“Someone chased him?” Jeffrey asked, moving along. “Or was he chasing someone else?”
“One or the other,” she said. “Defensive wounds on his arms, too.”
Jeffrey thought about Arthur Prynne, and how he had covered himself with his arms to keep Jeffrey from hitting his face.
Lena said, “We bagged his clothes. I think Dr. Linton’s gonna run the blood on his shirt for the DNA match.”
“Did you ask him about his sister?”
“If he cares, he’s not showing it. Like I said, he’s not talking about anything.”
Jeffrey’s phone beeped, and he pressed the intercom button.
Marla said, “Pastor Fine is here to see Mark.”
Jeffrey and Lena exchanged a look. “In what capacity?”
“He says the parents asked him to act as proxy during your interview.” Marla lowered her voice. “Buddy Conford is here with him.”
“Thanks,” Jeffrey said, pressing the button again. He sat back in his chair, staring at Lena.
She finally asked, “What?”
“You’ve got this connection with Mark. I don’t know what it is, but you need to be careful in there.”
“I don’t have a connection with him,” Lena said, obviously uncomfortable with the thought.
“Maybe he’s transferring some emotions on to you because his mother’s sick.”
Lena gave a half-assed shrug. “Whatever,” she said. “Can we just get this over with?”
BUDDY Conford had lived a hell of a life. At seventeen, he had lost his right leg from the knee down in a car accident. Later, he lost his left eye to cancer and a kidney to a dissatisfied client with a gun. These losses seemed to have made Buddy stronger rather than weaker. He could fight like a dog with a bone when he put his mind to it. On the other side of that, Buddy was a logical man, and, unlike most lawyers, he was able to recognize right from wrong. He had helped Jeffrey on more than one occasion. Jeffrey approached Mark Patterson’s interview hoping this would be such an occasion.
“Chief,” Dave Fine said, “I wanted to thank you for letting me be present during this. Mark’s mother has taken a turn for the worse, and they wanted me to be here in their stead.”
Jeffrey nodded, trying not to point out that he did not really have a choice. Whatever crimes he had committed, Mark was technically still a child. It would be up to the courts to change that designation, if it ever came to that.
Fine asked, “Is there any word on his sister?”
“No,” Jeffrey said, staring at Mark, trying to figure out what was going on with the sixteen year old. He looked horrible, and the bruise on his eye was turning blacker by the minute. His lip was cut down the center and his eyes were as bloodshot at Lena’s. The orange prison jumpsuit they had given him made the boy look even more pale than he already was. He seemed smaller, too, somehow reduced by his circumstances. His shoulders slouched and he looked slight, even compared to Buddy Conford, who was not exactly tall.
“Mark?” Jeffrey asked.
Mark’s lips moved silently, and he kept his gaze on the table, as if he did not want to look up and recognize the situation he was in. There was something pathetic about the boy that made Jeffrey feel something like compassion. Sara was right. No matter what Mark had done, he was still just a kid.
Buddy shuffled through Mark’s paperwork. “What are the charges here, Chief?”
“Assault,” Jeffrey told him, still staring at Mark. “He hit Sara in the face.”
Buddy frowned at his client. “Sara Linton?” he asked, surprise making his voice go up. Buddy had grown up in Grant, and like most natives he considered Sara sort of sacred for the work she did at the clinic.
A jangling noise came from under the table. Mark was handcuffed, and Jeffrey guessed the sound was the cuffs bouncing up and down on his thigh. Jeffrey had heard this sound before in several interviews.
“In front of about ten witnesses,” Jeffrey said, talking over the noise. “He was also threatening his sister with bodily harm.”
“Uh-huh,” Buddy said, stacking the papers. “He get those bruises on his face before or after he was arrested?”
Lena snapped, “Before,” with a silent but understood, “…you idiot.”
Buddy gave her a chastising look. “Witnesses back that up?”
“We took photos,” Jeffrey said, pulling the Polaroids Lena had given him out of a folder. He slid them across the table to Buddy. Mark flinched a bit at the movement, and again Jeffrey was struck at how fragile the boy seemed.
Buddy thumbed through them, not looking at Mark until he was finished. “Who did this to him?” he asked Jeffrey.
“You tell us,” Jeffrey said.
Mark kept staring down, the cuffs jangling like a metronome.
Buddy slid the photos back to Jeffrey. “Don’t look like he wants to talk.”
Lena said, “What’s going on, Mark?”
Mark looked up, seemingly surprised that Lena was speaking to him. The noise stopped, and he appeared frozen in time, waiting for Lena to say more.
Lena’s voice was softer than Jeffrey had ever heard it, and it felt like Lena and Mark were the only two people in the room when she said, “Tell me what’s wrong, Mark.”
He continued to stare, and his breathing became more pronounced.
“Who hit you?” she asked, using the same concerned tone. She reached across the table to him, and Mark lifted his hands so that she could touch him. A small sob escaped from his lips when her hand covered his.
Buddy shot Jeffrey a look, and Jeffrey shook his head once, willing the lawyer to stay silent. Dave Fine was silent without prompting, staring at Mark and Lena’s hands.
Lena used her thumb to smooth Mark’s tattoo. Jeffrey did not need to look at the other men in the room to know that they were a bit uncomfortable with the gesture. The air seemed charged with something unspeakable.
Lena said, “What’s going on, Mark? Tell me.”
Tears came to his eyes. “You’ve got to find Lacey.”
“We will,” Lena told him.
“You’ve got to find her before something bad happens to her.”
“What will happen to her, Mark?”
He shook his head, sobbing, “It’s too late. No one can help her now.”
“Do you know who could have taken her? Did you recognize the car?”
He shook his head again. “I want to see my mama.”
Lena swallowed visibly, and Jeffrey could see that Mark’s frailty was getting to her, too.
“I just want to see my mama,” Mark repeated, his voice soft.
Dave Fine reached out to the boy, and Mark jerked away so hard that Buddy had to hold his chair to keep Mark from toppling over.
“Don’t touch me!” Mark screamed, standing.
Lena stood, too, and half ran around to the other side of the table. She tried to touch Mark’s arm, but he jumped away, nearly slamming into the wall. He backed into the corner of the room, putting his head into the angle of the walls. Lena put her hand on his shoulder, whispering something to him.
“Mark,” Dave Fine said, holding up his hands. “Settle down, son.”
“Why aren’t you with my mother?” Mark demanded. “Where’s your fucking God when my mother’s dying?”
“I’ll see her later tonight,” Fine said, his voice shaking. “She wanted me to be here for you.”
“Who was there for Lacey?” Mark demanded. “Who was there when some freak snatched her off the street?”
Fine looked down, and Jeffrey guessed the man was feeling the same guilt they all did about Lacey Patterson.
“I don’t need you,” Mark screamed. “Mama does. She needs you, and you’re here with me like you can do something.”
“Mark—”
“Go help my mother!” Mark screamed.
Fine opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to change his mind.
Mark shook his head, looking away. Lena put her hands on his shoulders an
d led him back to his chair.
Buddy rapped his knuckles on the table to get Jeffrey’s attention, then indicated the door.
Jeffrey stood, indicating that Fine should stand as well. The preacher hesitated, then did as he was told, following Buddy out into the hallway.
“Goddamn,” Buddy said, then apologized. “Sorry, Preacher.”
Fine nodded, tucking his hands into his pockets. He looked through the small window in the door, watching Lena talk to Mark. He mumbled, “I’ll pray for his soul.”
Buddy leaned heavily onto his crutch, asking Jeffrey, “What the hell is going on here, Chief?”
Jeffrey did not know how to answer. He asked, “Dave, can you make any sense of this?”
“Me?” Fine asked, surprised. “I have no idea. The last time I saw Mark, he seemed okay. Upset about his mama, but okay.”
“When was this?” Jeffrey asked.
“The other night at the hospital. I was praying with Grace.”
Jeffrey said, “What happened between you and Jenny Weaver?”
“Jenny Weaver?” Fine asked, genuinely puzzled.
Jeffrey reminded him, “You said you dropped by a couple of times to see her around Christmas.”
“Oh, right,” Fine agreed. “Brad asked me to see her. She had stopped coming to church and he was worried something was wrong.”
“Was there?”
“Yes. At least I think so,” Fine answered, frowning. “She wouldn’t talk to me. None of them would talk to me about anything.”
“None of them meaning who?” Jeffrey asked.
Fine indicated the door. “Mark and Lacey. I talked to Grace about it, but she couldn’t do anything with them at that point. Put it down to teenage rebellion, I guess.” He shook his head sadly. “A lot of kids drop out of church at that age, but they usually come back when they get older. Grace was worried, though, so I talked to him.”
“What did he say?” Jeffrey asked.
Fine colored. “Let’s just say he used some words I wouldn’t want his mama to hear and leave it at that.”
Jeffrey nodded, letting it go. He had heard Mark enough times to know what the boy was capable of. He asked, “What about Grace? How is she doing?”
“She’s very sick. I don’t think she’ll make it to the weekend.”
Jeffrey thought about Mark wanting to see his mother. “It’s that bad?” he asked.
“Yes,” Fine answered. “There’s nothing more that they can do for her at this point except try to make her comfortable.” He glanced back through the window. “I don’t know what this family is going to do without her. It’s tearing them apart.”
“You weren’t on the youth retreat last Christmas, is that right?”
Fine shook his head. “I stayed here. I’m not really involved in the retreats; that’s more the youth minister’s job. Brad Stephens.”
“I’ve talked to him already.”
“He’s a fine young man,” Fine told them. “I hoped he’d serve as an example for some of the boys.”
Jeffrey said, “You counseled Mark some, is that right?”
“A bit,” Fine answered. “He didn’t really open up. I can look over my notes and let you know if anything came up.”
“Do that,” Jeffrey told the pastor. “Where will you be tomorrow morning?”
“I suppose at the hospital,” Fine told him, glancing at his watch. “As a matter of fact, I’d like to get back over there tonight, unless you have any more questions for me.”
“You can go,” Jeffrey said. “I’ll be at the hospital around ten tomorrow morning. Have your notes.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been much help,” Fine apologized. He shook Jeffrey’s hand, then Buddy’s, before leaving.
Buddy watched the preacher go, then turned back to Jeffrey. “I don’t much like whatever is going on between your detective and my client.”
Jeffrey thought about feigning ignorance, but decided they were past that. “I’ll put him on suicide watch tonight.”
Buddy didn’t buy it. “You still haven’t addressed my concern.”
Jeffrey looked back into the room. Lena had managed to get Mark to sit down, and she rubbed his back as he cried.
Jeffrey said, “This is connected somehow to the Weaver shooting.”
“Aw, shit,” Buddy cursed, stamping the floor with his crutch. “Thanks a lot for telling me that, Chief.”
“I wasn’t sure,” Jeffrey lied. “You know he’s the kid Weaver wanted to shoot.”
“This seemed like a simple assault.”
“It is,” Jeffrey said. “I mean, it was.”
“Wanna speak English with me here?”
Jeffrey looked back into the room. Lena still had her hand on Mark’s back, comforting him.
“Honestly, Buddy, I’ve got no idea what’s going on.”
“Start from the beginning.”
Jeffrey tucked his hands into his pockets. “The baby we found at the skating rink,” he said, and Buddy nodded. “We think Mark is the father.”
Buddy kept nodding. “Makes sense.”
“We think his sister might be the mother.”
“One that’s been taken?”
Jeffrey nodded. His gut clenched as he thought about Lacey Patterson and what might be happening to her.
Buddy said, “I thought Weaver was the mother.”
“No,” Jeffrey said. “Sara did the autopsy. Jenny wasn’t the mother.” He left out what else Sara had found.
“I still haven’t heard from Dottie Weaver,” Buddy told him. “The mayor’s sweating like a whore in church.”
“She’ll probably wait until the funeral’s over,” Jeffrey said, wondering when the funeral would be held. He doubted seriously that Sara would be invited, and she had not mentioned anything about it.
“I need to get your deposition in the next day or so, regardless,” Buddy ordered. “We need to get it down on paper while it’s fresh in your mind.”
“I don’t think it’ll ever not be fresh in my mind, Buddy,” Jeffrey said, thinking that he would carry Jenny Weaver’s death around with him for the rest of his life.
“What else is going on here?” Buddy asked. “Don’t hold back on me.”
Jeffrey tucked his hands into his pockets. “Mark has this tattoo on his hand.”
“The heart thing?” Buddy asked.
“Yeah,” Jeffrey confirmed. “It’s a symbol for something.”
“Kiddy porn,” Buddy supplied, much to Jeffrey’s shock.
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve got another client who has the same tattoo,” Buddy said. “Some guy a couple of weeks ago over in Augusta. I took the case as a favor to a friend.”
“What was the case?”
Buddy glanced around, obviously debating whether or not to answer the question.
Jeffrey pointed out, “I’ve been more than forthcoming here, Buddy.”
Buddy agreed. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “He got nailed for coke. Not a lot, but enough to push distribution. He had some information to make the charge go away.”
“I’ve heard this already,” Jeffrey said. “He’s a distributor, right? For the porn?”
Buddy nodded.
“And he turned state’s evidence to keep his ass out of jail.”
“Bingo,” Buddy said. “How’d you hear about it?”
“The usual way,” Jeffrey said, not wanting to give any more information.
“What usual way?” Buddy asked.
Jeffrey tried to divert him. “Where’s your leg?” he said, indicating the empty space below Buddy’s right knee.
“Shit,” Buddy sighed. “My girlfriend took it. Won’t give it back.”
“What’d you do?”
“That’s a cop for you,” Buddy said, leaning on his crutch. “Always blame the victim.”
Jeffrey laughed. “You want me to talk to her?”
Buddy furrowed his eyebrows. “I’ll handle it,” he said. “You gonna answe
r my question about how you know?”
“Nope,” Jeffrey said. He looked back into the room. Mark had his head on the table, and Lena sat beside him, holding his hand.
Jeffrey opened the door. “Lena,” he said, indicating she should come out into the hall.
Lena opened her mouth, probably to ask him to let her stay, but seemed to think better of it. She stood, not looking at Mark, not touching him, and walked out of the room.
“What did he say?” Jeffrey asked her.
“Nothing,” Lena answered. “He wants to go to the hospital and see his mother.”
“Go home,” Jeffrey told her, and without waiting for her to acknowledge him, he stepped back into the room with Buddy right behind him.
“Mark,” Jeffrey began, sitting in the chair Lena had vacated. “We know about the tattoo.”
Mark kept his head down. The table shook as he cried.
“We know what it means.”
Buddy leaned against the table on the other side of Mark. “Son, it’s in your best interest to tell us what’s going on here.”
Jeffrey said, “Mark, do you have any idea who might have taken your sister?” When there was no answer, he tried, “Mark, we think some bad people have got her. Some people who might hurt her. You need to help us here.”
Still, he did not answer.
“Mark,” Jeffrey tried again. “Dr. Linton said Lacey seemed sick when she saw her.”
Mark sat up, wiping his eyes with his hands. He stared straight ahead at the wall, his body rocking back and forth.
Jeffrey asked, “Was Lacey pregnant? Was that the baby in the skating rink?”
Mark kept rocking back and forth, almost like he was being hypnotized by the wall.
Jeffrey asked, “Were you the father of that baby, Mark?”
Mark continued to stare. Jeffrey waved his hand in front of the boy’s eyes, but Mark did not move.
“Mark?” Jeffrey asked, then louder, “Mark?”
Mark did not flinch.
“Mark?” Jeffrey repeated, snapping his fingers.
Buddy put his hand on Mark’s shoulder, but the boy did not acknowledge him. Buddy said, “I think we should get him a doctor.”
“Sara can—”
“No,” Buddy interrupted. “I think he’s seen enough of Sara for one day.”
Kisscut Page 22