Policed

by Alana Terry

  “You sure you don’t want some help cleaning up the dishes?” Kennedy asked.

  “Just leave them,” Sandy answered. “I’ll get to them in the morning.”

  If she knew anything about Sandy, she was certain those dishes would be clean and dry in the dishwasher well before sunrise.

  Sandy got up from the table. “I think I saved your toothbrush from last time. Let me go have a look.” She started to bustle down the hall and stopped. “Oh, I almost forgot! Carl, do you have your note ready? We can ask Kennedy to do the picture tonight.”

  He scooted his chair back. “I’ve got it in the den. I’ll go grab it.”

  Kennedy watched him hurry out of the dining room. “What note?”

  “It’s something we started last week when we first got matched with Woong from the South Korean orphanage. Carl and I made the decision that we’d write him a note each day until he comes home and take a picture of us holding it. It might not be much, but we wanted him to understand how much we loved him even before we met him face to face.”

  Kennedy figured that any orphan lucky enough to get paired up with the Lindgrens was one of the most blessed kids alive. “That’s a really sweet idea.”

  “So, Carl’s gonna grab his camera, and do you mind taking the picture for us? Otherwise, he’ll have to fiddle with the timer, and half the time it goes off too early. I swear we could make a collection of all the pictures of Carl’s backside to give to Woong.”

  Carl scurried in carrying a dry-erase board. “It’s my night to do the message, right, babe?”

  “Yeah. I thought you said you already wrote it.” Sandy was repositioning photographs and homemade crafts on the mantle. “Come stand right here, Kennedy. We haven’t gotten a shot by the fireplace in a little while.” She frowned at Carl. “Weren’t you wearing that last night?”

  He glanced down at himself. “No, that was my other red shirt. This one’s different.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.” He reached into his pocket. “Now here you go. This camera ... Wait, where is it?”

  Sandy rolled her eyes. “You lost it again?” She turned to Kennedy. “I swear, if Woong knew how much hassle we go through just to get him ...”

  “I’m the one who said a ten-year-old boy ain’t gonna care if he gets a picture every day,” Carl countered. “It’s not like he’s going to pull out a magnifying glass and read each single date ...”

  “It’s the principle of the thing. We want him to know ...”

  Kennedy grabbed her cell. “How about I take it on my phone and I’ll just send it as an attachment to your email or something? Would that work?”

  Carl lifted his eyebrows. “You can do that?”

  “Yeah.” She opened her camera app. “Are you guys ready?”

  “I think so.”

  Sandy nudged Carl again. “You forgot the whiteboard.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Once everything was in place, Kennedy tried to take the shot.

  “What was that beep?” Sandy asked. “Was that the picture? Do you want to take another one just to be sure?”

  Kennedy frowned at her screen. “No, it’s this phone. It’s gotten low on memory. Hold on. I have to delete a few pictures, and then I’ll try again.” She sighed as she went into her gallery. For five minutes, maybe more, she had gone without thinking about Reuben, about the way her stupid phone’s lousy memory was the reason he was spending the night in jail. She really should take those old lab photos and delete them all. It’s not like ...

  She froze.

  “What is it, dear?” Sandy asked.

  “Just give the girl a minute to do what she’s gotta do.”

  Kennedy felt the blood rush from her head down to the finger that stood poised over her screen. Could it really be ...?

  “Hold on.”

  Sandy hurried and stared over her shoulder. “What’s the matter, sweetie? Is your battery dying?”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s ...”

  She wouldn’t allow herself to hope. She couldn’t. Her phone had said the memory was full. Why hadn’t she thought to go into her photo album in the first place? Was it right there?

  “Precious, is everything all right?”

  “Give the girl some space, woman,” Carl boomed without losing his good-natured tone.

  Kennedy’s finger was surprisingly calm as she selected the recording. It started to play. She glanced up at the Lindgrens. “I think I found the video that will get Reuben out of jail.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Kennedy lost track of how many times she and the Lindgrens watched the video. It wasn’t the full encounter, but it was enough. The phone’s memory reached its max right after the cop knocked Reuben to the ground. It was enough to show Reuben hadn’t instigated anything. Enough to exonerate him. Kennedy couldn’t decide if she was more relieved to finally have the proof or mad at herself for not discovering it sooner.

  Well, there was no way they would hold Reuben in jail for long, not with information like this. Now, the only question was who she should give it to. She tried calling her dad, but no one picked up either at the office or at home. She sent him an email and asked for the full name of his lawyer friend after a Google search showed at least twenty-seven attorneys in the greater Boston area called Jefferson.

  “You know it’s late, don’t you?” Carl asked as she stared at her phone. “Even if the right people got a hold of this, Reuben won’t be getting out tonight.”

  “Carl’s right, hon.” Sandy rubbed Kennedy’s shoulders. “You can always wake up first thing tomorrow and then decide what to do. These things always seem to make more sense once you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”

  A good night’s sleep? Didn’t they know, couldn’t they understand that she had been begging God for the chance to get her hands on something like this, verifiable proof that Reuben was innocent? And now they were telling her to go to sleep and wait for morning?

  “I’m not an expert in these things,” Carl said, “but I know your dad pretty well, and I’m guessing he’d advise you to talk with Reuben’s lawyer before you do anything else.”

  Carl was right, at least the part about that being what her dad would say.

  Sandy took her by the arm. “If you come with me by the bathroom, sweetheart, I’ll get you your toothbrush and some pajamas.”

  “We still need to take that picture for Woong,” Carl reminded her.

  “We don’t need to keep Kennedy up for that. We can use the timer on your camera like usual.”

  Carl stood up with a groan. “Guess that means I better find it.” He tousled Kennedy’s hair affectionately. “Good night, kiddo. I hope you sleep well.”

  Kennedy thanked him again for letting her stay over and followed Sandy toward the bathroom. Once she was washed and dressed and alone in the Lindgrens’ familiar guestroom, she turned on her phone and watched the video one more time. All her muscles were quivering, but now it was from excitement and not from fear. Reuben would be released. He would be just fine. Life could go on as normal. Hopefully, even better than normal, because Kennedy had already decided that once he got out, she wasn’t going to take his friendship for granted anymore. She wasn’t going to bide her time, wait to see what the future might bring, and spend her life wondering if things could have been different if she’d had the courage to confess her feelings. Maybe by this time tomorrow, she’d be with Reuben. Maybe by this time tomorrow, he’d know. She thought about the Bible verse that God works all things together for good for those who love him. Maybe that was what this was all about. Maybe God allowed Reuben to get arrested, knowing that this one night with him in jail would be enough to make Kennedy realize that she’d be the biggest fool in Massachusetts if she didn’t tell him the truth.

  The whole truth.

  It would be scary, but hadn’t her therapist told her it was time to take baby steps out of her comfort zone? Hadn’t Sandy just spent half an hour assuring Kennedy it was ok to feel
inadequate, it was ok to feel weak? A cross-stitched verse that hung in the Lindgrens’ dining room flitted through her mind: Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. Maybe Carl and Sandy were right. Maybe she should try to sleep, get a hold of her dad first thing in the morning, find a way to get the video to Reuben’s attorney. Weren’t there verses in Proverbs that talked about patience being the wisest course of action? That’s what her mom had told her growing up, at least. You regretted rushing into things more often than you’d ever regret waiting.

  She lay down, relishing how much more comfortable the Lindgrens’ bed was compared to her dorm mattress. If she didn’t need access to the college library at all hours of the day and night, she might even be tempted to offer to pay Carl and Sandy room and board to stay here. At the very least, it was the perfect reprieve for a Friday night, a night that had started out disastrous but left Kennedy filled with hope. She wished she could catch this blissful feeling in a lab flask, close it up with a rubber stopper, and let it diffuse into her system whenever she needed.

  Hope. One of God’s most precious gifts for his children. She was ashamed at how she doubted him earlier, ashamed of how quickly she threw away her faith, when all this time, he knew that the video she needed and the proof she’d been begging for were right there on her phone. Maybe this was all God’s way of bringing her and Reuben together.

  Together. Another beautiful word, just like hope. Together ...

  She had just allowed her mind to drift off into that first stage of drowsy sleep with its long, alpha brain waves when her phone rang.

  Willow.

  Was she still at the protest? How could Kennedy have forgotten to call her?

  “Hello?” She tried to talk quietly in case Carl and Sandy were already in bed.

  “Hey, sorry we lost you. Othello and I are going to stay out for a while, but do you want me to take you back to campus first?”

  “No, that’s ok. I forgot to text you earlier. I ran into my pastor and got a ride with him. I’ll be staying at his place tonight.”

  “Nothing kinky, right?” Willow teased.

  Kennedy ignored the remark. “How was the rest of the vigil?”

  She had to strain to hear over all the background noise. “It’s still going on, actually. They’re on the third band doing a Beatles cover, so I’m out of here.”

  “Glad I didn’t miss much, then. But hey, really good news. I found the video I thought I’d lost on my phone. It didn’t get everything, but it was recording for over two minutes before the memory ran out. I’m gonna find a way to get it to Reuben’s lawyer in the morning.”

  “What’s that?” Willow was shouting now. “I didn’t hear that last part. You said something about your phone?”

  “I’ll just text you.” She didn’t want to raise her voice and bother Carl and Sandy.

  “Ok, I can’t hear you too good, so just call or text me if you need something. Otherwise I’ll see you back on campus.”

  Kennedy said goodbye even though she couldn’t be certain Willow heard it. She opened up her text messages and sent a quick note about the video.

  I want to see it! Willow immediately responded.

  The video file was too large to text, so she sent it as an email attachment, grateful to have someone else to share the good news with.

  Yes, things had taken a positive turn. A very positive turn.

  Kennedy figured she was about to get the best sleep she’d had in weeks.

  CHAPTER 25

  “Do you think we should wake her up?”

  “I’m not sure. We could wait.”

  Carl and Sandy’s words slipped through the fog of Kennedy’s heavy sleep.

  “She’s gonna find out eventually. It might be best if she hears it from us.”

  “I know, I just wish the little lamb could have a few more minutes to rest. She was so tired last night.”

  Kennedy rubbed her eyes. She always felt so disoriented when she woke up at the Lindgrens’, as if her body wasn’t accustomed to a real mattress and was looking for the hard, cardboard-like substitute from her dorm room.

  “I think we should tell her ourselves. Otherwise she might see the news on her phone or something.”

  “You’re probably right. I just wish ...” Sandy didn’t finish her thought. Kennedy’s brain was only half awake, like her computer after she turned it on but had to wait for all her programs to load. What were they talking about? What news did they have for her?

  Something about Reuben?

  A small knock on the guest room door. Timid. Almost apologetic.

  “Come in.”

  Sandy with her long brown hair out of its normal French brain. A frown on her usually cheerful face. Dark lines under her eyes. Had she slept at all?

  Carl muttering something as he passed down the hall. Apparently, this was women’s business. So it was Reuben, then. Had something happened to him? Had he been attacked in jail?

  Please, God. No.

  That giant swell of hope she’d experienced last night, that first taste of true joy she’d felt in weeks, came crashing down around her. Something was wrong. Sandy’s face was pale. Kennedy knew her psyche wasn’t strong enough for another crisis. Her lungs pulled tight in her chest.

  Sandy sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed and placed her hand on Kennedy’s knee. “Something happened last night.”

  Time distorted itself. How could the theory of relativity explain this kind of phenomenon? How could Einstein, brilliant as he was, rationalize the way Kennedy found herself pulled out of normal temporal reality until everything was slow? Viscous. Even her body’s autonomic functions, the pounding of her pulse in her ears, decelerated inexplicably.

  Sandy took in a deep breath. It was the same look a nurse would give her patient before turning her over for a spinal tap.

  Where was that hope? Where was that peace now?

  “It’s about that video,” Sandy began. Even her voice sounded lower, warped somehow. Was Kennedy ill? Was her brain sick? Had she fallen victim to some sort of bizarre sensory disorder that left her feeling so detached? Disoriented?

  Sandy stared at her lap. Her hair was beautiful. Silky. Light brown with respectable hints of long, gray streaks. Why didn’t she wear it down more?

  “I need to ask you something,” Sandy began. Kennedy made a note that when she was a doctor delivering a fatal prognosis, she would offer the bad news in a single sentence. No lengthy prefaces. No chitchat to decrease the shock. It was easier that way. Easier to know the truth and confront it than deal with the dreadful uncertainty.

  Sandy made an apologetic sound in the back of her throat. “Did you send the video to anyone last night before you went to bed?”

  “I showed it to Willow. My roommate. I was excited that we ... I wanted her to see ...” Kennedy stopped fumbling over her words and asked simply, “What happened?”

  “We don’t know how, but the media got hold of it. Last night before Carl and I went to sleep. There was a ...”

  Kennedy watched Sandy’s throat muscles constrict.

  “Once the video got out, people were even more upset, more angry about what happened to your friend. There was an incident last night at the vigil.” She avoided Kennedy’s eyes.

  An incident? What did that mean? What was Sandy saying?

  “Is Reuben ok?” Did Sandy know how Kennedy felt? Did she guess how important Reuben was to her? If this was a little schoolgirl crush, she imagined Sandy would want to talk about it for hours over tea and homemade biscotti, but so far that particular subject had never been broached.

  “Reuben’s fine, dear.” For the first time that morning, Sandy smiled.

  Kennedy let her muscles relax. The iron sheath that had encased her rib cage loosened itself, and she could breathe easier.

  As quickly as it came, however, Sandy’s smile faded. “There was a problem at the courthouse, though.” She winced as though the words were painful to speak. “A riot.”
<
br />   Kennedy felt guilty for feeling more relief than horror. Relief that Reuben was still safe. Relief that the public was on her side. The police would have to let Reuben free now.

  Sandy let out a small choking sound, and Kennedy was startled to see tears streak down her cheeks. Her pulse quickened. How bad of a riot could it have been?

  “Was anyone injured?” she asked and suddenly remembered Willow. Had she been there? Had she shared the video with Othello’s crowd at the courthouse and stayed to watch the drama unfold? Kennedy was selfish to only worry about Reuben at a time like this. What about her roommate?

  Sandy was shaking her head. “Only one injury.” Her voice tightened. “A little baby.”

  Kennedy was certain she had misheard. What kind of a parent would bring a baby to an event like that? And what kind of criminals ...

  She froze, remembering the young mother who had asked if she needed help. The baby in the sling. Maybe it wasn’t so impossible, after all. Why shouldn’t a parent attend a prayer vigil with a small child? It’s something Kennedy’s parents might have done when she was little.

  Kennedy didn’t trust her voice to get out the next question. Wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. “Did the baby ...” No, that’s not what she wanted to say. “Was it very serious?”

  Sandy sniffed. “We don’t know yet. She’s at the Children’s Hospital at Providence now.”

  “What happened?”

  “It sounds like the mom was running to get away when the violence broke out and tripped. The baby was in a front pack, and ...”

  “Is she going to be ok?” Kennedy wished she could hold audience with God if only for a few minutes. Ask him why he would allow something so horrible to happen. Why he would harm such a young and innocent life for no apparent reason.

  Sandy shook her head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.” She was gripping Kennedy’s hand.

  “I’m sorry,” Kennedy whispered.

  Sandy’s head shot up. “Whatever for, sweetheart?”

  “I shouldn’t have sent the video. Should have told Willow to keep it private.”

  Horror, the full realization of what she had done, sank into Kennedy’s being little by little, like droplets of groundwater percolating down through layers of soil and gravel.