfway. He dropped like a rock. I went in and cleaned house, threw his punk buddies out on their keisters. I left that drug boat so clean you could lick mashed banana off the deck.”
Koos giggled and leaned close to murmur something to Bronson. Adam got up and found a table in the far corner, beyond earshot.
Today’s Albany Herald in front of him, he bypassed the front page and sports and turned to section C, the classified ads. To keep his fingers on Albany’s pulse, he looked at 596, legal notices, which went on for eight pages. The first notice was from Dougherty County Juvenile Court. It began with the initials of two children, their birth dates, and it was addressed to three males, first names Ronnie, Ernest, and Willie, followed by “and other individuals who might be the biological father of said children born to Gail Edwards.”
A petition had been filed by a named caseworker—“Petition of deprivation of the above referenced children.”
Adam saw another similar notice, and still another and another. He shook his head.
Javy and Nathan arrived and pulled out chairs, sitting down at the same time.
“Who won?” Shane sat next to Adam.
“I’m reading legal notices. Children’s services is asking possible fathers of children taken into custody to claim their kids in court.”
“Like I always say,” Shane said, “Rome is falling.”
“We can’t give up. I won’t give up.” Adam looked up to see David arrive with coffee and plop down in the remaining chair.
“It’s gettin’ bad,” David said. “Last night I dreamt about Pearly’s.”
Shane said, “Yeah, I heard they’ve named you employee of the month. Pretty good since you don’t even work here.”
“Should make it easier to find a parking spot.”
David sipped coffee to find his voice. “I found out something about Amanda that’s pretty hard to take.”
“What’s up?” Nathan asked.
“I really don’t know how to say it.”
They all waited.
“Well . . . she’s a vegetarian.”
Silence.
Adam finally spoke. “Does that make Olivia a vegetarian, too?”
“I’d think so,” Shane said, “unless she has a cash source and transportation to Burger King.”
Adam leaned in. “When did you find out?”
“When I brought her and Olivia some dinner.”
“From where?”
“Jimmie’s Hot Dogs.”
The group emitted simultaneous groans of empathy. Shane asked, “Did you let her know you’re a baconatarian?”
“She told me she had a bumper sticker that said, ‘Meat is murder.’”
“If meat is murder, David, you’re a serial killer. What would Amanda think if she knew how many steers have given their lives to make you happy?”
“Quite a few pigs, too,” David added.
Shane nodded. “I’m not sayin’ it would be grounds for divorce, but it’d be a compatibility issue if you considered marriage.”
“Under most circumstances that might be true,” Nathan said.
“What do you mean?” David asked.
“Well, the two of you had a child together. That means unless there are overwhelming reasons not to, you should be married.”
David cleared his throat. “And her being a vegetarian doesn’t qualify?”
“No.”
“Even if it means I could never barbecue a steak for her?”
“Even if you could never barbecue a steak for you,” Nathan said.
David winced. “Commitment can be tough, can’t it?”
“Believe it or not, David, sometimes it’s even tougher.”
“Seriously, guys, I’ve spent some time with Amanda. I respect how she’s raised Olivia. I couldn’t have done what she’s done. Amanda’s . . . amazing.”
Adam asked, “David, if you had to choose between eating meat the rest of your life or being with Amanda and Olivia, which would you choose?”
David thought long and hard. “Honestly? I think I’d choose Amanda.”
Javy became the group spokesman: “He’s in love.”
After the combination of congratulations and wisecracks that followed, Adam got serious. “Here’s what I think—” he tapped the newspaper in front of him—“nobody talks about the plague of motherless children. Just fatherless children. Yeah, moms struggle, but it’s dads who don’t step up to the plate. I’m really proud of you, David, for the choices you’re making. It’s not too late to make things right.”
“Reminds me of what I’ve been reading in the Word,” Nathan said. “In Ephesians, there’s a command given specifically to men: ‘Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.’”
Adam grew more animated. “In my case, that was exactly the problem. Ever since Dylan became a teenager, I’ve sent him negative messages. He’s only heard me say no or tell him to get home sooner or do his homework or stop playing video games. I made him angry because I never encouraged him.”
“That’s something I need to watch with Marcos,” Javy said. “I constantly tell him to stop it or to slow down. I need to find a way to say yes to him.”
“I track with the need to be more positive,” Nathan said. “I talk with Jade about getting off the phone, not texting so much, staying away from the wrong kids. But I don’t ask her to share her favorite music with me or tell me what she’s reading. If I need to tell her I don’t approve of something, I will, but I don’t want to discourage her. Like you said, Javy, I don’t want to say no to her without finding a way to say yes about something God likes.”
“When Dylan was growing up, I put him in baseball and basketball camps. It’s like I resented that he had his own dreams instead of mine. I became just like my father, and Dylan got angry at me like I did at my dad! He loved running, and since I didn’t, it meant I didn’t approve of him. Why did I try to make him another me instead of helping him become the man God wants him to be?”
“So you go to all his track meets now?” David asked.
“Three in a row. I’m a Westover High track dad now. Go Patriots! I’m in his world. We invite his track buddies over to our house. What better way to know what goes on? Last night one of Dylan’s friends said, ‘Mr. Mitchell, what’s it like being a cop?’ So I asked if any of them wanted to go on a ride-along. Then Dylan looks at me and says, ‘Can I come?’”
“You’d never invited him before?” Shane asked.
“He’d never shown any interest. I should have asked him years ago, but he had his world and I had mine, and the house was just a hotel where we spent the night, then returned to our separate worlds. It’s like I had blinders on.”
“I think a lot of us do,” Nathan said.
“The home is supposed to be the base of operations,” Adam said. “Deuteronomy 6 says to post Scripture on the walls, tell your children about God, and talk with them about spiritual stuff in the evening and the morning and as you walk around. Or in my case, as we run.”
Adam pulled a folded paper from his pocket. “I brought a list of questions Caleb Holt uses in a men’s acco
untability group so no one slips through the cracks.”
Adam unfolded the paper and pointed at it. “They share at least one memory verse they’ve learned that week, like we do. But then they ask some questions, like: How are you doing with God? How are you doing as a husband? As a father? What temptations are you facing, and how are you dealing with them? How has your thought life been this week? Have you been spending time in God’s Word and prayer? How can we pray for you and help you?”
“Good questions,” Nathan affirmed. “It’s been fun for me to talk with you guys about something more than sports and cars.”
“That relates to a verse I memorized this week,” Javy added. “Proverbs 27:17—‘As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.’”
Adam nodded. “We have to say ‘My life is your business, and I want it to be.’ We can’t be afraid to ask each other tough questions.”
“William Barrett used to say to me, ‘Nathan, my job isn’t to help you feel good. It’s to help you be good.’”
David jotted that down.
“But by helping me be good, Mr. Barrett showed me the way to feel good.”
When the meeting ended, as Adam went out the door, he heard laughter over in a corner. He watched as Bronson bid a fond farewell to the woman formerly known as the Koos.
Just when you think you’ve got life figured out . . .
Four hours later Adam had things to take care of at the sheriff’s department, so Shane was on his own for lunch. As he finished his vending machine sandwich, Shane said hi to Sergeant Smith as a few deputies entered the break room. He left and walked into the hallway adjoining the county courthouse and the sheriff’s office.
“Fuller,” Sergeant Murphy called, standing just outside a courtroom. He held a clear bag of white drug cookies.
“Hey, Sarge. What’s up?”
“They’re still doing motions in here and I’ve got to testify. Mind dropping these by the evidence room for me?”
Shane raised an eyebrow. “No problem.”
Shane took the bag, and Sergeant Murphy walked off.
Weird. Sarge is usually a stickler for chain of custody. And he didn’t even ask me to sign for it?
Shane came to the evidence room. “Anybody here?”
He checked his watch. The evidence room was low traffic, especially at lunch hour.
Shane looked outside, saw it was clear, then sat at a table with a small lamp. He turned it on and set the bag of crack-laced cookies down, then opened a drawer and pulled out gloves. He looked at the doorway before putting on the gloves and opening the bag.
Shane transferred two crack cookies into a separate bag, which he put in his pocket. He took a marker and wrote on the bag, altering the information.
Shane worked swiftly and efficiently. And, he thought, smartly. He never saw the hidden camera.
He heard movement behind him. He whipped around, knocking over his chair as he turned.
“What are you doing, Shane?”
“Adam . . . ?”
“It was you? So this is what you’ve been doing?”
“What are you talking about? I’m just rechecking the count before I turn it in.”
“Don’t lie to me! You’ve got drugs in your pocket right now.”
Shane stared at Adam a moment, then slowly pulled out the bag and put it on the table. His expression hardened. “You won’t turn me in. It’ll just be an ugly mess and embarrass the whole department. Besides, it would be your word against mine.”
“No, it wouldn’t.” Nathan stepped into the room.
“Oh, I see. Two cops camp out to bust their friend.”
Adam’s neck veins swelled. “What have we been talking about for the last month? What did you commit to?”
“Don’t throw that in my face! I work hard, and thirty-six thousand a year doesn’t cut it! I risk my life every day to protect people who don’t appreciate it enough to pay me a decent wage. Figured it wouldn’t hurt anybody if I gave myself a little raise from money that doesn’t belong to anyone.”
Outraged, Adam moved toward Shane, who backed into the wall.
“Does your word mean nothing to you? You signed the same Resolution we did, and you throw it down the toilet for what? An extra thousand a month?”
“Adam.” Nathan tried to calm him.
“You’ve lied to all of us, Shane! To your friends, your son, to God.” He took another step.
“Adam!” Nathan stepped between them.
Adam moved back and looked at Shane like he didn’t know him.
Shane glared at Adam. “I’m a fellow officer and your friend. You do not want to do this.”
“You’re right. I don’t.”
Sergeant Murphy, Sergeant Smith, and Riley Cooper walked quickly into the room.
“Turn around and put your hands on the wall,” Murphy said. “Shane Fuller, you are under arrest.”
“This is a mistake!”
“We got it all on camera,” Murphy said.
“This’ll burn all of us. Is that what you want? Is that really what you want?”
Adam stood wearily as they cuffed his partner of thirteen years and walked him out. Shane’s words haunted him. How could this have happened?
Nathan put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We all agreed, Adam. We are doubly accountable.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
While Adam grilled burgers, Dylan came to talk.
“Six burgers? Two for you, two for me, one for Mom. Somebody else coming over?”
“Nah.” Adam poured on some Worcestershire sauce and gave a generous shake of Lawry’s seasoning salt. The flame-grilled aroma and the sizzle were much-needed therapy.
“Dad, what’ll happen to Mister Shane?”
“They’ll separate him from the general population in the Dougherty County Jail. Private cell. He wouldn’t be safe around inmates, especially the ones we put there.”
Dylan heard the discouragement in his father’s voice.
“Maybe in a couple of months he’ll be sentenced, then moved to prison. Probably be federal charges, too. We’re talking major prison time.”
Adam flipped the burgers.
“What about Tyler?”
“I told Shane I’d look out for him.” Adam’s voice cracked, and he wiped his eyes, pretending it was the smoke. Then he realized his pretense and stopped hiding the tears from his son.
“Dylan, I know Tyler’s just twelve, but . . . would you mind if he comes over sometimes and hangs out with us?”
“No problem.”
“I haven’t seen much of him since Shane and Mia split up. But he seems like a good kid.”
“When he was maybe eight and I was eleven, I guess, we had that vacation together, remember? Waterskiing?”
“Maybe he could go camping or fishing with us. Or just watch a movie.”
Dylan nodded.
“You could be a good role model to him, Dylan. He could use a big brother. His father’s choices have already scarred his life. Unless someone helps him . . .” Adam’s voice broke again.
“We can help him, Dad. I’m in.”
“That means the world to me, Son.”
Victoria joined them with potato salad and iced tea. After they sat down to eat, Dylan noticed his dad slip a hamburger patty under the table to Maggie.
After dinner Victoria cleared the patio table while Adam cleaned the grill.
Dylan hung around. Finally he asked, “Dad, how did Mister Shane get messed up?”
Adam shook his head. “I don’t really know. I keep thinking about his question ‘Is this what you want?’ Of course, it wasn’t. Obviously, it’s not what he wanted either. Yet he’s the one who made his choices, the little compromises.”
“They were big compromises, weren’t they?”
“In the end, yes. But the big slide begins with small choices. Each one leads to the next. Unless you stop, the little rocks become an avalanche.” Adam looked at his son. “It wasn’t just that hidden cam
era that got Shane. He didn’t realize that there’s a hidden camera on everyone, all the time.”
“What do you mean?”
“God always watches us, Dylan. There’s no such thing as a private moment. Our choices have consequences. We don’t get away with anything.”
“That’s scary.”
“Yeah. But remember how He cares about us, so much that He died for us. He’s seen us at our worst but still loves us. Since He knows how bad we are, that’s pretty encouraging. He forgives us when we ask Him. We just need to remind ourselves we can’t keep secrets from God. That will keep us from pretending like Shane did. I wonder how real Shane’s faith is.”
“He usually went to church, didn’t he?”
“Sure, but that’s not the same thing. I used to think it was. Now I realize my relationship with Jesus wasn’t very deep before Emily died.”
“Haven’t you always been a Christian?”
“My parents raised me as a Christian and took me to church, but there’s more to it than that. The apostle Paul calls on people to follow his example. I’d like to be an example for you, Dylan. But I haven’t always been a good one. So I want to ask your forgiveness. I haven’t paid good attention to you. I haven’t always treated you with respect. I want to change that.”
“You have changed, Dad.”
They went inside and continued their conversation in Adam’s office. When the time seemed right, Adam said, “I’ve been thinking that you and I should memorize some Bible verses together. We could talk about them sometimes while we run.”
“Memorize?”
“Yeah. It was new to me, too. Are you up for that?”
“What verses?”
Adam picked up a list with a dozen verses on it. “Here’s the first one, John 3:3. ‘Unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.’”
“I’ve heard that before, but I never really knew what it meant.”
They talked for another hour. Adam didn’t watch television. Dylan didn’t play video games. Neither of them noticed.
“Whassup, girl?” Derrick took a seat across from Jade in the high school cafeteria.
Derrick eyed Jade’s friend Lisa, who said, “I’ll leave you two alone.” She picked up her tray and vanished.