Nick shot a concerned look at Jake. “I have someone here I wanted you to see, Tracy,” he said.
Jimmy froze at the name. “No. Not her.” His mouth tightened, tears sprang to his eyes, and he began to back out of the room. “I don’t want to see her.”
Tracy rose up slightly and saw her son. “Jimmy?”
“No!” he shouted, and the nurse came running. Jake grabbed him, but he shook free and fled from the room. Jake followed him out.
“Jimmy, wait!”
The boy ran to the elevators and began punching the down button, waiting for one to open. His face was crimson and covered with tears, and he turned his face away so Jake couldn’t see. Jake squatted in front of him and held him by the shoulders. “Son, you don’t have to go back in there. It was a bad idea, okay? We didn’t know it would upset you. We thought you’d be happy. Will you forgive us?”
“So you proved I lied. You coulda just told me you knew!”
“I didn’t know you lied, Jimmy. I thought you might really think she was dead.”
“I know what you’re all up to. You’re gonna take Lisa out of the home and give us back to her. And it’ll be even worse than it was at the home.” His voice broke off, and he bent over, weeping, and covered his face with both hands. “I should have known.”
“Jimmy, nobody’s giving you or Lisa back to your mom.”
“Lisa’s better off where she is than with that sorry excuse for a mother in there!” Jimmy raged. “At least she has a chance where she is. I can take care of my sister better than she can. I was the one who did it, anyway, when we lived with her.”
“Jimmy, you’ve got to trust us.”
Jimmy’s eyes flashed. “I don’t believe anything you say. You’re all a bunch of liars! You don’t care who gets stuck with who, or what things are like there.”
“Jimmy, listen to me, please—”
“I’m not listening anymore,” he said. “Just let me go, and I’ll handle things myself.”
The elevator doors came open, and Jake grabbed Jimmy’s shoulder and followed him on. What a terrible move, he thought.What a mistake.
“Look, son, you don’t have to talk to me, but you do have to come with me. And you can just listen, okay?”
Jimmy didn’t answer.
“We’ll go for a ride. Maybe out to the beach.”
Jimmy didn’t respond.
The doors opened on the first floor, and Jimmy darted off.Jake caught up to him and grabbed his shoulder. “This way, little buddy,” he said, and directed him to his car.
Back in Tracy’s room, Nick tried to apologize to her, but the sight of her son had shaken her. She was crying and gasping for breath, and he wanted to kick himself for making such a stupid error in judgment.
“I’m sorry, Tracy,” he said. “I thought—I don’t know what I thought. That it would help Jimmy to see you, I guess. To know that he still has a mother. That he’s not all alone in the world.”
“I’m not his mother,” she wheezed. “The state took him away. He hates me, and I don’t blame him, ’cause I hate myself.”
“Don’t say that, Tracy,” Nick told her. “How can you hate someone God loves?”
“God doesn’t love me,” she said. “Why would he love me?”
“Because he created you.”
“Yeah, and then I destroyed myself.”
“Not yet. It’s not too late to turn around, Tracy. It’s not too late to make your kids love you again, either.”
She turned her head to the side and wiped at her eyes. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” she said. “Just leave me alone.”
Nick started to protest, then thought better of it. “All right,”he said quietly. “Listen—if you decide you want to talk in the next hour or so, call me up in Beth Wright’s room.”
She didn’t answer, and he felt a deep self-loathing. He shouldn’t have tried it. So stupid. Defeated, he walked out of the room.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Tony didn’t even bother to sit down when they returned to Judge Wyatt’s office. All he wanted was to snatch the warrant and run as fast as he could to SCCH so he could arrest Bill Brandon. “The evidence is overwhelming and conclusive, your honor,” he told Judge Wyatt. “We have an adult who was raised in the home who has given us a statement. We have a child who’s been participating in Brandon’s crime ring recently. We have the murder of Bill Brandon’s sister, and we have two attempts on Beth Wright’s life—including a package bomb that almost killed her, and we have the arson at the newspaper the night before the article exposing Brandon would have come out.”
Judge Wyatt adjusted his glasses and looked over the charges, a deep wrinkle clefting his forehead. He seemed to study it too hard, as if it required much thought, and Larry, who was sitting, shot Tony a disturbed look.
The judge started to get up, almost distractedly, as if he’d forgotten they were in the room. “I’ll spend some time looking over these charges tonight,” he muttered. “I’ll take all of it under advisement and get back to you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Larry sprang out of his chair. “Judge, tomorrow’s too late. He’s a killer, and he’s trying to take out our main witness. She’s in the hospital as we speak.”
“She’ll be safe until tomorrow,” the judge said. “No idiot would attempt murder in as public a place as a hospital.”
“Give me a break!” Tony cried. “What is the deal here? You’ve stood in the way every step of this investigation!”
The judge banged his fist down. “It’s my job to ensure that you do your job within the bounds of the law, so that my courtroom doesn’t fill up with a bunch of lawyers who waste my time with technicalities and loopholes. I will not issue arrest warrants for every Tom, Dick, and Harry you think may have committed a crime!”
“Think? What does all this evidence spell, Judge? Witnesses, bodies—what do you want? You want him to come after you?
Would you give us an arrest warrant then?”
The judge’s dagger eyes pierced Tony. “Get out of my office.Now, or I’ll hold you in contempt!”
“We’re not in court, Judge!”
The judge snatched up the phone. “I’m calling security.”
“No need,” Tony said, jerking the door open. “I get the picture.” Larry covered his face. This was going from bad to worse.
“We need this warrant,” he said, in a voice he hoped would appease. “There are children in danger, your honor. Every minute counts. Brandon knows we’re bearing down on him, and he’s going to get desperate. Please let us know the minute you decide to issue the warrant.”
“You’ll hear from me.”
Larry followed Tony out, and Tony slammed the door behind them.
“Good going,” Larry said. “That ought to change his mood.”
“He’s either senile or dirty,” Tony said. “He doesn’t want us to arrest Brandon, and there’s a reason. We’re going to the prosecutor’s office right now. We’ll get the warrant from him.”
“Whoa—we can’t just go over Wyatt’s head without talking to the captain,” Larry said.
“Fine. Then let’s do it.”
An hour later, they sat in Captain Sam Richter’s office at the police station, watching him pace, clearly disturbed, as he processed the facts they had given him. “Did he say why the evidence wasn’t sufficient?” he asked. “Did he tell you what he would need to give you the warrant?”
“No,” Tony said. “He’s not interested in helping us on this, Captain. If we handed him videotapes of Brandon beating and maiming the kids, the man would still have to take it under advisement. Something stinks.”
“Yeah, I’d say so. But I don’t like making enemies of our judges. There’s got to be another way.”
“What, then?” Tony asked. “We need to get this guy locked up tonight!”
Sam sank into his chair and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “But if we go to the prosecutor, and it turns out that Judg
e Wyatt has just taken a conservative turn and isn’t really doing anything wrong, we’ll have made an enemy out of the person who’s supposed to be our number-one ally in this game.”
“He’s a judge because he’s supposed to have good judgment,” Larry pointed out. “If he’s lost that judgment, for whatever reason, then he needs to be removed from the bench.”
Sam opened a drawer and dug around, then came up with a roll of antacids. He broke the roll of tablets in half and put four into his mouth. As he chewed, he leaned forward on his desk, studying both men. “Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to follow Judge Wyatt tonight. Just tail him and see what he does. If he’s dirty, maybe you’ll get evidence of that. Tomorrow, if he still hasn’t issued the warrant, you can go to the prosecutor’s office—I’ll even go with you—and we’ll try to get the warrant from them.”
“What about Brandon?” Larry asked. “Captain, he’s a killer, and there are people that he needs dead.”
“You follow him, Larry. Watch every move he makes. Don’t lose him for a second. In fact, we might be able to set up a stakeout in that hardware store across the street from the home.”
Larry shot Tony a frustrated look. “Captain, that may not be good enough.”
“It’ll have to be,” Sam said. “I’m not willing to bring a judge down until I know for sure that I have an excellent reason. It sounds like somebody tipped Brandon off about the article, right after you showed it to Judge Wyatt. Maybe it was the judge.”
“I’d bet my life on it,” Tony said.
They went back to their car, then just sat there for a moment before Tony started the ignition. “How do you do it, Larry? How do you stay calm when the top of your head is about to blow off? This whole Christianity thing is new to me, I know, but I don’t think I’ll ever get to the point where I don’t want to throw a man like Judge Wyatt against the wall and beat some sense into him.”
“It’s not a sin to be angry, Tony. Christ got angry.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad if I could trust that the work we do out here, on the streets, is going to count for something, that it was a partnership. We nab the bad guys, and the judges and courts put them away. Now the courts won’t even let me nab the bad guys.”
“What do you think Brandon’s next move will be?”
“Whatever he wants,” Tony said, throwing up his hands. “He can blow up the police station, for all Judge Wyatt cares. Get an automatic weapon and mow down every kid in his home. You think Wyatt would give us a warrant then?”
“He’d take it under advisement.”
Tony’s face reddened as he jabbed the key into the ignition and cranked the old car. “Sometimes I think I need to find another job.”
“You couldn’t leave this, even if you wanted to.”
“Don’t count on it. It sounds better and better every day.”
He headed out into traffic. “You can take this car tonight. I’ll use my car to follow Judge Bozo around.”
“Take your cell phone so we can stay in touch.”
“Nick and Beth are gonna keel over and die when they find out that we can’t get that scumbag today. Not to mention Jimmy.”
“We’ll just have to do the next best thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Make sure no one else gets hurt before we can get him behind bars.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
St. Clair beach was busy this time of year, but Jake found a parking space. Jimmy got out before Jake could say anything and headed for the long pier shooting out into the Gulf.
The wind blustered through the boy’s hair, making S him look small and vulnerable. Jake followed him down the pier.
When they got to the end, Jimmy leaned over the rail and looked out toward the horizon. Jake sat down on a bench next to where Jimmy stood and looked up at him. “Want to talk now?”
“No.”
“Then will you listen?”
Jimmy ignored him.
“Jimmy, I know how you feel.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. There was a time when I pretty much despised my mother, too. And I was embarrassed by her, and I never wanted to see her again.”
Jimmy gave him a reluctant glance. “What did she do to you?”
He sighed. “It wasn’t so much what she did. It was more what she didn’t do. She wasn’t exactly June Cleaver.”
“Who?”
He regrouped and tried to find a more modern reference point. “She wasn’t a storybook mom. She had a lot of problems. She caused me a lot of problems. And while I was growing up, I remember always thinking that the minute I was old enough, I’d be out of there and never look back.”
“I didn’t have to wait that long.”
“No, you didn’t.” He looked up at the kid. “What did she do, Jimmy? Did she hurt you in some way?”
“Hurt me? No. She didn’t pay enough attention to hurt me. Unless you call leaving us without food for three days hurting us. She was so strung out on dope that she didn’t know where she was half the time.”
“Pretty messed up, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“So when you went to the home, I guess it seemed like an improvement.”
He sighed. “I didn’t have so much responsibility.”
“How old were you?”
“Seven.”
Jake thought it over. He almost couldn’t blame the kid for hating his mother. No seven-year-old should have responsibility for his home, himself, and his four-year-old sister.
“What about when you realized the home wasn’t what it seemed to be?”
“It was okay,” he said. “As long as I did what Bill said, I didn’t worry too much. He took care of us. And he never touched Lisa. I knew I could take whatever heat there was to take, if they’d just leave her alone. While I was there, they did. Now, everything’s all messed up. I don’t know where we’re gonna live, I don’t know if Lisa’s all right—and if they give us back to . . .” His voice trailed off. He didn’t seem to know how to refer to Tracy.
Jake understood. “Mother” didn’t seem to apply, and neither did “Mom.” “Jimmy, I want you to understand that when Nick went looking for your mom, it wasn’t to reunite you, necessarily. He just wanted to see if she was still in bad shape. He wanted to see if there was any hope there.”
“Well, there’s not.”
“Maybe not. Not in human terms, anyway.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that when we think something’s impossible, or someone’s impossible to change, God sometimes comes along and does something really awesome, and the next thing you know, you’ve got a bona fide human being there with morals and a heart and a conscience.”
“You talking about your mother?”
Jake smiled. “No. I’m talking about myself, kiddo.”
Jimmy leaned his shoulder into the rail and looked at Jake, grudgingly interested.
“Have you ever heard the term ‘morally bankrupt’?” Jake asked.
Jimmy shrugged.
“It’s a term used to describe a person who doesn’t have any morals. Someone who lives for today, and only cares about the pleasures of the moment. Someone who doesn’t care who he hurts or what he has to do to get what he wants.” He stood up next to the boy and leaned on the rail, looking out over the ocean. “That’s what I was, Jimmy. I may not have been a junkie, and I may not have had a couple of kids to neglect, but I was morally bankrupt. And God taught me a few things.”
“I don’t know if I believe in God,” Jimmy said matter-of-factly. “But if he was real, what did he teach you?”
“He taught me that I was no better than your mom, or my mom, or any other morally bankrupt person out there. Some of us wear it prettier than others, some of us are masters at hiding it, but the bottom line is that sin is sin. We’ve all got it. And until we trust in someone bigger than ourselves, it’ll do every one of us in. Me, my mom, your mom, you, Lisa—”
/>
“We’re already done in,” Jimmy said.
“No, you’re not. Because God can turn things around. He turned things around for me, and made a new person out of the sorry slug I was. He can do that for your mom. He could even do it for you.”
“You calling me a sorry slug?”
“No. But I’m telling you that it doesn’t matter that you didn’t have a father to bring you up and take care of and protect you. I didn’t, either. It doesn’t matter that your only other parent failed you. It doesn’t matter that the adults in your life, for the most part, have been morally bankrupt and even abusive. What matters is that there’s someone more important than them, someone who has a lot more authority over you than they do, someone who loves you more than you can even love yourself—even more than you love Lisa.”
The little boy considered that as the wind ruffled his hair.
“Well, you can believe that if you want to. I’m not gonna make fun of you. I just don’t believe it.”
“That’s fine, kiddo. I’m no preacher, and I’m not trying to shove a sermon down your throat. But take it from me, one homeless, fatherless guy to another: God is taking care of you, whether you believe in him or not.”
“I don’t want him to take care of me. I’ll be all right. I want him to take care of Lisa.”
“Her, too. If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’. God loves you both.”
“We’ll see,” Jimmy said.
Jake smiled and messed up his hair. “Yeah, we’ll see. What do you say we go back to my place and chill for a while? See what Lynda’s found out.”
He sighed. “Whatever.”
“Okay. Come on.” He started walking back up the pier, and Jimmy followed behind him a few paces. After a moment, he caught up. “Jake, why’d you say ‘one homeless guy to another’? You have a home.”
“Not really. It isn’t mine. See, when I was where you are, homeless and broke, feeling like I didn’t have a single soul to love me, with no idea where I would live, God sent Lynda to help me. And she did, man. I’ve been living in her garage apartment ever since. But it’s not really mine, and even though I’m paying rent now, I still feel like I’m mooching.”