“Huh? Oh … for Joey. I’ve had a pretty depressing day, and I was looking forward to spending some time …”
Julia sorted through the contents. “Tumbling mats, Nerf blocks, foam helmets—Ben, what’s all this for? Gymnastic lessons?”
“Oh … well.” Red blotches began creeping up his neck. “Joey has a … fondness for pratfalls.”
“I see.” She folded her hands and stood before him. There was a confidence about her, a sense of self-assuredness, that he had never seen before.
“Julia, we’ve been looking for you for months without any luck. What brings you back now?”
She smiled, a beatific, vibrant smile. “I got in!”
“You—”
“The graduate school program. I got in and got through my first term, shining colors. My professor says I’m one of the best students he’s ever had.”
“Really.” He frowned. “You’re not…”
“No, Ben, I’m not dating him. At least not yet. He is kind of cute, in a tweedy sort of way.”
“We called every college in Connecticut—”
“Oh, did I say Connecticut? I meant Maine. I’m going to school in Maine.” She tilted her head down at Joey. “So, how did you two get along?”
“Oh, well …” Where to begin? “We’ve done very well, actually. We’ve made a lot of progress, and the—”
“I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed this little bundle of snot.” She scooped him up into her arms. “I didn’t think I would. I know that sounds horrible, but I’m just being honest. The first seven months, raising him on my own—well, I’d just had enough, you know? It was hell on wheels. I couldn’t take it anymore and I didn’t think I’d ever want to again. But I was wrong.” She held the boy close against her cheek. “You can’t separate a mother from her son.”
Ben felt a sudden hollow sensation spreading throughout his body. “But—”
“I’ve got it all worked out now. There’s this woman—the wife of one of the other students in the program—she needs some extra spending money to make ends meet, so she’s going to watch Joey during the day, and during nights when I’m on call. We both live in adjoining condos, so it will be very convenient, very doable.”
“Are you saying—”
“Get with the program, Ben. I’m saying I’m taking my baby back.”
The room seemed to be moving, swimming, and all Ben could hear was the sound of the air conditioner blowing. It was so loud, so intrusive. “But—”
“Ben, what is your problem?” She bounced the baby to her other arm. “Jesus Christ, I thought you’d be relieved.”
“But Joey and I, we’ve—”
“Oh, stop already. Help me gather up his things. I want to leave as soon as possible so I can get to Oklahoma City before dark.”
“But, Julia—” He stared at her, his heart thumping in his chest. “You can’t just stroll in and snatch him away!”
“Snatch him away? Ben, I’m his mother!”
“Maybe you were six months ago, but you abandoned him. You don’t have any rights—”
“Rights? Is this a legal debate? Christ, should I hire a lawyer? Are we going to have a custody battle? You know you wouldn’t win. Ben, I’m his mother!”
Julia started circling around the small apartment, obviously agitated, gathering together all Joey’s things. It appeared to Ben that she had pretty well finished packing before he had even arrived. “I can’t believe you’re acting like this. I really can’t. Why do we have to have a big scene? What did you think, that I was going to leave my precious baby with you forever?”
“How did I know what you were planning? You just plopped the baby in my arms and disappeared.”
“And so what? So now you’re Mr. Mom? Look at this place! Bad enough my brother lives in a dump like this, but my baby? No way. And some of the things that Joni person you dumped him with was saying make me wonder if he was even safe. Sounds like you have all sorts of loonies and crackpots looming around you. Making your money off murderers—”
“I took good care of Joey.”
“Is that so?” She came right under Ben’s nose and glared at him. “Look at him. Six months ago, he was already beginning to speak. Now I can’t get him to say a word. He barely walks. He doesn’t play like a normal child. My God, it’s a good thing I got back here when I did.”
Ben felt his jaw tightening. “That’s not fair—”
“Well, this isn’t a courtroom and you’re not going to talk your way to victory.” She threw two bags over her shoulders and headed for the door, baby in tow. “I’ll send for the rest of this stuff.”
“But, Julia—”
“Ben, it’s what’s best. A boy should be with his mother.”
Ben stared at Joey. He was gazing up at his mother with obvious affection, brushing his cheek against her shoulder. Even after all this time, he knew who she was. And he wanted to be with her.
“Still, why not stay for a few days, and—”
“Don’t make this more difficult than it already is, all right!” Her voice resounded off the walls and echoed through the small room. “We’re leaving.”
Ben raced to the door and took one of Joey’s tiny little hands. “Joey?”
Joey peered back at Ben with wide and perplexed eyes. The excitement and activity obviously had left him confused and disoriented. “Baa, baa.”
“Baa, baa?”
Joey giggled. “Baa, baa, Ungaben.”
The door closed, and they were gone.
Ben stood there for the longest time, not moving, not really thinking, just staring with a hollow heart and eyes too dry to cry at the door that had closed so firmly and finally before him.
Chapter 71
IT TOOK CHRISTINA TWO weeks, but she finally got Ben out to Heavener State Park for a backpacking expedition. They had spent the better part of the morning prowling through the sprawling elm trees and the thick twining brush, making a path toward the top of the mountain overlooking the Arkansas River. It was a lovely day, hot, but beautiful, and they had covered a fair amount of territory, despite the fact that Ben was lugging a huge backpack that seemed to be stuffed with several large, heavy objects.
“Ready to take a break?” Christina asked.
“You won’t hear me complain.” Ben fell down on a tree stump and worked the heavy backpack off his shoulders. Christina passed him the canteen and he took a long, refreshing drink.
“Another half an hour and we’ll be at the Nordic runestone,” Christina announced.
“Glory be.”
“It’s an impressive relic, for your information. The crème de la crème of Norwegian antiquities. And proof positive that my Viking ancestors were the ones who discovered America.”
“That’ll come as a big shock to the Native Americans.”
She frowned. “You know what I mean. First Europeans. Columbus had a Norwegian map, you know.”
“Spare me the Nordic propaganda.” He stretched out under the nearest elm tree and tried to avoid the direct light of the sun.
Christina allowed a few minutes to pass quietly, listening to the hummingbirds and kingfishers and swallows. Finally, she ventured into conversation. “You’ve been very quiet this morning.”
Ben gazed across the mountaintops. “I’ve been drinking in the view.”
“You’ve been thinking, and I know what you’ve been thinking about. Him.”
“Him?”
“That kid. The bomber. The one whose father went for surgery with your father—”
“Actually, I haven’t thought about that at all,” Ben replied. “Not about him, or his father, or my father. I’ve had enough of that.” He picked up a rock and tossed it across the clearing. “I’ve been obsessed with my father, with feeling guilty, blaming myself, wondering how he could do what he did. How he could—” Ben stopped, shook his head. “I’ve let him control my life after his death more than he did when he was alive. Well, enough already. Time to grow up. The tru
th is, my father was no better or worse than a lot of people, including me. We all have a temper. We all experience rage. We just have to learn to control it, that’s all. Otherwise, we’re not going to survive.”
Christina plucked a nearby dandelion and blew, scattering its milky white fluff into the air. “You know,” she said, “Jones and Loving are very worried about you.”
“About me? Why?”
“ ’Cause you haven’t been by the hotel room for two weeks. And you don’t appear to be looking for new office space. They’re afraid you’re never coming back.”
“They’re right.” Ben picked up a small stone and flung it into the distance.
Christina scooted closer. “You miss Joey, don’t you?”
Ben waited a long time before answering. “Of course I do. Except maybe in the middle of the night. Don’t you?”
She grinned. “Yeah, I suppose I do. How do you think Julia will do as a full-time mommy? Think she can handle it?”
Ben’s face darkened. “I don’t know.” His eyes seemed to turn inward, and he was silent again, with no apparent intention of speaking.
“Listen, Ben,” Christina said, choosing her words carefully. “It wasn’t your fault. What happened, I mean. With the Barrett trial. You did your job. It wasn’t your fault the system didn’t work.”
“My job was to make the system work. I failed.”
“You did everything you could.”
He shook his head from side-to-side. “I was just like Whitman.”
“What?”
He looked up at her. “I could only see one color.”
A few more minutes passed. Then, abruptly, Ben jumped to his feet and began rummaging in his backpack. A moment later, he withdrew a shoebox-size wooden box. He opened it, then quietly touched the contents, the Magic 8-Ball, the marbles, the Krypto-Ray gun …
“Ben,” Christina said, “that’s your box! Your childhood treasures.”
He nodded, closed the box, and gently set it down under a tree.
“But why?”
He wasn’t listening. He was in his backpack again. This time, Christina was amazed to see him remove his briefcase, battered and scraped from so many court hearings and trials.
“Why on earth did you bring that?”
Ben didn’t answer. He gripped the handle with both hands, spun around a few times like a discus thrower, and slung the briefcase off into the distance.
“Ben, what’s come over you?”
Ben began gathering his gear. “Come on. Let’s keep moving.”
“But you’re leaving—”
“I know. Come on.”
“But, Ben!”
He threw his backpack, now much lighter than before, back over his shoulders. “Hey, less talking, more hiking, okay?”
Frowning, Christina gathered together her gear. After she had reassembled herself, she stood beside him, just at the edge of the clearing. Ben was gazing off into the distance, staring at the tall mountain before them.
“All right,” she said, “I’m ready already. Where are we going?”
Ben pointed off toward the horizon. “To see what lies ahead. Over the next mountain.”
They marched together down the trail, and within moments, both had disappeared from sight.
Three days later, a group of local children from Poteau found the wooden box and the briefcase, examined them and their contents, and took their newfound treasures home with them.
It made their day.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I WANT TO THANK all those who have helped me put together this installment in the ongoing Ben Kincaid chronicles: Kirsten Bernhardt and Arlene Joplin, both of whom read an early draft of this manuscript and gave me their extremely useful comments; Gail Benedict, for converting my hand-scrawled corrections into a manuscript; and Vicky Hildebrandt, a good friend and great source for material.
I also want to thank again my editor, Joe Blades, who has been with me since Book One and is still with me here on Book Eight; Kim Hovey, who has been handling publicity on my behalf for just as long; Tamu Aljuwani, Brenda Brown, Clare Ferraro, Linda Grey, and all the rest of the gang at Ballantine.
I also want to thank Scott, Dee, Howard, Kerry, Rosalba, Sharon, Jackie, and everyone else at Novel Idea for allowing me to mention their splendid bookstore, and for having such a splendid bookstore, not to mention providing my favorite place to eat lunch.
—William Bernhardt
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
copyright © 1997 by William Bernhardt
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Naked Justice Page 48