by Betsy Ashton
“How soon can I talk to him?” The Sanchezes could run out of time if he didn’t hurry.
If Bug knew the bishop, why the heck hadn’t he called me? How hard was it to punch in my cell number and set aside some time to talk? Obviously, harder than I thought. Nothing in my mind was more important than stopping a priest from abusing a child.
“Don’t worry. He’ll call. Try to be objective, Mouse. Okay?” Father Sean wanted me to do something I wasn’t ready to do yet.
“Me? Not objective? Get real.”
I jumped a foot when my cell buzzed again hours later. Although I had willed it to ring, I wasn’t prepared when it did. I checked caller ID. An unfamiliar number. Not one of the kids, Whip, or any of my friends. Not my two pastors either. I flipped up the top.
“Hello.”
“Mrs. Davies? This is Bishop Spellman. I understand Father Sean Regan told you to expect my call.” A very rich, deep voice. Someone who sounded like James Earl Jones.
“He did.”
No matter what Father Sean said, I was on guard. I wasn’t sure I could trust this stranger. I carried the phone into my bedroom and shut the door. I didn’t want to be interrupted if Emilie decided to bip-bop into the dorm for something she’d left behind.
“Father Sean said you suspect a parishioner near Gulfport is being abused. Is that true?”
I sat down on the edge of the bed. “I hope you have some time, Bishop Spellman.”
“I do. Tell me what I need to know.”
“Two people, a woman and her child, are being kept in virtual servitude. The woman is being physically and sexually abused by Father Alvarado at St. Anna’s. I’ve seen the bruises from his beatings myself. Mrs. Sanchez says Father Alvarado is after her thirteen-year-old daughter next.”
“Why don’t you tell me the whole story?”
I detected a wariness similar to mine in Bishop Spellman’s tone. Neither of us fully trusted the other, but neither had any alternative. I put my concerns on the line before I gave him any details about the Sanchezes.
“Bug said I can trust you. Can I?”
“Bug?”
“I’m sorry. Father Sean. Bug was his name when we were in school together.”
“Ah.”
Oh dear, not one of those priests who went “ah” or “oh” no matter what you told him. Funny, older priests usually fell back on such noncommittal responses. Since the bishop was only two years ahead of Father Sean at the seminary, he couldn’t be one of the older priests.
“Can I? Trust you, I mean?”
“You can.”
This warm yet skeptical voice on the other end of my cell was my last chance. It was him or the police. The police were out.
I looked out my bedroom window. The skies were partly sunny with wind pushing clouds into fabulous shapes. Light and shadows changed on my wall. A fly landed on the window sill. I took a deep breath and talked. And talked. And talked.
“You saw bruises, Mrs. Davies?” Bishop Spellman let me go on for nearly a quarter of an hour without interruption.
“Yes, but I don’t have pictures.” I described where they were: face, arms, and wrists.
I hit my forehead with my free hand. In this age of ubiquitous cell phone cameras, why hadn’t I recorded the abuse? “I have no proof.”
“I wouldn’t worry. We won’t be taking this to a court of law. Do you think Mrs. Sanchez will meet with me?”
“I don’t know. Her only experience with Catholic clergy has been one of oppression.” I mentioned her other children and being the fifth generation to endure indentured servitude.
Bishop Spellman said nothing. I wasn’t about to break in; silence was more powerful than empty chatter. Pages flipped.
“I can’t get down to Gulfport for a couple of weeks. I have church business I can’t avoid.”
I shouldn’t have been disappointed, but I was. I wanted, hoped, the bishop would drop everything, rush down to protect the Sanchezes, and sweep Father Alvarado away.
I couldn’t keep my disappointment from my voice. “If you can’t make it sooner, you can’t. I’ll watch the Sanchezes. Father Alvarado isn’t due back for three weeks, but since he’s started pursuing Marianna, well, he’s been dropping in unannounced.”
“Take my cell number. If you see Father Alvarado, call me. I’ll come as soon as I can. If he touches them, take pictures.”
It was less than I wanted, but all I was going to get for the moment.
I walked outside the compound, ground my teeth, and tried to calm down. I moved on autopilot, my attention inward. I dodged impediments without seeing them. Lucky for me, I didn’t trip and fall. I tried to regain my inner calm, to live in the moment. When I returned to camp an hour later, Emilie met me on the step of the dorm, fists on hips.
“Well?”
I couldn’t pretend I didn’t know what she meant. I told her about my conversation with the bishop.
“You aren’t sure you can trust him, are you?” My darned granddaughter always cut to the chase.
“I didn’t at first, but we don’t have a choice. We have to put our faith in him.”
“He’ll help. So will I.”
Ducks rounded the end of the school bus. “Count me in.”
I leaned over and kissed Emilie on the cheek. “I know you will.”
“Now about going for a walkabout alone…” Ducks planted himself in front of me, shaking a finger in my face.
“Oh, shut up.” I dodged around him and went into the dorm.
CHAPTER SIXTY
Mississippi, week of February 3
The closer the playground equipment came to arrival, even with an unexpected delay, the more overbearing Alex became. Even when he’d help track down other victims of his mother’s killer, he hadn’t been this wired. The park tsar lorded it over one and all.
“Are you sure we’ll have enough volunteers?” Alex dug into a baked potato half the size of Alabama. “I don’t want to be short-handed.”
Whip beamed at his son’s perseverance. Emilie rolled her eyes. Charlie grinned.
“Haven’t you had plenty of help up to now?”
“Well, yeah, but I want to be sure the equipment is set up right.” Alex smashed a third slab of butter into the potato.
My turn to roll my eyes. Charlie did too.
Alex looked up. “We’re going to have a party when it’s done, aren’t we?”
“Do you think we could get away without one?” Charlie reached across the table to chuck Alex’s smeary chin.
####
Three days after this exchange, I returned from my weekly food run and backed the Rover into its parking place. Ducks emerged from the school bus.
“Have you seen Alex?”
“No. I just got back from shopping. Help me get the food out of the Rover. We’ll go look for him.”
We unloaded in record time, stopping long enough to put the cold food in the fridges. All else could wait.
“I’ll check with Samson. If he left without permission, Whip’s going to be pissed.” Ducks’s long legs ate up the distance between the RVs and the gate.
“I’ll check with the cook.” I turned toward the tent. “He sometimes hangs out there after his lessons.”
“That’s the point.” Ducks called over his shoulder. “I left him writing an essay in the dorm. The unfinished paper’s there. Alex isn’t.”
“What about Em?”
We wheeled as one and dashed to the girls’ dorm. Empty. No Emilie.
“Bugger. Where are they?”
According to Samson and the cook, a loaded flatbed truck pulled up to the gate about an hour or two earlier. It drove off up the road toward the park. Neither knew if Alex went with it.
“It has to be the equipment. Alex’s been so antsy he probably forgot to tell you where he was going.” I leaped to the only conclusion that made sense. I opened the Rover’s door.
Ducks jumped in. “Let’s go.”
I looked back at the dorm. “
No bike. Em followed him.”
“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Ducks said. “Something’s not right.”
“Me too.” Fear caused my stomach to churn.
We drove as fast as we dared. Up ahead, the battered truck with the rotten muffler blocked the road. Piles of crates lay stacked around the park. The flatbed was gone.
“Uh oh.”
“Not good.”
I turned off the engine and let the Rover coast to a halt behind the pickup.
“I wish you hadn’t left your handbag in the dorm,” Ducks whispered.
“You got that right.” My revolver would feel real comforting.
“We have no weapons but our hands and the element of surprise.”
“They’ll have to do.”
I sucked in my gut and walked around the front of the truck; Ducks crept around the back. J’Marquis Baptiste, LeRoy Biggs, Jake Montgomery, and Danny Ray formed a half-circle around Alex and Emilie. I froze. This can’t be happening. Not to Alex and Emilie.
“Well, will you looky at what we got here? Two of them little Mexican lovers.” J’Marquis loomed over Alex.
Alex stood his ground. LeRoy prodded him with the end of a baseball bat. He lost his balance and fell in the dust on his butt. Alex glared at his tormentor as if willing his superhero persona to fly to the rescue.
“Time to teach this brat a lesson.” J’Marquis raised his fist.
“Yeah. We don’t want your kind around here. Get the hell out and never come back.” Proximity to J’Marquis and being armed gave LeRoy a false sense of power. He slapped his palm with the bat.
“You leave him alone.” Emilie shoved her way between LeRoy and Alex.
“Aren’t you the brave little bitch? I can’t believe our luck, can you, LeRoy?” J’Marquis licked his lips.
“Let’s give her the same good time we gave that old bitch the other day.” LeRoy pulled at his crotch.
“Don’t you dare touch me!” Emilie glared at LeRoy.
Danny Ray sneaked around behind Emilie and threw her to the ground. J’Marquis unzipped his pants and exposed his erect penis.
“You leave her alone,” Jake, aka Spot, pushed forward. “She’s my girlfriend.”
“Oooh, our retard has a girlfriend,” LeRoy taunted.
“You don’t have any friends ’ceptn us,” Danny taunted. “How can this bitch be your girlfriend?”
“She is. She won’t tell on us. Leave her alone.” Jake tried to pull J’Marquis off, but he was no match for the older man in lust-heat. The larger man kicked him aside like a worrisome pup. The boy landed in the dirt next to Alex.
“If you fight, bitch, it’ll make it better for me.” J’Marquis knelt between Emilie’s legs. He reached for the waistband of her jeans when he flew off to the side.
We rushed the boys as one. Ducks clasped his hands, swung them like a club, and hit J’Marquis right on his ear. I knelt beside Emilie and pulled her away. She was trembling but maintained her composure. Shaken, to be sure, but in full control. Alex regained enough presence of mind to pull his cell out of his pocket and punch in nine one one.
I threw him my phone. “Call Lieutenant Ellsworth.”
Ducks pinned J’Marquis to the ground with a foot on his chest. “Don’t even think about moving. I’d like nothing better than to pound the shit out of you, you little turd.”
In what seemed like an hour, but was no more than a couple of minutes, Sheriff Hardy pulled up, lights flashing, siren off.
“What the hell’s going on?” The sheriff hefted his bulk out of his cruiser.
“We have attempted rape and attempted assault and battery.” Ducks kept a tight grip on his anger. None of the boys moved, not even J’Marquis who was still unzipped but no longer excited. His flaccid penis lay limp on his thigh.
“I see four boys being assaulted by one man.” Sheriff Hardy yanked on his gun belt and strutted toward Ducks. He spat on the ground, barely missing Ducks’s left foot.
“You see one man protecting two children from harm,” Ducks corrected. His face turned dark red, a color that should have warned the sheriff not to mess with him. “You see one man exposed. You see one woman comforting and protecting her granddaughter.”
“Nah, don’t see nothing like that.” Sheriff Hardy tried to shove Ducks out of his way. When he failed, he reached for his service pistol.
“Are you going to shoot me, Sheriff?”
Ducks had never sounded menacing before, but he did this time. If the situation deteriorated, Ducks was going to take the sheriff on, gun or no gun.
“Stop right there, Forrest.” Lieutenant Ellsworth walked around the front of the truck, while Special Agent Pace came around the back. The sheriff and the teens were surrounded. Additional cruisers pulled up as other officers arrived in response to the nine-one-one call.
“You’ve done it this time. What were you planning to do? Shoot the man standing in front of you? Let these boys go?” Lieutenant Ellsworth relieved the sheriff of his gun and handed it to one of his officers.
“This here’s county territory, Ellsworth. You ain’t got no authority,” Sheriff Hardy blustered and hitched at his belt again. Nothing weighed more than his ego.
“I do.” Special Agent Pace flashed his ID and FBI shield. “We’ll take you in along with these four boys.”
My muscles shook harder than Emilie’s. She was safe, but all I could think about was how close she’d come to being raped. I swallowed the bile that burned the back of my throat.
“You ain’t got the balls to run me in.” Hardy’s challenge sounded so hollow it rang like an empty dish.
“Oh, yes, I do. It’s pretty clear what was going to happen,” Lieutenant Ellsworth said. “J’Marquis, zip up your damn pants. Your limp dick makes you look like a fool. You aren’t raping anyone today or any other day, unless it’s in prison. It’ll probably be the other way around in federal detention.”
Ducks removed his foot from J’Marquis’s chest. The man rolled away and zipped his pants. He stood shakily and pleaded with Sheriff Hardy for help.
“Hey man, do something. You promised to protect us,” J’Marquis whined.
“Yeah,” LeRoy said. “We been doing your dirty work, so you gotta help us.”
“What kind of dirty work is that?” Lieutenant Ellsworth asked.
“Shut the fuck up.” The sheriff’s face turned a dangerous shade of red, but he couldn’t do anything. He had problems of his own.
“We’ll take these boys in and book them. Sheriff, you too. You’ve turned a blind eye to their crimes. You know the law. This makes you an accessory.” Lieutenant Ellsworth waved at his men. “Cuff them and take them to my office.”
Special Agent Pace turned to Alex and Emilie. “Are you kids all right? They didn’t do anything, did they?”
Alex shook his head. Emilie, paler than usual, confirmed Danny had pushed her to the ground, but nothing else had happened.
“Can you take it easy on Spot? He tried to protect me.” Emilie looked at Jake, who let a police officer lead him toward a cruiser.
“Spot?” Special Agent Pace frowned.
“Jake Montgomery. The one with acne.”
“I don’t know. We’ll go as easy on him as we can, but he participated in several of the attacks.” Lieutenant Ellsworth looked at the boy.
“You want a couple of tow trucks out here, Lieutenant?” An officer called. “We gotta impound this heap. Guess you want the sheriff’s car as well.”
“Yes. Have someone with crime scene experience go through both.” Special Agent Pace took charge. “I’m sure we’ll find plenty for a host of charges. Oh, and impound their phones. I suspect they called each other frequently.”
“You got here pretty fast. You must have been close by.” I couldn’t think of any other answer to their near-instantaneous arrival.
“We were over at the bayou looking at more bodies.” Special Agent Pace wiped sweat from his forehead, in spite of the cool, windy da
y.
“And?”
“Three more. We’ll need your help identifying them.” Like the wicked witch, Howdy Doody was green.
“Do any of you need a ride back?” Lieutenant Ellsworth nodded toward his car.
I helped Emilie to her feet and dusted her backside. Alex scrambled up, too, but paid no attention to the dirt ground into his jeans.
“No. We’ll see the kids get home. Thanks.”
Ducks put his arm around Emilie, who leaned against his chest. I hugged Alex. He was rigid. The police moved the truck to the side of the road. The cruisers left with their respective prisoners in back.
Emilie picked up her bike and pushed it down the road. Alex walked beside her. Ducks and I drove alongside the chastened children. A nice long walk in the chilly sunlight would give them time to think before Whip laid into them.
“Oh man, just wait until Dad gets home.” With the danger past, Alex was afraid of what his father was going to do.
“We are so, like, busted.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Mississippi, week of February 6
“Let me get this straight. Alex, you ran off without telling anyone. You broke the cardinal rule designed to keep you safe.” Whip’s voice was low, which made it more menacing than if he’d shouted. “Your sister followed because she worried you might get into trouble. Again, without telling anyone. That about right?”
Whip paced in front of his frightened children. Charlie, Ducks, Johnny, and I sat at the picnic tables. We didn’t want to be there, but Whip insisted. We were going to deal with this family problem as a family. No hiding in dorms and getting yelled at. A public dressing down would mean more in the long run. Alex and Emilie stood in front of their father under the mosquito netting, heads hanging.
“What were you thinking, Captain Chaos?” Cold sweat dripped from Whip’s chin. He’d come close to losing his children.
“I was thinking about the park. When the equipment came, all I wanted to do was show the men where to put it.” Alex looked up, a bit hopeful he might escape punishment.
“You could have been killed. You know the gang murders people.” Whip stopped in front of his daughter and pointed at her until she flinched. “And you, Em, you know they raped a woman. Still, you both ran off without a lick of caution or a word to anyone.”