Love and Injustice

by Mary Crawford

  “I don’t know. But I have known you for a long time. You are a fierce competitor. Why didn’t you fight back?” Cody asks.

  Why didn’t I fight back? It’s not like I don’t ask myself that same question a million times a day.

  I lean my head back against the wall and wrap my arms around myself as tears flow down my face.

  A voice whispers from my soul.

  Why should I have had to?

  CHAPTER THREE

  CODY

  DYLAN PALMER DOESN’T EVEN STOP by my desk. He always takes his breaks with me. I crumple up a piece of paper and throw it at his back. “Hey! What’s up with you?” He’s not even pretending to ration his coffee. Alarmingly, he’s carrying the whole pot of pitch-black coffee into his office.

  Dylan spins around slowly, his eyes vacant and haunted. He looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. “Tallulah’s parents are burying her today.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “What do you mean? I don’t remember them saying anything about finding her at the briefing this morning.”

  Dylan slumps down in the chair next to my desk. “That’s just it. We haven’t found her. It’s like she disappeared off the planet. Her parents just gave up. They can’t stand the thought of not knowing. So, they decided to have a funeral to give everyone closure. I know I should be there to support them — they’ve gone through hell. I should go look and see if anything looks out of place. But … I just can’t.”

  “I’m so sorry this one hit so close to home. Don’t torture yourself. There are other people who work here. You’ve got options. If I were you, I’d send Pauline. She’s spooky good. For a relative rookie, she reads body language better than almost anyone else on our force. Besides, she could pass for one of Tallulah’s classmates.”

  Dylan takes a gulp of coffee. “You know, that’s not a bad idea.” He sets his cup down next to the coffee pot on my desk. “Be right back!” he says as he runs out of my cubicle.

  A few minutes later Dylan returns and sits back down. “I owe you one. I don’t think I could’ve handled coming face-to-face with her family today. Pauline’s got my back. Thanks for the suggestion.”

  “Any time. That’s what former partners do,” I answer as I hand him a chocolate glazed donut.

  He grins at me when he takes it. “I’m already drinking black coffee by the pot so I guess I might as well go all the way with the cliché.”

  “Nah, it’s not about that at all. You’re just looking a little shaky. I figure you need some carbs,” I tease. “In all seriousness, when was the last time you had a decent night’s sleep and a good meal?”

  “I am so exhausted, I honestly can’t remember. It’s been a long time since a case has consumed me like this. When I took the call, I figured it would be a typical runaway case. You know … angsty teenager ticked off at her parents for not letting her see her boyfriend. I figured I’d have her home for a hot pancake breakfast.”

  “It was a reasonable hunch,” I argue.

  “Maybe, but it appears to have been totally wrong. From everything I’ve been able to determine, Tallulah Johnson simply vanished off the planet. She’s a good kid. She has great parents, a run-of-the-mill job for a kid her age and scholarships to go to college next year. She doesn’t have boyfriend problems, and everyone seems to like her. She’s one of those kids who is beating all the odds. None of the stereotypes seem to apply to her.”

  “So why is she missing?” I ask rhetorically.

  “Beats the heck out of me. I stay up nights trying to figure it out. Don’t you have a missing juvenile case too? I thought I heard something —”

  “Maybe I have a case. The mom is reluctant to come forward — she doesn’t exactly trust the likes of us. Right now all I’ve got is a concerned big brother … and a missing sixteen-year-old African-American male.”

  Dylan leans forward in the chair as he pulls his notebook out of his jacket pocket. “Does he know Tallulah?”

  “I get the impression he does. I don’t know if they go to school together or live in the same neighborhood. But there is some connection.”

  “Erickson! What are you waiting for, man? We need to talk to that mom like yesterday!”

  “Palmer, she’s not even sure she wants the police involved. She’s not convinced her son isn’t hanging out somewhere playing video games. Dashonte is the one who is concerned about DeAndre.”

  “So you’ve been sitting on this?” Dylan asks me in an uncharacteristically critical tone.

  “No, I haven’t been doing nothing. I’ve been checking out DeAndre’s friends and all his hangouts. Unlike your victim, mine has a history of a few run-ins with the wrong side of the law. I’m checking out his prior accomplices to see if he’s fallen off the straight-and-narrow. Dashonte thinks he’s still playing it straight, but the family is sometimes the last to know.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, actually —” I point to a picture on my desk. “Katie’s big brother happened to be at the table when Dashonte stopped by to talk. He had a good idea, so I went to talk to Tori Clarkson.”

  Dylan pulls a sour face. “I’m not sure messing with her will be much help on top of the bad publicity we’re getting for not being able to find Tallulah Johnson.”

  I stop digging through my file folders and whip my head around to look at Dylan. “You knew what was happening with Tori and you didn’t say anything?” I demand.

  “Well, I figured you were a little busy dealing with actual tragedies. I didn’t figure you would want to be bogged down with office gossip and sorrid tales of who’s sleeping with who.”

  “I’m surprised at you! I thought you liked Tori. This is a little more than gossiping about the outcome of a reality TV show, Tori lost her job. She’s one of the best prosecutors we know.”

  “I used to think that too, but now there seems to be some open question about her ethics and her methods.”

  “Only because she hasn’t been allowed to tell her side of the story. She’s never told anybody what actually happened. People made up stories based on their own agendas. It’s too bad the facts didn’t actually have anything to do with the truth.”

  “You know this how?” Dylan presses.

  “Because she told me when I asked her. She was honest about things she wishes she would’ve done better. I believe her account of what happened.”

  “Since when do we just take people’s word for what they say happened?”

  “I can’t believe you’re being such a jerk about this,” I snap. “If that’s the way you’ve got your friends’ back, I hope I’m never unjustly accused of anything.”

  “Think about what you just said for a minute. The best way to help Tori is to find solid evidence to help clear her name and back her story.”

  “You’re right. Except in this case, she’s not fighting in front of a jury. She’s fighting to win back respect in the court of public opinion.”

  Dylan slugs back more coffee. “Earning back her reputation could be the hardest fight she’s ever faced.”

  “Let’s hope not. The world needs an advocate like Tori.”

  Mrs. Greeley takes a moment to wipe her face with a Kleenex as she tries to compose herself toward the end of our interview. “I’m sorry I waited so long to talk to you. I guess I was hoping if I ignored the situation, it would go away. DeAndre is my most stubborn child. If I told him bedtime was eight o’clock, I would find him in his room hovered under his blankets with a flashlight playing with his matchbox cars at midnight. He’d look up at me with his big brown eyes and tell me, ‘You didn’t say I haft to be asleep, you said I had to be in bed.’ I just figured this was another one of those situations where he was testing the rules, you know what I mean?”

  “I understand,” I respond with a sympathetic nod. “You’ve checked in with all of his friends and still nothing?”

  “You have no idea! I turned the phone company inside out. I’ve even checked in with his so-called enemies.”<
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  My ears perk up. “Enemies?”

  “I dunno if I’d call them enemies so much as ex-friends. It’s no secret that my DeAndre hasn’t been a perfect angel. When he turned his life around, he had to leave a group of people he thought were his friends behind — you know those punks were not good for him. But I checked — even those people haven’t heard from him in months.”

  “I have one more question. Dashonte mentioned DeAndre might have known Tallulah Johnson. Do you know anything about that?”

  Mrs. Greeley smiles wistfully before she chuckles. “Only in his dreams. My little Romeo had a crush on Tallulah — that poor little girl — but she went to a private school. I don’t know if he ever got his nerve up to actually talk to her — but he would watch her get on the bus while he waited for his. He’d tell me how pretty she was and how he thought it was cool how she could stand out in a school uniform.”

  “But as far as you know, they weren’t friends or travelled in the same social circle?” I press.

  Mrs. Greeley rolls her eyes at me. “Honey, people in my neighborhood clean the houses of people in their neighborhood, so no, probably not.” Large tears brim in her eyes and threatened to spill out on her cheeks. She looks at me somberly and asks, “Do you think DeAndre will end up like Tallulah? I heard her poor parents had to bury an empty coffin yesterday. Please don’t tell me I’m gonna have to bury my baby?”

  “I can’t promise anything, Mrs. Greeley — but I’ll do everything in my power to stop that from happening.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TORI

  AS SOON AS I PLACE the bags of groceries on the kitchen counter, Bonni Jeanne confronts me. She’s holding a piece of paper and she has a thunderous expression on her face. “I’m sorry to leave you in such a lurch, Ms. Clarkson, but I can’t do this anymore.”

  My heart races and my stomach feels like I’ve swallowed shards of glass. “What did my mom do this time? Whatever it is, I’m sorry. I know she didn’t mean to. She can't even rationalize what she does anymore.”

  “I know, ma’am. But I didn’t go to nursing school so I could get spat on all day. I know it’s been several years since I’ve had a nursing license, but I still deserve respect.”

  “I’m not suggesting you don’t, Bonni Jeanne. You’ve been more than patient with my mom. I’m just begging you for a little more time. I’m taking her to a new specialist next week. It was the earliest I could get in. We’ve been waiting for this appointment for months. Maybe he’ll prescribe a new medication. From what I’ve been reading, his office participates in all sorts of medical trials. I hope he’ll be on the cutting edge of medicine and open to trying some new things with Mom.”

  “That’s what makes this so hard for me. You’re trying to be a good daughter. I can see that. I don’t want to leave you alone to cope with all this. I understand how hard it is. Like I said, I don’t want to leave you in a lurch. But your mother has become nearly impossible. If — and I do mean if — I need to go home and discuss this with my own family, but if I stay, I need you to find me another respite worker to help me out. This is simply too much responsibility to fall on my shoulders.”

  My relief is so palpable I want to pass out on the spot. “Thank you, Bonni Jeanne. I’ll work on finding someone to help you tomorrow.”

  “I don’t want to sound greedy, but you might want to think about paying us a little more too. Your mom is getting worse by the day and she’s more than a handful. If I can be candid, you really ought to consider putting your mom in a facility which specializes in memory issues. I don’t know how much longer it’ll be safe to keep her at home.”

  I sink down onto a barstool at the breakfast bar. “I’ve always known this day would come sooner or later. I promised my daddy I wouldn’t do that to her. We were supposed to stay a family.”

  Bonni Jeanne clicks her tongue at me as she shakes her head in dismay. “Now, I can’t rightly say I knew your Papa, but if you’re anything to judge him by, I bet he was an honorable man. I bet he wouldn’t want you to destroy yourself to save your mama, right? If he knew how bad things were, I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger to take care of your mom. That’s what things are coming down to, you know. That’s why you need to consider putting her in a safer environment. I watch her carefully, but sometimes I can’t catch everything.”

  “Oh, I know that all too well —”

  “The other day I was making her tea at her request and I turned around to fill the teapot with water. By the time I turned back, your mom had a box of matches and was trying to light the electric burners on the stove. As if the matches weren’t bad enough, your mother had all four burners turned to high heat while she was trying to light the matches. I only had my back turned for two-seconds while I was filling the teapot at the sink. I’m sorry if my admission means you think less of my care taking skills, I’m just trying to be honest with you about the danger your mother is in.”

  “No, I totally understand. The other day, I had to take an important phone call. While I was on the phone, she managed to get over to the neighbor’s house. She tried to convince the neighbors’ grandchildren she was their grandmother. I don’t have any kids. The neighbors were understandably creeped out. Fortunately, they know my mom has dementia, and they didn’t call the police, although they had every right to.”

  “We’ve both been lucky. Things could have been much worse. I hate to tell you this because I love your mother like family. If the new medicine doesn’t change things, you need to make some changes — for your mom’s health and for your own sanity.”

  “Thank you for the reality check. I just need all this to hold together for a little while longer. My life is complete chaos right now and I can’t fix everything all at once,” I admit. My voice breaks as a tear rolls down my cheek.

  “Don’t cry,” Bonni Jeanne admonishes, as she awkwardly pats my back. “Today was an incredibly trying day. I’ll be back tomorrow and the next day. Maybe you’re right and some doctors somewhere will be able to get the spider webs out of your mom’s brain and it will work the way it used to. I can’t help but think if your mother understood what was going on around her, she would be the most dismayed of everyone.”

  “I know she would. My mom used to be so proud of all the things she knew off the top of her head. She could recite the presidents and the vice presidents and the state capitals. Most school kids know how to do similar feats. However, most people don’t commit the school each one graduated from to memory. My mom rarely used a cookbook. Once she saw a recipe in a magazine or newspaper, she knew exactly what it called for and how to make it. Dementia has been an especially cruel joke to play on a woman like her.”

  “It’s so hard to watch people become a shadow of their former selves. The only blessing, I think, is I doubt your mom has any awareness of the things she used to be able to do. All this is toughest on those of us who have to watch from the sidelines and try to make it all better.”

  I reach out and embrace Bonni Jeanne. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life. Thank you for taking such great care of my mom. I know I don’t always stop and take the time to tell you how much that means to me — especially now with everything that’s going on — but you’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome Ms. Clarkson … uh … Tori, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful or hateful toward your mother. I love her like my own kin. But sometimes, she’s just too much to handle.”

  “I’m already persuaded Bonni Jeanne. I’ll work on changing things tomorrow. Thanks for sticking by me.”

  “It’s okay. We’re a team.”

  Just as Bonni Jeanne makes her consolatory comments, my mom lets out a bloodcurdling scream from her bedroom. From the sound of the chanting coming from the room, it sounds as if her mind is stuck somewhere in her childhood as she frantically searches for her doll.

  “It might take both of us to get her settled down from this one. She seems especially far away from reality.”
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  CHAPTER FIVE

  CODY

  I KNOCK ON DYLAN’S DOOR and peek my head inside. He sticks his finger up in the air as he says goodbye to the person he’s speaking with on the phone. He waves me in, and I sit down.

  “You look better today,” I observe.

  “Yeah, it’s amazing what a couple days off will do. What’s up?”

  “I just got a text from Darya. They’ve got a missing fifteen-year-old girl in her county. At first, they thought it was a parental abduction, but they put the dad and stepmom on a polygraph and interviewed their employers. It looks like they had nothing to do with it.”

  Dylan swears under his breath. “Why don’t we have some freaking task force going on this? This is like the fourth kid in six months!”

  I walk over to the table in Dylan’s office and slap my file down on the table. “I don’t know what to tell you. I can't even convince anybody DeAndre is missing. They all think he’s a bad kid. My problem is I have nothing other than my gut to prove them wrong. Everything in the file says he’s trouble and going to be one of those kids in and out of the system his whole life. But everyone I’ve interviewed — clear down to the janitor at the school — says they’ve seen a real change in him. He was interested in becoming a soldier like his brother or even a police officer like us. It’s like he did a whole one-eighty with his attitude.”

  Dylan shakes his head in dismay. “Right? I mean we preach and preach that we need to catch these kids early and turn them around. But then, by some miracle, when they do, we don’t give them any credit for it.”

  “Mrs. Greeley has worked miracles with those kids. She is a tough warrior. She’s sick and fights her own battles with high blood pressure and liver problems but her boys are fine young men. I’ve only talked to DeAndre a few times when I was helping to investigate the case of the animal torturers we had a few years ago. But even then, although he was trying really hard to be a bad news punk, I had a feeling about him. He seemed to have an intrinsic goodness and integrity about him even though he was trying to fit in with the rougher kids in his neighborhood. I never bought his story that he was one of the bad guys.”