THE ABDUCTION OF CASSANDRA

by William Melden

  Ludwig shook his head. “It’s not me, Donald. I just got the news from County. Shannon Maclean is dead.”

  “What?” Burgess weaved a little in his chair. “Dead? What happened?”

  “Could I have some water, please?”

  Burgess leaned over to the mini-fridge behind his desk, produced a small bottle of cold water that resembled a baseball, and handed it to his boss.

  “Thanks,” Ludwig said, staring at the bottle as though it were a strange object he’d never seen before. He unscrewed the cap and took a long gulp.

  “You know the marshals transferred her to the York County jail yesterday, to await trial. They had her in isolation, a cell of her own, for her own protection. I don’t think the other inmates even knew she was there. But somebody, somehow, gave her one of those cheap disposable razors they let the inmates use. It was bad, Donald.”

  “What did Shannon do, exactly?” Burgess asked.

  Ludwig sighed. “After lights out, after the 12:00 count, she used the razor. She knew the deputies wouldn’t be around for another count until 2:00 AM. They told me . . . from the looks of her fingertips, she broke open the razor and removed the blade. She took off her jumpsuit, cut both wrists, and then cut the femoral arteries on both sides, where the thigh meets the groin. She put the suit back on, climbed under the blanket . . . and tried to swallow the blade. She probably bled out in less than two minutes, if she didn’t choke to death.”

  The two men sat in silence for a long time.

  * * * * *

  “I’ve never seen this church so full,” Cassie murmured to Brandon as the Sunday morning service was about to begin.

  “I’ve never seen a church like this, period,” he replied, looking around. “These people really seem to be getting into it. I guess it’s not always this packed, is it?” Two rows of folding metal chairs ran the length of every aisle, and people were standing in the back of the auditorium.

  “Nope,” Cassie said. But that’s because — wait. It’s starting.”

  Sitting on the platform were Dr. Rice Hudson and the Reverend Calvin Young. Gideon Hernandez, the youth director and associate pastor, stepped into the pulpit. He beamed as he waved to several of the congregants. In his heavy Puerto Rican accent, he declared, “Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised!” His words were answered by a chorus of “amens.”

  Seated in their usual places were Jerry Peacock and Mayor Walker, who were both members of the church, and their families. With one exception: Chad had decided to sleep late that morning. Madison’s parents were out of town again, and they were making the most of it.

  “I’m Brother Hernandez, and I’d like to welcome all our visitors. As you know, this is a joint Service of Celebration, over the safe return of our own Cassie Hixson and her friend Brandon Fox, who was her partner in tribulation. And to ask God’s blessing on their friends, who were prepared to lay their lives down for them. We welcome the congregation of the Calvary A.M.E. Church, especially Reverend Young, and the Reeves and Skelly families. Also the families of Olivia Mendel and Ethan Wren. The Mendels are members of Temple Beth Israel, and are here with permission of Rabbi Eisen. We’re here today to recognize them, but most of all, to give thanks to the God we all adore. Welcome, everyone!” Amid more “amens,” he turned over the service to Dr. Rice Hudson.

  “Thank you, Brother Hernandez,” Hudson intoned. “Before starting, we’d like to formally recognize these young people. No applause, please, but could you all stand up? Let the people see you.”

  They all stood, a bit slowly, not having expected this. Cassie almost had to haul Brandon to his feet. He wore one of Dr. Hixson’s neckties over his new shirt. What do they want to see me for? he wondered. They don’t even know me! They all looked around and smiled at the congregation. As requested, there was no applause, but the “amens” and cries of “yes, Lord,” threatened to rattle the windows. Cyrus Williams, sitting on one of the aisle seats, caught Brandon’s eye and grinned, raising his hand, giving him a thumbs-up.

  When they sat down, Hudson added his own “amen,” then announced, “At this point, I’d like to turn to Reverend Young for our invocation. Reverend?” The A.M.E. pastor came to the microphone, and began to pray, the kind of deep, rolling prayer that would be remembered. Olivia and Ethan held hands tightly; for different reasons, neither of them had ever been in a place like this. Their parents bowed their heads respectfully.

  So did Olivia and Ethan. This is so weird, the boy thought, not listening to the prayer. He hadn’t heard about Brandon’s conversion, but he felt stirrings in his own heart. I could definitely see myself as a part of this. . . . It all seems so real. With an effort, he pushed the feelings aside. Maybe another time. There’s no rush. . . . Livvie and her folks couldn’t handle it if I became a real hard-core Christian. I can’t lose Livvie.

  Squeezing his hand, Olivia had her own thoughts. These are good people. Like the Hixsons and Celeste and Royal. I can’t see this crowd chasing down Jews in a pogrom. She was conscious of the leather anklet she wore. I wish I could talk to Gabriel Terrena again. But maybe Rabbi Eisen can help me. He’s a real scholar. I wonder what he’d say about the anklet. I’m not sure I should tell him that part.

  Flanked by Cassie and Nick, with Dr. and Mrs. Hixson next to them, Brandon was shocked to realize how comfortable he felt. It was the last place he ever expected to find himself, but he was more at ease than he had been in many, many months.

  * * * * *

  “It’s going to be bad,” said U.S. Attorney Edward E. Davis. “It’s going to be bad for both of you. Trials are no fun. I just want you to know what’s coming.”

  The federal prosecutor had already interviewed Cassie and Brandon individually, but now he wanted to see them together, to get an idea of how they’d come across in court, in front of a jury. They were the government’s star witnesses in the case of The United States of America v. Eldon Floyd Dayle.

  “Why will it be bad?” Cassie asked, sitting in a heavy wooden chair across from the prosecutor. “It’s not like we asked to be kidnapped. We haven’t done anything wrong.” Unconsciously, she nibbled at a thumbnail.

  Brandon shifted a bit in his seat. “Um, that’s not exactly true about me, Cassie. I’m a Christian now, but. . . .” He shook his head.

  Davis tried not to sigh. He liked these kids, if you could call them kids, after what they’d been through. But they had to know the facts. His sandy hair was mostly gray now, his face as plain as a country mule: he looked like anybody’s favorite uncle, but he was one of the brightest prosecutors in the federal system. He wouldn’t let them go into the courtroom unprepared.

  “I’m afraid Brandon’s right, Cassie,” he said. “Eldon Dayle is. . . . Well, he’s almost inhuman, like you’ve said. He may be the coldest, most heartless man I’ve ever seen, who wasn’t actually insane. The jurors will see that, too. So, his attorney has to focus on making you two look bad. It’s their only chance.”

  “What will he do?” Cassie asked.

  Davis leaned forward, his arms crossed on the desk. “She. It’s a she. I’ll tell you what she’ll do. The defense team will try to make the jury see you, Cassie, as a religious fanatic who can’t fit in with society, so your parents had to home school you. At the same time, they’ll say that you’re so flighty and irresponsible that you go running down a public highway, all by yourself, every morning, ‘flaunting’ yourself, just asking for trouble. Now, that won’t make Dayle look any better, but it’ll make the jury less sympathetic to you, so that if he’s convicted, he’ll get a lighter sentence. See how it works?”

  Cassie flushed, her eyes flashing. “But that stuff’s not true. And even if it were, I’m not on trial!”

  “Of course not, but that’s how it’s done. Don’t worry. I’ll be questioning you first, and I’ll be able to ask the right questions to keep you on point. You’ll come across as an intelligent, ‘proper’ young lady, because that’s what you are. But you have to be prepared for
the defense to do their job, too. Dayle was smart: he hired a female attorney to lead the defense. She can rip into you without looking like a bully.”

  He shook his head. “And you, Brandon. I appreciate the changes you’re making, but they’ll focus entirely on your past. Running away from home, and such a respectable home, too. Tossing aside all your advantages, and living wild on the streets.”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Brandon said. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But I didn’t run away. I was emancipated.”

  Davis nodded. “I understand that, but I’m a lawyer. The jurors will just see you as a runaway, or at least a rebel. The ones who have children will be tempted to condemn you for that reason alone. And the worst part is the fact that you allowed Dayle and Maclean to recruit you. Son, you were involved in this crime, right up until the time you changed sides and defied them. That’s our weakness, but it’s also our strength. You did defy them. And when Dayle told you that you couldn’t leave that hangar, at that very moment, you became a victim of kidnapping, just like Cassie. Now, that’s the law. We just have to control the damage the other side tries to do.”

  “We need to keep the focus on Dayle, and not on me and Cassie,” Brandon said.

  “Exactly. That’s part of our strategy. The main part is making Dayle look like the monster that he is. Maclean was just as bad.” Davis had already heard of the woman’s suicide, and informed Cassie and Brandon. “That’s why the defense will attack you. To get the spotlight off their client. Hopefully, the judge won’t let them get away with it, but you have to be ready. I have an assistant who’ll go over it with you in advance. If you want to get mad, or cry, or yell, do it with him. Get it out of your system before you ever face the real thing. You’ll have plenty of time to prepare: the actual trial won’t begin for two or three months.”

  “Why so long?” Cassie asked. “I thought everybody had a right to a ‘speedy trial.’ Even Dayle.”

  “Two or three months is ‘speedy,” Davis replied. “As speedy as it gets, anyway. You see, both sides need time to prepare their cases, to line up witnesses, discuss strategy, things like that. Preparing a case takes time. If our side, the prosecution, tries to speed the process up, Dayle can go to a court of appeals, and say he wasn’t given enough time to prepare. But we’re not going to make it that easy for him.”

  “I’m just glad you’re not prosecuting me,” Brandon said.

  “Prosecute you? Son, the way things worked out, you’re the best thing we’ve got going for us. You were in on the plan, and can testify to what they were doing. And you’re a victim, who was horribly abused. The things they did to you. . . . You’re as close to an ideal witness as I could ask.”

  For a moment, Cassie’s eyes gleamed, and she ignored the attorney. “Brandon!” She grabbed his arm with both hands. “I just got it. What he said. . . . That’s why it all turned out this way. It’s in the Bible: ‘We know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.’ See? All things. Even your mistake, your sin, of joining up with Dayle worked out for good. God couldn’t have used you this way if you hadn’t. It would have been my word against his.”

  Davis sat back in his chair, running a handkerchief over his forehead. I’m glad to hear that God’s on the job, he thought. I’ll need all the help I can get, to put this bastard away for the rest of his life.

  * * * * *

  Celeste sat up very straight as she guided the little green bike down Powell Avenue at forty-five miles per hour. No wheelies today, she thought, surveying the sparse traffic ahead. But who needs ‘em? This is worth it!

  Sitting on the passenger pillion behind her, knees tight against the bike, Cassie clutched the saddle beneath her. Elevated above Celeste’s seat, she could see straight ahead, over her friend’s helmet. This is so cool! Why didn’t I do this before? Whoa. . . . Here comes a turn. She wrapped her arms around Celeste, remembering to hold her head straight. Riding on such a small motorcycle, so close to the driver, there was always the danger of smashing her faceplate into the back of Celeste’s helmet. That had already happened once or twice, but it hadn’t caused any problems. Celeste had merely cried, “Hey! Watch it,” completely unheard by her passenger.

  The girls made a smooth, easy turn onto Harding Road, and headed back toward Cassie’s neighborhood. They’d been riding for nearly an hour. When they finally pulled into Cassie’s driveway, Celeste cut the engine and held the bike steady while her friend climbed off, then put down the kickstand and dismounted. Cassie’s legs, clad in her favorite jeans, wobbled a bit. Both girls took off their helmets and shook out their hair.

  “Are you okay?” Celeste grinned. “How did you like it?”

  “I loved it. It was like flying. Are you gonna teach me how to drive it? Please?”

  Celeste laughed and hugged her friend. “Not just yet,” she replied. “Anyway, Mr. Davis would kill us if he saw us doing this before the trial. He told you to stay safe and close to home.”

  “I know, I know, but. . . . Wow, Celeste, thank you. It was so great!”

  They went into the house, got some water from the fridge, and headed for Cassie’s room. Celeste had already shed her leather jacket, and wore a dark green tank top underneath. She tossed her jacket on Cassie’s bed. “I gotta tell Roy about this,” she said. “He’ll be impressed.”

  “Will he? I can’t wait to tell Brandon, too.”

  Celeste took a long drink of water and sat down. She looked at her best friend with a knowing eye. “You’re really into him, aren’t you?”

  Cassie blushed, sitting on her desk chair. “Is it that obvious?”

  The other girl snorted. “It is to me. To other people, maybe not. But you can’t fool me.”

  “Well. . . .” Cassie thought for a moment. “We’ve been through so much together. And he’s really sweet, Celeste. Even when we were locked up. . . . As tough a life as he’s had, it hasn’t hardened him, or made him mean. You should see him playing with Nick. And now that he actually knows Jesus, I can see changes. . . . I get this feeling, when we’re together, that we want to take care of each other. And if something develops, it won’t be an ‘unequal yoke,’ like the Bible warns about. We’re both saved. But I gotta be careful. I mean, it could just be a reaction to what happened to us. That would draw any two people together.”

  “No doubt,” Celeste replied. “You’re thinking straight, girl. But yup, you’re into him.” She smiled. She was very happy for them. “I’m just glad that it was Roy who kinda held his hand when he made his decision. Roy’s his spiritual daddy now. If you’d been the one, your feelings for each other would have been all jumbled up.” Cassie nodded. She’d had the same thought.

  As they walked into the house, feeling giddy and happy, Celeste changed the subject. “Hey, Cassie,” she asked, a twinkle in her eye, “What do you think of Fifi?” She had finally cornered Olivia and demanded an explanation.

  “Huh? Who’s Fifi?” Cassie replied. Celeste laughed.

  * * * * *

  Brandon finished hanging up his clothes in the small closet, and nudged the two cardboard boxes of his belongings onto the floor beneath them with his foot. He shut the door and turned, looking around the neat, unused bedroom that would now be his temporary home. A window onto the street . . . a RIVERSIDE HIGH pennant tacked to one wall . . . a small wooden desk and chair . . . a shelf holding a football trophy, a framed photograph of a pretty, dark-skinned girl, and a framed portrait of an older boy in a brand-new Navy dress uniform, an American flag behind him.

  “I didn’t even know you had a big brother,” he said to Roy, who sat on the bed nearby, his leg extended.

  “Well, you haven’t been knowin’ me for very long,” his friend replied. “James Jr. is two years older than me. He’s in the Navy, servin’ in Japan. He really likes it. Says he’s gonna re-up when the time comes. That’s his girl Sally in the picture. Anyway, since his room was empty. . . . I talked to Pops about it, and M
om, and told them where you were living before, and they said you just had to come here.” He broke into a grin. “I’m so happy to have you here, man.” He laughed. “I just thought of something! James Jr. is gone, but think about it: now this is my brother’s room again!”

  Brandon pulled out the desk chair and started to sit down, but straightened up when Roy’s parents appeared in the doorway. “Go ahead, son, have a seat,” James Sr. said. His wife, Delphia, walked to the bed and sat next to her son. “Scoot over, boy,” she teased. “Give your momma some breathin’ room.” Mr. Skelly leaned against the wall, his arms folded.

  “How d’you like it, Brandon?” asked Mrs. Skelly. “Will there be enough space for you?”

  “Oh yes ma’am,” he replied. “I don’t need much space. It’s great. And just being with a real family for a change. . . .” Don’t go there, he warned himself. You’ll start crying. “Anyway, it’s wonderful. It’s such . . . a blessing.”

  “That’s the kind of talk I like to hear,” Mr. Skelly smiled. “It’ll be good for both of you men. And you’ll be a blessing to us, too.”