True Intent

by Michael Stagg

  “How long?”

  The dispatcher was still on the line. Taylor asked. She listened and then said, “Twenty minutes.”

  I thought that would be in time but then James began to shiver and I could see he was going into shock. I went around to his head and sat down, gently putting his head in my lap while Liselle took off her own jacket and slipped it underneath his back to protect him from the chill of the ground. “It's going to be all right, Troll,” I said. “The ambulance is on the way.”

  James wasn't talking anymore. He burrowed back into me and he cried and he cried and he cried.

  Liselle put a hand on James’s head and said, “Your uncle called you a troll?”

  “He calls us all trolls,” said Taylor.

  Liselle ignored the girl and pushed James’s floppy blond hair out of his eyes. “You don’t seem like a troll to me. Trolls are nasty and gnarled and mean.”

  James’s lips quivered and he spoke between sobs. “That’s—what—Uncle Nate—says we are.”

  I smiled. “You should see him after a bowl of Apple Jacks.”

  Liselle smiled a little but she didn’t take her eyes off James.

  “You see, James, trolls like to dig in the earth, to hide in dark places.”

  “And under bridges,” said Page.

  “Yes, under bridges,” said Liselle. “But I don’t think that’s you, James. I think you’re the opposite. I think you like to climb as high as you can. I think you like to be near the sky.”

  “He does!” said Page.

  Liselle glanced at the tree trunk. “I know he does. I think you’re more like a falcon, James.”

  James’s voice cracked and the space between sobs grew. “My mom says I shouldn’t swear.”

  Liselle paused for a moment and then laughed. “No, James, a fal-con. A hawk.”

  “Oh.” James sniffed. “I like hawks.”

  “I do too. I see them all the time when I’m in the woods. Have you?”

  James nodded. “I see them circling sometimes.”

  Liselle nodded. “Here?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “This is a good place for them. Lots of rabbits and mice, good thermals from the lake to glide on. Do you think we could find one?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  “Well, let’s look.” Liselle made a show of looking up. “Beyond the trees there seems like a good place.”

  James pointed. “There?”

  Liselle adjusted his arm. “Maybe more there. Over the lake.”

  I was still holding James’s head in my lap and pulling the coat closer around his shoulders. He was still shocky, but he was calmer and I thought we were keeping his temperature up. Blood hadn’t yet seeped through the jacket around his leg.

  “Is that one?” James said.

  “Hmm. I don’t think so. I think that’s a duck.”

  They looked. All four of them—James and his cousins and Liselle—craning their heads to the sky. James wasn’t moving but his breathing slowed.

  “What about that?” said Page.

  “That’s a black bird,” said Liselle. “Keep looking though.”

  They saw a starling and a V of geese and then nothing for quite a while. I kept an eye on James as Liselle spoke to the kids, guiding their attention from one thing to the next, high, high in the sky, keeping their faces turned up and away, without realizing it, from the ground.

  I looked at Liselle and then tracked a movement behind her shoulder. And there it was, sitting on at branch at the top of a dead ash tree.

  It was big. It had a white chest and spotted, brownish-red wings. Its white face had a crown of darker coloring and it was looking not at us, but at the lake.

  “James,” I said.

  “Yeah?” he said, eyes on the sky.

  “Look over the nice lady’s shoulder. Right there in the tree.”

  He looked. At that moment, the red-shouldered hawk swooped down out of the tree and skimmed away across the lake.

  James gasped.

  Liselle smiled without turning.

  “He flew away!” said James.

  “That’s what hawks do,” said Liselle. “He’ll be back. You just have to keep an eye out for him.”

  James followed the hawk’s flight, entranced.

  A moment later, we heard the siren. James didn’t notice it.

  14

  Izzy and Mark charged through the hospital entrance to where Liselle and I waited with Taylor and Page.

  “Where is he?” she said as I stood to meet them.

  “He's in surgery,” I said.

  Izzy’s hand flew to her mouth. “Surgery? Before we got here?!”

  “It was an emergency.”

  “Emergency surgery on what?”

  “His leg. He was bleeding a lot and they were worried about nerve damage too.”

  I hesitated, but Izzy was his mom so she needed to know what James was facing. “They had to operate now to try to save his leg.”

  Izzy was not the gasping and sitting type but she wobbled for a moment before her eyes came into focus. She instinctively grabbed Mark's hand. “He could lose his leg?”

  “They took him back right away to make sure that didn't happen.”

  “What happened, Nate?” said Mark.

  So I told them how I had been showing Liselle the Groves and how we had heard James scream and how we found him beneath the split trunk of a dead ash tree. I told them how we had moved the trunk and how the girls had been a great help and how James had been very brave as we waited for the ambulance together. I told them how much better James had seemed after he received some pain killers and had his leg stabilized and that the paramedics had been great. I told them how I had ridden in the ambulance with James and Liselle had followed in the car with Taylor and Page and how we had all arrived at the hospital at about the same time.

  “They rushed us right through the emergency room,” I said. “The ER doc took one look at it, got the pediatric orthopedic surgeon on the phone, and sent James straight to surgery.” I looked at them both. “I told the doctors that I was his uncle and that I consented to the surgery, but I'm sure they’ll want you guys to follow-up.”

  Izzy waved a hand. “Of course. How long has he been back there?”

  “Only about twenty minutes.” I thought of James's leg. “I think we’re going to be waiting a while.”

  “Thanks, Nate,” said Mark. “Let’s check in, honey.”

  I showed Izzy and Mark to the information desk, which then directed them to the processing desk where an administrator led them through the paperwork guaranteeing that they were good for the small fortune their son’s surgery was going to cost.

  I left them to it and arrived back in the waiting room right as Tom and Kate walked in. My older brother looked like he had come straight from football practice and Kate had the ever-present three-year-old Charlie on one hip. “Where are the girls?” Tom said.

  “They’re here,” I said. “They're safe. They're both fine.”

  “What happened to James?” said Kate.

  So I told them the same story. This time I emphasized how helpful and brave the girls had been, but Tom wasn't having any of it. “I've told them not to climb those dead trees.”

  “Now is not the time, Tom,” said Kate. “Let's worry about James right now.”

  I nodded. “He's in surgery. It's going to take a while.” I looked at Tom. “The girls really were great.”

  Tom nodded, it seemed a little reluctantly, and said, “Where are they?”

  Kate looked over my shoulder. “Who is that with them?”

  I glanced over to where Liselle was sitting with the girls over in the corner. She was waving her hands and appeared to be telling them some kind of story. “She's the biologist I told you about. I was showing her some of Sarah’s sites when we heard the kids.”

  Tom and Kate nodded and made a beeline straight to them. Liselle looked up as they approached and the girls followed her gaze. When th
e girls saw their mom and dad, they jumped up, ran over to them, and were swept up into two big hugs. Page, the youngest, started talking a mile a minute in an unbroken stream about bikes and trees and broken legs and sirens. Taylor, being older and knowing her dad, squeezed him very tight and said, “I'm sorry, Daddy.”

  Tom bent down and squeezed her back and said, “Uncle Nate said you were very brave and helped your cousin very much. I'm proud of you.” Then Taylor began to cry and Tom hugged her close and kissed the top of her head.

  My mom and dad walked in then and found us right away since our growing group was hard to miss. My mom bustled right up to the girls and Charlie with juice boxes and cheese snacks at the ready. My dad came over, shook my hand, and said, “James in surgery?”

  I nodded. “Just started.”

  “I imagine that’ll take a while.”

  I agreed.

  “An ash tree?”

  I nodded. “Split right in half.”

  My dad shook his head. “One came down a couple of weeks ago on the Sampson's garage during that storm.”

  “I heard about that.”

  “They need to be taken down but it’s so expensive the county can’t afford it.” He shook his head. “I climbed those trees when I was young. It’s a shame.”

  “It’s a crime.” I looked; Liselle had joined our conversation. She practically spat the words.

  My dad's mouth barely twitched, but his eyes twinkled. “Son, I don't believe you've introduced me to your friend.”

  “Liselle Vila, this is my dad, Dave Shepherd.”

  Liselle’s anger evaporated as she held out her hand. “I’m sorry, Mr. Shepherd. All that destruction gets the better of me sometimes.”

  “Don't apologize. I feel the same way when I’m on my boat looking over the lake at what’s left of the ash grove.” He gestured at the hospital waiting room. “Even more so now.”

  Liselle shook her head. “The same people who say it’s too expensive to clear out and replant are the same ones who can’t be bothered to inspect or quarantine ships when they dock to make sure they aren’t carrying a non-native species that destroys our whole ecosystem. One person cuts a corner and millions of our trees are destroyed. It’s as if…” Liselle stopped, smiled, and ducked her head. “There I go again.”

  I smiled at my dad. “Liselle is a biologist from down near St. Louis. She's doing some of the same work that Sarah did.”

  My dad nodded, his weathered face expressionless. “Well, it sounds like you were in the right place at the right time for my grandson today. Thank you.”

  “Your son did all the hard work, Mr. Shepherd. Nate, can I talk to you for second?”

  “Sure.”

  My dad nodded and smiled at Liselle. “Good luck with your research.”

  Liselle and I moved over to the side of the waiting area. “I really need to get back to the hotel. My flight leaves tonight.”

  “Oh, right. Let me say good-bye and I’ll drop you.”

  “No, no,” she said. “You need to stay here with your family.”

  “It's a quick trip. I can run you over and be back before James is out of surgery.”

  Liselle shook her head. “You don’t know that for sure and they obviously need you here, especially if there’s another emergency.”

  “They can handle it.”

  She looked at me directly. “Not as well as you.” She looked down at her phone. “You can catch an Uber here in Carrefour, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Then I'll be fine.” She put a hand on my arm. “Thanks again for your help today. It would've taken me twice as long to wander around and find those places on my own.”

  “It was fun. Well, the beginning was. You know what I mean.” Jesus, I sounded like Danny. “I'll walk you out while you’re getting a car.”

  “Thanks. Let me say goodbye to the girls first.”

  With that Liselle went across the room to Taylor and Page. She leaned down and said something to both of them and I saw Kate assessing who Liselle was and how exactly she felt about it. She smiled though when Page reached up and gave Liselle a big hug around the neck and a kiss on the cheek.

  The sliding door to the waiting room opened and I was surprised to see Mitch Pearson walk into the room. Then I realized that the ambulance dispatch would've gone out over the radio and that the police station likely heard it. I was a little surprised that he was responding to an accident call rather than a uniformed officer but you never know what schedules are like on a Saturday.

  I went over to meet him and held out my hand. “Hi, Mitch. James is still in surgery but his parents are right over there if you want to talk to them first.” I pointed to Mark and Izzy.

  Pearson's eyebrows raised a little bit. “What are you talking about, Shepherd?”

  “James Shepherd, the boy in the accident? Those are his parents over there if you need to get any information.”

  Pearson’s face was blank. “Accident?”

  “The boy who had the ash tree fall on him? Isn’t that why you're here?”

  Pearson’s eyes cleared. “Oh, right. I heard it on the scanner. No, that's not why I'm here.”

  At that moment, Liselle walked up.

  “Okay, Nate, I’m ready—” She noticed Pearson and stopped. “Officer Pearson. Are you here about the accident?”

  “No, ma'am, I’m not,” said Pearson. “I'm here to place you under arrest.”

  “For what?” said Liselle.

  “For the murder of Richard Phillips.”

  I glanced at my family. “Can we take this outside?” I said.

  “I think right here is fine,” Pearson said. Then he read Liselle her rights as put her hands behind her back and cuffed her.

  My family watched. Page started to say something. Kate shushed her.

  When he was done, I said, “My client is exercising her right to counsel. She’s not to be questioned without me present.”

  “Oh,” said Pearson. “Are you her lawyer?”

  Liselle looked at me, eyes wide.

  “Yes,” I said to him. I turned to her. “Don't say anything. I'll meet with you after you’re processed.”

  Liselle nodded and looked down. Pearson stared at my family for an extra beat then led Liselle out by the arm.

  I met my family’s eyes. “I'll be back in a bit,” I said, and left.

  15

  I stood in the Carrefour jail, waiting. Mitch Pearson was happy to let me.

  “When will they be done?” I said.

  Pearson shrugged. “When they’re done.”

  “Helpful.”

  “Does it really matter? She's going to be spending an awful lot of time in here.”

  “I've seen the autopsy and the toxicology, Pearson. You're never going to make murder.”

  Pearson shrugged again. It was getting annoying. “The grand jury has already returned an indictment, Shepherd. Seems to me like we're halfway home.”

  “What's the murder weapon? What's the motive?”

  Pearson smiled. “I guess you'll just have to wait for the press conference.”

  Motherfucker. “Press conference?”

  “As soon as the prosecutor gets here.”

  “Why would you have a press conference?”

  “One of the richest men in the country was killed right here in Carrefour, Shepherd. By your client. People want to know that justice is being done.”

  “Then I don't know why they'd be looking to you.”

  Pearson tsk’d, shaking his head from side to side. “Don’t panic, Shepherd.” He looked at the clock. “They should be done processing your hot little killer in about fifteen minutes. You can see her then.” He smiled his big quarterback smile. “Of course, if you do, then you'll miss the press conference. Right next door on the courthouse steps.”

  In fifteen minutes it would be six o'clock, just in time for the local news. This had been in the works for a while.

  “When do I get the file?” I said. />
  Pearson walked away with a wave. “Take it up with the prosecutor.”

  I needed to get that file right away to see what their theory was. Richard Phillips had died of a heart arrhythmia. I hadn’t seen anything in the autopsy or toxicology report that indicated anything other than natural causes. How in the hell were they going to prove murder?

  I decided to go to the press conference.

  Pearson was joined on the courthouse steps by a man and a woman. A lectern with microphones stood in front of six or seven reporters and a similar number of camera operators. Judging from the logos, it looked like all of the Carrefour outlets were covered. More importantly, since this was going to be about the death of Richard Phillips, footage of the announcement would immediately be strung out to the AP newswires to run anywhere and everywhere. I stood off a ways, over by the large white oak that grew on the west side of the courthouse lawn, close enough to hear but far enough away to avoid notice.

  Promptly at six o'clock, the man stepped up to the lectern and said, “For those of you from out of town, I’m the Carrefour Chief of Police Jack LaBeau. Earlier this afternoon, the Carrefour Police Department arrested Liselle Vila for the murder of Doprava CEO Richard Phillips. Ms. Vila had been under suspicion for some time, and, when our department learned that Ms. Vila had returned to the jurisdiction for reasons which we do not currently know, we acted swiftly to bring about her arrest. For this, I would like to thank Chief Detective in charge of Serious Crimes for Carrefour, Ohio, Mitchell Pearson.”

  Pearson nodded. Dick.

  Chief LaBeau continued. “This was a difficult case that required coordination between departments and we would like to thank the many people who worked hard to make this happen. Chief Prosecutor Victoria Lance will now discuss the charges.”

  Victoria Lance stepped up to the lectern. She wore a plain black suit with a gray shirt and you knew she was tall because Pearson didn’t make her look short. Victoria had had been the chief prosecutor in Carrefour for a good six or seven years now and had won her last election easily.

  Victoria Lance nodded in acknowledgment to Chief LaBeau and said, “As Chief LaBeau stated, Ms. Vila had been a person of interest in this investigation for some time. We had intended to file formal charges against her next week and then begin the extradition process from Missouri, but when she returned to Carrefour, we agreed with the police department that Ms. Vila should be apprehended immediately and took steps to file an indictment and obtain an arrest warrant. My compliments to Chief Detective Pearson for carrying out that warrant efficiently and without incident.”