Ulterior Motives

by Terri Blackstock

  “Tomorrow?” Larry sprang out of his chair. “Judge, tomorrow’s too late. He’s a killer, and he’s trying to take out our main witness. She’s in the hospital as we speak.”

  “She’ll be safe until tomorrow,” the judge said. “No idiot would attempt murder in as public a place as a hospital.”

  “Give me a break!” Tony cried. “What is the deal here? You’ve stood in the way every step of this investigation!”

  The judge banged his fist down. “It’s my job to ensure that you do your job within the bounds of the law, so that my courtroom doesn’t fill up with a bunch of lawyers who waste my time with technicalities and loopholes. I will not issue arrest warrants for every Tom, Dick, and Harry you think may have committed a crime!”

  “Think? What does all this evidence spell, Judge? Witnesses, bodies—what do you want? You want him to come after you? Would you give us an arrest warrant then?”

  The judge’s dagger eyes pierced Tony. “Get out of my office. Now, or I’ll hold you in contempt!”

  “We’re not in court, Judge!”

  The judge snatched up the phone. “I’m calling security.”

  “No need,” Tony said, jerking the door open. “I get the picture.”

  Larry covered his face. This was going from bad to worse. “We need this warrant,” he said, in a voice he hoped would appease. “There are children in danger, your honor. Every minute counts. Brandon knows we’re bearing down on him, and he’s going to get desperate. Please let us know the minute you decide to issue the warrant.”

  “You’ll hear from me.”

  Larry followed Tony out, and Tony slammed the door behind them.

  “Good going,” Larry said. “That ought to change his mood.”

  “He’s either senile or dirty,” Tony said. “He doesn’t want us to arrest Brandon, and there’s a reason. We’re going to the prosecutor’s office right now. We’ll get the warrant from him.”

  “Whoa—we can’t just go over Wyatt’s head without talking to the captain,” Larry said.

  “Fine. Then let’s do it.”

  An hour later, they sat in Captain Sam Richter’s office at the police station, watching him pace, clearly disturbed, as he processed the facts they had given him. “Did he say why the evidence wasn’t sufficient?” he asked. “Did he tell you what he would need to give you the warrant?”

  “No,” Tony said. “He’s not interested in helping us on this, Captain. If we handed him videotapes of Brandon beating and maiming the kids, the man would still have to take it under advisement. Something stinks.”

  “Yeah, I’d say so. But I don’t like making enemies of our judges. There’s got to be another way.”

  “What, then?” Tony asked. “We need to get this guy locked up tonight!”

  Sam sank into his chair and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “But if we go to the prosecutor, and it turns out that Judge Wyatt has just taken a conservative turn and isn’t really doing anything wrong, we’ll have made an enemy out of the person who’s supposed to be our number-one ally in this game.”

  “He’s a judge because he’s supposed to have good judgment,” Larry pointed out. “If he’s lost that judgment, for whatever reason, then he needs to be removed from the bench.”

  Sam opened a drawer and dug around, then came up with a roll of antacids. He broke the roll of tablets in half and put four into his mouth. As he chewed, he leaned forward on his desk, studying both men. “Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to follow Judge Wyatt tonight. Just tail him and see what he does. If he’s dirty, maybe you’ll get evidence of that. Tomorrow, if he still hasn’t issued the warrant, you can go to the prosecutor’s office—I’ll even go with you—and we’ll try to get the warrant from them.”

  “What about Brandon?” Larry asked. “Captain, he’s a killer, and there are people that he needs dead.”

  “You follow him, Larry. Watch every move he makes. Don’t lose him for a second. In fact, we might be able to set up a stakeout in that hardware store across the street from the home.”

  Larry shot Tony a frustrated look. “Captain, that may not be good enough.”

  “It’ll have to be,” Sam said. “I’m not willing to bring a judge down until I know for sure that I have an excellent reason. It sounds like somebody tipped Brandon off about the article, right after you showed it to Judge Wyatt. Maybe it was the judge.”

  “I’d bet my life on it,” Tony said.

  They went back to their car, then just sat there for a moment before Tony started the ignition. “How do you do it, Larry? How do you stay calm when the top of your head is about to blow off? This whole Christianity thing is new to me, I know, but I don’t think I’ll ever get to the point where I don’t want to throw a man like Judge Wyatt against the wall and beat some sense into him.”

  “It’s not a sin to be angry, Tony. Christ got angry.”

  “It wouldn’t be so bad if I could trust that the work we do out here, on the streets, is going to count for something, that it was a partnership. We nab the bad guys, and the judges and courts put them away. Now the courts won’t even let me nab the bad guys.”

  “What do you think Brandon’s next move will be?”

  “Whatever he wants,” Tony said, throwing up his hands. “He can blow up the police station, for all Judge Wyatt cares. Get an automatic weapon and mow down every kid in his home. You think Wyatt would give us a warrant then?”

  “He’d take it under advisement.”

  Tony’s face reddened as he jabbed the key into the ignition and cranked the old car. “Sometimes I think I need to find another job.”

  “You couldn’t leave this, even if you wanted to.”

  “Don’t count on it. It sounds better and better every day.”

  He headed out into traffic. “You can take this car tonight. I’ll use my car to follow Judge Bozo around.”

  “Take your cell phone so we can stay in touch.”

  “Nick and Beth are gonna keel over and die when they find out that we can’t get that scumbag today. Not to mention Jimmy.”

  “We’ll just have to do the next best thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Make sure no one else gets hurt before we can get him behind bars.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  St. Clair beach was busy this time of year, but Jake found a parking space. Jimmy got out before Jake could say anything and headed for the long pier shooting out into the Gulf.

  The wind blustered through the boy’s hair, making him look small and vulnerable. Jake followed him down the pier.

  When they got to the end, Jimmy leaned over the rail and looked out toward the horizon. Jake sat down on a bench next to where Jimmy stood and looked up at him. “Want to talk now?”

  “No.”

  “Then will you listen?”

  Jimmy ignored him.

  “Jimmy, I know how you feel.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do. There was a time when I pretty much despised my mother, too. And I was embarrassed by her, and I never wanted to see her again.”

  Jimmy gave him a reluctant glance. “What did she do to you?”

  He sighed. “It wasn’t so much what she did. It was more what she didn’t do. She wasn’t exactly June Cleaver.”

  “Who?”

  He regrouped and tried to find a more modern reference point. “She wasn’t a storybook mom. She had a lot of problems. She caused me a lot of problems. And while I was growing up, I remember always thinking that the minute I was old enough, I’d be out of there and never look back.”

  “I didn’t have to wait that long.”

  “No, you didn’t.” He looked up at the kid. “What did she do, Jimmy? Did she hurt you in some way?”

  “Hurt me? No. She didn’t pay enough attention to hurt me. Unless you call leaving us without food for three days hurting us. She was so strung out on dope that she didn’t know where she was half the time.”

  �
��Pretty messed up, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So when you went to the home, I guess it seemed like an improvement.”

  He sighed. “I didn’t have so much responsibility.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Seven.”

  Jake thought it over. He almost couldn’t blame the kid for hating his mother. No seven-year-old should have responsibility for his home, himself, and his four-year-old sister.

  “What about when you realized the home wasn’t what it seemed to be?”

  “It was okay,” he said. “As long as I did what Bill said, I didn’t worry too much. He took care of us. And he never touched Lisa. I knew I could take whatever heat there was to take, if they’d just leave her alone. While I was there, they did. Now, everything’s all messed up. I don’t know where we’re gonna live, I don’t know if Lisa’s all right—and if they give us back to . . .” His voice trailed off. He didn’t seem to know how to refer to Tracy.

  Jake understood. “Mother” didn’t seem to apply, and neither did “Mom.” “Jimmy, I want you to understand that when Nick went looking for your mom, it wasn’t to reunite you, necessarily. He just wanted to see if she was still in bad shape. He wanted to see if there was any hope there.”

  “Well, there’s not.”

  “Maybe not. Not in human terms, anyway.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that when we think something’s impossible, or someone’s impossible to change, God sometimes comes along and does something really awesome, and the next thing you know, you’ve got a bona fide human being there with morals and a heart and a conscience.”

  “You talking about your mother?”

  Jake smiled. “No. I’m talking about myself, kiddo.”

  Jimmy leaned his shoulder into the rail and looked at Jake, grudgingly interested.

  “Have you ever heard the term ‘morally bankrupt’?” Jake asked.

  Jimmy shrugged.

  “It’s a term used to describe a person who doesn’t have any morals. Someone who lives for today, and only cares about the pleasures of the moment. Someone who doesn’t care who he hurts or what he has to do to get what he wants.” He stood up next to the boy and leaned on the rail, looking out over the ocean. “That’s what I was, Jimmy. I may not have been a junkie, and I may not have had a couple of kids to neglect, but I was morally bankrupt. And God taught me a few things.”

  “I don’t know if I believe in God,” Jimmy said matter-of-factly. “But if he was real, what did he teach you?”

  “He taught me that I was no better than your mom, or my mom, or any other morally bankrupt person out there. Some of us wear it prettier than others, some of us are masters at hiding it, but the bottom line is that sin is sin. We’ve all got it. And until we trust in someone bigger than ourselves, it’ll do every one of us in. Me, my mom, your mom, you, Lisa—”

  “We’re already done in,” Jimmy said.

  “No, you’re not. Because God can turn things around. He turned things around for me, and made a new person out of the sorry slug I was. He can do that for your mom. He could even do it for you.”

  “You calling me a sorry slug?”

  “No. But I’m telling you that it doesn’t matter that you didn’t have a father to bring you up and take care of and protect you. I didn’t, either. It doesn’t matter that your only other parent failed you. It doesn’t matter that the adults in your life, for the most part, have been morally bankrupt and even abusive. What matters is that there’s someone more important than them, someone who has a lot more authority over you than they do, someone who loves you more than you can even love yourself—even more than you love Lisa.”

  The little boy considered that as the wind ruffled his hair. “Well, you can believe that if you want to. I’m not gonna make fun of you. I just don’t believe it.”

  “That’s fine, kiddo. I’m no preacher, and I’m not trying to shove a sermon down your throat. But take it from me, one homeless, fatherless guy to another: God is taking care of you, whether you believe in him or not.”

  “I don’t want him to take care of me. I’ll be all right. I want him to take care of Lisa.”

  “Her, too. If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’. God loves you both.”

  “We’ll see,” Jimmy said.

  Jake smiled and messed up his hair. “Yeah, we’ll see. What do you say we go back to my place and chill for a while? See what Lynda’s found out.”

  He sighed. “Whatever.”

  “Okay. Come on.” He started walking back up the pier, and Jimmy followed behind him a few paces. After a moment, he caught up. “Jake, why’d you say ‘one homeless guy to another’? You have a home.”

  “Not really. It isn’t mine. See, when I was where you are, homeless and broke, feeling like I didn’t have a single soul to love me, with no idea where I would live, God sent Lynda to help me. And she did, man. I’ve been living in her garage apartment ever since. But it’s not really mine, and even though I’m paying rent now, I still feel like I’m mooching.”

  “When you marry her, you won’t be a freeloader anymore.”

  The choice of words both stung and amused Jake. “I guess not. Listen, I’ve been thinking. If she says yes, I’m gonna need a best man. You think you might be up for the job?”

  Jimmy’s eyes widened. “Really? Me?”

  “Yeah, you.”

  “Well, I guess so.”

  “Good. But I may be jumping the gun. Maybe I need to wait until the bride says yes before I start planning the wedding, huh?”

  By the time they got to the car, Jimmy’s mood had lifted, and he was a kid again.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Beth didn’t know if it was sheer boredom or genuine concern that made her decide to slip out of her room to visit Tracy Westin. Without asking permission of the nurses, she pulled on the robe she had borrowed from Lynda and walked weakly to the elevators.

  It was only one floor up. Fortunately, Tracy’s room wasn’t far from the elevators, so the walk wasn’t long.

  Tracy was sitting upright in her bed, still weak, and still connected to an IV and a monitor.

  Beth knocked lightly on the door and went in.

  Tracy looked up. Her eyes were red, wet, and swollen, and it was clear that she’d been crying. Something about that fragility touched Beth.

  “Hi,” she said. “I’m Beth Wright. Do you remember when I was here yesterday, with Nick?”

  Tracy nodded, her expression holding more than a little suspicion.

  Beth looked down at her robe. “As you can see, I’m a patient here, too. I had a little accident, but I’m okay.”

  She was babbling, she thought, and so far the woman hadn’t said a word to her. She wished she hadn’t come. Tracy wiped the wetness from her face, and Beth wondered how to comfort her. “Want to talk about it?” she asked.

  Tracy shook her head.

  “Okay.” Beth pulled up a chair and gingerly sank into it. “You look better. You have more color in your face.” She realized, kicking herself, that that might only be because she was crying. Didn’t everyone’s face turn red when they cried? She looked down at her hands. “Look, I know you don’t know me from Adam. And you probably don’t feel like spilling your guts to a complete stranger. I don’t blame you. So if you want me to, I’ll just go back to my room.” She started to get back up.

  “What kind of accident?” The woman’s question startled her, and she turned back around.

  “What?”

  “What kind of accident did you have?”

  “Oh. I was kind of in an explosion. Somebody sent me a package bomb, and I made the mistake of opening it.”

  Tracy’s face twisted. “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. Pretty awful, huh? You think I look bad, you should see my house.”

  Tracy drew in a deep cleansing breath, and wiped her face. “No wonder there was blood on Nick’s shirt.”

  “You saw him?” s
he asked.

  Tracy nodded slightly, and tears filled her eyes again. “He brought Jimmy.”

  Beth stepped closer. “He brought Jimmy? He didn’t tell me he was going to do that. He came by a little while ago, but I was sleeping, so he just left a note.”

  “Apparently it was . . . spur of the moment. It turned out to be a . . . really bad idea.”

  “Why?”

  Tracy’s face twisted again as she relived the scene. “My kid took one look at me and took off running. I told you, he hates me. He has every right.”

  “I’m sorry.” But Beth didn’t know if she was sorrier for Tracy or Jimmy.

  “Yeah, me too. Too late.”

  Beth stood there awkwardly, watching her cry for a moment before it occurred to her to hand her a tissue. “I wondered why they didn’t bring Lisa,” Tracy said, wiping her nose. “Is she dead?”

  “Dead?” Beth asked, surprised by the question. “No, she’s not dead. She’s just . . . she’s still at the children’s home.”

  “Does she hate me, too? I was hoping . . . that she was too little . . . when she left . . .”

  “I don’t know,” Beth whispered. “I’ve never met Lisa. Just Jimmy.”

  “Ohhh,” Tracy moaned on a weak breath. “Why didn’t I just die when I had the chance?”

  “Maybe it wasn’t your time.”

  “Why not?” she asked. “I’ve seen it all. I’ve done it all. I’m just so tired.”

  “There’s lots more, Tracy. And just because Jimmy doesn’t want to see you now doesn’t mean there won’t be a chance later. And speaking of chances, Tracy, you’ve got another one yourself—to pull your life back together.”

  “Yeah, right.” She looked Beth over. “Easy for you to say. You have people you can trust. You probably have a job, money—and you don’t have a monkey riding your back, so hard that no matter how you fight him, he’s still there, reminding you, threatening you, pulling you . . .”

  “Addictions can be overcome, Tracy. Think about it—it’s been weeks since you’ve had any drugs. You could walk out of here and never touch the stuff again. Nick found you for a reason. Someone up there was looking out for you.”