ONE SMALL VICTORY (4 page)

~*~

Steve stepped back from the sheer force of
this woman standing before him demanding answers. A cop’s worst
nightmare. The mother of the deceased.

Trudy, the dispatcher, had buzzed him when
the woman stormed in, and he’d come into the hall to face what was
obviously barely controlled anger.

“Mrs. Jasik. Please-”

“No I won’t, please.” Fury smoldered in the
woman’s deep brown eyes. “I demand to know what’s going on.”

“You want me to call the Chief?” Trudy asked,
already reaching a finely manicured hand toward the phone on her
desk.

Steve shook his head and turned to the woman
who clutched a large leather purse to her chest like body armor.
“If you’ll come down to my office, I’ll explain.”

She stood rigid and Steve recognized the
stance of anger. He reached out and touched her arm. “It would be
better than trying to handle it here.”

He watched her glance around the room, taking
note of the patrol officers had been drawn to the commotion and
stood in doorways. Then she shifted her gaze to Trudy who still had
her hand on the phone.

Finally, she faced him again. “Yes,” she
said. “Perhaps you’re right.”

At her compliance, Steve felt the tension
dissipate. There was a rustle of movement as the other officers
returned to their desks, and he gestured for the woman to follow
him. He led her down the hall, their footsteps muffled in the soft
carpeting. In his office, he indicated she should sit in the chair
in front of his desk. “Something to drink? Coffee?”

“No.” She didn’t sit. “I want to know why my
son’s body hasn’t been released to the funeral parlor.”

“It’s a matter of routine-”

“Don’t try to smother me in the party line.”
He watched her reach up to sweep a cascade of auburn hair off her
forehead and tuck it behind her ear before she continued. “Mr.
Hobkins told me arrangements would have to be delayed. There’s some
kind of official interference.”

Steve bit back a sharp reply. Getting
defensive about what she considered ‘interference’ wouldn’t help.
He gestured again for her to sit and this time she did.

“Mrs. Jasik, I’m sorry you found out this
way.” He stretched the moment by pouring a cup of coffee from the
pot on top of his filing cabinet. Then he sat down at his desk and
faced her. “I should have contacted you myself. I just thought I
had a little more time.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“You’re right. It’s just an explanation.” He
kept his gaze steady. “And I do regret making this more difficult
for you.”

“Okay.” She let the large purse drop into her
lap. “So just tell me why?”

“We’re investigating the circumstances of the
accident.”

“What circumstances?” Alarm widened eyes that
were almost as dark as her hair.

“Drugs were found in the car,” Steve paused
and grasped his coffee cup with both hands. “We have to determine
if your son was using them.”

“No. Not Michael.”

Steve chose his words with care, not wanting
to set her off again. “Most parents don’t know if their kids are
doing drugs.”

“I know!” Ire seemed to stiffen her spine
again. “Maybe he tried it. I don’t know. Lot’s of people try it.
But he didn’t do drugs.”

“I hope you’re right.” Steve paused to give
her a moment. “But we can’t ignore the facts. Drugs were found in
the car and the Brennan boy’s blood tests showed he was under the
influence.

We have to consider the possibility he wasn’t
the only one.”

Jenny wanted to scream that he was wrong, but
some rational part of her mind recognized the detective’s position.
After twenty years on the force in Houston, her Uncle Sid had told
her that a good cop believes what is seen, not what family members
say. So she swallowed the urge to lash out in blind defense of her
son and sat mute.

“I don’t like to do this Mrs. Jasik. But the
questions have to be asked.”

“I know.”

“What do you know about the Brennan boy?”

“Not much. They’ve been friends through most
of high school, but he was always a little reserved with me.”

“Did you ever suspect he was doing
drugs?”

“I’m sure he wasn’t. I mean—”

“The tests are conclusive, Mrs. Jasik.”

“Oh.” Jenny cast her mind back to the times
she’d been around Brad, searching for some clue, some sign that he
might have been taking something. Not that she’d recognize the
signs. She still thought of a ‘joint’ as a place. She sighed. “I’m
probably not the best judge of who’s into drugs.”

“That’s fine.” The detective took a swallow
of coffee, then set his mug on a stack of papers on his desk. “Have
you noticed anything different about him recently?”

“He hasn’t been around for a while. The boys
drifted apart toward the end of senior year.” Her voice faltered.
“I think Michael said Brad left town after graduation. I didn’t
even know he was back until he picked Michael up the other
day.”

“Where were they going?”

“Turner Falls. They were supposed to camp all
weekend.”

She watched the detective note her responses
in a steno-type notebook. Then he closed it and looked at her with
some unrecognizable emotion stirring in his eyes.

They really are the most remarkable eyes.
That thought caught her up short. My God, woman, you are nuts.

She shifted her gaze and shrugged. “I wish I
knew more.”

“That’s okay.” He paused for a moment and she
glanced back in time to see him drain his coffee. “When we get the
test results, I’ll let you know.”

“How long?”

“I’ll push it through as fast as I can.
Hopefully, not more than a day.”

Jenny nodded, hefted her purse over her
shoulder and started to rise. Then some impulse made her turn back.
“Tell me about the accident.” Her voice was soft, but steady.

“Perhaps it would be better-”

“No. I don’t think so.” Jenny sank back into
the chair. “It’s still so unreal.” She looked away, then back.
“Maybe because I want it to be. I don’t know.”

Again she paused and looked down at her
hands, which were tightly clasped in her lap. Then she let her eyes
drift back to the detective. “I don’t even know where...it
happened.”

“Out on 720. West of town.”

Jenny took a moment to consider her next
question. “Were they speeding?”

“It appears so.”

Jenny listened as the detective described the
distance from where the car hit the deer and where it impacted on
the concrete drainage pipe in the culvert and tried not to picture
what it must have been like for Michael.

The detective finished the narrative with,
“To have sailed that far they had to have been going at a pretty
good rate of speed,”

“I see.” She dipped her head and took a deep
breath. The explanation was so crisp. So clinical. But maybe that
was better than trying to put any kind of words to what her son
might have suffered.

She bit her lower lip hard to fight off a
wave of tears.

“I know it doesn’t make it any easier,” the
detective said. “But it was quick.”

Jenny nodded and took another deep,
shuddering breath. Then she met his gaze. “Thank you.”

~*~

Through the large window at the front of the
station, Steve watched Jenny Jasik cross the parking lot to an
aging Ford Taurus that had a prominent dent in the left rear
quarter panel. Briefly, he allowed the speculation of what it must
be like to lose a child to cross his mind. Then he wondered what it
would take to ease the sharp lines of pain he'd seen in the woman’s
face.

Not for the first time in his career, he
thanked the alignment of the stars--or whatever was responsible for
his good luck--that he'd never had to experience this kind of loss
first hand. Not that it was so easy second-hand.

He stayed at the window for a few minutes
after the car pulled out of the lot, then wiped a hand across the
stubble of his beard in an attempt to dispel the depressing mood
before heading down the hall toward the break-room. There he found
Chief Gonzalez plowing his way through a huge chunk of chocolate
cake and working a crossword puzzle. Bastard always did them in
ink.

Steve sat down opposite the lanky man and
reached for a jar of fat-free, unsalted peanuts. Bastard could also
eat like a freakin’ farmer and never gain an ounce.

Once, as a joke, a few of the guys had posted
a notice on the bulletin board that said tall, skinny Mexicans
shouldn’t eat so many sweets in front of short, fat Anglos. The
Chief posted a response pretty much dictating that short, fat
Anglos should get their asses back to work.

They’d decided not to say anything about the
crossword puzzles.

Without looking up, Gonzalez asked, “What’s
on your mind, Lieutenant?”

“Going to the lab in Dallas.”

Gonzalez sat back in his chair and looked at
Steve. “Why you?”

“So I can ride their ass ‘til they finish the
tests.”

“What’s the hurry?”

“We need to let this mother bury her
son.”

Steve grabbed another handful of nuts and
waited for the Chief’s response. He was a man long on procedure and
short on emotion. Procedure said a patrol officer could run
errands. A detective had to put his or her time to better use. But
Gonzalez also believed in victim’s rights. It could go either
way.

Gonzalez rubbed slender fingers across his
chin, then went back to his puzzle. “Don’t make it a habit,” he
finally said.

CHAPTER FOUR

Jenny only half listened to the buzz of
conversation drift around the room. It was one of those odd periods
of numbness when she felt distanced. This wasn’t her living room,
her friends, her mother. They all belonged to someone else, and she
was watching some bizarre form of reality TV.

Earlier, she’d been relieved when Lt. Morrity
called to tell her the serum tests were negative. So now the
three-day countdown could begin. He’d been kind enough to tell her
again that he was sorry he couldn’t rely on her word as proof about
the drugs. The kindness had been a comfort.

It had also been comforting to know she
wasn’t wrong about Michael. Not that being wrong would have changed
anything. Even if Michael had been taking drugs, the accident still
wasn’t his fault. Brad was the one who had been driving too
fast.

Out of nowhere an almost uncontrollable surge
of anger hit her. How dare he? Was he so stupid he didn’t realize?
Or didn’t he care?

She considered going to the hospital and
confronting Brad’s parents. Did they know what their son and his
foolishness had done?

Then she realized she was being unfair. Of
course they knew. What parent wouldn’t? Even as their own son
hovered in that murky place between life and death, they had to
have a painful awareness of the one who hadn’t made it. They didn’t
need her reminder.

Noticing the drink she clutched in sweaty
hands, Jenny took a swallow of lukewarm cola and tried to focus on
what people were saying. Most of the comments seemed to center on
how unfortunate it was that drugs had invaded the security of their
little rural community. How unfortunate that young peoples’ lives
were often so difficult that they turned to drugs. How unfortunate
it was that it was ruining so many futures.

“It’s not unfortunate.” Anger put a strident
edge to Jenny’s voice. “It’s a crime. Anyone who deals in drugs
ought to be shot.”

Stunned silence followed the outburst as
gazes shifted anywhere but at her. Then her mother cleared her
throat. “We all realize that, dear. There’s no need to shout.”

“I’m sorry.” Jenny stemmed the force of the
emotion and focused on the startled expression on Carol’s face.
“It’s just that everybody just sits around and talks about it. But
nothing is done.”

“What do you suggest, Jen?” her friend asked.
“Arm ourselves with Uzis and blow them all away? Wonder Women of
the New Millenium?”

Jenny laughed as an unflattering image
flashed through her mind. “I’m not sure about the steel bra, but
maybe the gun’s not a bad idea.”

“Jenny! Surely you’re not serious,” Helen’s
voice cracked in alarm.

“Of course not.” Jenny smiled. “We’re just
talking here, right?”

~*~

Jenny wasn’t sure how she got through the
next couple of days before the funeral. It helped when Mitchell
made her laugh by saying she was hurting her own business by not
having flowers for the viewing. And oddly enough, it helped when
Ralph showed up and the other kids clung to him for a little while.
She hadn’t realized how much their needs had drained her.

Now, she stood beside the grave as the
workers prepared to lower the casket. The strength seeped from her
legs and she wanted to slither into the hole with her son. How
could she go on without him?

Ralph touched her hand and the contact kept
her upright. A light breeze brushed across her face and she became
aware of muffled sobs beside her. Alicia. The girl had buried her
head in Jenny’s side. When had that happened and I didn’t even feel
it? Jenny wrapped an arm around her daughter and tried to be strong
for her.

~*~

Scott watched the casket holding his
brother’s body slowly descend into the large dark hole. He could
smell the dank, sour odor of the dirt that ringed the grave, and it
made his stomach roil. He wanted to scream. He wanted to throw
himself on the bronze surface of the casket. He wanted to pummel
his brother’s lifeless body. And all of those urges felt so
horribly wrong. How could he be this...angry?

He glanced at his mother, who had one arm
around his sister. His mother kept her face forward, a solitary
tear trickling down her cheek. She did nothing to acknowledge the
tear. Almost as if she had gone into some deep inner place and
there was no awareness of the outside. This was a demeanor Scott
had seen a lot of recently, and he wondered when he was going to
get his mother back.