“Hey! Jackson!” Mitchel shouted as he stood on the front porch in a stained T-shirt and boxer shorts. “Don’t you want to say good morning to your old man?”
Jackson looked around to see if there was anyone watching. This was the first time his father had put on such an embarrassing display outside the house.
“I said, ‘Say good morning!’ ” Mitchel’s eyes were wide with fury. Jackson didn’t know what to do and was frozen in place. A minute later, Colleen was out on the front porch.
“Mitchel, please get back in the house,” she said in a very mild-mannered voice.
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Spittle was coming out of his mouth.
“Mitchel, please. You’re making a scene.”
“Making a scene?” His voice got louder.
Colleen knew there was no way she was going to convince Mitchel to go back into the house, so she pushed past him, grabbed Jackson’s hand, and hurried down the street.
“Yeah! Go ahead! Run, you stupid wretch!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “And Jackson, you spoiled little creep . . . I’ll remember how you treated your daddy.”
By the time he choked out the last sentence, Colleen and Jackson were no longer within the sound of his maniacal voice.
Colleen knew Jackson would have a lot of questions and also a lot of anxiety. After they crossed the next block, she stopped.
“Are you OK?”
Jackson tried to remain calm, but the tears were streaming down his face. Colleen pulled out a tissue and handed it to him.
He was starting to stutter, something he hadn’t done since he was five. “MMM . . . Mom . . . I . . . I . . . I’m rr . . . really sccc . . . scared. DD . . . Daddy nnnn . . . never did th . . . that . . . bbb . . . be . . . fffore.”
“I know. But listen to me. It’s not your fault. Daddy was in a very bad mood this morning.”
Jackson had calmed down a bit. “Because of the fight?”
“That’s part of it.”
“And why is he so stinky in the morning?” Jackson had a lot of questions that Colleen knew she couldn’t answer at the time. How do you tell your child that his father has become a raging alcoholic? Perhaps that was a question for Al-Anon. Going for help was something she had been reluctant to do, but clearly it was time for some intervention. If not for Mitchel, then for herself. She had a child to protect.
“I want you to listen to me.” Leaning over, she looked him straight in the eye again. “None of this is your fault. Daddy is going through something right now that I can’t explain. I just want you to try to do the best you can today. Try not to think about his bad behavior. Remember, the only person who should feel bad is him. Not you. Got it?”
Jackson wiped his nose with the tissue and saluted. “Got it.”
“Great. Now, you go catch up with your friends, and I’ll see you in a bit. OK?”
“OK!” Jackson gave her his best smile and headed down the street.
Colleen was certain that would not be the last of Mitchel’s outbursts. That very evening, he stumbled in around midnight, reeking from booze and cheap perfume. There was the clichéd lipstick on his collar, too. But she didn’t care. She suspected he had been having sex with someone, probably another drunk. The trick was to figure out how to extricate herself and her son from this whirlpool of horror. She just didn’t think it would be that day.
As he staggered into the bedroom, he blew up at her for the morning’s clash on the front porch. “How dare you take my son when I’m trying to talk to him?” He pushed her onto the bed.
“Mitchel, please. I was not trying to take your son anywhere except to school.” Colleen was desperately struggling to defuse the situation.
He caught her wrists, held her down, and pushed his face into hers. She could almost taste the foulness of his breath. “You don’t ever try to keep me from my son.” He loosened his grip, and she rolled out from under him. He grabbed her shoulder and aimed his fist at her face, but she was quick enough to dodge the punch, causing him to put his hand through the wall. Colleen ran from the bedroom into Jackson’s room, locking the door behind her. She pushed his dresser against the door.
Jackson awoke with a start. “Shhhh . . .” She put her finger up to her lips as Mitchel made his way down the hall and into the kitchen.
He began clearing the counters with his arms flailing, breaking dishes and glasses along the way. Thankfully, she had had the presence of mind to grab her cell phone as Mitchel cursed and freed his bleeding hand from the wall. Praying she had service, she dialed 911.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”
“Domestic dispute at Thirty-two Birchwood Lane. My name is Colleen Haywood. My husband is on a rampage.”
“Where are you right now?”
“My son and I are locked in his bedroom. Please hurry.”
“Yes, please stay on the line with me.”
“OK.” Colleen made her way to the window, just in case she and Jackson had to climb out. She could hear Mitchel’s manic behavior and cursing through the walls. The dispatcher continued to talk to her.
“Are you and your son all right? Do we need to send an ambulance?”
“We’re fine right now.” Colleen kept the panic out of her voice, clutching Jackson in her arms. She whispered in his ear, “You’re being very brave,” and kissed him on the top of his head.
Jackson whispered back. “Why is Daddy so mad?”
Colleen gave him the finger-to-her-lips signal again.
“We have a patrol car a block from your house. Please continue to stay on the line.”
“Yes. Of course. We’re next to the window, and we can climb out, if necessary.”
“OK, Colleen. What’s your son’s name?”
“His name is Jackson.”
“How is he doing?”
“He’s a bit scared, like me.” She winked at him, trying to keep him calm.
After what seemed like an eternity, Colleen finally heard the siren of a police car and could see the flashing lights. A moment later, there was a loud bang on the front door.
“Police! Open up!”
“Go to hell!” Mitchel screamed back.
“Mr. Haywood, if you don’t open the door, we are going to have to break it down.”
“Screw you!” Mitchel shouted.
Colleen and Jackson heard the rumbling of the front door being bashed open. “Mitchel Haywood?”
“Who wants to know?” he said in a surly manner.
“Officer Pedone. Hibbing Police Department. Put your hands behind your back, sir.”
“Put your hands behind your back, sir,” Mitchel replied mockingly.
“Mr. Haywood, you are under arrest for assault.”
“Like hell I am,” he slurred back. “I didn’t assault anyone.”
“Then can you tell me how your hand got so bloody? And how your kitchen got trashed.”
There was a knock on the closed bedroom door. “Mrs. Haywood? This is the police. I’m Officer Davis, with Officer Pedone. Are you all right?”
Colleen spoke to the dispatcher and told her that the police had arrived. She pushed the small dresser away from the door and unlocked it. She almost crumbled in relief. “We have your husband in custody now. It’s safe for you to come out.”
She peered down the hall and saw Mitchel slouched over on the sofa. “Can you take him outside so my son doesn’t have to witness this?”
“Certainly. As long as you are both all right. Do either of you need medical attention?”
“We’re OK.” She hugged Jackson tightly against her. “No need for an ambulance,” she said, reiterating what she had told the dispatcher.
“Wait right here, please,” Davis instructed her.
Mitchel was still protesting as Pedone escorted him to the patrol car, guided his head into the vehicle, and locked him in the back seat.
“Jackson, honey, I want you to stay in your room for a little while, OK?” Colleen pulled the words out a
s soothingly as she could muster. “You can even play with your tablet.”
“But, Mommy, what about Daddy? And the policeman?”
“I’ll tell you all about it in a little while. First, I have to talk to these nice policemen. Then you and I will have some ice cream.”
Jackson wasn’t sure how to react to any of this, but he listened as Officer Davis squatted down to talk to him. “It’s going to be OK, son. Do as your mom asks, then ice cream. You got any questions for me?”
Jackson was immediately distracted by the interest the police officer had shown. “Did you ever shoot anybody?”
Davis chuckled. “Do you know how many times people ask me that question?”
Jackson smiled. “A bazillion?”
“Yep. And, no, thankfully I never had to shoot anyone.” He tousled Jackson’s hair.
“So what’s going to happen to my dad? Is he going to jail?” Jackson sat down on his bed, trying to hold back tears.
“That’s going to depend on your mom. Like I said, we have to clear up a few things. Now, go do what your mom said. We’ll be right down the hall.”
“OK.” Jackson seemed to be a bit more relieved. And safe.
Colleen’s eyes swept across the kitchen. It looked as if someone had thrown a hand grenade. “Do you mind if I pour myself a drink?” She began to shake. It’s common knowledge that during times of extreme stress, our fight-or-flight instincts take over. She had fought back, and now what had just happened began to sink in.
“Let me get that for you,” Pedone offered. Colleen pointed to the liquor cabinet above the refrigerator. “Scotch, please.” She rarely drank any hard liquor, but it seemed like a good idea at the moment. He looked around for something to pour it in.
“There are glasses in the dining-room cabinet,” Colleen said.
A few minutes later, Pedone returned with her drink. Her hands were trembling so badly she needed to use both of them to hold the glass.
“Can you tell me what happened this evening?” Pedone pulled out his notebook and began to write as Colleen recalled the events of the evening. It took about a half hour for her to explain everything, starting with Mitchel’s behavior that morning.
“Do you want to press charges?” Pedone asked.
Colleen gave it some thought. She knew it was going to be a nightmare going forward, but she also knew that the marriage was over, and she could be putting herself and Jackson in further jeopardy by pretending it hadn’t happened. Besides, she just didn’t care anymore. Not about Mitchel. Not about the marriage. The only thing she cared about was raising her son in a loving environment. And this certainly wasn’t it.
“Yes. What do I have to do?”
“You’ll have to come down to the station to file a formal complaint. Is there anyone who can look after your son?”
“I’ll call my mother. She lives about fifteen minutes away.”
She dialed her mother’s phone number, knowing the woman would panic at her phone ringing in the middle of the night.
“Yes! Colleen! Is everything OK?” She could barely catch her breath.
“I’m OK. Jackson is OK.” Colleen took in a big inhale. “We have a situation here, and I need you to come by and sit with Jackson for the rest of the night.”
“What on earth is going on?” Judith Griffin demanded.
“Mom, I’ll explain everything later. Can you come over now? Please?” Colleen knew her mother had never approved of Mitchel, and she wasn’t in any sort of mood to be lectured.
“Yes. Of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She sounded a bit exasperated rather than inconvenienced.
Colleen thought to herself, If she hadn’t been so controlling, maybe I wouldn’t have rebelled and married that creep.
“Thank you. And don’t freak out when you see the police car.” Colleen cringed, waiting for the interrogation.
“What police car? What are you talking about?” Judith was incredulous.
“Mother, please. Just come over. I will tell you everything later. Please!”
Chapter Three
Ellie felt terrible that she couldn’t befriend Colleen. She knew that things were bad at the Haywood house. She thought back to the incident that had taken place two weeks before. The entire block couldn’t help but notice the commotion coming from the house that night. Ellie had headed to the second-floor loft, with Buddy hot on her heels. She pulled out a pair of binoculars to see if she could figure out what the ruckus was all about. She crouched down and pointed the lens at the Haywoods’. From her angle, she could see someone in the back seat of a police car. His face was obscured by the door frame, but it looked like it could be Mitchel. She wouldn’t be surprised if it was. After his rude display that morning, no one would have been shocked. Screaming at his kid while he was in his underwear. She felt sorry for both Jackson and Colleen. She knew very well what it was like to be terrified.
The police car had been sitting in front for almost an hour when she noticed the BMW that Colleen’s mother drove turn into their driveway. She saw Colleen’s mother exit her car and peer into the police car. Judith Griffin gave the man in the back seat a disgusted look and went into the house. A few minutes later, Colleen and two police officers exited. Colleen got in her own car and followed the police. Ellie assumed they were on their way to the police station and that Mrs. Griffin was looking after Jackson. That poor kid, she thought to herself. Ellie liked Jackson, even though they had never interacted, but she could tell a lot about his character by the way he played with Buddy.
* * *
Over the next two weeks, there had been no mention of the incident in the local Patch, but maybe they were trying to keep it quiet for Colleen and Jackson’s sakes. Kids could be horribly cruel.
Ellie imagined that Jackson and Colleen were going through an exceedingly difficult time. Even though there was little she could do to help them, she felt good that Jackson came by every afternoon. He would spend well over an hour just throwing the ball across the yard and giving Buddy a pat on the head when Buddy jumped up on the fence with the ball in his mouth, returning it to Jackson. Ellie would watch from inside, happy that two innocent creatures could give each other so much pleasure with the simple gesture of throwing a ball. How she missed the outdoors.
One afternoon, her doorbell rang, and she gasped with fear. She checked the closed-circuit security camera and noticed a small bouquet of flowers on the doorstep. She thought it could be a trick, so she left them there. She figured Hector would bring them inside the porch later that day.
The next afternoon, she noticed that Jackson didn’t come by to play with Buddy. She didn’t know if she should call Colleen or not. She didn’t want to be a busybody, but Buddy was pacing the yard. She decided to call—something she rarely did. She went up to her office, Googled Colleen Haywood, and found her phone number. Luckily, they had a landline, but that was pretty standard for Hibbing. It was a rural town with not a whole lot of good cell service. She picked up one of her burner phones and dialed.
A hesitant “Hello” came in response. It was Jackson. “Hey, Jackson. This is Buddy’s mom. How are you doing?”
Jackson hesitated. He didn’t know what to make of this unfamiliar voice over the phone. “Hhh . . . hello?”
Ellie repeated. “Hey, Jackson. This is Ellie Bowman. You know, the lady who owns Buddy, the dog.” She wasn’t used to speaking to people she actually knew, except for Kara and her mom. Most of the interaction she had with people was for work, over an Internet connection—one computer talking to another.
“Oh, hi. Let me go get my mom.” Jackson quickly put the phone down and yelled for his mother. “Mom! It’s that lady down the street. Buddy’s owner.” He sounded a bit unhinged.
Ellie could hear footsteps moving closer to the phone.
“Yes?” Colleen sounded a bit terse. “What can I do for you?”
“Hi. I was just checking on Jackson. Buddy has been pacing the yard. Is everything OK?”
“Well, to be perfectly honest, Jackson’s feelings were hurt when he saw you left the flowers on the front porch. He wrote a note thanking you for letting him play with Buddy. He didn’t think he was welcome anymore.”
“Oh my gosh! I am so sorry! I had no idea!” Ellie was mortified that she had hurt the little guy’s feelings.
“Yes, well, when he was leaving for school this morning, he saw that they were still there on the front porch. He said he rang the bell yesterday when he left them.”
“I am so sorry. I was up in my loft on a tech call for several hours and forgot about the doorbell. Ellie was getting particularly good at lying and covering her tracks. In fact, she was almost a genius at it by that point. “That was so sweet and kind of him. May I apologize to him, please?”
Ellie heard Colleen hand the phone over to Jackson, and whisper, “She wants to apologize. Here.”
“Hello?” Jackson was still uncertain.
“Jackson. Thank you for the flowers. I apologize for not picking them up. I was working upstairs when the doorbell rang, and I was on the computer with a client for a few hours. By the time I finished the session, I had completely forgotten that the doorbell rang. Can you please forgive me? I know Buddy missed you today.”
“Oh, sure, Ms. Bowman. That’s OK. I kinda felt a little goofy after I left them.”
“Oh, no, you were not at all goofy. That was truly kind.” Ellie smiled into the phone.
“So is it OK if I visit with Buddy today? I finished my homework.”
“If your mom says it’s OK with her, then it’s OK with me. I’m sure Buddy will be happy to see you.”
“OK. Here’s my mom.” Jackson handed the phone to his mother.
“Hi, Colleen. I am really sorry for this mix-up. If it’s not too late, Jackson is more than welcome to play with Buddy today.”
No Way Out Page 2
