The Advocate - 03 - The Advocate's Conviction

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The Advocate - 03 - The Advocate's Conviction Page 24

by Teresa Burrell


  “No, but one time the tall guy gave Scott some money. I couldn’t see how much or anything.”

  45

  The first thing Sabre did when she woke up on Saturday morning was to call JP and tell him what she had learned from Bailey the previous night. He scolded her again and made another Texas slang remark about how stubborn she was and how they once again missed the opportunity to follow Bailey.

  “I think she’s living at home,” Sabre said.

  “At her home? Did she say that?”

  “Not in so many words, but she left a lot of clues. First of all, she’s very close to the canyon because she arrived before I did and this time she must’ve walked because there was no bike. Second, she told me someone came to her house looking for her—not that they went to her house. It sounded as if she was at home when they arrived. And third, Apollo fixed the window in her bedroom so she could sneak in and out if she needed to. Oh, and she had a change of clothes this time. The other two times I saw her, she was still wearing the same clothes as she wore when she left the foster home.”

  “Hide in plain sight. It’s possible.”

  “Bailey also told me where the third disc was, in case of an ‘emergency’ as she put it. I think she meant if she died or something and we needed to save Apollo, but she didn’t actually say that.”

  “So where is it, in case of an ‘emergency’?”

  “It’s in her room in a cardboard box under the bed. It’s in the box her Juno DVD came in.”

  “Juno?”

  “Yeah, it’s a movie that was released a few years ago about a pregnant teenager. It was a big hit. Kind of apropos, don’t you think?”

  “But none of this excuses your behavior,” JP said. “You have to stop meeting Bailey by yourself. These people are dangerous. They kill people. If they’re crazy enough to kill an innocent baby, they sure aren’t going to think twice about killing a lawyer.”

  “I hear you.”

  “By the way, I received a call from my friend at the DMV. She said that Robert Cavitt had a 1948 Plymouth registered in his name. And she gave me his address in Lakeside. I’ll be going by there shortly to see what I can see, and then I have my appointment at World of Hope with Collicott’s pregnant teenage client.”

  “Are you going to confront Rob?”

  “No, not until we have something more. He may not even be involved. His brother, Dr. Ric, could’ve just borrowed his car the night Apollo filmed him.”

  Sabre dressed and went for a run on the bay. She ran the entire boardwalk from one end to the other, a distance of six miles; then she walked two more before returning to her car. The exercise cleared her head. When she returned home she took a shower, made herself a large cup of herbal tea, and sat down with the Lecy file. She parked a legal pad on the table next to her. The top sheet was divided into two columns labeled “Facts” and “Questions.” The entries consisted of what she knew and what she needed to know. She read through every single report and bit of information she had, jotting down notes as she read.

  When she finished the Lecy file she moved on to the Johnson file, creating the same columns on her yellow pad. She read through the social workers’ and JP’s reports, taking diligent notes. She emptied the envelope of photos JP had collected for her and dumped them out. She studied each one carefully until she came across one particular photo.

  “Oh my God!” Sabre said aloud. She jumped up, grabbed her keys and phone, and ran for her car. She had forgotten to put gas in the car, but she still had just under a quarter tank. It was plenty for now.

  As soon as she was out of her driveway she called JP and left a message to call immediately, and then she drove to the park. She looked around for Mama T but didn’t see her. She wondered if Mama T would ever find her way back. Sabre crossed over the abandoned railroad tracks and across the field to the bridge. For the first time she was wearing decent walking shoes. Even so, it was difficult avoiding the glass. She felt a chill. The sun had disappeared behind the clouds.

  Mama T was not there, as Sabre had hoped, but the other woman she had met earlier was there. Sabre reprimanded herself for not asking her name. She was treating her like everyone else did, like she was a non-person, and she suddenly felt ashamed. She approached the woman and extended her hand, “I’m Sabre, by the way. I’m afraid I didn’t get your name.”

  She smiled. “I’m Megan Lily, Piccadilly, Princess of the Lily Pad People.”

  “That’s a lovely name. May I just call you Megan?”

  “No. Call me Piccadilly.”

  “Okay, Piccadilly it is. So, Piccadilly, has Mama T been back?”

  “No, not yet, but she will. She always comes back.”

  Sabre remembered that was almost exactly what she had said the last time. “Has Mama T left before for any length of time?”

  “No, but she’ll come back. She always does.”

  Sabre looked around at the people lying on the ground or sitting against the wall. It was a regular little community with many of the same people. This was their home. The overpass provided shelter from the sun and the rain. Underneath was a flat area about the size of a Little League infield that abutted the concrete wall. The edge of that area formed an embankment with about a forty degree decline. Each resident seemed to have their own spot with their own pile of junk.

  She spotted the man who almost fell on her the last time she was here. He was standing against a mound of clothes and junk on the edge of the embankment. He was drinking from a cheap wine bottle. She approached him.

  “Hello, Dean.”

  “What do you want?” There was anger in his voice.

  “I want your son, Cole. Where is he?”

  “He ain’t here,” he said gruffly.

  Sabre started to look around for any sign of him, but Dean staggered after her following her wherever she went. “Get out of here,” he yelled.

  Sabre continued to look in any nook or cranny where he might be hidden, but there was so much trash it was hard to see anything and she had to climb over boxes and around carts. “Where is he, Dean? This is no life for him.”

  Sabre started back toward the mound where Dean had been standing earlier. She heard Dean yell, “I said, get out of here, you stupid bitch.” And then she felt the bottle hit the side of her head.

  46

  JP drove to the Lakeside address his friend from the DMV had told him belonged to Rob Cavitt. The long driveway led to a huge, two-story house with a three-car-garage attached. The garage doors were all closed so he couldn’t see if the Plymouth was there. The new home appeared to be rather expensive for a clerk at Home Depot.

  Since there were no other homes within at least twenty acres, he dared not go too close. If anyone saw him, it would be obvious he was looking for something or someone at this address. So he turned around and headed back toward the road. Just after he turned out of the driveway, a yellow Volkswagen beetle approached him. As they passed one another, the driver, a brown-haired woman who JP estimated to be in her mid-forties, stared at him. He could see in his rearview mirror that she continued to watch him throughout her slow, calculated turn.

  JP arrived at World of Hope only to learn that Mena had run away about two hours earlier. He spoke to the counselor in her unit.

  “How long has she been gone?”

  “The last time anyone saw her was about four o’clock. She checked into the day room to do her chores. We can’t account for her whereabouts after that. When we sat down for dinner, we discovered she was missing.”

  “Do you know why she left?”

  The counselor appeared quite upset. “I spoke to her about three-thirty and told her the doctor had pulled her pass for the weekend because she’d been having some pains.”

  “Was she in labor?”

  “No. He examined her and said she wasn’t. I looked at her records. It says she’s not due for another month, but she’s awfully big. That’s probably why the doctor was concerned, but apparently not enough to send her
to the hospital.”

  “So why was Mena angry?”

  “She wanted to go somewhere this weekend and when she couldn’t go she threw a fit. I guess she decided to go anyway.”

  “Did anyone see her leave?”

  “I’ve asked everyone on staff, as well as the other girls. Either no one saw her or no one is fessing up.”

  “Do you mind if I ask around a little?”

  “Go right ahead. I doubt if anyone will tell you anything. You earn a bad reputation around here if you ‘narc’ on someone.” The counselor sounded frustrated.

  JP walked around the campus. It consisted of nine small, cabin-like structures. Each cabin housed four students and had its own private bath. There was one large building with a reception area that doubled as a living room in the evening. A hallway led to three offices and an examining room for the pregnant girls. At the end of the hallway and to the left was the back of the house where the kitchen, dining area, and the recreation room were located.

  Since the recreation room was the last place Mena was seen, JP began his investigation there. He found several girls there. None of them could provide any significant information, but someone had seen Mena speaking to one of her roommates, a girl named Brenda who had just returned to her room. JP walked over to Mena’s bungalow and knocked on the door. When Brenda answered the door he explained who he was. She stepped outside. She wasn’t showing a lot. If JP had seen her in a different situation he wouldn’t have thought she was pregnant. He guessed she was three or four months along.

  “We’re not allowed to have anyone in the room,” she said.

  “I understand,” he said. “I won’t take long. Did Mena tell you she was going to leave?”

  “No.”

  “But you talked to her this afternoon?”

  “Yeah, for a bit.”

  “I understand she was pretty upset.”

  “I guess. She just told me that Dr. Ric had pulled her pass.”

  “Did you say Dr. Ric?”

  “Yes, he’s the obstetrician on duty today.”

  “What’s his last name?”

  “I dunno. I’ve never had him for a doctor, but I haven’t been here that long.”

  “Have you seen him? Do you know what he looks like?”

  “Yeah. He’s kinda … fat … and old.” She quickly tried to cover what she said by adding, “But most of the girls like him okay.”

  “Thanks. You’ve been very helpful.”

  “There’s one other thing you should know.”

  “What’s that?” JP asked.

  “Mena sneaks out sometimes after curfew with a couple of the other girls. I think she goes to the meetings.”

  “What kind of meetings?”

  “I don’t know exactly. They can’t talk about them.”

  “Do you know where they go?”

  “No, but it’s not here on campus. They drive somewhere.”

  “And you’ve never been?”

  “No. You don’t get invited until you’re at least six months along.”

  JP checked his messages and returned Sabre’s call. She didn’t answer. He called Collicott and left her a message in case she hadn’t heard that her client was missing. Then he drove to Dr. Ric’s house. He had to get there before another baby was sacrificed.

  47

  Sabre opened her eyes. It was almost dark, and for a moment she wasn’t sure where she was. The smell drove it home. She was under the bridge and Piccadilly was leaning over her.

  “Are you okay?”

  Sabre started to stand up. Piccadilly reached her hand out to help her. But Sabre stood too quickly and it made her head hurt even worse. She felt the large lump on the side of her head, and when she brought her fingers down there was blood on them. She felt the cut again. It was minor and had already stopped bleeding.

  Suddenly, Piccadilly turned and ran toward the field. “Mama T,” she yelled. Sabre could see a figure walking toward them pushing a cart. She must have found another cart, Sabre thought.

  Sabre went to meet her and walked with her back toward the bridge. “I’m glad you’re okay, Mama T. I’m sorry I didn’t bring any food this time. I left in a big hurry.”

  “Hmpff,” Mama T responded.

  “I told you she’d be back,” Piccadilly said to Sabre. “She always comes back.”

  “I’m glad she’s back.” Sabre turned to Mama T as they walked underneath the cover. “I need to find Cole. I know he’s been here or is still here.” Sabre pointed to Dean, who was still leaning against the mound. “That’s his father over there and he won’t tell me where Cole is. Cole needs to go back to his mother.” Sabre didn’t know if she was wasting her breath trying to explain, but she had to try.

  “Boy.”

  “Yes, the boy. Where is he?” Sabre said.

  “Boy sick.”

  “He’s sick? Cole is sick?”

  Mama T reached in her basket and pulled out what looked like an old bottle of cough syrup. She handed it to Sabre. The side of the bottle was covered with dried syrup and dirt. She shook the bottle. It appeared to be empty. She supposed Mama T was trying to help but couldn’t. “It’s empty, Mama T. Where is Cole? We need to take him to the doctor if he’s sick.”

  Mama T pushed her cart forward toward the mound where Dean was standing. “Boy,” she said to him.

  Dean stood up and took a step toward Mama T. “No! He’s my son!”

  Mama T pointed to the mound. Sabre looked at it but she couldn’t see where Cole could be. She kept pointing. “Boy.” Sabre climbed over some boxes and around an old dishwasher to the other side of the mound. Dean started to walk towards Sabre, but Mama T pulled back her cart and rushed forward, ramming it right into his gut. His bottle flew up in the air and Dean fell backward, rolling down the embankment and onto another pile of rubbish. Sabre looked down at Dean wondering if she should help, but he pulled himself up and staggered off.

  She continued walking around the pile of trash that formed the mound until she spotted an opening in the side of it right where the ground started to slope downward. A shopping cart was lying on its side. Cardboard and clothes piled on top of the cart created a rain-free shelter in the form of a mound on the edge of the embankment. It looked like an igloo made of junk instead of ice. Old clothes placed inside the cart provided a bed for Cole. He lay there curled up inside the cart with an old sweatshirt spread over him for a blanket.

  “Cole,” Sabre touched his arm. He didn’t move. “Cole,” she said louder. No response. She felt his face. It felt hot. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and tried to dial 9-1-1, but there was no service under the bridge. She reached in to pull Cole out, but because of the slope and the loose trash she couldn’t establish the leverage she needed and her foot slipped. She planted her feet on some cardboard and reached into the cart to release him, but she slipped again. She shook Cole in an attempt to wake him. He still didn’t move. Sabre was scared. The sun was setting and the sky was cloudy, making it very difficult to see. She looked around for help. “Help me! Someone help me,” she yelled. Several people looked at her but no one came to help. Mama T had pushed her cart back to her customary place at the other end of the concrete wall. Sabre spotted Piccadilly and yelled to her. Piccadilly walked over to the mound and looked over it.

  “Piccadilly, I need your help.” Piccadilly just stood there. Sabre tried again to pick up Cole, but she couldn’t do it from where she stood. “Piccadilly, please.” She motioned for her with her hand. “Come here and brace me. Cole needs our help.”

  Piccadilly walked around the mound and took two steps down the slope so she was even with Sabre. “What do I do?” she asked.

  “Just stand behind me and hold onto my waist so I don’t slip.”

  Piccadilly took her place behind Sabre and placed her hands on Sabre’s waist. She didn’t seem very strong. Sabre prayed it would be enough.

  “Please don’t let go,” Sabre said.

  Sabre placed her left han
d against the top of the cart and her right arm under Cole’s frail torso. She pulled with her right arm as she pushed with her left. Her right foot started to slip. Sabre could feel the pressure lighten. “Hold me steady, Piccadilly.” Sabre felt another set of hands on her lower back. She glanced back to see a man she hadn’t seen before. He was a lot stronger than Piccadilly and he was bracing her. Sabre pulled Cole’s body out of the cart and held him in her arms. The man helped them up the embankment without saying a word.

  “Thank you,” Sabre said when she reached the top.

  Picadilly smiled. The man walked away.

  Cole lay there listless like dead weight against her body. Sabre walked quickly toward the opening, but Cole was too heavy. She’d never make it all the way across the field. She spotted Mama T’s cart, but Sabre was afraid of what she might do if she tried to take it.

  “Mama T, I need your cart.”

  Mama T shook her head, partly sideways and partly up and down. Sabre couldn’t tell if it was an affirmative or negative nod. “Boy. Sick.”

  Sabre took a chance. She raised Cole up in a motion as if to lay him on the top of the clothes stacked in her cart. Sabre spoke slowly and deliberately in an attempt to make Mama T understand. “Can I please use your cart to take Cole to my car?”

  Mama T didn’t say anything. “Piccadilly will bring it back to you.” Still nothing.

  Sabre laid him down on top of the junk in the cart and pushed the cart forward. She felt a raindrop hit her face. “Come with me, Piccadilly.” Sabre moved as fast as she could across the field with Piccadilly alongside her. The sun had just set and it was sprinkling. Sabre tried to stay on the path, but it was bumpy. She hit a rock, slick from the rain, and the cart started to tip. She leaned to balance the falling cart, but over compensated. Piccadilly grabbed the cart as Sabre let go and grabbed Cole, the three of them falling in a tangled pile.

  Sabre moved Cole off of her and stood up. “Are you okay?” she asked. Piccadilly seemed to be fine. Sabre pulled the cart upright and picked up Cole. It wasn’t far to her car and although it was raining harder, she knew she could carry him the rest of the way. “Thanks, Piccadilly. Please take the cart back to Mama T.” Sabre walked as fast as she could with Cole and although the trees in the park provided some shelter, they were both pretty wet by the time they reached the car.

 

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