Heavy rain started to fill the bottom of the small boat, adding the very real danger of sinking to our escape. Drenched and windblown, BG was probably scared out of her little goat mind, but she was mercifully quiet. I turned my face into the squall and spotted a hazy light up ahead. I prayed it was the right wharf and that we’d be in the car, on our way home, soon. It was.
A fierce blast of wind slammed the boat against the piling as Angel tried to dock. Struggling to balance myself, I held on to the rotting wood as I worked to tie up the boat. Mission accomplished. I untied the soaking wet BG, tucked her under my arm and scrambled up the small dockside ladder after Angel. Spent from the physical and emotional rollercoaster ride, Angel sat down and cried. I helped her to her feet with my free hand.
“Angel, you did great! Your uncle would be so proud of you! I certainly am!” I wrapped my arm around the shivering, sobbing child. “Come on, let’s go. We need to get out of here.”
Angel snuggled close as we hobbled against the wind and rain to the car. I opened the door, buckled BG into the back and watched in horror as the soaked goat pooped on the soft black leather seat. Perfect! Just perfect!
Angel climbed into the front seat, buckled up, and leaned against her headrest. The last one in, I took a minute, closed my eyes and thanked the universe for leading us back to the right dock. I buckled up, started the car, threw it in reverse, skidded against the wet gravel, and headed away from Prosper’s Fish Camp.
All I wanted was to be back at Kate’s house, cozied up in my nice four-poster bed, wearing dry clothes, with tonight behind me like a bad dream instead of the living nightmare it still was.
There would be no stop for either gas or car wash. There was no getting Angel back home without her mother finding out. There was no getting back home without Kate knowing. None of the things I had planned or thought would be simple had worked out, not by any stretch of the imagination.
There would be absolute hell to pay when I got us back to The Big Easy.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Except for providing directions back to the city, Angel was silent on the car ride home. I didn’t much feel like talking either. I had some serious thinking to do. Would it be possible to spin this? Make it look not so hideous? Doubtful. Both of us were drenched, wounded, and worn out from the ordeal. Angel was sneezing and shivering; I hoped she wasn’t getting sick, but knew she was. I didn’t feel so good myself. The near-hurricane had ended and moved away from us. However, a Category 5 storm named Kate lay just down the road, waiting for my return.
Let me review. What exactly did I do today? Nothing good, that’s for sure. I lied to Kate about staying home and then I stole her car. I lied to Simone and then I took her daughter into a dangerous situation. I’d turned off my phone, something Kate had specifically asked me not to do ever again. Then, I lost the phone in the swamp, so nobody could track the GPS. Angel had been reported missing and now the police were involved. That pretty much sums up most, but not all of my day. Oh yeah, and how was I going to explain the goat? Gee, Kate, what was I supposed to do, let Machete Man sacrifice BG to the Loa? That alone would most definitely invite a whole new round of questions and criticisms, not that it would be unjustified. In hindsight, I had not used good judgment. Or any judgment at all, for that matter. Quite simply put, I was screwed and I had done it to myself.
Where should I take Angel? If I take her home, I will have to explain everything to the police, who were probably at the house waiting with Simone. If I take Angel to Kate’s house, I will have to explain everything to Kate. Police or Kate? Kate or police? What kind of trouble will I encounter if I go directly to Angel’s house? Is Kate’s house the lesser of two evils? Kate won’t be in any frame of mind to help me, but she might want to help Angel.
I looked over at my new cousin. Angel was dozing with her head resting on the door. She looked younger and more fragile than she had earlier today. I hoped I hadn’t scarred her for life with this misadventure of mine. Everyone had hunkered down for the storm. There was no traffic to speak of and I made good time driving back to the city.
“Angel, wake up. I need your help to get through the city and back to Kate’s house. I don’t know where I’m going.”
“I wanna go home. You said you’d get me home before my mama knew I was gone,” said Angel in a soft, sleepy voice.
“Well, honey, I think your mama already knows you’re gone. She called Kate. I think it will be better if Kate takes you home.”
“What! When? Gimme your phone. I wanna call Mama and let her know I’m okay,” cried Angel.
“Uh, I lost my phone in the swamp. We’ll be at Kate’s in a few minutes, you can call her from there.”
“You lied! You said everything would be okay, we’d get back before my mama knew. You lied to me and now I’m gonna get in trouble because of you. You’re a bad, bad girl.”
“I’m sorry, Angel. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I got us into this mess. You’re right, everything is my fault and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t think I can.”
Of course Angel was right. I am a bad, bad girl. Exactly when did I go wrong? I was pretty sure I’d have plenty of time to reflect on my horrible self later, but first, I needed to get Angel to Kate’s, then back home to her mother. Angel didn’t speak again except to direct me through the city. When we got to Jackson Square, I knew it wouldn’t be much longer.
“Um, Angel . . . I have one last favor to ask of you . . . would you mind not telling . . .”
Angel turned and stared at me in disbelief.
“Never mind, forget I asked. I’ll figure something out.”
I was two blocks from Kate’s house when I spotted red and blue flashing lights reflecting off of rain-streaked windowpanes and pavement. I slowed the Mini. At the bottom of the next block I could see several police cars, a big, black SUV with tinted windows and a NOPD K9 unit van. Everyone was milling around, speaking rapidly into walkie-talkies. It looked like they were in the throes of organizing a manhunt or an Amber Alert or something. I looked past the vehicles. Kate was speaking to Detective Baptiste, who was totally in command of the situation. Miles stood on the porch holding Simone’s hands, trying to comfort her. Gumbo barked frantically at a bloodhound, probably Miles’s dog Nosey, who paid him no mind. The German shepherds sat still, silently waiting for their orders.
Oh, I am so busted.
Angel’s eyes grew wide. “Mama! There’s my mama! Oh, I’m gonna get it for sure. And, you . . . you’re gonna get it, too. Your auntie’s lookin’ a lot like those chickens in the swamp, all flappin’ mad.”
Angel was right again. No doubt about it, Kate looked flappin’ mad.
“Okay, Angel, this is it. I’ll park as close as I can to the house. We’ll walk the rest of the way. Let me do the talking.”
“April, I’m scared!” Her little voice quivered.
“Me, too, honey. Me, too!”
I lowered each of the windows a bit to give BG some air. I thought it best if we just left her in the car for the time being. Angel and I got out of the Mini and headed for the house. Gumbo alerted to us first and loped down the block to greet us. One by one, all heads turned in our direction. Pandemonium erupted as everyone realized we had returned.
Simone flew after Gumbo. Kate, Miles, and Detective Baptiste followed closely behind. Simone scooped Angel into her arms, nearly hugging the life out of her, before the scolding began. Kate marched over to me. We eyed each other guardedly; neither one of us spoke. There would be no hug for me as Kate pulled her arm back, ready to slap. I braced myself for the hit, but the hit never came.
Kate was stopped mid-slap by Detective Baptiste, who said, “Don’t make this any worse than it already is.”
Kate nodded, dropped her hand, and moved away from me and over to speak to Simone and Angel. At a complete loss for words, she turned and walked away.
Detective Baptiste pulled a female officer aside and brought her over to Simone and Angel. “Simo
ne, this is Officer Jordan. I want you to go with her to the emergency room to get Angel checked out. I’ll come by later for her statement.”
He turned to Miles, “Take April inside and wait for us in the kitchen.”
As Miles silently guided me towards the house, I watched as the NOPD officers turned off their flashing lights and left. The K9 unit officers bundled their German shepherds into the van and followed the police cruisers. Two indifferent FBI agents spoke briefly to Detective Baptiste, got into their black SUV, and sped off into the night.
Inside with Miles, there was nothing to say. I had no reasonable explanation for him or anybody else. At best, my behavior was wildly irrational. I didn’t understand it myself.
Miles grabbed a hand towel from the powder room. “Dry off.”
“I’ll be right back, I’m going to get into some dry clothes,” I said, heading for the stairs.
Miles took my arm and stopped me. “No, you’re not. Dad said to wait in the kitchen. That’s where we’ll be when he comes in. I’m not sure you can be trusted to come back if I let you go upstairs.”
Without any protest, I let Miles lead me into the kitchen to wait.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I took a seat at the kitchen table. Miles crossed the room and leaned against the counter. I couldn’t bear to look at him. I was too ashamed. I kept my eyes lowered and stared at the floor. I felt his gaze burning from across the room. He didn’t say a word. His silence was deafening, even more so than if he’d yelled at me.
“Miles, I, uh . . .”
“No, don’t. Don’t say a word.”
“There’s a goat in the car,” I blurted.
“What?”
“There’s a baby goat in the back seat of Kate’s car. She can’t stay there. Would you please go get her? Please?” I begged, taking the keys from my pocket and sliding them across the table.
He huffed, grabbed the key ring, pointed at me, and said, “Stay put.”
I got up, took a bottle of cold water from the fridge, headed to the powder room and locked the door. I was a sight. Red, bumpy mosquito bites were crisscrossed by long scratches along my forehead and cheeks. My hands, shoulders, arms, and legs had also taken quite a beating from Mother Nature. There were bits and pieces of twigs, leaves, and even some sticky spider’s web clinging to my curls. I took a long pull of the cold water, filled the sink with the rest and lowered my face into the frigid water, hoping to find some relief. The icy water felt like fire on my skin. I gingerly dried my damaged skin and finger-combed the odd bits of stuff from my hair. I unlocked the door, went back to the kitchen, and sat, anxiously awaiting my fate. I heard the front door open.
Kate, Detective Baptiste, Miles, and the click-click of goat’s hooves headed my way. All eyes were on me as they entered the room, even BG, who looked confused.
“Bleat!”
“Where should I put the goat?” asked Miles.
Kate looked at the dripping goat and grabbed a handful of kitchen towels. She threw them to Miles and pointed at the door.
“Take the goat out to the sun porch and dry it off. There should be a blanket out there.”
“Wait outside, Miles. I need to get April’s statement,” Detective Baptiste added.
“But, Dad, I need to hear this, too. I’ll just stand over there in the corner. I’ll stay quiet, I won’t say a word.”
“Sorry, Son, this is a police matter. April has rights. As her legal guardian, Kate will stay during questioning.”
I looked up and searched Miles’s face, desperately seeking an ally, but found none. He threw me a hard look before leading the goat from the kitchen.
My heart stopped. Police matter? Did I hear Detective Baptiste correctly?
“I’m going to read you your rights now, April. Please let me know if there is anything you do not understand. After the Miranda warning, you’ll need to take us through today’s events from the beginning.”
I stared at Kate. She said nothing. She hadn’t said a word to me since I returned. This was so much worse than I could have possibly imagined.
“I’m being arrested?” I asked, in a very small voice.
“Not yet. However, if either Kate or Simone decides to press charges, I will have no choice but to arrest you,” he replied without emotion.
“Charges?” I whispered.
“Joyriding at the very least. Quite possibly grand theft auto.”
Kate stood stone-faced across the room.
“You could also be charged with reckless child endangerment or kidnapping.”
My stomach churned like the swamp as the grim reality sank in.
“Some of these charges are misdemeanors, others felonies. In the worst-case scenario, you could be facing felony charges and prison time, a fine as well. As arresting officer, it is up to me to identify the charges, but the district attorney will have final approval. Because it’s an election year, the DA could decide to make an example of you as part of his ‘tough on crime campaign.’”
“I’m gonna be sick.” Racing from the kitchen, I made it to the powder room just in time. I heaved and heaved and heaved and passed out on the cool tile floor.
When I opened my eyes again, Kate was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, a hospital room. It was morning already. Brilliant sunlight streamed through a window, warming my groggy head. I struggled to sit up.
“How are you feeling?”
“Thirsty,” I squeaked. “What am I doing here?”
Kate rose to get some water. “You hit your head on the sink when you passed out. You have a concussion. You’re also pretty sick with some weird swamp virus or a reaction to a spider bite. The test results aren’t back yet. Angel is just down the hall with the same thing.”
“Am I arrested?”
“No. Not yet anyway. You passed out before Detective Baptiste could read you your rights or get your statement. Fainting last night worked in your favor. Angel told us her version of what happened, but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. This is far from over. You need to understand there are consequences for your actions. How severe they are, is yet to be determined. Detective Baptiste still needs to take your statement and still needs to speak with Simone about charges. She wasn’t up to talking last night. He and I need to discuss charges as well.”
I averted my gaze, began twisting the sheet. I was speechless.
Kate continued, “I haven’t quite decided what I want to do with you. The doctor recommended a psychologist for you.”
“But . . .” I began to protest.
“April, don’t even bother. You aren’t in a position to whine or complain about anything. Consider yourself lucky you aren’t already handcuffed to that bed. Trust me, last night I felt like handcuffing you until the day you turn eighteen, when you would be free to go and do as you please. And another thing, I’ve locked up your driver’s license and my spare keys.”
The nurse came in to check my vitals and draw more blood—like the mosquitoes hadn’t taken enough last night.
Kate stood. “I’m going home to shower and change. I’ve been here all night. I’ll be back later today. I need to be here when Detective Baptiste speaks with you. Just so you know, April, he got one of his colleagues to sit outside your door. Don’t even think about going to see Angel or leaving the hospital. You can’t see Angel until you give your statement. Even then, I’m not sure that Simone will let you near her. Get some rest while I’m gone. You’re going to need it.”
“Wait! Where’s BG?”
“Who’s BG?”
“Baby Goat. Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. She’s tethered in my courtyard. She’ll stay there until I can figure out what to do with her.”
Kate opened the door to leave.
“Aunt Kate?”
Kate turned around. “Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You and I have a long way to go before we get this sorted out. Chances are you’re not going to
be happy with the results.” Kate left the room, the door closing softly behind her.
I threw back the blanket, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and went into the tiny bathroom. Feeling lightheaded and unstable, I gripped the handicap bar next to the toilet. I glanced in the mirror, but had to turn away. I looked as horrible as I felt. My head ached, my scratches were sore, and the mosquito bites itched like crazy. I was in a fine mess and looked it. I made my way back to the bed, slipped between the stiff, starched sheets and tried to process everything that was happening.
Prison time.
Prison was a real possibility. Maybe if I showed remorse, everyone would go easy on me. That’s how it always worked on television. But this definitely wasn’t some scripted TV drama, this was my very own horrible personal drama. This was real. I couldn’t be more remorseful. Or scared. I’d only been in New Orleans a few days, and in that short time, I’d managed to disappoint, hurt, or alienate everyone who tried to help me.
If life had a rewind button, I would do things differently. At least I hoped I would. But who knew? I didn’t know myself anymore. Dad didn’t raise me to behave so badly, to lie or steal or hurt people. Maybe the doctor was right. Maybe some counseling is in order. And from what Kate said, I didn’t have a choice.
I got back into bed and rang for the nurse. I needed something to help with the headache and the itching and the nausea, which had returned. She brought some ointment for the mosquito bites, two tablets for my headache and crackers for the nausea. After she left, I located the remote and channel surfed. I had hoped for a little respite, but there was no escaping the voices in my head. I turned off the television.
I couldn’t leave my room. I couldn’t visit Angel. I was more or less under house arrest. With nobody to talk to and without the television to distract me, I closed my eyes and reviewed the previous day’s events. I came to the conclusion that I had quite a few reasons to be worried about what the afternoon held for me. There was no way for me to know what Angel told everyone. When Detective Baptiste and Kate came back, I needed to be honest for once and tell them exactly what happened and why. My future depended on it.
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