Ms. Winking made no attempt to open the door.
“This is about the other morning,” Melinda added. “I understand that Jamie’s not talking. I think I can explain what happened.”
After a moment longer, the door opened. “My nephew’s a police officer,” Ms. Winking said. “He keeps an eye on me.”
Melinda nodded in understanding. Ms. Winking wasn’t the kind of woman who could threaten anyone outright, but the implication was clear. “Of course. Did your nephew arrest the man?”
Ms. Winking nodded. She still hadn’t invited Melinda in.
“As well he should have. What happened was unacceptable and I’m glad that your nephew is able to help you out. I imagine that, when you’re a foster parent, you can’t be too careful.” She smiled her most comforting smile. “You’re doing the best you can for Jamie and I appreciate it.”
Ms. Winking opened the door a bit more and looked Melinda up and down. Melinda had her hair pinned back. Her make-up was understated and, of course, the suit was perfect for trust-fund board meetings—or court hearings for custody cases. “You’re hoping to get custody of Jamie, is that right?”
Melinda nodded. She pulled out her phone and called up the photo of her new house. “While my application is being processed, I bought a house that would be perfect for Jamie to grow up in. As I’m sure you know, he had a rough home life.”
“Yes,” Ms. Winking said, stepping forward to look at the photo. “I read his file, of course. And since the other morning … well, he stopped talking once they took that man away. I can hardly get him to come out of his room.” She shook her head in what looked like desperation. “I’ve seen a lot of tough cases in my time—I was never able to have children and after my husband passed, may he rest in peace, I started taking in children.”
Melinda nodded again. Her comforting smile was beginning to hurt her cheeks, but this was progress.
“But Jamie is—well,” Ms. Winking went on. She shuddered. “There’ve been confrontations before, you know. Angry parents, the like. That’s why Mark—he’s my nephew—installed that security system. But this is the first time I’ve ever had someone actually break into my home.”
“I’m sure it was unnerving,” Melinda agreed. “I’d like to fill in a few of the blanks for you. I think that, if you understand the whole picture, you’ll realize you were never in danger.”
Ms. Winking nodded again and stepped back to hold the door open for Melinda. “Come in. Shall I get Jamie?”
“Not just yet. I’d like to have this conversation without him around. I don’t want to upset him even more.” Because when she told Ms. Winking that she’d arranged for Nobody to remain in police custody until Jamie was no longer in her care, Jamie was going to be upset.
Ms. Winking led her to a cozy kitchen that looked to be original to the house. Harvest gold appliances, Melinda thought with an inward smile. Nice. A worn high chair was tucked into one corner and the refrigerator handle had been dulled by countless little hands opening it, but everything was clean and neat, much like Ms. Winking.
She was probably in her mid-sixties, a heavy-set woman with a grandmotherly air about her. Her long, gray hair was rolled back into a loose bun and the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes indicated that she laughed easily and often.
“Have a seat. Coffee?” she asked as she bustled around the kitchen, assembling the cups before Melinda could say ‘Yes, Please.’
“So you don’t know anything about the man who was arrested in your home?”
“Jamie called him Nobody,” Ms. Winking said, sliding into her seat. “Mark—my nephew—said his name was Nobody Bodine and that he had a record. He served time for killing a man?” She shuddered so hard she had to put her coffee cup down. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I understand completely.” Melinda took a sip to give Ms. Winking the chance to compose herself. “Mr. Bodine—Nobody—is an unusual man. He was involved in a brawl at a bar where he punched a man and that did lead to the man’s death. He was quite young at the time—seventeen—and had been living on his own for about four years when the fight happened.”
Ms. Winking blinked. “My, that is young—he’d been alone since he was thirteen?”
Melinda nodded. She felt badly about this—it was not her story to tell—but Nobody would never get the chance to set the record straight. “He’d survived incredible abuse at the hands of his mother. She tortured him.”
“Oh, my,” Ms. Winking said, not looking at Melinda.
“I only tell you that to help you see why he was here,” Melinda hurried to add. “Mr. Bodine never had anyone to look out for him. When he found Jamie—a young child being beaten by his parents with no one else to rely on, he decided to be a … guardian angel, you could say. The kind of guardian angel he’d needed but never had.” The sheriff would say vigilante, but Melinda was going for an image make-over here. “He watched over the boy, gave him a safe place to go and defended him when necessary. I think it’s fair to say that he’s the only reason Jamie’s still alive.”
“I see,” Ms. Winking said in the kind of voice that suggested she didn’t, not entirely.
Melinda sighed. This wasn’t going poorly, but it wasn’t going well. Not yet. “As I’m sure you can gather, Mr. Bodine hasn’t always operated within the bounds of the law—or reason. He promised he would trust me—that Jamie was safe here with you and that no one was hurting him. But, as you know, he didn’t keep that promise to me. It was important for him to see with his own eyes that Jamie was well.”
It shouldn’t sting—but it did. He’d broken his promise to let her handle this. He hadn’t trusted her.
She wanted to wring his neck all over again. But she didn’t. She just smiled at Ms. Winking.
“He looked so dangerous,” the older woman said in a quiet tone.
“I know that his looks can be intimidating, but please believe me—he was no threat to you. He was so worried about the boy that he just didn’t think through the consequences of his actions.” Like the possibility of a security system or a cop for a nephew.
“He’s been the one constant in Jamie’s life,” Melinda went on. “The one person he’s always been able to trust. I understand if you want to press charges against Mr. Bodine, but I’d like to ask you not to. I believe that locking Nobody Bodine up will only harm Jamie. I’m working to build a bond with him, but without Mr. Bodine …”
“He has been so upset,” Ms. Winking murmured. “He was never a talkative child, but now he won’t even look at me. I’ve been so worried that man did something to him but …” she sighed heavily. “You should have seen him when Mark arrested that man—screaming and crying out for him.”
Melinda’s heart broke. Yeah, that was why Nobody hadn’t fought back. He’d realized that would have only made things worse for Jamie.
“I just want what’s best for Jamie. We all do.”
They sat there for a moment, sipping the coffee. It was growing cold.
“I understand what you’re saying,” Ms. Winking finally said into the silence. “But I can’t have that man breaking into my house again. What if there’d been shots fired?”
“I’ve made plans for that. If you decide not to file charges against Mr. Bodine, I’ve arranged for him to be turned over to the tribal sheriff. Sheriff Means has promised me that he’ll hold Mr. Bodine until Jamie is no longer in your care. Mr. Bodine will be unable to make bail.”
Ms. Winking looked up at her in surprise. “You want me to have him released so you can lock him up?”
“Basically,” Melinda readily agreed. “I don’t want to discount the trauma he put you through, but I don’t think he needs to spend three to five years in prison for it, either.” Another three years in prison would break that man. Who could guess what Nobody would be when he got out again?
She remembered him telling the story about how he got his GED by guarding the college frat-boy drug runner, how the frat-boy got shanked. How many people had
Nobody beat up—people like Dwayne, who were also in prison?
Who could guess what Nobody would be if he got out again?
Ms. Winking swirled what was left of her coffee in her cup. “And you’re confident that’ll be best for Jamie? To allow him to continue to be with a convicted felon?”
“I believe Nobody Bodine would die to protect Jamie, if that was what was best for the boy.”
That was the truth. Nobody would die for Jamie—or go to prison again, which was basically the same thing.
“You can think about it. Mr. Bodine isn’t going anywhere,” Melinda said as she stood. “I won’t take up any more of your time. I think it’d be best to stick to our scheduled meeting with Jamie at Ms. Watterkotte’s office this afternoon, don’t you?” Maybe by that time, Ms. Winking would have decided to drop the charges against Nobody.
“Yes, I suppose,” Ms. Winking said. Melinda might have been wrong, but she thought the older woman looked relieved that Melinda wasn’t going to press the issue by calling Jamie in and telling him what might happen. “Thank you for stopping by. I do feel better about the situation now.”
“I’m glad.” And she was. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
She left the house. Nobody was still in jail and he might be there for a long time, but at least Melinda had done what she could.
Now she just had to wait.
Chapter Twenty
“Let’s go,” the cop said. It was a different cop, but Nobody wasn’t exactly keeping track at this point. He didn’t know how long he’d been here—maybe eight days, maybe ten. He couldn’t think about it. “Arms in back.”
He could still fight. But he was inside, with walls and bars and razor wire between him and the night sky. He could only fight if he wanted to die.
So he turned around and held his arms in back. Cuffs were slapped on his wrists again. He wanted to think they were letting him go, but even he knew you didn’t cuff a man to turn him loose.
There were two options. Either they were moving him. Maybe he’d get a window this time. If he could just see the sky …
The other choice was that someone was here to see him. He wanted to hope it was Melinda, but at the same time he didn’t want her to see him like this, locked up like an animal. She’d be plenty mad at him, that was for damn sure.
Maybe it was Melinda. Maybe she’d have the boy with her. Maybe she’d bailed him out. He knew he didn’t deserve it, but for a brief moment, he allowed himself to hope. The thought of her—sitting next to him in front of the fire, curled up in his arms while she slept, riding him with her wildfire hair all crazy around her beautiful face—well, that’d kept him going. But he didn’t know how much longer he could hold onto those images. Hope was a damn dangerous thing when a man was in jail. Better to keep his head down and get through each day as it came.
The cop led him down the long hallway to the booking area. He kept his head down—no sense looking around. He didn’t want to start anything with other prisoners. “Here he is,” the cop said, giving him a little shove forward. “Don’t talk much, though.”
“Yeah,” said a voice that sounded like home—but with an attitude. “We’re used to it.”
He knew that voice. Jack.
What the hell was Jack doing here? Nobody took a cautious look up. Jack was leaning up against a desk, a smirk on his face. Nobody wasn’t exactly happy to see him, but there were worse people in the world.
Like Sheriff Means—who stood up from the chair behind Jack. He did his best to stare down at Nobody. Nobody didn’t even flinch. He wouldn’t give Means the satisfaction. “He didn’t give you any trouble, did he?”
“Nah,” the cop said. “Never said a damn word.”
Nobody wanted to ask what was going on—why were the sheriff and Jack here? But he didn’t want to admit that Means knew anything he didn’t, so he kept his mouth shut.
“You got all the paperwork?” Means said.
“Yup,” the cop replied. “He’s all yours.”
What? Means had come for him? Nobody didn’t like this. Not a bit. He’d rather be moved to a new cell. But he didn’t have a say in the matter. So he kept his mouth shut.
Jack walked back behind Nobody and changed out the cuffs. He locked Nobody’s hands in front of him this time. “I can’t believe you let yourself get arrested, if you don’t mind me saying. Never thought I’d see the day.”
He’d only gotten arrested for one reason. He didn’t want to give Means anything to go on, but Nobody couldn’t help it. “The boy?”
Jack laughed. “Man, you are a piece of work.”
“The boy’s fine,” Means said. “It’s the woman you should be worried about. That Melinda Mitchell?” Means whistled. The noise made Nobody flinch, but he managed to keep his face blank. “I’m going to be holding onto you for a while longer.” He smiled when he said it. “Understood?”
Nobody gave him a curt nod, just enough to let the sheriff know he got it.
Means gave him a mean grin. “Officer, if you’d follow us out, I’d appreciate it.”
The cop snorted. “You think he’ll run? Shit. He hasn’t done anything but sit in his cell the whole time we’ve been here.” The cop made a move to prod Nobody in the side.
Hell, no. Nobody gave him a look and the cop backed up a step. “Yeah, okay,” he said, a new respect in his voice. “Once he’s in the car, he’s all yours.”
“Don’t try anything funny,” Jack said in a kind of quiet voice. “You know he’s got it in for you.”
Nobody gave another small nod. He wouldn’t try anything, not yet. Means was taking every precaution—even bringing in Jack as back-up. There would be no opportunity to run, not yet. He was just exchanging one cell for another, one jailer for another. He deserved nothing less.
Would he ever see Melinda or the boy again?
*
Nobody had been in the sheriff’s cell for three days. He knew that because watching the sun move across the floor was the only thing to do in a place like this.
He’d mostly been alone. There’d been some guy Nobody didn’t recognize in the other cell—the one with the window—when they’d brought Nobody inside. But that guy had made bail, apparently. So now Nobody was alone.
Well, not entirely alone. Sheriff Means appeared to expect Nobody to go up in a puff of smoke or bend the bars with his bare hands or something, because he and Jack were doing twelve-hour shifts of staring at him. Nobody was never left to his own devices.
Means didn’t talk to him. Of course, he didn’t taunt him or throw crap at him. Nobody would have guessed that the sheriff would have jumped on this chance to exact a little revenge on him—but he didn’t. He brought Nobody his meals—decent food, better than what he’d been getting in the other jail—and even offered Nobody a cup of coffee every time he made a new pot. But mostly he shuffled paper and took calls.
Maybe Nobody had figured the sheriff wrong. After all this time, he’d figured the lawman would have had it in for him, just like Jack had said. But he didn’t.
It was different with Jack. Jack would turn on the little black-and-white TV set the sheriff had and watch cartoons. He played solitaire and drank a lot of coffee, but that was about it. Nobody wanted to ask Jack what was going on or if he knew how long he’d be in here, but he couldn’t figure out a way to ask the question without betraying weakness and he couldn’t do that. Weakness got a man killed in prison.
Nobody was alone and ignored. It shouldn’t have hurt—it was a far sight better than the sheriff getting it into his head that maybe Nobody needed to be put in his place—but it hurt anyway.
This was his fault. All of it. Even the loneliness was his fault. He’d let himself get comfortable with Melinda—with being around other people. With stepping out of the shadows and into the light. He’d thought he’d hate it, but now that it’d been taken away from him, he missed it all the more.
He should have stuck to the shadows.
And now he couldn’t
even do that.
He tried. He’d always been solid, always had just the two legs. He didn’t shift his shape and he was no sica. But, a few times when the midnight hour had long passed and dawn was still a ways off—the hours he should have been sliding into Melinda’s bed and taking comfort in her arms—he tried. He sat as far into the corner of his cell as possible and tried to let the darkness—what little of it there was in a room with the lights always on—pull him into the shadows.
It didn’t work. No weird tingling on his skin. His hair didn’t even stand on end. Nothing.
The morning of the fourth day, the door of the station opened. Nobody didn’t look up. He just wanted to be invisible again, where no one could see him and he could come and go as he pleased. He missed Melinda. He missed the boy. He missed the horses. And the night sky. He missed all the things that had made him who he was. Gone. They were all gone.
He sat on the floor, back against the wall of his cell, and tried to remember the last book he’d read, the one about the Sackett brother that had to kill a man. Nobody couldn’t remember all the words, but if he concentrated, it was almost like he was watching the movie of the book in his mind. It was enough to keep him from going truly insane.
“Sheriff,” a tight female voice said as heels clicked over the floor.
“Ms. Mitchell,” Means said. “This way.”
That got Nobody’s attention. He looked up to see Melinda—his Melinda—standing there. His chest unclenched and he felt himself breathe. She hadn’t forgotten him. She’d come for him, his Melinda. He hadn’t been wrong to hope that she would.
Except she wasn’t his Melinda. The woman who was stalking her way back to where he was locked up like a stray dog had her hair smoothed back into a severe bun. She wore a gray suit and tall black heels that made her look like a lawyer. There was nothing wild or free about her—especially not about her face. The change was so different that, if it hadn’t been for the red hair, he would have thought Dr. Mitchell had come to scowl at him.
Nobody (Men of the White Sandy) (Volume 3) Page 25
