“For someone who is the best, you don’t listen. I don’t have it. I can’t afford bail or a lawyer.”
“I’m covered,” she said.
“Covered?”
“As in your bail and my exorbitant fees to represent you have been prepaid.”
“Who covered them?”
“Can’t answer that.”
Crockett tried to sort through this information. An unknown person tries to abduct Jaimie, an unknown person plants a hard drive that dumps Crockett into a sewer, and then an unknown person sends in a rescuer. Bad guy on one side of Crockett and a good guy on the other? He couldn’t think of anything in his life important enough or significant enough to earn this kind of attention. Jaimie was the catalyst, but how and why?
Or was there just a bad guy on one side and Julie on the other? Had she come around? That still wouldn’t explain, though, why Crockett had been targeted with a planted hard drive.
“Just so I have it straight,” Crockett said. “You’re my new legal help. Someone is covering your tab. And because the guards played drum on my face, I can walk now or sue later, but not both?”
“Exactly,” she said. “Want out now? Or are you willing to park your butt in a jail cell for the chance of winning a future lawsuit?”
Twenty
ave,” Crockett said, working hard to keep his voice neutral.
Dave Mills had answered the door at Julie’s house in Van Nuys. Barbecue tongs in hand, he was wearing a T-shirt, shorts, sandals, and an apron that said “Grillin’ is chillin’. And chillin’ is grillin’.”
There were a lot of implications in the image before him. All of them stabbed Crockett with knives of jealously and resentment. Irrational, he told himself. He and Julie had been divorced for over a year. What Julie did was her business—even if it was in the house that Crockett had provided for her and Mickey.
“Crockett,” Dave said, obviously surprised. Crockett hadn’t called ahead, worried that Julie might tell him to stay away. Crockett just wanted to drop in and thank Julie and maybe get a hug from Mickey. It hurt how badly he wanted to squat and look his boy in the eyes and see a gap-toothed smile in return.
Along with surprise, a distinct look of guilt crossed Dave’s face.
Julie stepped into the doorway. Behind her, everything looked the same. Furniture, artwork on walls, paint colors. Except for Dave standing beside her, it could have been any other day during the years Crockett would come home after a day of teaching. Except for the fact that Julie was blocking him from walking through the doorway. And except for Ashley, no longer home.
“Your face,” Julie said. Her voice held the same chill it had on Saturday when she’d hung up on him.
“Not as bad as it looks,” Crockett said. A lie. He was wearing sunglasses to hide the worst of it.
“You didn’t call ahead,” she said. “That’s part of the agreement.”
“I was in the area,” Crockett said.
“No excuse,” Dave said. “Legally, I mean.”
“Shut up,” Crockett said.
He waited for Julie to tell him not to talk to Dave like that. When she didn’t, it felt like a minor victory.
“Why are you here?” she asked. She looked so good in jeans and a T-shirt. Simple, the way Crockett always remembered her. A wave of longing washed through him.
But all he said was, “I wanted to thank you in person for helping me with Sarah Rinker.”
Julie’s brow creased. “Huh?”
That answered one question for Crockett. He had no idea now who was paying his legal tab.
“Never mind,” Crockett said, then forced his tone into something resembling upbeat. “Hey, I was just hoping to say hi to Mickey. I missed seeing him over the weekend.”
“You missed him because you were in jail,” she said.
“I’m out on bail. That’s a pretty good indication of my innocence.”
“Actually, legally speaking—,” Dave began.
“Shut up. You made it clear you didn’t want any part of my case.”
Again, Julie’s silence was gratifying.
Crockett turned his attention back to Julie.
“I’m here,” he said. “Can I just spend a few minutes with Mickey? Apologize in person for missing my day at the zoo?”
He hoped it didn’t sound like he was begging. Even though he was.
“Crockett,” Julie began. “Check your face in a mirror. Do you really want Mickey to see you like this?”
“Yes.” Crockett needed to see his son. He didn’t need a reminder about his face. Anytime he brushed his nose or cheek with his fingers, the pain radiated in shock waves.
“Not a good idea,” Julie shook her head. “He’ll be scared by how beat up you are. And we’ve got to stick to the schedule. Otherwise every time he hears the doorbell, he’ll hope it’s you. He doesn’t need that kind of disappointment.”
His little guy loved him that much. It was so good to hear. The tears continued to pool. Crockett was grateful for his sunglasses.
Mickey loved him. But for how long if Crockett didn’t find a way to clear his name?
“Julie …” Crockett’s voice broke.
She softened, and Dave kept his head down. “Crockett, come back a week from Saturday. He’s all yours then. Okay?”
“Mom?” Mickey’s voice came from the kitchen. He was so close. All Crockett needed was a hug.
“I’ve got to go,” Julie said. “It’s for the best.” She shut the door.
Twenty-One
’ve never heard of any complaints against me about inappropriate behavior,” Crockett said to Brad Romans, a social worker connected to the school. They’d worked together for years. “You know that.”
Crockett settled back in a chair in Romans’s tidy office. The desk was clean of paperwork, walls clean of anything in frames. Brad Romans looked more like a business mogul than a left-wing social worker. Short, dark hair, just beginning to gray, and not too much bulk, as if he walked five miles a day on the golf course. Clothes that would not have seemed out of place at a country club. Disarming salesmanlike grin. But the illusion vanished once Romans spoke, because it never took long for him to show his liberal, do-gooder leanings.
Brad said, “I told the woman detective, Pamela Li, the same thing. She didn’t want to believe me.”
“Something crazy is happening,” Crockett said. “How can it not be about Jaimie? It all started with her. That’s why I’m here.”
“You’re here because you can’t think of anywhere else to get help.”
“Barrel scraping,” Crockett agreed.
“What I’m most concerned about is your face,” Romans said, clearly trying to keep the mood light. “Ugly. U-G-L-Y.”
Then his expression sobered. “It’s a conspiracy, man. That’s what I think. Fascist cops lock you up, throw you to the wolves in there, let them beat the crap out of you. Someone messes with your computer record. You’re right. This is insane. You’re one of the good guys.”
“So what’s the buzz around here?” Crockett asked his friend.
“You’re out on bail. You’ve been charged with possession of child porn, but your lawyer is good. Heard a news clip, her saying the cops needed to focus on who really started the fire, not some kid who came to you for help. She sounded believable.”
“My story is true,” Crockett said. “The facts support it. Jaimie’s testimony supports it too.”
“You think there’s any chance she started the fire?”
“No,” Crockett said. He had seen the fear in Jaimie’s eyes as she begged him to let her stay the night. Not guilt. It’d be hard, even for her, to manufacture such intense fear. “And there was someone looking for her. Just before the detective and Blearey came over Saturday morning, somebody else showed up for Jaimie. A guy named Nathan, said he was from Social Services, said you sent him.”
“Not a chance.”
“Didn’t think you had, but I needed to ask.”
&nbs
p; “The guy who showed up, he knew I was Jaimie’s case manager?” Romans said. “Strange.”
“What would someone want from her? From my point of view, it looks like they wanted her trapped in a burning house, and when that failed, they tried to take her from me. But why?”
“And why make sure you can’t protect her now?” Romans asked.
“Protect her?” Crockett said. “I’m just doing my best to keep myself afloat.”
“They’ve got you in deep water. Perfect way to keep you from protecting her.”
Crockett had been so wrapped up in his own misery, he’d failed to see this. The aha moment was strangely encouraging.
Romans caught Crockett’s shift. “Maybe then you make it backfire.”
“What you’re saying is maybe instead of worrying about me, I switch focus and learn everything I can about her,” Crockett said. “Find out what it is about Jaimie that caused all this. Protecting her protects me?”
“Yeah,” Romans said. “That’s the way I’d do it.”
Crockett tried that out mentally. He liked it. Instead of defending himself, he’d go on the attack against the unknowns who’d done this to him. It made him feel stronger, less helpless, and seemed like a good way to fight the despair, too.
“If I try to meet with her to ask questions, how will that look?” Crockett said. “Me asking for time alone with Jaimie, I mean.”
“Not good. Nothing to stop you from visiting previous foster parents, though, like Agnes Murdoch. Jaimie was with her and her husband the longest.”
“Right.”
“You’d need Jaimie’s file,” Romans said. “Not the stripped-down version teachers get.”
“That would be helpful,” Crockett said. “It’s a lot to ask.”
“Giving you that file would be breaking about twenty pages of rules and regs. The easiest way to cover my butt is to tell you I need to go to the john, but wink and point at a filing cabinet so that you can sneak a look at it while I’m taking my time. But I’m not interested in covering my butt. I know you’re innocent. And when it’s proven in the courts, no one will fault me for trying to help clear your name. You want the file, it’s yours.”
Crockett wondered if Romans had any idea how badly Crockett needed someone to believe in him. No wonder the ABC kids loved Romans. Crockett had to turn his head to blink.
“Already had a look.” Romans jumped in quickly so they could ignore Crockett close to losing it. “First thing that stuck out in the file was that Jaimie’s been authorized to visit an exorcist.”
An exorcist? “Does the file say why?”
“Just that it was recommended by her child psychiatrist.”
The doctor Jaimie kept mentioning, Crockett thought.
“That was the second thing I wanted to ask about,” Crockett said. “The psychiatrist. I can’t remember her name. I was thinking maybe I could talk to her.”
“Dr. Madelyne Mackenzie,” Romans answered. “She’s pretty high up the food chain. On the board of directors of the Bright Lights Center. It was what—nine months ago?—that Jaimie went nuts on the playground, took a bat to that homeless person? That’s when Mackenzie started working with Jaimie.”
Silence. A girl who takes a bat to a homeless person is a girl with serious issues. Serious enough to start a fire that kills someone?
“Think she’ll talk to me?” Crockett asked. “The doctor, I mean.”
“No clue,” Romans answered.
“Tell me more about this exorcist.”
“I don’t know much, just that it’s a Roman Catholic priest who performs exorcisms. Apparently he and Dr. Mackenzie are partners. Before the priest will agree to an exorcism, he first consults with Dr. Mackenzie to rule out any mental illnesses. What I heard from the grapevine was that several Saturdays in a row, the shrink took Jaimie Piper out to the priest’s church.”
“So this psychiatrist believes that Jaimie is demon possessed?”
“That’s one conclusion.”
“What other conclusions are there?” Crockett asked.
“None, really.”
“Nobody in the system thinks this is weird?”
“It’s buried information. Have any idea how many case files our system handles? Too many. I didn’t even know it was there until I looked. Besides, Jaimie’s in treatment. Nobody pays attention to how a certified psychiatrist decides to help her, unless the parents get involved and make a stink. Jaimie doesn’t have parents.”
Crockett started rubbing his palms against his face to relieve some inner tension, but changed his mind in a hurry when he felt his bruises. “Where would you go with this if you were me?” Crockett asked.
“Archimedes,” Romans said with a sly smile.
“Archimedes?” Crockett repeated. “The eureka guy?”
“Lever guy too.” Romans nodded. “Said give him a big enough lever, he can move the world.”
Romans leaned forward and pointed his pencil at Crockett. “You be Archimedes when you talk to the psychiatrist. Velvet gloves, iron fist. Start off asking nice for her help. Tell her you’re worried about Jaimie, want to make sure nothing happens to her. If that doesn’t work, play a little tougher. It’s not very professional or scientific, treating a kid for demonic possession. I’d bet that she won’t want that information getting out. If she denies the contact Jaimie’s had with the priest has anything to do with demons, you get her the other way. Tell her she shouldn’t be trying to convert the kid, taking her to a priest. You know, separation of church and state. Maybe working it from either angle will give you some leverage.”
“Not much,” Crockett said.
“Best you have,” Romans said.
Twenty-Two
orning had been a blur. Bail hearing. Out to Julie’s house, then Roman’s office. Already it was past lunchtime and would have been much later if traffic hadn’t been unusually smooth. Crockett was back with Sarah Rinker, who sat across from him at a local taco place about a block off the beach. The prices were high, but the fish tacos were unbelievable. Her words. Not Crockett’s. He didn’t have much appetite. She’d finished her third taco, washing it down with iced tea. He was willing to bet she exercised a couple of hours a day, trim as she was and hungry as she was.
“Unless your silence is admiration of me,” she said, “self-pity doesn’t look good on you. And thing is, I know that you can look pretty good.”
“Right.” Crockett touched his face. Winced. Time for more Advil. He didn’t want to think what the intake was doing to his liver and kidneys.
“Really.” Sarah set some photos on the table. “You do look good. These are from your ex-wife,” she said. “Her attorney e-mailed them to me—some idiot named Dave. He didn’t want to talk until he found out I’m with Vadis and Booth. Then of course he tried sucking up as soon as he found out I was partner. Said he was convinced you were innocent and he’d be glad to take on a role in the defense for such a world-renowned firm, yada yada. I told him the photos would be good for now, thanks.”
Crockett said, “Squash him someday, okay?”
“Oh my, I detect viciousness. Intriguing.”
“Maybe you’ll get around to telling me why you wanted to have lunch.”
“It’s a legal philosophy. Deliver bad news by telephone, because you can exit the conversation quicker. But deliver good news in person, because it allows you to bill more time, and fawning gratitude kills lots of time. I lap it up like diamonds.”
“Then I’m surprised we aren’t at the Beverly. Taco lunch doesn’t seem like something that fits in your circle.”
“You’re right,” she said. “But neither do you. Better for both of us if I keep you out of that circle.”
Crockett laughed. Spontaneous laughter that felt even greater than usual because he hadn’t done it in so long. He didn’t even care that it made his bruises pulse.
She beamed, clearly happy with herself for jarring him out of his funk for a moment. “Difficult not to like me, huh?�
��
He smiled. “Difficult. And that’s even before you deliver the good news.”
Her face lost the brightness.
“You did say good news,” Crockett repeated, his smile also fading.
“Yeah.” But there was nothing light about her voice. “Let me back up a bit, okay?”
He nodded, sobered by the reminder that this was all a challenge for her. A game. At the end of the day, she went home. End of Crockett’s day, he was either a dad to Mickey again or a punching bag for the general population.
“Our firm took this case because of money, Crockett. Plain and simple.”
Crockett opened his mouth to ask about his benefactor, but she put up her hand. “No. You don’t find out who is funding this.”
“How am I supposed to send my gratitude if I don’t know who’s footing the bill? You do realize I have hardly a friend in the world, right?”
She hesitated. “All right. I’ll give you something.” She raised an eyebrow. “The reason you don’t get to find out is because I’m not sure I’ll ever find out.”
“You don’t know who is paying my bills?”
“The firm has received instructions and payment from an out-of-town lawyer who has hired us to be part of his team to represent you. Someday, if you find out, you tell me.”
“Sure.” Crockett couldn’t have been more confused. But he was beginning to realize that this was way bigger than him, than his relatively small life.
“Regardless,” Sarah went on, “there’s something about you I like. And because I like you, on a personal level I’m hoping you’ve been set up. Not sure yet why or how to prove it, but that’s what the retainer is for.”
“I’m still waiting for the good news,” Crockett said. He reached for a tortilla chip.
The Canary List: A Novel Page 8
