by Sharon Sala
A single tear ran down Marshall’s face.
“Is he gonna die?”
“No, of course not,” Johnny said, but he was beginning to worry. Beep was getting quieter, and all he could think about were dire consequences, like blood clots and concussions.
He glanced up at the clock. They’d been in the ER over three hours and he was ready for some answers.
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the doctor came in carrying X-rays.
Dr. Quick had delivered Brooks Pine, and he was pretty angry about what had happened to the little guy. But criticism was left for others. His job was to fix him. He pulled a couple of X-rays out of an envelope, turned on the viewer light, and slid them up onto the screen as Johnny and Marshall moved up beside him.
“So, here’s the verdict, guys. Mr. Brooks here has some healing to do. Besides the broken nose, he also has two cracked ribs, a large contusion on his spine, and one on his thigh. Look here,” he said, pointing to the X-ray. “These fine lines on the fourth and fourth ribs are hairline fractures. Other than the broken nose and a couple of loose teeth that should reseat themselves, I don’t see any other injuries to his head or neck.”
Johnny felt sick. He wanted to cry, but he had to be the strong one.
“What do we do? How do you fix this?” he asked. “Are you sure that’s all? He’s getting sleepy. Are you sure he doesn’t have a concussion?”
“Adrenaline crash,” Dr. Quick said gently. “No concussion, no intracranial bleeding.
“So he wears the nose guard to protect the nose, but what about the ribs?” Johnny asked.
Dr. Quick patted Beep’s leg.
“Just no roughhousing or lifting for a few weeks and they’ll heal. He’s young and kids’ bones are very pliable.”
Just to prove he wasn’t as sleepy as they thought, Beep piped up with a question of his own.
“Do I still have to take a bath?” Beep asked.
It was the perfect comment to lighten the moment. Dr. Quick laughed.
“As long as you let your brother wash your face so you don’t mess up the good job I did on your nose, you’ll be good to go. A warm bath might even make some of the aches you’re going to have feel better,” Dr. Quick said.
“Shoot,” Beep said.
“You have to take a bath,” Marshall said. “I wouldn’t want to sleep with you if you got stinky.”
Beep winced as the movement of facial muscles caused him pain.
“I sleep with you even when you fart,” he muttered.
Marshall looked embarrassed.
Dr. Quick caught Johnny’s eye. “Could we speak privately for a moment?” he asked.
Johnny followed the doctor out into the hall. His heart was pounding and he felt sick to his stomach. “What’s wrong? Is something else wrong that you’re not telling me?”
“No, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to frighten you. I wanted to tell you that I have reported this to the police and they are on their way to talk to Brooks.”
Johnny was relieved that decision had been taken out of his hands. He focused on what Dr. Quick was saying.
“I’m speaking out of line, but you’re pretty young to have the responsibilities you have, and I don’t want to see you railroaded. I think you need to see a lawyer to protect your rights. At least make sure the responsible parties pay for the medical bills and hope the threat of a lawsuit makes the school take the appropriate action.”
Johnny’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t afford a lawyer, Doc. I threw the word around a lot when I picked him up from school, but that’s not going to happen.”
“You know Peanut Butterman, right? He has the law office above the old bank.”
“Yes, sir,” Johnny said. Everyone knew Mr. Butterman. He was one of Blessings’s true characters.
“Give him a call and tell him I referred you. Every so often, he takes a case pro bono when he thinks someone is about to get railroaded. I think this would be one of those cases.”
Johnny was surprised and embarrassed. “I don’t want charity.”
Dr. Quick put a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “This isn’t about your pride, son. It’s about Brooks’s and Marshall’s welfare through the rest of their school days. In other words, tie a knot in their tails now, before shit gets out of hand.”
Johnny got it. His pride didn’t matter as much as their safety. “Yes, sir. I hear you. And thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I’m very sorry this happened, but the police should be here soon. They will want to interview Brooks and let him say his piece. They’ll go to school and get those statements as well. You let Peanut work his magic, and you stay out of trouble in the process. He’ll get the names of the parents, and the medical bills will go to them through your lawyer.”
Johnny went back inside the room as the doctor left.
Marshall was still holding Beep’s hand. “Are the cops gonna sweat Beep?” he asked.
Johnny rolled his eyes. Someone had big ears, and he didn’t know where Marshall got his vocabulary. That sounded like something out of an old gangster movie from the 1940s. “No, Beep is not in trouble and the police are only going to want to hear his side of the story.”
Marshall frowned. “You can’t trust ’em.”
Johnny stared at his brother in disbelief. “Marshall! Where is all this coming from? Since when have you become an expert on bad police procedure?”
“I watch TV. I know how it goes down,” Marshall said.
“I think your TV choices could be better, and we’ll be talking about that as well in our family meeting. In the meantime, you will be quiet, and you will be respectful when the police get here. Do you understand me?”
Marshall ducked his head. “Yes, sir.”
Beep reached for Johnny’s hand. “Don’t leave me alone with the cops,” he said.
“What the hell?” Johnny muttered. “Have you been watching those shows with Marshall?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“At Miss Jane’s after we get through with homework. She watches old cops and robber movies.”
“Good Lord,” Johnny muttered. He was going to have to have a talk with the sitter too. Could this day get any worse?
There was a knock on the door, and then a uniformed officer from the Blessings Police Department walked in carrying a tripod and a camera case.
Johnny breathed a sigh of relief. He knew and respected Lon Pittman. He would be fair. “Hey, Lon,” Johnny said.
“Hello, Johnny. Dr. Quick has reported an assault on Brooks Pine, who I am assuming is your little brother, Beep. Can’t say as I ever knew his real name before today. I am going to video his statement, okay?”
Johnny nodded. “Dr. Quick told us he called you. Beep will answer your questions. Won’t you, buddy?”
Beep blinked and tightened his hold on Johnny’s hand.
Lon was shocked at the condition of the little guy’s face and hated that his presence was adding to his discomfort. He quickly set up the camera and once it was in place, he moved just out of camera range. “It’s gonna be okay, Beep. You remember me from Career Day at school, right? I came in and talked to your class about obeying traffic laws and how you look both ways before you cross streets. I just want you to tell me what happened.”
Chapter 3
By the time Beep finished recounting the story, Lon was shocked at the viciousness of the attack and trying not to show it. He had everything on video, including Beep’s broken nose and swollen face, the missing patches of hair on the back of his head, as well as the large contusions on his back, thigh, and belly, which was turning a darker shade of purple where his ribs had been fractured.
Lon turned off the camera. He would get the other boys’ statements as well, but there was no way on earth to explain away what they’d done. Four older, bigger boys ha
d ganged up on one younger and smaller boy and kicked him until they broke him.
Lon paused at the foot of Beep’s bed and patted his foot.
“I’m sorry this happened,” Lon said.
Beep blinked. “It won’t happen again, Officer Pittman.”
“Oh yeah?” Lon said.
Beep nodded. “I’m not gonna sleep with gum in my mouth no more, so they won’t be mad.”
“Anymore,” Johnny said, “and none of this was your fault, Beep. Your hair is not their business. They are the ones who did something bad, okay?”
Lon was sick to his stomach. Poor kid, still thinking it happened because he didn’t “look right.” He slipped his copy of the doctor’s report into a folder as he began gathering up his things.
“I think that covers what I need. Ya’ll take care,” Lon said. He left quickly, anxious to get to school before it let out, leaving Johnny and the boys in ER.
Johnny glanced at Beep, then slid his hand across Marshall’s shoulder.
“Marshall, you stay here with your brother until I get back. I’m going to find a nurse and get us checked out. I’ll be right outside, so don’t worry, okay?”
Marshall nodded. “I can handle it. I’m not a kid anymore.”
Johnny frowned. “Yes, you are, and I intend for you to stay that way until you’re old enough to say that and claim it. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Marshall said softly.
Johnny laid a hand on Marshall’s head to soften his words and then walked out of the room. His stomach was in knots. The boys who’d hurt Beep belonged to three upstanding families. He was convinced the boys would not be punished and Beep would not get justice for the assault.
Inside the room, Marshall leaned across the bed and whispered in Beep’s ear, “Who hit you first?”
Beep’s eyes welled. “Lewis Buckley.”
Marshall’s eyes narrowed. “He won’t do it again.”
Beep was worried. He’d never been in this much trouble before and was afraid to go back to school.
“Everyone is going to hate me,” he whispered.
Marshall frowned. “Why? You didn’t do anything wrong. Besides, I’ll take care of you, and if they don’t like me, they can kiss my ass.”
“You said a bad word,” Beep said.
Marshall shrugged.
“I won’t tell,” Beep added and then closed his eyes, too miserable to talk anymore.
• • •
When Mavis saw Lon Pittman enter the school building with an expression on his face similar to the one Johnny Pine had been wearing, her heart skipped a beat. He had called the cops. She glanced over her shoulder. She could still hear raised voices inside the principal’s office. This mess was about to get worse.
Then the office door opened and Lon Pittman walked inside carrying a tripod and a camera case.
“Afternoon, Mavis, I need to speak to Mrs. Winston.”
Mavis shifted nervously in her chair as she straightened her jacket.
“I’m sorry but she’s busy right now. If you don’t mind—”
He tapped his badge. “She can get unbusy. This is police business.”
Mavis nodded. “I’ll just let her know you’re—”
“Are those kids in her office?”
“What kids?” she asked, knowing full well the ones he meant.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Mavis. I am not a happy man.”
“I wasn’t playing,” Mavis muttered and then rolled her eyes as she realized she’d just acknowledged she was dumb. “I mean… Oh, never mind! Just a minute and I’ll see if—”
“I asked you a question. Who’s in the office with her?”
Mavis shivered. She liked her job just fine, but she’d never signed up to defy authority, and the police trumped Mrs. Winston whether she liked it or not.
“The kids and their parents,” she answered and watched a muscle jerk at the corner of his left eye.
“Perfect. Now if you’ll just open the door for me,” he said.
Mavis hurried to the door, knocked once, and then turned the knob so that the door would swing open. As soon as Officer Pittman was inside, she shut it behind him.
Lon walked in with his chin up and his shoulders back and set down his things.
Arlene Winston was stunned to see the police and realized this was spinning out of her control, but this was not the time to panic.
“I’m sorry, Office Pittman, but you—”
Lon held up his hand as he coolly eyed the four boys and their parents.
“No apology necessary. I see all the parties in question are here. I came to take statements about the assault.”
Carl Buckley’s face flushed with anger. He turned on the principal even as his wife was trying to calm him down.
“Assault, my ass! Who the hell called the cops?” he demanded.
Lon heard the challenge in the banker’s voice but didn’t rise to it.
“I received a report from a doctor in the ER. Surely you know that when any child is brought into a medical facility with suspicious injuries, those injuries have to be reported to the police,” Lon said.
“Injuries? Exactly what kind of injuries are we talking about?” Buckley asked.
“The child in question has a broken nose, broken ribs, loose teeth, and large contusions on his back, belly, and leg.”
Sally Rankin stared at her twins in disbelief and then covered her face.
Coach Sharp’s wife looked at her son as if he were a stranger and then began to cry.
Carl Buckley’s wife slumped forward in her chair and would have hit the floor if Buckley hadn’t caught her.
Coach Sharp cursed beneath his breath, but it was from panic, not anger.
But it was the banker, Carl Buckley, who had a reputation to protect, and he was ready to bully whomever it took to make all this go away.
“How dare you come in here and treat us like criminals?” Carl shouted.
Lon saw the rage on the banker’s face and the smirk the Buckley boy was wearing, and began pushing what he knew would be emotional buttons. He glanced at the principal.
“I was not aware that the parents were part of the assault,” he said.
Sally Rankin gasped. “We weren’t, but if we had been there, I can promise none of this would have happened.”
“Then Mr. Buckley misspoke. Dealing with criminals is part of my job, and when they are underage, dealing with their families does occur,” Lon said, pointing at the video camera with the remote. “This will be taped for security purposes. So, Mrs. Winston, if you don’t mind, I need to commandeer your office and ask you to step out—”
“But I—”
“Did you participate in or witness the attack?” he asked.
“No, but—”
He opened the door to her office and then stepped aside, waiting for her to leave, which she did, and with indignation. He closed the door behind her and turned to face the room.
“Parents are allowed to be present since the perpetrators are minors, but since they were not witnesses, they have no voice in what is said. Do I make myself clear?”
Coach Sharp nodded.
“Yes, sir,” Sally Rankin said.
“Do we need to call a lawyer?” Buckley asked.
“I’m just taking statements, not charging them with anything, Mr. Buckley.”
Buckley’s nostrils flared. Just as he opened his mouth to complain even more, his wife elbowed him in the ribs and shook her head.
Lon pointed at the boys who were sitting by their parents.
“Boys, stand up and bring your folding chairs over here in front of me and take a seat, please.”
The boys were beginning to look anxious. It was becoming apparent that they might actually be in big trouble. They stood, gl
anced at their parents for backup, and when none was given, dragged their chairs to the middle of the room and sat down.
Coach Sharp stifled a groan. Lon had efficiently moved all four boys so that they would be sitting with their backs to their parents. There was no telling what might come out of their mouths.
Lon turned on the camera, identified himself, stated the time and date, and then gave instructions to the boys.
“This is a video camera which I will be using to take down your statements. Now, all I need you to do is answer every question I ask truthfully. For the record, please state your name, age, and grade in school, beginning with you.”
He pointed at the boy to his left. Not only was he the largest one, but he was also the only one who didn’t look scared.
“Lewis Buckley. Ten years old. Fourth grade.”
Lon pointed at the boy beside Lewis, who quickly responded.
“Kevin Sharp. Nine years old. Fourth grade.”
“Billy Ray Rankin. Nine years old. Fourth grade.”
“Bobby Jay Rankin. Nine years old. Fourth grade.”
“Thank you,” Lon said. “Now who wants to tell me how the altercation with Brooks Pine began?”
No one moved. No one spoke. All but Lewis were pasty white and shaking. Lewis was still smirking. Lon thought of the Pine kid’s battered body and needed to wipe the smirk off his face.
He pointed at Lewis and Kevin.
“I’m going to need you to remove your shoes, and, you, please remove your shirt. I will be booking them in as evidence.”
Lewis reeled like he’d just been slapped.
“But these are my new shoes,” he argued.
Kevin plastered his hands on the front of his shirt.
“I can’t go nekkid in school.”
Lon shrugged. “There’s blood on Lewis’s shoes and on your shirt. That makes them evidence in the assault. Our crime lab will take samples of the blood, and if it matches Brooks Pine’s blood, then it helps prove your part in the assault. Please take them off.”
Lewis swiveled around in his seat, his eyes widening in panic.
“Daddy?”
“Please face me,” Lon said. “Your parents are not in trouble. You are.”
