by Anel Viz
"No, I want her notified. I'm not like Liv. I refuse to play dirty."
"All the more reason for having the psychologist back us up on getting the boy out of Macon. I'll find out who's been assigned to him and get in touch with her."
"You're sure it will be a her?" Eric asked.
"Take my word for it. I'll contact her and ask her to get the interview out of the way as promptly as possible. She'll cooperate, I'm sure. It's in the boy's best interest to get him out of here and back home as soon as possible. Scott will arrange with Child Protection to have your son meet with a psychologist in Idaho if follow-up interviews are necessary. He'll need some counseling even if we find out right away who it was."
* * * *
The next call Liv got was from Eric. He hadn't been able to get a connecting flight into Macon and was at the airport in Atlanta.
"I'll come pick you up right away," she said. "I've been using the Heymers' second car."
"All the way to Atlanta? That won't be necessary. I'm renting one anyway."
"Do you need directions?"
"Yes, please. I think I remember how to get there, but I could get lost."
"I'll ask Jessie if there's a cot Li'l Eric can use. We can switch rooms with the girls."
"I won't be staying with them. I've reserved a suite at the same hotel we stayed at the last time I was here. I'll pick you and the children up and we'll go straight to the hotel."
"Why not here?"
"I don't feel comfortable with them. And just so there'll be no surprises, I'm taking the kids home with me."
"You're not staying?"
"What for? The police and the courts will handle it. What's important is to get them away from a place that's threatening to them and into familiar surroundings. The luggage hasn't come in yet, and after that I need to get the car. You have plenty of time to get their things together."
Get their things together? What did he mean by that? Only then did it hit her. "You're taking the kids?" she screamed.
"You too, unless you don't want to come."
"You're taking the kids? I won't let you."
"I thought you'd be against it, so I'm asking permission from the court."
"That was quick!"
"Mercifully quick. Weren't you notified?"
"No."
"That's odd. Maybe someone left a message with the Heymers. Anyway, I'll see you in three, maybe four hours."
Liv felt attacked on all sides. She could guess now what that court date was about. Jessie probably just hadn't got around to giving her the message yet. And Mr. Worthy must have known all along, and he hadn't told her. "Why are you doing this to me, Eric?" she asked "What happened to Li'l Eric wasn't my fault."
"I never said it was your fault, Liv. I just think we should get him away from there as soon as possible. He'll feel safer at home."
"You're blaming me. It isn't fair."
"No." But he didn't say which of her two statements he was answering.
She decided not to pack the kids' things, but wait and see what the judge would say. She absolutely had to show up. She called the police and told them she had to go to court and wouldn't be available early afternoon tomorrow if they wanted to meet with her and Li'l Eric.
"No problem," the desk officer said. "We've scheduled him to meet with the psychologist at three. Court's right next door."
Elliot Cannon was a very efficient lawyer.
Sharon Stark
They met in chambers, the Reddings, their attorneys, Judge Cole, a court stenographer (not Jessie), and a young, pleasant-looking woman nobody bothered to introduce to them. They left the children in the bailiff's care. It wasn't expected the meeting would last very long.
Liv had quickly whispered to Worthy what was going on when they met in the corridor. "Why didn't you call and tell me?" he asked, clearly annoyed. "I'm totally unprepared!"
What good would it have done? Liv thought. You never return my calls.
"I doubt it will make a difference," Worthy continued. "They won't let your son leave the state until the police finish their investigation."
He was right. That was the first thing the judge said in response to Eric's petition, and he added that under the circumstances it would be unwise to separate Li'l Eric from his sisters.
"Please, Your Honor," Cannon said, pointing to the as yet unidentified young woman, "Mrs. Stark here is best qualified to address your concerns."
The woman introduced herself. "Sharon Stark, clinical psychologist, Your Honor." She handed him her card. "I've been assigned to work with the boy."
"I'm listening, Mrs. Stark," Judge Cole said.
"Thank you, Your Honor. I'm scheduled to meet with the child this afternoon, after this matter is concluded. Nine times out of ten, while we don't get all the details in the first session, we do learn who the culprit was. That will suffice for the police to make an arrest and proceed with their investigation. The child will be better off in familiar surroundings. In my opinion, it's to everyone's advantage. He's more likely to open up in a setting where he feels less threatened. Mr. Redding has arranged for a therapist for him in Idaho. I'll fax her all my notes and she can take it from there."
"Mightn't you change your mind and wish to interview him again?"
"It's not impossible. The police can always request a delay if I do."
The judge asked Eric when he planned to leave.
"I've reserved a flight for tomorrow morning."
"I assume you'll know by then if you'll want to have a second meeting with the minor?" the judge asked the psychologist.
"I expect so, Your Honor. It's pretty much always clear whether or not I'll need to do a follow-up."
"Then I'll order the children placed in their father's custody so he can return them to Idaho. I would strongly urge you to go with them, Mrs. Redding. Your son needs you, and as far as the other matter is concerned, you serve no useful purpose here."
He will recuse himself, Worthy thought.
* * * *
When they left the judge's office, Mrs. Stark went up to the Reddings and asked them to call her Sharon. She wanted to know if they'd both be waiting outside while she met with Li'l Eric.
"Are we both needed?" Eric asked. "I thought I'd go back with the girls to where they've been staying and bring their things to the hotel. Or don't you think there'll be time?"
"It may not take long at all, but it's enough if his mother's there in case he gets upset. I don't expect that'll happen. I've done interviews like this before."
"Liv, will you please call the Heymers and tell them I'm coming?"
"If you like."
"Should I get your things too?"
"Not yet."
He'd asked Liv to phone so he'd have the opportunity of speaking to the psychologist alone. "My wife's gotten it into her head that one of the four men who are opposing her on the house… You know about the house?" Sharon nodded. "Then you also know they're gay. Anyway, she thinks it was one of them who molested Li'l Eric."
"So I've heard. I don't see how it could be. None of them have ever been alone with him."
"I don't think so either. I was afraid she might influence your line of questioning."
"Not to worry. The police have all but eliminated them as suspects. A good friend of mine is the investigating detective. He says it turns his stomach to have to grill four men who are so obviously innocent, but the chief insists. Tell me: How do you think your son is doing?"
"Hard to say," he replied, hoping he could manage to keep his voice steady. "I thought he'd be worse. I haven't been able to sleep since I got the news. I'm trying to hang in there for Li'l Eric's sake, but it isn't easy."
"I know what you're going through," she reassured him. "You're doing a terrific job."
"I pictured him as hysterical or catatonic or something." God! Did he sound as desperate as he thought he did?
"It's seldom as bad as that, but you can't always tell from their behavior what's going on inside t
heir heads."
Her statement cut two ways, at once encouraging and ominous.
"I know," Eric said, "and it frightens me. I do see a difference, though. I just can't put my finger on it yet. I only got here a couple of hours ago."
"First impressions, then. Does he seem more reserved than usual? Distant, maybe?"
"No, if anything, I'd say he's clingier than I've ever known him to be. Then again, he hadn't seen me in over two months. And he didn't make that much of a fuss about going with the bailiff. Of course, he was with his sisters." Was all that pertinent or had he begun to ramble? "Anything else?" he asked.
"Yes, as a matter of fact. Should I call your son Li'l Eric when I meet with him?"
"No, just Eric. Li'l Eric is a family name. Will you also try to convince his mother to come home with us?" Then he added, "I intend to file for divorce if she doesn't."
"Have you told her this?"
"Not yet, but I will before we go. She has more than enough on her plate as it is."
"And because the judge would think twice about granting you temporary custody if he knew there was a divorce in the works," Mrs. Stark said in a clipped voice. "Let's be up front about this, shall we, Mr. Redding? And don't expect me to take sides. You must realize that what happened to your son isn't her fault. Nobody could have foreseen it."
"I'm not blaming her for that. It's that she's putting this business with the house above our son's welfare. Isn't that what really matters? The house is unimportant, but it's all she thinks about nowadays. I scarcely recognize her anymore."
"She should get counseling. You both should."
"I've told her that already. I'm making it one of the conditions for continuing with the marriage. All this is off the record, of course."
"I understand. This is between you and your wife; my business is with your son."
Liv finished her call, and they went to get Li'l Eric and the girls.
"Patty and Clara are going to Jessie's with Daddy to get your things," Liv told them.
"Are we going home?" Li'l Eric asked.
"You mean back to Idaho? Do you want to go home with Daddy?"
"Yes. Shouldn't we go get my things too?" There was no mistaking his excitement.
"Daddy will get them. We have to stay here so you can speak with this nice lady."
Sharon crouched in front of him and said, "Hi, Eric. I'm Sharon. We're going to have a little chat together in about an hour. Is that okay?"
He looked dubious. "I s'pose. Where?"
"In my office. I don't think you've ever seen an office like mine. It's like a big playroom."
"You mean with toys?"
"Lots and lots of toys."
"Will Mommy be there too?"
"I'll be right outside, angel, and then we'll go to the hotel."
"Let's go, girls," Eric said. "See ya later, kiddo."
He ruffled the boy's hair and headed toward the exit.
* * * *
Sharon spent nearly half an hour trying to lead Li'l Eric around to speaking about the abuse, but once she'd got it out in the open it took only a few questions to find out what she wanted to know. The molester had opened the boy's pants and fondled his genitals.
"Did he do anything else to you?"
"He made me touch his…"
"Did he put your hand on it?"
Li'l Eric hung his head. "Uh-huh."
"Did he hurt you any other way?"
"He said he would if I told." His answer was nearly inaudible.
"He can't hurt you now. You're going home, remember?"
The boy nodded, but didn't look reassured.
"Are you going to miss the friends you made in Georgia?"
"Uh-uh."
"Don't you think people are nice here?"
He mumbled something about someone being nice to him sometimes.
"Did you say 'Jesse'? Is Jesse the man who hurt you?"
She had to put her ear to his mouth to hear his whisper.
"No, Jessie's his wife."
Fletcher MacGuire
Fletcher MacGuire, the detective assigned to the case, called them in for a second round of questioning, the men who'd lived next door to the boy's grandmother and their friends from Boston. This time he'd be talking to all four of them together. He had no other leads, but he knew for a fact that it was pointless. None of them could have done it. He had interrogated each one separately the day before.
The first time around, he'd begun with the boy's uncle, because the mother had, as she put it, "a gut feeling it was him." MacGuire didn't like him, and was suspicious at first. The man was hostile, somewhat cocky in his manner, and very savvy. MacGuire had the impression he'd been questioned by the police before, probably often.
At first he'd refused to say anything without his lawyer present, Magda Caille from Atlanta, a good two hours south of Macon.
"While we're waiting, you'll at least give me your name and address, I hope."
When the man gave a Boston address, he asked, "How long have you been in Macon and how have you been spending your time here? You realize that we'll have no trouble checking out your story."
"We got in last night, and what I've done since then can wait till my lawyer gets here."
The boy's mother mustn't have known that if she thought he was a suspect. MacGuire went on: "We?"
"Me and my husband, Edward Blacknoll. He's waiting his turn outside your door. You dragged him down here too."
"Nobody dragged you. We asked you to come and you agreed. May I ask why the two of you came to Macon?"
"May I ask what this is all about? If you tell me, I may agree to answer some of your questions."
MacGuire told him, and could see that the shock and surprise in the man's face was no act. In return he opened up a little and provided some information.
"I was down here for a couple of days about a month ago to take care of some business regarding my mother's will. My sister's contesting it."
"Yes, the house. I know about that."
"Now why doesn't that surprise me? Anyway, there was some question about whether I really was who I say I am, so I got some proof together while I was back in Boston. I had my DNA tested, too. That ought to show that Mrs. Redding is my sister."
McGuire didn't say anything while he jotted it all down. Cameron blurted out, "Jesus, that poor kid! What exactly did the bastard do to him?"
"You know I can't give out that information when I'm trying to determine if you were involved, Mr. Enslik."
"You can see for yourself I couldn't have been. But yeah, I figured you wouldn't. And the name's Blacknoll. I had it changed."
"I'll make a note of that. Is there anything else you're willing to tell me?"
"I'll be signing some papers this afternoon. I intended to go home tomorrow, but I don't suppose you'll allow that now."
"I won't oppose your leaving if your story checks out. And your partner?"
"Husband."
"We don't recognize your kind of marriage in Georgia."
"I don't give a damn. Just make sure that the transcript says exactly what I say on that tape—my husband. Don't go tampering with the evidence to make it conform to Georgia law."
MacGuire refused to let the man's needling get to him. "Are you going to tell me why he came with you?" he asked calmly.
"On our first trip, for moral support. This time he came to confer with some people who are making preliminary arrangements for the shelter my mother specified in her will. You'll have to ask him for the details."
He had never met his nephew. He refused to answer any questions about the other men. There was no point going on, or even questioning him again once his lawyer arrived unless one of the others said something to implicate him, which seemed unlikely, if not impossible.
His story meshed perfectly with what his partner… husband, whatever… had to say.
The third man he interrogated, Franklin, was so visibly shaken that MacGuire thought he might be guilty. It turned out th
at he'd lived for a while as a runaway and had never gotten over his irrational fear of the police. MacGuire also learned that he'd been brutally molested as a child. Statistically, that would make him more likely to abuse children, but it didn't give him much to go on.
Caille had arrived by the time he got around to questioning the black man, who impressed him because of his dignity and reserve. He'd tried another tack with him, saying, "I see your brother is in prison."
Caille looked as if she was about to jump down his throat, but Christ merely said, with haughty calm, "Then he couldn't have done it, could he?"
Convinced of the sincerity of the disgust and horror all four had expressed, MacGuire had decided to question them as a group on the off-chance that if there was a hole in one of their stories one of the others would pick up on it. He didn't think they would try to cover for the molester. So here they all were the next afternoon, back at the police station for no good reason, this time the four of them being questioned together.
* * * *
If anything, Cameron felt feistier than he had during the first interrogation; only the presence of the other three kept him from venting. There was no sense to it. After what they'd told him the day before, the detective had to know none of them could have done it if he had even a shred of intelligence. What a day it had been! Instant replay was the last thing they needed.
The morning after he and Ed had flown down to Macon, the police had shown up at Jay and Baron's house in the middle of breakfast and asked them all to come down to the station to answer a few questions.
"All four of us?"
Cameron was immediately suspicious that his sister had instigated some new tactic and asked to see a warrant.
"We can get one if you'd prefer to be arrested."
"On what charges?"
"I couldn't say. I wasn't told."
Baron said, "We'll go there on our own. We still have to shower and dress and call in to work to tell them we'll be late. We can be there about ten. If you want to get a warrant in the meantime, go right ahead."
