Love and Injustice

by Mary Crawford

  Dylan walks over and starts to leaf through a file. He pauses for a moment and studies the picture of DeAndre. It’s one of those quintessential school pictures. DeAndre looks like he’s all arms and braces. He is the antithesis of cool. He just looks hopelessly young.

  “Do you suppose that could be the reason he has disappeared? Gang activity isn’t as bad as it was a few years ago when the white supremacy group was pitting the gangs against each other, but it’s still pretty bad. If one of them thought DeAndre was working with law enforcement, it could’ve been a retaliation thing.”

  “I suppose it could’ve been. None of the witnesses I’ve spoken to have mentioned it — but you know how it goes. I hear a fraction of what actually happens in the neighborhood.”

  “What does his brother say? As I recall, he was pretty tuned into tensions in the neighborhood. Wasn’t he a CI for us at one point?”

  “Informally, I suppose. Dashonte hasn’t reported an uptick in gang activity. Then again, he’s busy studying to be a veterinarian in college. So, he hasn’t been as plugged in as he was when he was in high school. He may not be aware of what his little brother is facing.”

  “It’s great for him. I know Stuart says Dashonte is awesome with the dogs. Still, I hate to lose our source on the streets. We need as much information in these cases as we can get.”

  “I think the reason we can’t get any traction on this case in the media besides the demographics of the victim is because in every case there seems to be another logical explanation why the kids could be missing. That’s enough to give the media the cover it needs to justify moving on to more glamorous stories.”

  “Bull!” Dylan insists as he slams his coffee cup down on the table. “There isn’t one logical reason on the planet Tallulah Johnson should be gone. She was a great kid with awesome grades and a bright future. She fought with no one. She was responsible, she had a job and she never even got a traffic ticket. By all accounts, she had the kind of relationship with her boyfriend they write poems and songs about. I’ve been digging for months and I haven’t found a single credible reason why Tallulah Johnson shouldn’t simply walk in the front door of her house and give her parents a hug.”

  I sigh. “You’re right. Let me amend my statement. Some of the victims present other reasons why they might be missing and that gives people some sort of permission to excuse their disappearance as if somehow they deserved it. That’s just wrong. I don’t understand why the local and national news isn't leading with these stories every day until these kids are found.”

  “You know what the news media likes? They like an update to an old story. Would these disappearances tie into an older story? What if they have something to do with the animal torture case? I mean after all, we found that kid in the back of the truck the day Darya was attacked. Who’s to say these kids weren’t abducted in a situation like that?”

  “Or what if it’s like John Ashford theorizes?” I add. “He thinks it sounds a lot like the bust Ketki helped with. What if it’s like that creepy couple, the Brennans’, who are targeting runaways?”

  “One problem with your theory; we haven’t established that any of the kids are actually runaways.”

  “I wasn’t directly involved with the Brennan case, but if I recall, I don’t think all of those kids were willing runaways either. I think Tori worked on the case. The original prosecutor went back to England, so I can’t exactly reach out to her. Tori was second chair. She probably remembers.”

  Dylan raises an eyebrow. “You know she’s not working these days, right?”

  “I know — but I also know Tori. If there are kids involved, she’ll move heaven and earth to help. It can’t hurt to ask her.”

  “I’m no expert, but I think it’s a terrible strategy. It’s like rubbing salt in her wounds. Asking her to do a job she’s not allowed to do right now seems unspeakably cruel.”

  I grab my file off the table. “I wish I could argue with you, but I can’t. You’re right. But I’m out of other options. I’ve beat the bushes and I have no other ideas. Mrs. Greeley calls me every morning and every night to see if I have any news. Dashonte comes in the office every other day. I have to find answers. I just hope Tori understands why I have to be a jerk.”

  “You mean, more than your baseline level of jerk —?” Dylan teases.

  “Oh shut up! I don’t see you volunteering to take one for the team. I hope you realize I may be sacrificing my future dating relationship with Ms. Clarkson for the sake of finding some missing kids.”

  Dylan clears his throat. “Yeah, right! If you and Tori had a shot at a future together, you guys would’ve sorted that out a long time ago. Go solve your case — just be gentle.”

  “For the record, I don’t try to be a jerk.”

  “Uh-huh … I’ve been on stake outs with you and heard your voicemails. You’re as single as I am. If you and I were ideal partners, we’d be married like Katie and Darya. I’ve concluded it’s all on us.”

  I heave a heavy sigh. “You might have a point— but I can’t figure it out right now. I have to go find missing puzzle pieces so I can solve this case and find some kids.”

  “Good luck — with everything. I mean it.”

  Spinning the rope, I jump a few times and attempt to appear casual while I wait for Tori to appear for her regular workout.

  When Tori comes to the door, she has her phone to her ear. She looks distraught. I throw down the jump rope and rush toward her. She sees the trainer across the room and looks up with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Suzanne; I can’t come to class tonight. I have to go to the hospital.”

  “That’s all right, Tori. Don’t worry about it. Do you want me to call you a ride?”

  Tori spins around on her foot. She sways and nearly falls. I help steady her. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got Tori. I can get her to the hospital more quickly than Uber.”

  “Okay, but what about my car?” she asks.

  “I can take care of that later. Where are we going?”

  Tori looks at me blankly for a moment. “Umm … Bonni Jeanne said they took Mom to North Florida Regional Medical.”

  I grab my duffel bag and throw it over my shoulder as I open the door for Tori. I help her into my Mustang and buckle her belt. As I get on the freeway to go toward North Florida Regional, I try to make small talk. “I just realized I know nothing about your family. Is your mom sick?”

  Tori nods as she wipes away tears. “Yes, my mother is very sick — but not in the way you might imagine.”

  “Oh, I see. Depression is common among the elderly. When I was a beat cop, I was always surprised how many calls I went on that were related to anxiety or depression among seniors.”

  “You have no idea how I wish it was something as treatable as that.” Tori says, as she wraps her arms around herself.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I just assumed.”

  “My mom has dementia. I started noticing little things about six years ago. She couldn’t remember her friends’ names or how to make recipes she’s made for years. She struggled to find familiar ingredients in the refrigerator and the pantry even though they were in the same place they’d always been for years. It was heartbreaking when she started to struggle for words. These days, she barely talks anymore. When she does, she often sounds like a child — a very lost, confused child.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that. Is Bonni Jeanne your sister?”

  Tori lets out a startled laugh. “Bonni Jeanne is my angel. She provides respite care service for me. She takes care of my mom when I can’t. Tonight, I guess my mom heard me leave. She tried to follow me and fell down my front stairs. According to Bonni Jeanne, Mom thought I’d be late for school and she needed to drive me. Did I mention she had just gotten out of the tub and was stark naked?”

  “Wow! How did that happen? Isn't your care provider supposed to be watching her?”

  “Bonni Jeanne is afraid I’m going to fire her for letting Mom get away from her — but, I
understand. My mom can look docile and seem timid and frail one moment. The next moment, she has the strength of ten men and can run like Usain Bolt. It’s not really Bonni Jeanne’s fault. I’ve had a few close calls myself.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask.

  “I have no idea. I don’t even know what this means for my mom. We were barely hanging on before, and Mom probably broke her hip. Now, one more thing in my life is up in the air. I have no clue how I’ll manage it all. My daddy has been gone a long time, but I sure do miss his strength in times like this.”

  I reach across the car and grasp her hand. “Tori, I hope you know this. I’m here for you if you need me. All you have to do is ask.”

  “I appreciate that, Cody. I do. It’s just that at this point, I don’t even know what I need.”

  “I understand — but when you do know, don’t forget I’m here.”

  Tori looks up at me through her tears. “I don’t think there’s any danger of that. You seem to keep showing up in my life at all the wrong times.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  TORI

  I CAN BARELY KEEP MY eyes open when Cody comes into the room carrying coffee and an overnight bag for me. I can’t contain my surprise as I blurt, “What are you doing back here? I thought you went home.”

  “I did — or, more precisely, I took Bonni Jeanne home after we retrieved your car from the gym. She is a treasure. She kept telling me I look just like her son. I thought she was just being polite, but then she invited me inside and showed me a picture. It was like looking in a mirror. Jean Franco is a firefighter. I’m surprised we haven’t crossed paths before. It would be a little disconcerting to run into him on the job.”

  “That was very nice of you, but it doesn’t explain why you didn’t just go home. Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”

  “I do — but you need some company. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve pulled an all-nighter. I’m a seasoned police detective. I’ve been on more than a few stakeouts in my career. I’m sure this will be less intense. Besides, I brought goodies,” I whisper.

  “I’m surprised they let you up here. You’re not family or anything.”

  I shrug. “Maybe I just look like I belong. How is your mom?”

  “She has a non-displaced fracture in her hip. She doesn’t understand she needs to stay still, so they’ve sedated her to keep her from injuring herself. I have to remind myself she’s not as sick as she looks right now. They’re doing this to protect her. She is just a little dehydrated, so they’re replenishing her fluids before she has to have orthopedic surgery tomorrow.”

  “You look wiped out. Do you want to go grab a bite to eat?” Cody offers.

  I glance back at my mom. Even on a good day, my mom barely acknowledges my existence … and today is decidedly not a good day. I doubt she even knows I’m in the room.

  Cody is patiently waiting for me to weigh my options. Finally, he adds, “We can leave our cell phone numbers and they can text us if there are any developments.”

  I stand up and stretch. “Yeah, how silly of me. For someone who spends as much time on my cell phone as I do, you’d think I’d never forget other people can still reach out to let me know what’s going on.” Impulsively, I throw my arms around his neck and give him a hug. “Thank you. Until this very moment, I didn’t realize how much I need to take just a few moments to clear my head.”

  Cody pulls me close and holds me for a few moments. The warmth of his embrace is exactly what I need. I snuggle closer and he brushes a light kiss across my temple as he murmurs, “Whatever you need. I’m your guy.”

  I pull out of his arms and grab my purse. “Thanks. Right now, I need to get out of here and stop thinking about all the things which could’ve gone wrong.”

  Cody puts his hand at the small of my back and escorts me out of the room. We walk around the hospital grounds and we end up in a little garden area, Cody turns to me and asks, “Do you mind if we talk about something completely different for a moment?”

  “That might be a welcome distraction. All I can think about right now is how my world is going to change. I don’t know how to make all the right choices for my mom. It’s hard because she can’t even lucidly express what she wants or talk with me about the decisions I need to make.”

  “Do you have any family I need to call?” Cody offers.

  “No, I wish I did. It’s just me. My dad had a heart attack when I was still in elementary school. I’m an only child. It’s just been me and my mom for many years. It all falls on my shoulders.”

  “I wish there was something I could do to help you,” Cody says as his thumb rubs a particularly tender spot between my shoulder blades were all the tension has settled.

  I moan. “Well, you could follow me around all day and give me a back rub.”

  “If I didn’t have to take down bad guys for a living, that would be an exceedingly tempting offer. How about if we grab sandwiches and dessert at the deli instead?”

  “Sounds good. Can we not talk about the overwhelming amount of choices I have to make when it comes to my mom? I just want twenty minutes of free time where we can talk about anything else. Your job, baseball scores, weird videos on YouTube, it doesn’t really matter to me. I need to stop thinking about my mom, dementia and how much pain she’s in.”

  “I’m not sure talking about my job is going to relieve much of your stress. We have a bunch of missing teenagers. Actually, that’s why I was at the gym today. I was hoping to talk to you about some of your cases to see if they overlap with the missing children. Maybe there is a pattern you can recognize from a case you’ve handled.”

  I want to burst out crying, but I think I used all the tears available in my body earlier when I saw my mom in so much pain laying on the gurney. “As much as I would love to help you find whoever is lost, I can’t. I can’t help you or anyone else. It should be abundantly clear to you by now that I can’t even help myself.”

  “I don’t need you to have an official title or anything. We can work on fixing your employment mess later. Right now I just need your expertise. I’m out of ideas and I need a fresh perspective. You are one of the smartest people I know.”

  “Yeah, so smart I got pushed out of my job when I did nothing wrong. That just smacks of brilliance right there, doesn’t it?” I retort bitterly.

  Cody gathers me into a hug again. He tenderly kisses me on the forehead. As cliché as it sounds, I want to melt into his arms. I could so get used to the feeling of being sheltered from life.

  “You can’t blame yourself for the stupidity of others,” he admonishes softly.

  “I know. But sometimes the unfairness of it all seems overwhelming. I suppose it might help if I look at the problems of someone else for a change. How can I help you?” I offer as I move out of his arms and sit down in a quiet corner of the deserted dining area beside the small deli.

  Cody sits down beside me and pulls out a weathered police notebook and pen. “I’ve got at least three teenagers, and most likely four, who seemingly have nothing in common. Some kids are classified as at risk, but others seemingly have no risk factors at all.”

  In a heartbeat, the analytical part of my brain clicks on as if nothing is amiss in my life. “Race?”

  “One African-American teenage male, age sixteen, one African-American female also age sixteen, one Hispanic fifteen-year-old female, and one Caucasian male, age fifteen.”

  I flinch at his matter-of-fact recitation of the names. “No connection through their school, church, or social media?”

  “Not as far as we can tell. I know two of the victims are from the same neighborhood, but there is no evidence they actually knew each other. They went to two different schools. These are disappearances over the last six months. They seem unrelated — and they very well may be — but something in my gut tells me they’re not.”

  “Do you have anything other than your gut feeling?”

  “Well, you remember my former partner, Kat
elyn Ashford?”

  “The one who was shot on the job?”

  I nod. “Her brother, John is tied into Savannah Moore’s family. He thinks this sounds a lot like that case. He wanted me to ask you if you thought it could possibly be those perps.”

  A chill passes up my spine. “If it is related to those two, you’ve got a huge problem on your hands. The Brennans are the personification of evil if you ask me. We know for sure it’s probably not them personally, because their sentences are so long, the two of them will never see the light of day. We charged all the co-conspirators we could find, but that doesn’t mean we got them all.”

  “Could they still be running things behind the scenes?”

  “I suppose so. It’s not unheard of — remember Warren Jepps? He ran his whole enterprise from prison. It barely seemed to slow him down.”

  “This would seem to be a change in MO for them though. Didn’t they target kids who were actually runaways and didn’t have a support system?”

  “The Brennan’s ability to adapt their forms of terror to whatever situation they were in made them uniquely savage predators, in my mind. They used a completely different form of grooming and lures for Savannah than they were using on victims like Ketki, had she not been involved in the police sting.”

  “I forgot about that aspect of it. You’re right, who’s to say they haven’t adapted their strategy again since they were caught,” Cody comments as he takes more notes.

  “I don't want you to jump to too many conclusions; I don’t even have the files in front of me. I have no idea whether the Brennans have access to any computers while they are incarcerated. If I remember correctly, they were not supposed to be in contact with each other. Their attorney was going to appeal, so I don't know if the provision of the sentence stood up on appeal. I certainly don’t know if they’re working with people on the outside. It was just a thought.”