Gone Again: A Jack Swyteck Novel

by James Grippando

  Jack smiled to himself. You go, Hannah. “When can we expect to see the records?” asked Jack.

  “Never.”

  “It’s a simple request,” said Jack. “A little documentation would put an end to the question of whether you were on a business trip, whether you were meeting Carlos Mendoza to rehome Sashi, or whether you were somewhere else.”

  “The answer is somewhere else.”

  Jack rose from the chair, surprised by the answer. “Where?”

  Gavin breathed out, almost groaning over the line. “I was with another woman, okay? You happy now?”

  Jack wasn’t shocked. “Should I be?”

  “I would think so,” he said, more than a little sarcastic. “You’ve been on a mission to destroy what’s left of this family. In fact, why don’t you conference in Debra right now? Take away what little self-esteem she’s got. Then bring in Aquinnah and Alexander—just to make sure they hate their old man. Go ahead, Swyteck. Let’s make sure that every corner of the globe is covered in your scorched-earth crusade against the Burgette family.”

  “This isn’t personal, Gavin. I’m just trying to get at the truth.”

  “And now you have it.”

  “I don’t hear a name.”

  “You’re not getting a name. I’m not dragging her into this. This has gone far enough. I wasn’t out of town rehoming Sashi. So tell Hannah the eager beaver to back off and stop asking Nicole for documentation of my business trip. It’s not going to help your client. Just drop it.”

  The call ended, and if it hadn’t been a cell, Jack was certain that he would have heard the sound of Gavin slamming down the phone in his ear.

  Jack tucked his iPhone into his pocket and stood on the patio for a moment, his gaze drifting toward the low-hanging moon. Then he turned toward the back door. Through the glass, he saw Andie and his grandmother in the kitchen, locked in a tight embrace. He opened the door and went inside.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  They didn’t answer. Andie’s eyes were closed, he noticed, and a tear was running down her cheek.

  “Hey,” said Jack, trying to get their attention. “What’s the big idea? You did a group hug without me?”

  Andie didn’t seem to take his meaning at first, but as their embace ended, Abuela pointed to her pregnant belly, and all three smiled at the suggestion that the “group” included Riley. Abuela crossed the kitchen, kissed her grandson on the cheek, then gave him the knowing eye.

  “Get use to it,” she said.

  CHAPTER 54

  On Friday morning, Debra dropped off Alexander at Grove Academy, stopped for coffee at a drive-thru, and then headed home. She was waiting at the red light near Ingraham Park, thinking of Sashi, when a radio commercial grabbed her attention. It was for eSpark.com, an online dating service.

  The dating game hadn’t been her focus since the divorce. Time was only part of the problem; finding someone worth the effort was an even bigger challenge. Online services had their appeal, but the Sashi experience had made her gun-shy about meeting people through the Internet. To be sure, it hadn’t been Sashi’s original intent to show her mother just how dangerous the Internet could be. A month before Sashi had started trolling the dark side of the World Wide Web, she’d created an eSpark account in Debra’s name. When the first “spark” reached out to Debra, it didn’t go well at all between mother and daughter.

  Sashi! Did you give my cell-phone number to this man?”

  They were standing on opposite sides of the kitchen counter, and Debra was showing her the “Recent Call” displayed on her cell. It was a 954 area code.

  “Oh, that’s Tom.”

  “Yes, I know his name is Tom. He told me. And he seems to think we’ve been talking to each other on eSpark for the past two weeks.”

  “Well, you have. Kind of. I was for you.”

  Debra gasped. “What?”

  He’s a nice guy, Mom. An accountant in Fort Lauderdale. And he’s cute. Look at his picture,” she said as she pulled up the website on her cell.

  “I don’t want to see his picture! Sashi, I’m a married woman!”

  “A married woman who hasn’t been happy for a long time.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It’s so true. I know it. I hear you and Dad arguing all the time.”

  “Yes. Usually about you.”

  “Oh, so this is the thanks I get? Please, just talk to Tom. He’s perfect.”

  “I’m not going to talk to him!”

  “Come on. I won’t tell Dad. It’ll be our secret.”

  “Sashi, just because you and your father aren’t getting along doesn’t mean I need to start looking for a new husband.”

  “You should be.”

  “How dare you say that.”

  “How dare you pretend you haven’t thought about it.”

  “That’s it! No Internet for a week.”

  “Don’t make me laugh.”

  “Now it’s two weeks.”

  “You are such an ungrateful bitch! I try to do something nice for you and—”

  “Something nice? Put aside the fact that I love your father. For all we know, you’ve hooked up with some online pervert.”

  Sashi glared, her voice taking on a cold, threatening edge. “You want to see an Internet pervert, Mom? Okay. Ask and you shall receive. I’ll show you an Internet pervert.”

  The traffic light changed to green, but Debra didn’t notice. She was trapped for another moment in her memory of that tipping point in her life with Sashi. The car behind her honked, which startled her. She proceeded through the intersection, followed the traffic circle into Cocoplum, and continued past the guardhouse toward her tree-lined street.

  A nondescript white sedan was waiting at the curb in front of her house. Debra parked in her driveway, and as she climbed out of her car, both the driver and the passenger got out of the waiting vehicle. Debra walked to the front step and waited as the middle-aged man and woman approached. They introduced themselves as Tony Jacobs and Melissa Gomez, and they flashed their credentials.

  “We’re with the Department of Children and Family Services,” said Jacobs.

  Debra’s heart sank, and she couldn’t help sounding defensive. “What do you want?”

  “May we come inside?”

  “No.”

  “It will just be a minute.”

  “Then let’s do it right here. It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

  Jacobs checked out the blue sky, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, his intentions less well hidden behind a plastic smile. “Yes. A Miami Chamber of Commerce day, I’d say.”

  Debra tried to be more pleasant. “I don’t mean to be rude, but if I don’t get started on my to-do list soon, I’ll never get through it. What is that I can help you with?”

  “Well, a couple of things,” said Jacobs. “We understand that you objected to the department’s request to interview your son, Alexander.”

  “I objected to them interviewing him at school without his parents present.”

  “Understood,” said Jacobs. “We have completed our interviews of Alexander’s teachers at Grove Academy,” he said, and on cue his colleague handed him a clipboard with a typed report. It looked like interview notes. “One teacher we interviewed—I can’t give you a name—said the following: ‘One day during the lunch break, Alexander was sitting by himself. He appeared sad. I asked him what was wrong and he said that his mother had threatened to send him back to Russia.’”

  “That’s not true!”

  Jacobs handed the clipboard back to his colleague. “Are you saying your son is a liar?”

  “No. That teacher must be mistaken about what he or she thinks Alexander said. I never threatened to send Alexander anywhere.”

  “But you admitted in court and under oath that you considered rehoming his older sister Sashi?”

  “To say I ‘considered’ it is an overstatement. I was never serious about it.”

&n
bsp; “You also testified in court and under oath that you threatened to send Alexander’s sister back to Russia.”

  Debra closed her eyes slowly, then opened them. It had been the most painful moment of her testimony. Even the prosecutor had been delicate in questioning her about her regrettable loss of cool right before Sashi’s disappearance. And now it was being used against her in the worst way.

  “I was never going to do it,” said Debra. “It was said only out of anger.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you have a problem with your anger?” asked Jacobs.

  “No one has ever said anything except that I love my children and that I’m a good mother.”

  The social workers exchanged dubious glances. Then Jacobs continued, handing her a one-page typewritten document. It looked different from the interview notes he’d read to her earlier.

  “Ms. Burgette, here is what we propose,” said Jacobs.

  Debra gave it a quick look. “What is this?”

  “It’s a safety plan.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The plan would be in effect during the period of time that it takes DCFS to investigate whether Alexander should continue living with his mother.”

  “His—you mean me?”

  “Yes. You’re his mother.”

  “An investigation into what?”

  “I’m afraid I’m not authorized to tell you that.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “That’s the law,” said Jacobs.

  Debra struggled to find words, but none would come.

  Jacobs continued in a businesslike tone. “Under the plan, Alexander would stay with someone other than his mother while the department completes its investigation.”

  “What? No, I’m not going to agree to that.”

  “That’s your right,” Jacobs said. “I must tell you, however, that if you do not agree to a safety plan, DCFS may take protective custody of your child for forty-eight hours without asking your permission. It would then be up to a court to approve the safety plan.”

  “No. Forget it. I’m not agreeing to this. I want to talk to a lawyer.”

  “You certainly have that right. But it is my strong suggestion that you also create a list of people who could take care of Alexander during the period of the DCFS investigation. Both the department and the court will give due consideration to your recommendations. If you don’t create a list, then it’s purely up to us to find appropriate placement.”

  Debra felt as if the ground were starting to shake. “I want you to go. Both of you. Now.”

  “There’s no need for that tone,” said Jacobs.

  “Get off my property, and stay away from my son.”

  She hurried up the steps, unlocked the door as quickly as possible, and ran inside. She didn’t mean to slam the door so hard that the window rattled.

  It just happened.

  CHAPTER 55

  It was just after nine a.m., and if Jack read Hannah’s draft of the motion for stay of execution one more time, his head would explode.

  “Looks good,” he told her. “File it.”

  Hannah had worked all night. Jack had been revising her draft since sunrise. For better or worse, it was ready to be filed electronically with the court of appeals in Atlanta. There was no way to know which of the eleven federal appellate judges would review it. It was naive to think that it didn’t matter, but Jack knew better than to dwell on the “luck of the draw” and other things that he couldn’t control. Hannah was another story. She was seated behind her desk, fingers crossed on her left hand, her right index finger poised over the mouse, just a click away from hitting the SEND button.

  “Please, please, please let it go to Judge Clark.”

  The Honorable Thomas A. Clark was a true southern gentleman of a judge whom Jack remembered well from his early days at the Freedom Institute. Back then, Florida and Georgia were executing more death-row inmates than the other forty-eight states combined—Texas included. Jack would regularly file eleventh-hour requests for stays of execution with the federal circuit in Atlanta, most of which were speedily, and quite correctly, denied. But there was always a glimmer of hope if Clark was on the case.

  “You know that Judge Clark is deceased, right?”

  “Yeah. But he still has more brain power than most of those dimwits.”

  Jack couldn’t argue with the point.

  The Friday challenge for the team was not to hang by the phone and check their e-mails every five minutes. “The watched pot never boils,” Neil used to say. “The court will rule when the court will rule.” Easy enough for the lawyers to say. Try telling that to a client who was pacing his feet raw in death-watch Cell No. 1.

  It was mid-afternoon and Jack was at his desk when he got the phone call that he least expected, short of a call from the clerk of the court telling him that their motion for stay of execution had been granted. Debra Burgette was on the line. She told him about her morning conversation with DCFS.

  “I told you before,” Jack said into the phone, “and now it goes double: you need a lawyer.”

  “I know. And you said you could refer one.”

  “I’m happy to do that. Her name is Jenna Collins.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and she repeated it back to him as she wrote it down. “Now I have one more favor to ask.”

  Jack braced himself, not sure what to expect. “Okay. What?”

  “I think it’s very important that Ms. Collins meet Alexander as soon as possible, but I don’t want to drag him into a lawyer’s office. This is already affecting him at school. Do you think you and Ms. Collins could come by the house at six?”

  “I’ll check with Jenna. But, Debra, I can only refer you to an attorney. Dylan Reeves’ case is still active. I can’t represent you.”

  “I understand. I’m not asking you to come to the meeting as my lawyer. But here’s the thing. The social workers who ambushed me this morning told me that they interviewed Alexander’s teachers. Supposedly, Alexander said some things to one of those teachers that DCFS is now using against me. I’m going to ask Alexander about it when I pick him up at school today, but I’m not sure he’ll tell me everything. He seemed really comfortable with you last night when you met him. Could you just come by and talk with him—see what he’ll tell you?”

  “Debra, I don’t know . . .”

  “Please, Jack. I want Alexander to talk with someone one-on-one, without Mommy being there, before a DCFS social worker corners him in a room and grills him. I trust you. I trust you with my son.”

  Jack could have said no, but her request seemed sincere. And something inside him—something that had been swirling in his mind since their talk last night—made him want to follow up with Alexander.

  “All right,” said Jack. “I’ll confirm with Jenna. If you don’t hear otherwise from me, we’ll be there at six.”

  “Thank you, Jack. I am so indebted to you.”

  “You’re really not.” They said goodbye, and Jack hung up.

  Really not.

  CHAPTER 56

  Jack and Jenna Collins drove separately to Cocoplum, but they reached Debra’s house at the same time, a minute or two before six. They’d known each other since law school, and Jenna had since built a reputation as a top-notch specialist in family law who worked at a reasonable price. The sight of Debra’s Mercedes-Benz in the driveway, however, might have impacted her new lawyer’s definition of “reasonable.”

  Jack could only imagine what was going through Jenna’s mind when the Porsche 911 pulled up.

  Jack and Jenna were standing on the front porch, and Debra opened the door, as her ex-husband stepped out of his new toy.

  “You didn’t tell me that Gavin was going to be here,” Jack said.

  “He’s early. This is Gavin’s weekend to have Alexander. Technically he can pick him up at six, but usually he works till at least eight. I swear, it’s like he and Nicole have a sixth sense. The one time I need him to be lat
e, he shows up early. Come inside. I’ll handle this.”

  Jack quickly introduced Debra to her new lawyer, with everyone understanding that there was more to come once Debra got rid of her ex. Jack and Jenna showed themselves to the couch in the living room. Debra stayed behind in the foyer, standing at the half-open door. Jack could see and hear her from where he was sitting, but he couldn’t see Gavin, who didn’t get past the threshold.

  “You’re early,” said Debra.

  “Is Alexander ready?”

  “No, actually. I wasn’t expecting you at six.”

  “The visitation order says pickup is at six. It’s six. I’m here. He needs to be ready.”

  She glanced in Jack’s direction, then back at Gavin. “It’s really not convenient right now. Maybe Alexander could stay a couple extra hours at your place on Sunday night if you come back around eight?”

  “I can’t. I already went online and bought tickets to that new Bradley Cooper movie. It starts at seven.”

  “Alexander can’t see that. It’s rated R.”

  “Nicole and I are going. I hired a babysitter to take him to whatever else is playing. Disney or whatever—something appropriate.”

  “Alexander doesn’t want to sit in a movie theater alone, with a babysitter. Why can’t he just stay here, and you can pick him up after you and Nicole see your movie?”

  “Because it’s my weekend to have him. And now you’re five minutes into my time. So, if you please, go upstairs and bring him down to me.”

  Jack heard nothing for a moment. Even from the living room, however, he could tell that Debra was fuming, and he assumed that glares were shooting like lasers in both directions. Finally, Debra turned and walked toward the stairway, leaving the front door open so that Gavin could hear her apology to her guests, her parting shot at her ex.

  “Nice guy, isn’t he?” she said angrily. “I’m sorry, but we’ll have to do this another time.”

  Debra continued up the stairs. Jack rose, and Jenna did likewise. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

  “No worries,” said Jenna. “This is what I do.”