“You really think Donald will send you back if he knew the truth about that day?”
She nodded. “You heard him yourself. ‘Two rules for living in my house, child …’ All that shit.”
“If it’s so bad living under his roof, maybe you’d be better off back there anyway.”
I’d only seen one other face as frightened as the one she gave me then, and that had belonged to a young man arriving at the realization he was going to die from his gunshot wound.
“No fucking way,” she spat, and despite her professed desire to bliss out, she stood and walked in wobbly circles. “Never going back,” she hissed to herself. It was like I wasn’t even there. “Never going back.”
“Going back to what, Imani?”
She jerked, stared at me with wild eyes and shook her head, braids whipping around her face like a little cat-o-nine-tails.
“I know about your family,” I said. “And what happened to them. Is it your stepdad? Are you worried about him?”
Shook her head. “I wasn’t nothing to him.”
“Then what? What are you afraid of?”
She stopped pacing and wobbled a little more until deciding it was time to sit down again. Tried to roll another joint, but her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn’t open her little baggie of grass. She kept picking at it, growing more frantic until the bag ripped open, scattering the contents over her lap and the pine needles.
“Fuck!”
I looked across the stream at the silver-haired woman walking a fox terrier wearing a little purple coat—the dog, not the woman—who had stopped and was peering at us intently.
“Sorry,” I called. “My niece just stubbed her toe. I’ve been trying to tell her about her language, but …” I shrugged a ‘what can you do’. The woman smiled, gave me a little wave and moved on.
Imani was scrabbling around on the ground but only succeeding in re-filling her bag with more pine needles than marijuana.
“Imani.” I reached out to grab her by the shoulders, help her focus. She recoiled, scampered five feet farther away, curled into the fetal position against a tree and whimpered. Glanced up at me with those terrified brown eyes.
I gave her room, scootched myself to another tree, and packed a pipe. Before I had got it going well, Imani was curled up, asleep, snoring softly.
In the hour of thinking I got done while Imani was asleep, all I managed to come up with was that something at the shelter scared her so much that she would do almost anything to not be sent back there.
As the kids say, “Duh!”
That didn’t give me a long list of choices when it came to being able to use her testimony to exonerate Bradley.
I could feed her to the wolves, get the DA to make her testify and leave the consequences from Donald to fall where they may.
Perhaps I could lean on him, soften the blow, and give her a fighting chance on staying in Dallas to play happy families and sneak out for the occasional joint by the creek.
Maybe.
And speaking of creeks, Bradley was a long way up one without a paddle if neither he nor Imani would tell the truth. One of them was going to have to come clean if there was any chance that he was going to get out from under the DA’s train of justice.
I could sympathize with the innocent-looking sleeping girl, with her ‘him or me’ situation, couldn’t really blame her for thinking the way she did.
But if it came down to a choice, where only one of these families was going to come out of this unscathed, it would be the one which had a neat little folder with their name on it in the ‘Client’ section of my file cabinet.
As if I had such a thing.
“Umm?” Imani sat up like a new fawn peeking out from behind the bushes.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
“You’re still here.”
“Of course. Did you think I’d take off once you passed out? Never leave a man, or woman, behind.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Yeah, sure. You and everyone else.”
Imani stood up, looked around. “I’m gonna go.” Dared me to make something of it.
“It’s a free country.” I blew a smoke ring. Nice shape.
“Okay then.”
“Okay then. Be seeing you, Imani.”
“Hope not.”
I’d heard that so many times it barely even registered.
Once Imani was beyond the treeline and out of sight, I stood, brushed the pine needles off my jeans and stretched. Strolled my way back to the car while I whistled a happy tune.
It really was a beautiful morning.
Chapter 29
That didn’t last long once I arrived back at the Wright house.
Mimi was hard at work trying to straighten the front yard and it was already starting to look better, but Cowboy’s work on the dark patch under the large pine tree sent a stomach-turning odor across the yard and house.
He leaned his shovel up against the tree and met me before I made it to the porch.
“Mighty fine job you’re doing there,” I said.
He shrugged. “Hell, nothing much different to mucking out the horse stalls, really. Mind, horses ain’t got anythin’ else they can do. I pure don’t understand how humans can be so goddamned filthy.”
“Keep it up,” I said, making sure that he knew I wasn’t interested in helping.
“Almost done. Anyways, you got better things to do. Missus Wright and Ray tore inside like their asses were on fire after gettin’ back from the hospital. ‘Bout ten minutes ago. I reckon they got somepin on their minds.”
“They say anything?”
“Naw. Gut feelin’.”
Cowboy’s gut feelings were better than the weather forecaster’s, so I went looking. Didn’t have to search far, they were both sitting in the kitchen cradling half full glasses, the open bottles of wine and scotch on the table testament to a good afternoon ahead.
I leaned against the door frame, neither of them noticed me.
“Day drinking now?”
Ray looked up. “Sorry. A million miles away.”
“Mr Rafferty, thank god you’re back. You have to hear what Bradley said.”
I pulled out a chair, sat down. “Hit me with it.”
Ray nodded, glanced out the window. “While we were at the hospital—”.
“It was better today. We could stay in with Bradley for longer. He still didn’t say much, well, not while I was there, but Ray told me in the car on the way hom—”
“Charlene.” Ray reached across and patted his sister’s hand. “Do you want Mr Rafferty to hear this?”
“Of course. Sorry.”
“Bradley finally talked to me while we were alone in the room. We’d already been there a while and he hadn’t said much. Charlene was getting upset, so she said she needed to use the bathroom and left. Mimi went with her. I was sitting there, didn’t know what to do or say, when I hear Bradley say in this little voice, ‘I deserve to die, Uncle Ray.’”
Here we go.
Charlene swallowed wine and refilled while she watched Ray lay it all out for me.
“I was sure I didn’t hear him right, so I moved the chair a bit closer and asked him what he was talking about, and he repeated exactly what I thought he’d said the first time. Obviously, I told him that he deserved no such thing and that he shouldn’t be saying crazy stuff like that.”
“Did he say why?”
“It took a while for me to get it out of him, but yeah, in the end he did. Turns out we were right about him having a girlfriend.” Ray smiled wistfully. “Her name was Becs …” Love U 4 Ever Bradley! B. xxx “… actually, Rebecca and she was one of the students killed on the day.”
“Rebecca Gibbons?” I said, knowing it had to be.
“He didn’t say a last name, just Rebecca.”
Well that explained why he didn’t want to talk. Classic survivor’s guilt, compounded, I guessed, by the typical intense teenage love affair. I wa
s about to ask Charlene if she knew about the girlfriend, but Ray was still talking.
“… and because he didn’t stop them, he—”
“Whoah, back it up there, Ray. ‘He didn’t stop them.’ What made him think that he could have stopped them? The schoolyard may have looked like the O.K. Corral, but Bradley sure as hell isn’t Wyatt Earp.”
“Because he saw the two kids with guns before it all happened.”
“Wait. What?” Maybe I still had it wrong. “He knew the other shooters? Was he part of this whole shit-show and just pussied out at the last minute? I don’t have to tell either of you that I will be very fucking unhappy if I’ve backed the wrong horse here.”
“No, no, nothing like that. He was just late to school on that day, was trying to sneak in through a hole in the fence that all the kids know about, and he bumped into the two other kids, getting ready … ready for … well, you know.”
“And they decided not to shoot him either? Come on.”
“Honestly, I think that’s the thing that’s bugging him the most, aside from Rebecca’s death. That he got lucky enough to get away and not everyone else did.”
“How does that work?”
“He said that one of the kids just looked at him and said, ‘Go home. Today is not a good day to be here.’ I think he sold something to the kid in the past, maybe. He was crying pretty good while he was telling me all this.”
“Uh huh. What happened then? Did he say?”
“Yep. Said he pretended to go back out the way he came in, but hid and hung around, so he could try to get back into the school and warn Rebecca.” Ray sniffed. “But he didn’t get there in time and, because of that, he deserves to die.”
“He can’t really believe that?”
“I don’t want to think that either, but he does. The only two things he said after that were making me swear I wouldn’t tell his Mom, and then he said he was sorry. Charlene walked in only a few seconds after that he didn’t say another word.”
Ray downed his scotch and reached for the bottle.
I hated teenaged angst enough when I was going through it myself, but even more so now. This kid had nothing to apologize for and, other than being heartbroken about losing his first love, should have everything to live for. Yet here he was, ready to let a bunch of people who didn’t know the truth use him as a scapegoat.
Not on my watch.
“Anything else?”
Charlene jumped in. “He doesn’t deserve any of this. He’s my son who should have his whole life in front of him. Can you help him?”
“Watch me.”
Thirty minutes later I was also sitting at the kitchen table, coming up with plans for exactly how I was going to help Bradley and strictly observing Rafferty’s Rule Fifty-Seven: Any job worth doing, is worth doing with beer.
Whilst enjoyable, Rule Fifty-Seven hadn’t led to any startling breakthroughs, though.
I flirted briefly with the idea of finding Imani again. Thought maybe I’d gone too easy on her and I should wind up the pressure to the point where she’d have to tell the truth. Remembered the look she’d given me while pretending to get ready to scream, about how smoothly she had played her self-protection role with her concocted stories, and decided it wasn’t worth the risk. For now. If I had any chance of helping Bradley, I needed to stay mobile and not get bogged down in meetings with cops, lawyers, and judges.
But speaking of lawyers … I leaned against the wall, sipped beer, and cradled the receiver in my shoulder while I waited for Paul Eindhoven to come on the line.
“Rafferty,” he said his voice sounding like his teeth and dimples were at full capacity. “I’m assuming you have good news.”
“I’m working on it. Let me ask you something. I’ve found a witness to the shooting who saw exactly what happened and can testify that Bradley had nothing to do with it.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about! Okay, I can see you both, tomorrow at … umm, let’s see …”
“Hold your horses, Paul. That’s the problem. They won’t talk. I’ve got a line on why they won’t and I’m working on that, but in the meantime, what sort of protection can you organize for them?”
“That’s more your area of expertise, I think.”
“That’s not going to work here. She’s a teenage girl, and she doesn’t want her father to … anyway, I don’t mean ‘lock down, siege type’ protection. What she needs is protection from …” Despite my morning rhetoric, I wasn’t ready to throw Imani to the wolves just yet. “… from any repercussions of her testimony.”
“This girl isn’t going to be testifying against the Mob here. Tell her to get over herself and do the right thing. I’m sure she’ll be okay from whatever boogey-man she thinks is after her.”
Paul hadn’t seen Imani’s reaction about the idea of being sent back to her previous life. My silence wasn’t clearing up the picture for him, but it also wasn’t hurting.
He sighed. “Okay. I’m just a city lawyer, so there’s nothing I can do on my own. But, I’ll talk to the DA’s office and see what they say.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet. What’s this girl’s name?”
“Maybe later, once the DA agrees to protect her.”
“You don’t make this easy. I hope you know that.”
“And spoil all your fun? I couldn’t do that to you.”
He hung up and I grabbed another beer.
If I couldn’t protect Imani from whatever her foster-father might do when he found out about her class-cutting, maybe I could at least make the ramifications less scary for her to think about and therefore more likely for her to come forward and agree to help Bradley.
There was an old buddy of mine on the Houston PD—we’d been rookies together—and although we hadn’t spoken in years, I was sure he’d be willing and able to help out if I asked. He could give me the skinny on the shelter where Imani had stayed and maybe throw some light on what terrified her so much.
But it was a distraction from the main task at hand. And it could end up being a long distraction, with all sorts of boring issues like privacy and sealed documents to navigate before I got near understanding the situation before even thinking about trying to solve it.
No, I was better staying focused in my own backyard.
And, although I didn’t want to take the next step, I knew it was one I needed to take.
Suitably fortified myself and snagged the phone receiver. Sat down for this call. Figured I’d need to.
“Why the hell are you calling?” Ed growled into the phone.
At least he’d answered, so I thought things might be looking up. I ran through the same request as I’d put to Paul, leaving Imani’s name out of it.
“This isn’t a private protection business,” he said, “I would have thought I didn’t need to tell you that, but apparently I do.”
“C’mon, Ed. This is a material witness to the shooting with testimony that will prove Bradley Wright had nothing to do with it, and that the DA’s charges are bogus.”
“Take it up with the DA then. Nothing I can do. Especially with the amount of detail you’re giving me. None.”
I didn’t have anything else, so I was getting ready to hang up, when Ed cleared his throat, and voice got lighter than I’d heard it for quite some time.
“Who’s the eyewit?”
“Thought you weren’t interested.”
“I said I can’t help you, not that I’m not interested. You say you’ve got someone who is gonna blow the DA’s case to pieces, I say that might be handy to know about before I get an angry phone call from the Chief.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“Nothing.”
“Then no can do, Ed.”
“Fine.” The growl was back. Good. It was quite frankly off-putting to hear Ed wheedle like that. Didn’t suit him at all.
I’d barely hung the phone up before it rang again. Christ, it was getting like a telethon here.
<
br /> “Rafferty?”
“This is he of whom you speak.”
Without drawing breath, Paul updated me on his unhelpful phone conversation with the DA’s office, spending a little too much time on how much they laughed at his request.
“Say what?”
“I’ll admit it, I lost my cool. And when the associate said that they’ll be ready to go to trial inside a week, and they looked forward to crushing us into the dust and seeing Bradley put to death for what he did, I fired back. Really I just wanted the smug son-of-a-bitch to shut up, but as I think more about it, it’s the right thing to do. It might put them off their game. Maybe only a little, and only if we’re lucky, but it’ll definitely give them something to think about when they realize that they’ve got the wrong kid.”
Paul went on to explain the ins and outs of exactly when and how he was going to file suit against the city, talking about ‘malicious prosecution,’ ‘false imprisonment,’ and ‘deprivation of liberty.’ I wasn’t really listening by that point, I’d already moved onto the next step in my rapidly diminishing arsenal. I didn’t have the luxury of thinking about what was going to happen after this was all over, I needed to get hot and make sure that it ended the right way.
“Great, Paul. You go get ‘em.” He was still blathering on with lawyer-speak as I hung up, but I couldn’t listen all day.
I had a trip to make.
Donald Beckett intercepted me on his front walk, about ten feet from the curb, long before I got anywhere close to gaining the porch.
“We’ve nothing to say to you, sir.”
“Donald …” I’d planned out a little of what I was going to say on the way over, but I had to step carefully. For Imani’s sake. “This is important. Bradley is going to be tried for, and probably convicted of, murder unless Imani helps him. She’s the only one who can, and I know his family would be forever grateful if you would let her tell her side of the story.”
He stood center of the concrete path, arms folded. “You’re trespassing, and I’m telling you to leave my property.”
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