Presumption of Guilt (22 page)

“Awesome!” Jimmy said. “No wonder you knew so much about Bill. No wonder he knew so much about you!”

“Wow.” Phil slumped back in his chair. “I can't believe this.”

“Believe it. It's true. Bill Brandon trained me to be a thief, and for ten years, that's what I was. And as we speak, he's training other kids to be thieves. Maybe worse. Kids were involved in the arson last night. They could have been killed.”

“There's more,” Tony said, glancing back at Larry. “After the explosion at your house, Nick told us where the package was postmarked, so we went by that post office to see what they could remember about the package. Turns out that one of the postal workers saw a little girl bringing it in.”

“A little girl, delivering a bomb?” Beth asked.

“He described her as six or seven, reddish-blonde, shoulder-length hair, big eyes, very polite.”

“Lisa,” Jimmy said. “It's Lisa.”

Nick clenched his jaw. “Tony, Larry, you've got to get this guy. Somebody else is gonna get killed if you don't.”

Jimmy's face was reddening, and his lips trembled. “You've got to get Lisa out of there. She doesn't know any better. She's just seven. He's so mean . . .”

“All right,” Larry said. “We have ample evidence now to arrest Bill Brandon. If Judge Wyatt refuses us a warrant this time, we'll go over his head to the prosecutor. We'll have Brandon locked up by the end of the day.”

“I wish the article hadn't been destroyed,” Phil said.

“It wasn't,” Nick said. “She has a copy in her car, with a disk.”

“I was taking it to the
St. Petersburg Times.

”

“Good idea. They'll print it, if we can't. If you'll give it to me, I'll make sure of it, Beth.”

“I want to make some changes, first. I want to put my own name in there, and write down what I just told you.”

“You can dictate it over the phone. I'll call you here when I get to St. Pete.”

“What about me?” Jimmy's rough voice surprised them all.

“What about Lisa, and all the other kids? Are we gonna go to jail?”

“You leave that to me,” Lynda told him. “I'll take care of everything.”

“Can either of you lead us to where he warehouses all of the things he steals?”

“No,” Beth said. “He never shared that part of the business with us. He just gave us our orders, and we followed them.”

“Do you know who else was involved?”

“All of the adults who work for him, according to Marlene.

But not all of the kids. Sometimes I didn't even know what other kids were involved. He seemed to pick out the ones he could control the best. The ones who would fear him and try to please him.”

“Was there physical abuse involved?”

“Yes. Always. That was how he controlled us.”

“Sexual abuse?”

She shook her head. “No, thank God. I was never molested, and I didn't hear about it happening to anyone else. I think Bill considers himself a fine, upstanding, normal citizen who happens to have an unusual hobby.”

“How about you, Jimmy? Has Bill ever molested you or any of the other kids?”

“Not me, and not the others as far as I know.”

“Just beatings.”

“Yeah, and other things.”

Other things. She thought about the plate-glass window, and the alcohol, and the puppy with a bullet hole through his head.Bill's cruelties knew no bounds. She wondered what horrors Jimmy had experienced.

“What other things, Jimmy?”

He looked down at his worn sneakers. “One time, Keith Huxtin fell from a ladder when he was breaking into a house, and he broke his leg. We didn't think anybody was home, but somebody was, and they came out and saw us. We had to carry Keith down the street to the van, running as fast as we could to keep from getting caught. Bill wouldn't take him to the hospital because he knew they were looking for a kid who'd been hurt. He made him sweat the pain out for two days. Then he took us to school early and made us carry him in and lay him in the hall. We had to pretend he had fallen at school, so Bill wouldn't be blamed and it would seem like it had happened two days after the break-in. Those idiots bought the whole story, even though his scrapes had already scabbed over.”

“This van. What does it look like, and where does he keep it?”

“In the shed at the back of the campus. It's dark green.”

Larry's eyebrows rose. “Can
you
take us to the warehouse?”

“No. I don't know where it is. It was always dark, and I was always in the back of the van. Sometimes there was a truck there, loading up. I don't know where they took all the stuff. Somewhere to sell it, I guess.”

“There are a lot more people than Bill and the kids involved,” Beth said. “I don't know who they are, but there are others.”

“All right,” Larry said. “We need to take Jimmy down to the station to make another statement, and we'll send someone in here to get Beth's. We'll also post a guard here for protection.”

“I'm going with Jimmy,” Lynda told Beth. “I'll be back as soon as they're finished with him.”

“Nick, we need everything you've already compiled about the home,” Tony said. “We're going to throw the book at this guy, and make sure no one drops the ball. We also need you to be there for Jimmy's statement. As long as a representative of HRS is with us, we won't have to get any other bureaucrats involved.”

“All right.” Nick's voice was distant, and he seemed distracted, preoccupied, as he looked down at Beth. “I'll be back as soon as I get them what they need, okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, touching his face. “Just one thing.”

“What?”

“Are you disappointed in me?”

“Why would I be disappointed?” he asked.

“Because I lied about my interest in the case. And you didn't know that I was raised breaking into people's homes. You thought I was a normal, healthy woman.”

“Hush,” he said, stroking her hair back from her face. “Enough of that. You are a normal, healthy woman. And you're courageous. You could have let it all go. But you cared enough about those kids to tell the truth.”

“Took me long enough.”

He leaned over and kissed her forehead, but she could still see the troubled expression in his eyes. “I'll be back.”

When the room had cleared out, Beth lay on her back, staring at the ceiling and wondering what would happen next.

Wouldn't there be consequences? Wouldn't the media ask when she'd been old enough to know right from wrong, and to do something about it? Why she hadn't turned Bill in years ago? Maybe the media wouldn't ask—but
she
still had those questions. She pictured that little boy, Keith, who'd broken his leg and suffered for two days. The plate-glass-window incident could have been the last time, if she had found some way to turn Bill in then. Then Keith wouldn't have had to suffer. But no, she'd kept her mouth shut, and gone along, and even after she was out, she'd been so grateful and relieved to be away from Bill Brandon that she hadn't thought much about the kids she'd left behind. Jimmy had come only shortly after she'd left. Because of her silence, he'd suffered.

Now she wondered what her own personal consequences would be. While Nick was too kind to condemn her, did this revelation change the way he felt about her? It wasn't as if she was looking toward marriage, but the thought that Nick might reject her because of this filled her with despair. What if Nick, who dealt with troubled pasts and presents all day every day, decided that he didn't need all her baggage—that she just wasn't the one for him?

She wouldn't blame him at all if he did.

CHAPTER FORTY

J
ake was in the Police Department waiting room when Jimmy, Nick, and Lynda came out of the interrogation room. Jimmy had just spent two hours answering questions, and he looked worn out.

Jake stood up as they approached. “How'd it go?”

“Okay, I guess,” Jimmy said. “I think I told them what they wanted.”

“All they wanted was the truth.”

“Well, that's what I gave them.” He looked up at Nick. “What now?”

“Nothing yet. We just have to keep you safe until we get Brandon off the streets and start moving the kids from the home. I'll spend the rest of the day trying to line up places to relocate them.”

“You'll keep me and Lisa together, won't you?”

“Of course. I'll move heaven and earth to do that, Jimmy.”

“Hey, Nick,” Jake cut in. “Since you'll be so busy, and Lynda needs to go to the office, how about letting Jimmy spend the afternoon with me? I have some errands to run, and he can help me.”

Nick looked down at the kid. “Want to, Jimmy?”

“Sure,” he said. “It's better than nothing.”

Jake chuckled at the under-enthusiastic response. He kissed Lynda good-bye and ushered him out to his car.

“So where are we going?” Jimmy asked.

“Someplace really important,” he said. “Remember I told you I was going to try to get my medical release so I could get my pilot's license back?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it's this afternoon. I thought you might like to come with me.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, okay.”

“You can't go into the examination room, but you can wait outside, and if they turn me down, you can help carry me out to the car. I'll be too depressed to walk.”

“Nervous?” Jimmy asked.

“Were you nervous in there with the cops?”

Jimmy nodded.

“That's about how nervous I am,” Jake said. “I have a lot riding on this. I have a flying job lined up that I really want. But no license, no job.”

“And you won't ask Lynda to marry you?”

He thought that one over for a moment. “I'm not sure, Jimmy. All I know is that I want to get back on my own two feet before I ask her.”

“They'll give you your license back. Why wouldn't they?”

“Well, one of their concerns is my reflexes. Whether my legs have healed enough to react as they should. I think I've got that one in the bag. But the eye thing . . . Sometimes they'll overlook a false eye, if the pilot can convince them that his vision is fine anyway, that he can compensate with the other eye. But it all depends. Sometimes they decide it's just too risky, and they ground you for life.”

Jimmy just looked up at him. “I hope you get it, Jake.”

“Yeah, me too.”

J
immy sat by the window in the Federal Aviation Administration offices, staring down at the parking lot just in case Bill managed to find him and come after him here. If Bill only knew what he'd told the police, he'd kill him for sure. And if he couldn't kill Jimmy, he'd kill Lisa.

The door opened, startling him, and Jake came out, his face solemn and pale. Jimmy got to his feet. “They turned you down?”

A slow grin stole across Jake's lips. “No! They gave me my license back!”

“All right!” Jimmy said, jumping up and slapping Jake's hand. They both danced a little jig, and then Jake pulled him into a tight hug and almost knocked him over. “I'm glad you were here to share this moment with me, buddy. I don't think I could have done it if I hadn't known you were out here for moral support.”

“I didn't do anything.”

“You did plenty. You were here!”

Jake practically floated back out to his car, alternately walking fast, then punching the air, then dancing again.

“Wait till you tell Lynda,” Jimmy said.

Jake shook his head as he got into the car. “No way. I still don't want her to know. I want to spring the whole thing on her when I ask her to marry me.”

“So when will that be?”

“Soon, my boy. Very soon. Let's just hope she says yes.”

“She'd be stupid not to.”

Jake laughed. “You're a good friend, pal-o-mine. And just as a reward, I think I'll take you for my first post-crash flight without another licensed pilot tagging along. Are you up for it?”

“Yes!” Jimmy said. “Let's go.”

A
t the airport, Mike, the owner, celebrated with Jake over the return of his license, and offered him free use of a rental plane for the afternoon. Jake took Jimmy up, and they flew out over the Gulf, where Jimmy had a bird's-eye view of St. Clair.

The familiar serenity washed over Jake, calming his spirit and making him feel close to Jimmy. “Isn't this beautiful?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Jimmy said. “When I grow up, I want to be a pilot.”

“I'll teach you myself,” he said. “The job I'm hoping for is as a flight instructor. I'll do that part-time, and fly for several ministries around this area on the side. But I'm sure I could make time to teach a bright kid like you how to fly.”

“It depends,” Jimmy said. “I don't really know where I'll be. I may not even be in St. Clair anymore.”

How pressing this worry must be for Jimmy,
Jake realized. The low hum of the engine accompanied the thoughts going through both their minds.

“Tell me something,” Jake said quietly. “Tell me about your parents.”

“They're dead,” Jimmy said quickly.

Jake knew that wasn't true, but he wasn't sure that Jimmy knew it. “Do you remember them?”

He shrugged and looked out the window. “My dad was a spy who was killed in France during the war,” he said. That was impossible, Jake knew, but it didn't matter—it was a fantasy he could identify with. He'd never known his father either, and had made up similar stories.

“I didn't have a dad,” Jake said. “Never knew him.” Jimmy didn't change his answer, so Jake pressed on. “What about your mom?”

Jimmy took a little longer to answer that. “She died almost three years ago. That's why they put us in the home.”