17
Secrets in the Sand
Foamy white-tipped waves lapped at the slick rocks surrounding the Jupiter Pier, a narrow stretch of boardwalk poking out into the ocean. During the day, amateur fishermen stood elbow to elbow, buckets of bait at their feet, casting lines into the water, in the hopes of snagging a sunfish or maybe a snapper.
At night, it was deserted.
The pier itself bisected a beach. North of it was a leafy public park, dotted with campsites, well-marked trails, and picnic tables. South of it, one of the few wide sand beaches in Jupiter to boast a lifeguard. The area was a popular gathering spot for families, retirees, and keg parties. That last one I only guessed at. I’d never been there without my family.
Until now. I was making what was either the dumbest move of my life, or the one that’d give me the answers I was desperate to have. Maybe both. I hedged my bets by bringing Rex along. I was scared, but not entirely stupid.
I’d told Mom and Regan I was going to the movies with my friends and had Regan drop me at a shopping center with an eighteen-screen multiplex. From there, it was only a short walk to the beach.
It wasn’t supposed to go down like that. He wasn’t supposed to … Ever since he’d said it earlier that day, JJ’s cut-short admission had played round and round in my head on a loop.
Die. That’s what he’d meant. My dad wasn’t supposed to die. That was the end of the sentence, the beginning of the truth.
How much would JJ tell me now? Was I ready to hear it? Could I bear hearing it? And what if JJ had set me up, only to lie to me again?
I actually knew little about him. Just that he lived in a run-down neighborhood and hung out with really bad kids, kids who carried guns and were probably gang members. I wouldn’t be surprised if JJ had an arrest record all his own. That’s why he was “at-risk.” At risk for juvenile detention now, maybe worse when he grew up. When would that be? JJ looked like a high school kid, but I had no idea how old he really was.
I had to accept this, too: JJ Pico was in Canine Connections because my dad had placed him there.
Was that enough to trust that I wasn’t walking into a trap worse than another lie? That he wouldn’t bring his perp-posse along to ambush me again? I couldn’t know until he showed up. My own words came back to me: “Sometimes you just have to trust that people are honorable, that they’ll do the right thing.”
For whatever it was worth, Rex had no qualms about going. Just the opposite. “I get to go to the beach! I can roll in the sand and run into the water! Thank you for taking me!”
“We’ll be here only a short while,” I reminded him, and checked the time. It was just past eight. I’d been here twenty minutes, standing under a streetlamp about halfway down the pier. My stomach was in a hundred knots.
Rex heard them before I saw them.
“It’s Otis!” he cheered, straining on the leash toward the darkened park.
“I don’t see anything.” I squinted.
“It’s his scent,” Rex said, his tail wagging a mile a minute. “A soft bouquet of bougainvillea stirred into bouillabaisse. I’d know him anywhere.”
Just then two figures emerged from the tree-shrouded park onto the lighted pier. JJ was wheeling a bike, Otis trotted beside him. I listened for other noises, specifically, a car that might’ve followed him, but I heard nothing except the splash of the waves.
As he approached, I noticed he was in the same clothes as earlier, lowrider jeans, unbuttoned long-sleeved flannel over a T-shirt, unlaced sneakers. Yet in the diffused light cast by the streetlamp, he looked tougher somehow, borderline sinister. At that moment, I wished I’d worn something more substantial than flip-flops and one of Regan’s cute shorts outfits. I felt at a disadvantage.
“Hey,” JJ said as he leaned his bike against the pier’s metal railing. “You showed.”
“Did you come alone?” I asked anxiously.
He nodded, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets sheepishly. “I’m sorry about what happened before, in the parking lot. That really blew.”
“Those thugs aren’t picking you up or anything?” I was still suspicious.
“If they even knew I was here, I’d be toast,” he said.
I’d have felt better if I believed him.
Rex and Otis had greeted each other by leaping up and smacking paws, a doggy version of a high-five. They barked and circled each other playfully. As soon as we let them off their leashes, they ducked under the railing and scampered down the short embankment to the beach.
“Rex, no—come back!” I shouted.
“Let ’em run,” JJ said. “We can’t miss them with their glow-in-the-dark vests.”
True, but I wanted Rex with me. I suggested we walk down the beach after them. We wouldn’t go far. I only needed JJ to finish what he’d started to say. Then I’d grab Rex and split.
We knelt, grasped the metal railing, twisted around, and scooched under it. JJ went first, sure-footed down the rocks and onto the sand. He offered me his hand, but I refused. I could manage the rocky descent on my own, even in flip-flops. Of course I skidded and landed on my butt. Which was now soaked from the slimy seaweed-covered rocks. How I’d explain that to my sister I didn’t know. To JJ’s credit, he didn’t even snicker, just made sure I was okay—for the second time that day.
We walked in silence, accompanied only by a scattering of seagulls hoping to pick up a stray crumb. The wet, densely packed sand crunched beneath our feet. Finally, JJ said, “If it makes a difference, it wasn’t you they wanted to hurt.”
“What were they aiming for? The soda machine?”
“It was a message to me,” JJ said. “They don’t like me hanging out with you.”
“We are not hanging out,” I contradicted him.
“I know, but they don’t see it like that. They see me with you—or around you—and it’s not cool.”
My snarky side eclipsed my fear. “So they decide to run me over?”
JJ apparently felt the need to defend his cohorts, or maybe just explain them. “Hector and Chris, they’re my brother’s friends—”
“So that makes them your friends, too?” I challenged. To my horror, a little voice in my head chirped, He’s not like them. He’s better than they are. I kicked the sand, as if to kick the voice away.
“It’s not like that … exactly. To them, they’re letting me take my brother’s place. They think I should feel honored. Not do anything to screw that up.”
Being seen with me, he meant. Hanging out with the cop’s kid—the cop they killed—would qualify as screwing up JJ’s gang-trainee status. Which he should be honored to have. I felt sick, but all I said was, “Riiii-ght, the famous brother you claimed was in the car, but who’s really in jail.”
“I don’t expect you to understand, but he used to protect me. Now that he’s not around, I have to fend for myself.”
“What do you mean?”
“Where I live it’s either be cool with them, or be crushed by them. There’s no in between. If you turn your back, there’s nothing protecting you from them.”
JJ had made his choice. And now he’s justifying it, that’s why I’m here. He wants me to understand. Should I tell him now I never will?
JJ took my silence for disapproval, so he tried harder to explain. “I’m expected to take my brother’s place while he’s away. Hector, Chris, and those guys, they accept me. I’m part of something.”
A gang. That’s what you’re part of. Just like your brother, and look where it landed him—in jail. I might have said it, too, but that annoying voice in my head intruded again. He’s a kid caught in a bad situation. Someone thought it was worth getting him out of it.
I shouted the voice down. “You know what, JJ? I don’t really care who you hang out with or why. I came here tonight so you could tell me what really happened the night my father got killed. You said it wasn’t supposed to happen like that. Tell me what you know.”
Just ahead, the dogs were f
rolicking without a care in the world, dashing into the tide, splashing, turning tail and racing back to the beach. Rex had his jaws around a rope of knotted seaweed and was trying to get Otis to play tug-of-war.
JJ stopped walking. “Is it okay if we sit?”
It wouldn’t have been my first choice. The sand was moist and muddy from the receding tide, but my shorts were wet already. I planted myself a few feet away from him. The seagulls took this as a good sign, and took tentative steps toward us. JJ didn’t seem to notice.
“Last summer, some guy’s car got broken into—the cops pinned it on me.”
“But you didn’t do it,” I recited sarcastically. All perps deny stuff.
He brushed me off. “It doesn’t matter. It was a first offense. I was supposed to get off with probation. But instead I got Detective Abernathy.”
My dad. He’s going to tell me, I suddenly realized. Not just about that night, but about everything. I gestured for him to continue.
“He asked me a bunch of questions. He knew about my brother and Hector. He started coming round, checking on me and stuff. I stayed clean. Until one day I went for a ride with the guys. We had some open cans of beer, and I accidentally sideswiped another car.”
“You were driving?”
“Yeah, and I’m fifteen. I don’t have a permit. I got busted. My second offense.”
“You were going to juvie,” I concluded.
“Straight to,” he said. “But then Detective Abernathy stepped in, told me I had a choice, something to try out—if it worked, I wouldn’t have to go. He had a few kids that he worked with. Helped them stay out of trouble. If I wanted to try, I could avoid being locked up.”
“What exactly did he do?” I asked, regretting that I knew so little about this part of Dad’s life.
JJ picked up a shell and tossed into the ocean. I couldn’t help but notice: he used his left hand. “Detective A got us tutors for school, made sure we did our homework, stuff like that.”
Stuff a parent would do, I thought with a start.
“He got a couple of kids part-time jobs. That’s a big thing, ’cause it isn’t easy to get hired when you, you know, have a record.” He looked up to make sure I got the import of this. Then he leaned back on his elbows and stared out at the ocean. “He was kind of like this mentor, big brother, only not cheesy. He didn’t just tell us stuff, he showed us that we were smart, and that we didn’t have to end up in trouble all the time. We had a choice. But he didn’t lecture us. He was cool that way. Joked around, took us to a basketball game one time, bought us lunch.”
I couldn’t help it, my heart swelled with pride. Then, as if I were on a roller coaster that’d just chugged to the highest point—it plunged. “So to thank him, you got him killed. Is that how it works?” I nearly choked on my words.
“It didn’t happen like that. Like I said, he wasn’t supposed to die.”
Beads of sweat on his forehead and I noticed his foot jangling. “What was supposed to happen?” I asked.
He stuttered as he told me, bits and pieces at first, until the whole horrific story poured out.
“It was a Tuesday—two days before Thanksgiving. I was heading to school, like usual, when Hector and Chris cruised by. They wanted me to hang out with them. I said I had school, but Hector laughed and told me to get in.”
“You caved.”
“It’s not like I wanted to go,” JJ said defensively. “But they got on my case bad, talking trash about how I thought I was better than them, now that I hang with a cop.” JJ turned to me. “They meant Detective Abernathy.”
Yeah, I’d figured that out.
“Said I turned into some police pansy, and wait till my brother found out. Then Chris threatened me, reminding me that Thomas wasn’t around to protect me. So if I knew what was good for me, I’d man up, forget that school crap, and hang out with them.”
I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea what it was like to be bullied. Before I could push it away, I felt a twinge of empathy for him.
JJ continued. “So we were cruising, hanging out. In the afternoon, Hector said we were gonna pick up this other guy Tony. I only started to suspect something was up when we drove to the police precinct, circled the block, and parked a little ways away.”
Whoa.
“I asked what we were doing there, but the guys blew me off. Then all of a sudden, Detective Abernathy comes out of the building. He’s walking fast. I didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to follow a cop! Still …” JJ hung his head. “Just in case Detective A saw us, I slunk low in the seat.”
“Front or back?” I asked, testing him.
“Back,” he said.
This time, I believed him.
“Then I hear Chris say, ‘He’s early.’” JJ paused. “At that moment, everything happened so fast, I didn’t understand. Only later, that’s when I realized the whole thing was a setup.”
“A setup?” I repeated dumbly.
“I didn’t have time to even say anything. I saw a gun barrel flash. I tried to yell, but Tony clamped his hand over my mouth. ‘Don’t freak out, bro. We’re just gonna give a little warning. The cop isn’t welcome on our turf.’”
My mouth went dry. JJ kept talking,
“They waited until he got to his car. Tony said they were just going to shoot his tires out, mess up his day. That was the plan. But then someone stuck his arm out under the gun and jerked it upward. The shot went wild. Instead of hitting the tires or the windshield …” JJ trailed off. He didn’t have to finish. We both knew how it ended. My heart was so heavy, I doubted I could ever get up. So I was shocked to hear myself blurt, “How could they shoot at a cop? Right by the precinct? How stupid could they be?”
“You don’t understand,” JJ said. “They think they’re untouchable. That’s the mentality.”
For a long time after that, I couldn’t speak. I cradled my head in my arms. My stomach heaved. I thought I might upchuck, right on the sand. But what came up wasn’t the contents of my stomach—it was the burning need to get revenge. To cause as much harm and hurt as had been done to my family. “Who shot him? Who had the gun?” I demanded.
“I can’t tell you that.” JJ’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“But you know,” I said coldly.
“I told you this much because I really liked your old man. He helped me out a lot. And you’re his kid. But I can’t take it any further.”
“You have to!” I exclaimed. “If you withhold information, that’s a crime.”
“So be it.” With that, JJ jumped up and whistled for Otis.
“So be … nothing!” I shrieked, kicking the sand in frustration.
JJ’s whistling brought Otis and Rex. My dog, sensing my distress, nuzzled close to me. I rested my head against his prickly muzzle and desperately tried to think of something to make JJ tell me the rest. He’d confessed this much because he was grateful to my dad. Worshipped him, Rex had said.
I looked up at JJ clipping the leash onto Otis’s collar and quietly said, “If you don’t go to the police and tell them what you told me—and who had the gun—it’ll all have been for nothing. Everything my dad did for you. For nothing.”
JJ lifted his chin. “I already said more than I should have. This is as far as I go.”
“If you have an ounce of gratitude, the least you can do is honor his memory,” I pressed on.
JJ’s forehead crinkled. “Like make a donation or something?”
“Like remembering what he used to say.” I could only hope my dad had given JJ the advice he’d imbued in me. “ ‘There’s a time to be brave, and a time to cave—if you know something is the right thing to do, even if you’re scared, do it anyway. Especially if you’re scared.’”
By the light of the moon, I saw the color rise in JJ’s face. I’d struck a nerve. I hammered away. “He would have wanted you to be brave.”
“Not if it cost my life.”
18
Magical Thinking
I stayed on the beach after JJ and Otis left, staring out into the ocean. It was mesmerizing. Thick stripes of moonbeams lit the surface of the water, illuminating the silhouette of a cruise ship far in the distance. I pictured my dad standing there, toes in the sand, taking in his favorite sight. He’d never get to feel this again.
But I would.
The thought had come out of nowhere and pounced on me like Rex in the morning. If a little part of Dad lived on in me, then maybe in some weird universe-righting-itself way, maybe he was seeing it, too. Something like hope welled up inside of me.
Later that night, I lay in bed trying to patch together what I’d just learned, and how much of it I believed.
If JJ had told the truth, the shooting had been planned all along—the time Dad left work didn’t factor into it. They were waiting for him.
It never had anything to do with me.
Not guilty. That was my verdict. Maybe someday that would give me peace, but right now, at—I looked at the clock: 11:11 p.m.—the hole in my heart was every bit as big and jagged as the day we lost him.
The rest of it—they hadn’t meant to shoot him, JJ was an innocent passenger with a conveniently vague memory—maybe was true, maybe not. It didn’t matter. In JJ’s world, gangs ruled. They took issue with a cop trying to help their friend’s brother. In their twisted minds, Detective Abernathy had intruded on their turf, messed with one of their own. They couldn’t let it be.
Their solution, to teach the cop and the kid a lesson, was carried out the only way they knew how, violently.
That they were only supposed to blow out my dad’s tires, or smash his windshield, but hit him instead? They didn’t care—worse, they didn’t pay for it. Except for JJ’s admission of being in the car, the police interrogation netted no solid evidence against any of them. No convictions, no indictments, no jail time. The conscienceless miscreants were home free.
Grand slam for them.
Torture for me and my family.
I wanted revenge. We deserved it. The West Palm Beach Police Force had not managed it for us. What were the chances a lone thirteen-year-old could get back at Hector, Chris, and that Tony guy? How could I inflict hurt, humiliation, and the kind of pain they’d caused us?
What the Dog Said Page 11
