Lana's Lawman (19 page)

“Yup.”

“You stole a bicycle.” Lana would have felt better if Rob were accused of stealing a bike, a kid thing. But TVs and VCRs? It had to be a mistake, that was all she could think.

“That's how it started.”

“It's a wonder you turned out as good as you did.”

“If Chief Johnson hadn't helped me, I don't know that I would have.”

Would there ever be a Chief Johnson in Rob's life? she wondered. Maybe Sloan would be the steadying influence her son needed. But how could she depend on that when she didn't know where their relationship was headed from one moment to the next?

“And what about Nicole?” Lana couldn't resist asking. “What was her role in your salvation? Should I thank her too?”

“Lana Walsh, you're jealous.”

“I used to be. Hideously. Maybe I still am.”

Sloan laughed. “Nicole and I, we couldn't have lasted. What she was really looking for was a rich older man. I didn't exactly qualify, but I was convenient.” His voice hardened at the last.

Sloan turned the Jeep into the police station parking lot, and Lana's stomach dropped into her shoes. For a few minutes she'd forgotten their destination. She was so grateful she didn't have to do this herself. Like on the night of Rob's
injury
, Sloan could help her navigate the maze of bureaucracy.

Sloan bypassed the desk sergeant with a nod and took Lana directly to the juvenile division of the police department. There he cornered a detective who was apparently a friend of his and asked him to track down Rob. That investigation led them to another detective, who was handling Rob's case.

“Explain it to me slowly,” Lana demanded once she knew she had the right guy.

“I'll give you the facts as we know them, Ms. Gaston. Officers responded to a burglar alarm at around nine-thirty this morning at 5850 Evensong Lane. They found your son and another boy exiting the house through the garage door. The other boy was carrying a television set, and your son was carrying a VCR. They were putting the things into a station wagon, where several other items of electronics were already stowed. Since neither boy lived at the house, and neither of them could offer a reasonable explanation as to why they were carting off electronics, we arrested them both.”

“Who was this other boy?” Lana asked.

“I can't release that information, since he's a minor also. But I can tell you he was much older than Robert, and my feeling is that the older boy recruited the younger. That doesn't mean your son isn't culpable,
but mitigating circumstances can influence the judge. But I should also tell you, Robert hasn't been very cooperative. He refuses to answer any questions.”

“Well, he's probably scared to death!” Lana's eyes filled with tears. “This is insane. My son's never stolen anything before. It has to be a mistake.”

The detective merely looked down at his boots.

“Can I see Rob?” she asked.

“Yes, ma'am. Because of his extreme youth, the judge will probably release him into your custody. We're waiting for the judge now.”

“Come with me?” she asked Sloan.

“Of course.”

They were taken to a locked visiting room. Lana paced nervously as she waited for someone to bring Rob. When the door finally opened, Rob rocketed into the room and into Lana's arms before she could even get a good look at him. His small body was racked with sobs.

“Mom, take me home,” he managed to say through the tears.

“I will, just as soon as they'll let me,” Lana soothed, rubbing his back. He felt suddenly small and fragile. How could this have happened? “Rob, when you've calmed down a little, I need you to talk to me and tell me what happened.”

Sloan stayed back, removed from the unfolding family drama. But it was all he could do to stay uninvolved. The cop in him wanted some answers too. Why hadn't Rob cooperated? That was troubling. Even during the most rebellious periods of Sloan's life
he'd never openly defied the police. He couldn't imagine having refused to answer questions at age eight.

After a few minutes Rob's tears slowed. Lana guided him to a chair, and she took one next to him, still holding her son's hand. Rob glanced up at Sloan, apparently seeing him for the first time. “Why is Officer Bennett here?”

“Because I asked him to come along,” Lana explained. “Since he's a policeman, I thought he might be helpful.”

“Can he make 'em let me go home?” the boy entreated.

Lana looked at Sloan too, a gleam of hopefulness in her eyes.

“ 'Fraid not,” Sloan replied. “They don't give special treatment to friends of cops. But I can answer any questions either of you might have.” Even if he could have pushed some magic button and gotten Rob off the hook, he wasn't sure he would have. He felt very strongly that children needed to face the consequences of their actions.

“Right now all my questions are for Rob,” Lana said. “Let's start with an easy one. Where's Dad?”

Rob shrugged. “I don't know. He and Charlene left early this morning.”

“He left you alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Does he do this often?”

“Yeah, all the time.”

“Even on weekends when Lucia isn't there?” Lana asked. Rob nodded.

Inwardly, Sloan winced. Lack of supervision was one of the main reasons kids started getting into trouble. He was reasonably sure Lana didn't leave Rob unsupervised, not even for a few minutes. She was one of the more vigilant moms he'd known. But who could control what dear old Dad did on his infrequent weekends? Sloan filed away the information for later, for the custody fight. So far Bart had two pretty serious strikes against him—having sleepover guests, and leaving the kid alone for extended periods.

“All right, we'll worry about that later,” Lana said. “So what happened this morning?”

Rob hesitated, then said in a loud stage whisper, “Dad says when you're arrested, you shouldn't say anything in front of a cop until you have a lawyer.” He nodded worriedly at Sloan.

“I'm here as a friend, not a cop,” Sloan said. “Anything you say, I'll keep it a secret. Okay?”

“Well, I guess that'd be okay.” Rob returned his attention to his mother and her original question. “One of Dad's clients came by to see him, Ricky Ramin.”

“And you let him in?”

“Yeah. He wasn't a stranger, Mom. I've seen him at the house lots of times.”

So, Bart had been exposing his child to criminal elements. Sloan added that one to his list. Way more damaging than anything he'd heard so far.

“But then he wouldn't leave. He started snooping around the house, and I told him he'd have to come back if he wanted to see Dad, but he didn't listen.”

“And then?” Lana prompted.

“He found all the keys hanging by the garage. He read the … the label things on them and he figured out that one was the house key to the Kimbers', next door, 'cause Dad is watching their house while they're on vacation. And Ricky said why don't we just go over and have a look, and I told him no but he went anyway.…” Rob started crying again.

“It's okay,” Lana said over and over. “So far it sounds like you didn't do anything terribly wrong. Keep going. What happened next?”

“I went with Ricky to the Kimbers' house, but I was trying to stop him. He said he was just checking things out, you know, to make sure everything's okay. But then he started grabbing TVs and stuff. He moved his car to the driveway and just started loading stuff in the back. I tried to stop him. I knew we'd probably tripped the burglar alarm, because it's a quiet one, and there's a code to punch in and we didn't do it—”

“Rob,” Sloan said, unable to keep silent any longer. “The detective we talked to said you were carrying a VCR out to the car. How did that happen?” He tried to ask the question with a completely open mind.

Just the same, Lana shot him a distinctly ungrateful look.

“I was trying to take stuff back
in
, not out,” Rob answered. “Mom, I swear, that's the truth. I wouldn't steal.”

“Honey,” Lana said, “I can see that would be quite a dilemma. Did you ever think of just picking up the phone and calling the cops?”

Rob studied a hangnail. “I didn't think of that. I was scared.”

“And is there any particular reason that you refused to answer questions when the police talked to you?”

“I told you, because Dad says not to. Even if I'm innocent, I might accidentally incrim—incriminal myself.”

Sloan decided it was time for him to butt in again—even if Lana didn't like it. But unless the kid was a pretty astute liar, he was telling the truth about trying to prevent the burglary, and he needed to tell Sergeant Bledsoe his story. Chances were the charges against him would be dropped.

Before Sloan could voice his opinion, though, the door to the visiting room burst open and Bart Gaston stood in the doorway, all six-foot-four blond Viking god of him.

Rob ran into his father's embrace. But the first words out of Bart's mouth weren't to comfort his son. Instead, he said, “Bennett. What the hell are you doing here?”

 TEN

Tension crackled through the air like an electrical storm had just arrived.

“I asked Sloan to come,” Lana said, narrowing her eyes as she spoke to her ex-husband. “I thought he might be able to help, since you
weren't
here,” she added.

Bart rolled his eyes. “Lana, how could you be so naive? He's a cop. He's on
their
side. You don't think he'll run right to his cop friends and give them any detail he could scrape up in here so they can convict our son?”

“Everything said in this room was in confidence,” Sloan tried to explain.

“Yeah, I'll just bet. Dammit, Lana, you have the judgment of a fire hydrant. You think this guy is any kind of example to have around Rob? Oh, I checked around, and I know exactly who he is now. A car thief. A knife-wielding gang member. You think because he's
a cop now he's any better? Don't you know that bad people can join the police force as an excuse to carry a gun?”

Rob stared from his father to Sloan, his mouth hanging open.

Lana jumped in. “Oh, for heaven's sake, Bart—”

But Bart wasn't finished. “Do you think it's any coincidence that within a month of when you brought this slimeball into contact with Rob, he's breaking into houses?”

“He didn't break into any house,” Lana insisted. “If you would just listen for a minute—”

Bart obviously wasn't in the mood to listen. “I'll handle this. Getting the charges dropped should be a breeze, son.” He placed a possessive hand on Rob's shoulder and turned back to Lana. “The police don't have any proof that Rob broke in. He used a key, so it can't be breaking and entering, right? And since Ricky's older, he'll be the one to take the rap. In fact, if Rob turns state's evidence against Ricky, we can probably cut a deal to have them drop the charges to a misdemeanor, um, trespassing, maybe.”

“None of that is necessary.” Sloan walked right up to Bart until the two men were within punching distance. “Why don't you listen to what your son says instead of figuring out ways to beat the legal system?”

“Why don't you mind your own business?” Bart retorted, his hands balled into fists. “In fact, why don't you get the hell out of here?” He hit the buzzer that would summon a guard to open the door.

Sloan looked to Lana. She wanted to say something
in Sloan's defense. She wanted him to stay. At the same time, having the two men in the same room was potentially explosive, and neither she nor Rob needed to deal with that kind of tension just then.

“I'll leave,” Sloan said. “But I'm going to say something to the both of you, and you can take it for what it's worth. Let the legal system deal with Rob. If he's innocent of any wrongdoing—and it appears to me that he is—he'll be exonerated. And if he did do something wrong, let him pay the price. Every kid needs to face the consequences of his actions. Take it from someone who learned that lesson too late.”

A guard opened the door. Sloan walked out without a backward glance.

Lana's knees were shaking, and she sank back into her chair.

“I don't believe that jerk,” Bart said. “Lana, how could you—”

“Just drop it, okay? Sloan isn't the issue here.”

“He wants our son to ‘pay the price'? I haven't worked my whole life keeping scum out of jail just to turn my back on my own son.”

He paused, then seemed to shake off his anger toward Sloan. “All right, let's get down to business. First off, Rob, have the police hurt you in any way? When they arrested you, did they hit you, or manhandle you, or push you around?” He examined Rob's face for any signs of ill treatment.

“No,” Rob mumbled, still staring toward the door where Sloan had disappeared. “They've been real nice.”