Mouse Trapped

by Manda Mellett

  “Come on, Ms De Souza. See sense. Agree to plead guilty.”

  There’s a commotion in the corridor outside. Footsteps, loud voices. I’m expecting no one, whoever it is won’t have anything to do with me, but it’s distracting. My lawyer looks annoyed at the interruption when he sees he’s lost my attention.

  “Ms De Souza. I haven’t got all day. Make your decision…”

  The door bursts open. A middle-aged woman wearing a smart pant suit pushes her way in, comes over to stand next to me and warns firmly, “Not one word, Ms De Souza.” Then she speaks to a police officer standing in the doorway, after which she nods politely to the lawyer the court appointed for me. “Now, I’d like to speak to my client, alone. And please arrange to have the recording equipment switched off. Client/lawyer confidentiality.”

  I was recorded? Thank goodness I hadn’t said a word to convict myself. Hadn’t leaned towards a guilty plea, had I? No, I don’t think I had. I look at her gratefully. Has Drew managed to arrange this? No, he wouldn’t know how. Tse? Has Tse come through? Or has Drew contacted someone else?

  While those thoughts were running through my head, the room was cleared, and I’ve been left alone with the newcomer. Her presence gives me a new worry. While I’m pleased she’s here, immediately sensing someone is on my side, I have to be honest.

  Drew’s probably done what he can, but, “I can’t afford to pay you,” I say quietly, looking down, knowing she’ll stand and leave. Perhaps Drew misled her, let her think we had money.

  But she stays in place. “Don’t worry about that. My fee’s been taken care of. Just concentrate on us sorting out this mess and getting you walking out of here a free woman again.”

  I pull back, staring at her, wondering if she can be trusted. “Is that even possible?” And who’s paying her?

  “I can’t say it won’t be difficult, but that fiancé of yours is quite a persuasive young man. If there’s evidence out there, he’ll find it. I won’t lie to you. You can’t afford to lose your DACA status, though with the current political situation, you may lose it soon in any event. But for now, you’ve still got it. Which means you can’t have a stain, or even the hint of one, on your record.”

  My fiancé? Who the hell…? But I don’t contradict her. Just file it away as a puzzle to be solved later. If I said I had no man in my life, would she walk out the door thinking she wouldn’t get paid after all?

  “The detectives said I won’t get bail.”

  “You’ve not yet been charged. Let’s take it one step at a time, okay?” She pulls out a chair and sits down. “Take it from the top. I want to know everything.”

  Unlike the other lawyer, she doesn’t look at her watch. I don’t even see her eyes flick to the clock on the wall. It seems like we talk for hours. I tell her everything, about my mom, about how she was killed when she returned to Colombia, the threat that I feel includes me too.

  “Your father. You think he would harm you?”

  A fleeting memory of giggling as he tossed me in the air. Do I really remember that, or was it just what Mom had told me? Then the change, the violence. “He sees nothing wrong with forcing, raping women. My brother was a product of that. I’ve evaded him so long; he’ll want me back. See me as nothing more than property. He may even force me to marry someone who’d be like him. He’s got no compassion at all. He broke my arm just before Mom got me away.”

  “If you returned to Colombia, is there anyone you could stay with?”

  “No. My grandmother on my mom’s side died soon after she did. I think I’ve still got a grandfather on my father’s side, but I wouldn’t want to go to him. There’s no one else. I was only four when I left.” Sure, I played with the girl next door, but I can’t even remember her name now. Ann? Anna? Hannah? Even if I could, you can’t, as an adult, presume she would help based on a friendship that was between two little girls.

  “So there’s an asylum case we can put forward. Of course, it would be better if there were actual threats toward you that we could refer to.”

  Pursing my lips, I explain. “My mom had a cast iron case as was proved by events. And she wasn’t listened to.”

  Carissa, as she’s introduced herself, half smiles. “I know it’s no comfort, Mariana, but that could help your case.”

  “Can I make a phone call?” I ask. “I want to check on my brother.”

  “Of course you do, but they won’t allow that yet. I understand you used your one call to him yesterday? I will tell you this, he’s in very good hands.”

  I hardly dare ask. “Who, who is looking after him?”

  This time it’s a full smile. “Why, that handsome young man of yours of course. Mr Williamson.”

  I’m no wiser. It could be Tse, I never learned his family name. It doesn’t sound very Native American. But racking my brains, I don’t know any of Drew’s friends called Williamson either.

  Chapter 10

  Mouse

  Alex came through. By mid-morning I had pledged a large portion of my savings and had engaged Carissa Beacham, an immigration lawyer with an apparently well-earned reputation.

  I’m so far out of my depth, it’s no joke. I watch Drew, aimlessly sprawled on the couch, his eyes fixed on a programme on TV he has no interest in. He’s lost his mom, and now his sister. He called me for help. In doing that, he’s somehow made me responsible for him. Like I had a fucking clue what to do with a fifteen-year-old boy. He’d been in no state to go to school, so I let him stay home. Until we have news, he’s going to be in pieces.

  What’s worse is the phone call I’ve received from Drummer. He wants, needs me back at the club. I’m torn in two. My duty to my brothers, and my commitment to these people I’ve only just met.

  I’m not in a much better state than Drew. Being here reminds me of Mariana, of her arms around me when I rode back with her on my bike, how I felt an immediate connection to her. I should have explored it. Come back and seen her again. Fuck knows, if I had, she might not have been in that place at that time. I’m swearing at myself now for not following up on that strange draw between us while I had the chance. I’d thought the best thing I could do was stay away. I thought she’d have forgotten all about me. But she asked Drew to call me. She must trust me enough to get her out of the bind she’s in. Can I do enough? I’m far out of my comfort zone here.

  “Come on.” Standing, I jerk my chin toward Drew. He’s already tall for his age and could pass for someone older.

  He looks at me sullenly. “Where are you going? The lawyer might call…”

  “She’s got my cell,” I remind him. How do you deal with a fifteen-year-old who’s lost his whole family? My initial reaction is to treat him like a prospect, expecting my instructions to be obeyed. Then, grasping that approach would probably not work with a teenager, I untie my long hair, then smooth it back into a ponytail again with my hands. “I don’t know about you, Drew, but I can’t sit around here doing nothing. I need something to do. Something to help your sister.”

  His eyes sharpen with interest. “Like what?”

  “We know there are no traffic cameras in the area, but there could be CCTV. I want to go down to that junction and see whether there are any businesses around. They might have security cameras which could have caught something, or hell, someone might have seen it for themselves.” Something tells me the cops didn’t do much investigating to find out the truth.

  His whole face has brightened, then it falls. “I can’t come along. Ma’s car was totalled.”

  “I’ve got my bike.” My head tilts in challenge.

  He’s on his feet, a tentative grin curling his mouth. “Ma might not like it.”

  “Mariana’s got enough on her plate to worry about. She wouldn’t want you to be left alone and brooding, and she knows I’m a safe rider. She’ll understand.” I’m crossing my fingers behind my back, while acknowledging Mariana might never get the chance to play mom with Drew again. He’ll have to start making his own decisions. Tha
t thought’s followed by the question of what the fuck do I do with him? There’s no way I can walk out of his life, leaving him to fend for himself. Call social services? Put him in the system? Roll the dice and hope he gets placed in a decent foster home? As soon as the idea comes into my mind I dismiss it. Can’t do that now, at least not while we’re still hoping his sister walks free.

  Knowing he’s going to come with me, I open the door and step outside, nodding approvingly when he turns and locks it. Going to my Harley, I open the saddle bag and remove the little-used helmet that I carry with me in case I need to go to another state without warning. Unlike Arizona, Cali and Nevada both have helmet laws. Even in this state someone under the age of eighteen has to wear one. I hand it to him, and as I did with his sister, help him with the unfamiliar buckle.

  “Lean with me, not against me. Don’t fight the bike, okay?”

  “I got this.” He’s back to sullen now.

  “I’m sure you have,” I mumble, as I get the bike off the stand. “There’s grab handles, or just hold onto me, okay? Whatever makes you feel safe.”

  He climbs on behind me. He might be tall, but he’s slender, hardly any different to taking his sister on the back. Starting the engine, I throw a look over my shoulder, his hands already holding on tight to the handles either side, his knuckles white. I’m hoping he’s going to enjoy the ride, something to take his mind off Mariana if only for a few minutes.

  I drive to the area where she had her accident, pulling up and parking at the curb, while looking around to see who might have seen something. There are a couple of closed businesses, and a furniture store. Two office blocks.

  “Off,” I tell Drew.

  Like an ungainly calf he dismounts. Getting off with a more practised swing, I put his helmet back in my saddle bag.

  “Where do we start?”

  “We’ll work down one side, then the other.” But first I take out my phone and snap a few shots. One of the closed businesses has a security camera, and it’s possible it’s recording to keep the place secured.

  After an hour, I feel like beating my head against a wall, and I think Drew feels much the same way. The newspaper report of Mariana being an illegal hasn’t helped. I get the feeling a couple of people know more than they are telling, but aren’t of a mind to assist us. Others, though, came running at the sound of the crash, but hadn’t seen what had happened immediately prior. Unless Mariana has details of any witnesses, this morning’s been a complete bust. I need my full system to set up searches, try to access the security cameras. I can do some stuff on my laptop, but not everything. But I can’t abandon Drew and go back to the club. Not until I know what’s happening with his sister.

  Not even then, perhaps.

  How the fuck have I found myself in the role of reluctant parent?

  We’re walking back to my bike, both of us disenchanted, when the phone rings. It’s the lawyer.

  “Tse Williamson.”

  “Mr Williamson. It’s Carissa Beacham here. I’ve seen your fiancée.”

  “How’s she holding up?” I’d claimed the relationship I had no right to, but thought it would make the lawyer think I was legit, and had reason to hand over my cash to her.

  “Bewildered, worried. Look, Mr Williamson. I’m a lawyer, we represent the person we’re supposed to in the best possible way that we can, it’s not for us to consider whether they’re guilty or innocent. But in Ms De Souza’s case, my gut feeling is that she’s telling the truth.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it? If she can convince you…”

  She snorts a strangled laugh. “We’re in Arizona, Mr Williamson. We might not have tented cities for immigrants anymore, but there’s still some that wish that we had.”

  “Among the cops,” I suggest, my teeth gnashing together.

  “Could be what we’re up against, yes.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  A sigh, then, “You keep doing what you were suggesting. Seeing if we can prove her innocence, but…”

  As her voice trails off, it doesn’t take a genius to fill in the blanks. “She might get deported anyway now she’s in their sights.”

  “Even her DACA status doesn’t protect her. Could hold her until that runs out. A year or even more being held in an immigration centre isn’t unknown.”

  Drew’s only hearing one side of the conversation, but that’s enough. His face is creasing with worry.

  “You did the right thing engaging me, Mr Williamson. We won’t lose sight of her now. She’s not a statistic. I know how much she must mean to you.”

  “Can she get bail?”

  “No. She’ll be seen as a flight risk. Any bail set will be astronomical, if any is set at all. The price of someone’s freedom will be sky high. She’ll be going to court very shortly, and I have to be honest here, probably the best she can expect is to go to an immigration centre instead of going to jail. I’ll stay in close contact, and let you know if she’s going to be moved.”

  “And if I prove she wasn’t the perpetrator?”

  Her silence speaks volumes.

  “She’s not here illegally if she’s got protected status,” I try again.

  “Technically that’s true. But the times that we live in… I’ll be in touch when I have more news.”

  “Any chance her brother can see her?” Drew needs to see his sister. Be reassured she’s okay with his own eyes. But again, Carissa disappoints me.

  “Not while the police have her, no. I’m sorry, Mr Williamson. I know how worried you must be about her. I wish I had better news for you.”

  Drew’s looking hopeful. When I explain the side of the conversation he couldn’t hear, he’s gutted.

  Realising how much he’ll have been longing to see his sister, to reassure himself she’s alright, I place my hand on his shoulder. “Look on the positive side. Mariana’s got a good lawyer, and I, we won’t be giving up.”

  He kicks at the curb, bites his lip in a way that reminds me of his sister, then shrugs. “What next?”

  Next is getting him home. The bike doesn’t allow for conversation, so I take Drew straight back to that sorry trailer, wondering how the fuck I can help this distraught lad. Once inside, I settle down on the couch and open my laptop. “Want pizza?”

  He shrugs and throws himself down on the couch beside me, the thing lurches and groans under the sudden weight. I hold my breath wondering if I’ll find myself on the floor, but it holds up. Just.

  “Can’t think about food, not when…”

  “Gotta keep eating.” When he gives a reluctant nod, I place the order. Having to pay extra, and by card in advance, to get it delivered to the park. I don’t even blame them; this isn’t a good area. Now food’s been sorted, I start my investigating.

  There’s more than one Todd Jenkins in Tucson. I look back at the newspaper article. It had Mariana’s age, not his, nor his make of car. I try to narrow it down as to area. Where could he have been coming from? I then do some searches to see whether he’s done something like this before, but none of the people with that name appear to have put in insurance claims.

  Mariana’s insurance. I descend to the deep web, that place where establishments like banks hold records of accounts and account holders, no IP addresses to give shit away. Held securely, except from people like me, and…

  “Drew? Mariana’s insurance company. She got details anywhere?”

  The sound of a scooter drawing up outside has me moving and looking out of the window. Our dinner has arrived. Drew’s getting up to go get it. Guess he must have remembered he’s hungry after all.

  “In a box under my bed. She keeps stuff like that there,” he replies, as he opens the door and disappears outside.

  It takes less than a moment to find it. Another man might feel guilty going through someone else’s personal documents, but as delving into other people’s business is what I do for the club, remorse doesn’t enter my head as I start to sort through. Drew’s all important birth cer
tificate is there, proving he’s an American citizen. A couple of letters postmarked from Colombia that I put to one side, and there, her car insurance details. Thankfully she hasn’t gone paperless.

  I go back to my laptop, shake out my hands then my head when Drew waves me toward the second pizza, then put my fingers to the keys. Christ, it would be better if I had all my equipment. I need to set programs running to break through the security shit. Gonna take far longer with just one laptop.

  “You got a computer, Drew?”

  He disappears and reappears with an ancient laptop. Beggars can’t be choosers, I remind myself, as I start up another search on it. Having done all I can, I open the second box and take out a slice.

  “What are you doing, Tse?”

  Seeing his interest isn’t faked, I decide to come clean. “I’m trying to find the man who ran into Mariana’s car. If it was an insurance scam, he’ll have started a claim. It should be on her insurance records.”

  “How can you get into those?”

  I tap my nose and grin. “Let’s just say, I have ways. But got to let the computers do their stuff for the moment. Now, let’s eat.”

  Automatically his hand starts putting his pizza to his mouth, his teeth tear on a mouthful, he chews then swallows, then repeats the process. His eyes fix on the numbers streaming over the two screens.

  It’s only belatedly I remember I should be doing that search Drummer asked me to do. Oh well, there’ll be time to research the Chaos Riders later. For the first time in as long as I can remember, my brothers are taking second place.

  Chapter 11

  Mariana

  Two days have passed. Yesterday I was accused of a crime I didn’t commit. Today I’m taken again in handcuffs and shackled to the table where I first met Carissa. Each hour that passes makes me more frightened, scared on my own behalf and on Drew’s. What’s going to happen to him? Tse may be looking after him for now, as Carissa had assured me, but he wouldn’t do that forever. No, there’ll come a time when he’ll go back to his own life, and deliver Drew into the system. Who knows where, or with whom, he might end up?