The Advocate's Conviction (5 page)

“Hi, Mom. Are you busy Saturday evening? I’d like to come see you.”

7

“Are you smoking?” Sabre yelled as she walked up to Bob, who was waiting for her just outside the courthouse. She smacked Bob on the forearm. “You bozo. Why would you do that?”

Bob pulled back, missing the full force of her swing. “Calm down, Sobs. I only have a couple a day.”

“Yeah, for now. And soon you’ll be back to a couple of packs a day.”

“What can I say? I’m a weak man, controlled by a cancer-producing agent wrapped in white paper disguised as my friend while it overwhelms me and takes over my need to feel euphoric if only for a few seconds in time.”

“Oh, please.”

“It could be worse. I could be drinking vodka.”

“You do drink vodka.”

“Yeah, but not in the morning.” Bob held the cigarette in his right hand. He put his left arm around Sabre, turning away from her to blow the remaining smoke out of his mouth. “Come on, Sobs, allow me to have my one … uh … or two vices.”

Sabre’s voice was calmer. “I just worry about your health.” She looked up at Bob. “Does Marilee know you’re smoking again?”

“My wife is as upset as you are.”

“Good. Let her stay on your case. I think I’ll call her and see if she needs any help tormenting you about it.” Sabre took a couple of steps away from the courtroom wall.

“Anyway, it’s partly your fault,” Bob said.

Sabre stopped and looked up. “My fault? How is it my fault?”

“You practically got me killed last month.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”

“So dramatic? I was shot! In the head!”

Sabre reached up and touched the side of Bob’s head. “Look, your hair has almost all grown in. You won’t even be able to see the scar.”

Bob walked over to the stone ash tray that stood next to the courtroom door and stuck his cigarette butt in the sand. “Let’s go eat.”

“JP is joining us.”

They took Bob’s car to Pho’s, their favorite lunching place. JP got out of his car just as they pulled into a parking spot directly in front of the restaurant. His black Stetson rose above the car three spots down.

“Do you two ever eat anywhere else?” JP asked, as he walked up to them.

Sabre shook her head. “Bob has a very limited palate, but I’m working on him.”

“I just know what I like. And I like this food.”

“You’ve only eaten one dish. It’s always the same dish,” Sabre said.

“See, I know what I like.”

The three of them walked into the restaurant, past the big gold Buddha and the bright gold fish swimming in the tank. A waiter led them into the next room and seated them at a table with the same pink polyester tablecloths that had adorned the tables for as long as they had been eating there, which was well over five years. Bob snickered when Sabre and JP ordered the #124 just as he had.

Before the waiter began to walk away, Sabre had already started shop talk. “JP, I need you to check on the mother’s boyfriend in the Lecy case. His name is Scott Jamison.” She turned to Bob. “Is there anything you can tell us about him?”

“According to mom, he’s a model citizen,” Bob responded.

“Right,” Sabre said.

“I’ve been trying to catch up with Shellie Ingraham, the friend of Bailey’s that is listed in the report, but I keep missing her,” JP said. “I think she may be avoiding me.”

“I’m sure you’ll get to her,” Sabre said, as she reached into her briefcase and took out a paper and handed it to JP. “Here’s the memo I wrote after speaking with Bailey yesterday. See what you can find out about the mother’s boyfriend.” Before he could say anything, Sabre added, “And on the Johnson case, follow up on the mom’s story about where she’s been getting her chicken feet and goat blood.”

Bob spoke up. “It was just a little bit of blood. It’s not like she had quarts of it sitting around. She says they were hungry and she bought the cheapest meat she could find to feed the kids. I tend to believe her.”

“Just because chickens have wings don’t mean they can fly,” JP said. “I’ll check it out.” Sabre and Bob both smiled at JP’s Texas slang. They called them “JP-isms.” He seemed to have one for everything.

Sabre asked, “Have you discovered any other friends of Bailey?”

“Not yet. Most of the kids at school are tighter than bark on a tree with their information, but I’ve got a couple of leads that I’m following up today.”

The waiter walked up with the food. Silence ensued as they began to eat, but it wasn’t long before they were in full conversation again about the cases they were all involved in. Bob finally changed the subject. “I’m laying some brick this weekend for the walkway to the new patio in the backyard. What are you two doing?”

JP said, “I’m investigating these new cases.”

“I am too. I’ll be driving all over San Diego County visiting the minors on the Johnson case.”

Bob looked at JP, then at Sabre, and back again. “You two need to get a life.”

8

A good night’s sleep had become foreign to Sabre and last night proved to be no exception. Although it was Saturday, by five o’clock in the morning she was lying wide awake in her bed. The strange cases that were coming into juvenile court were weighing heavily on her mind. Another one had been filed yesterday. It wasn’t her case, but she had been watching the detentions as they came in to see if there was some connection to her own case. They all varied in location and each had only a hint of ritual in them, just like hers with the chicken feet and goat blood. If it hadn’t been for the house with the pentagram and the splattered blood that was shown on the news, Sabre would’ve thought it all nonsense. Fortunately, the small hearts that were found in the refrigerator were from pigs rather than humans, according to the eleven o’clock news last night.

Sabre’s day was fully scheduled with home visits. She had mapped it to spend as little driving time as possible, but with the Johnson children spread all over the county, it would be a full day. Her first visit was scheduled for eight o’clock in Alpine with Blake and Wyatt. From there she would drive to Jamul to see Allie, and then to Chula Vista to see Cole and Hayden in their respective homes. She enjoyed seeing the children, but was already dreading the long drive.

Sabre took her little red notebook out of the nightstand next to her bed. This was a gift from her brother, Ron, and it was where she kept her secret goals. She had been writing in it since she was six years old when she decided her first goal was to marry the little boy who lived next door, Victor Spanoli. It was the only goal she had written that she hadn’t achieved. That and her last one, which was to run a marathon, but she was still training for that. She’d been thinking a lot lately about traveling. She loved to travel and she hadn’t been anywhere in a long time. She had such a hard time getting away from work, but she knew if she scheduled it, she’d make it happen. She picked up a pen and wrote, Travel to Cancun. Her Spanish was good, though not what she’d call fluent, but it would be great practice. She had studied for a while in Guadalajara, but it had been so long ago and her language skills were rusty.

Sabre felt good. She had a new goal and not only would it be fun, it would be educational. Now she just had to come up with a time frame and maybe a traveling companion. After gingerly closing the notebook, she placed it back in the drawer, stood up, and dressed for a morning run.

The cool air in her face and the adrenalin pumping through her helped her forget about work for the next hour. This was her favorite time of year. The summer heat was gone and the weather was perfect. Morning was her favorite time to run, but she usually had to wait until afternoon to fit it into her schedule. Weekends were different. She could go out first thing and then start her work. She didn’t seem to play any more. It was all about completing the next task. Her social life had tanked with her last relationship and she wasn’t sure when she’d be ready to try another. But running was good. Running cleared her head and gave her a new perspective on things. She still had about eight months to train for the next San Diego marathon. But if she picked up her game, she could possibly be ready for the Carlsbad run.

Sabre checked her watch, picked up her speed, and headed home to get ready.

About an hour later, Sabre was driving east on Highway 8 toward Alpine. She turned on the radio and sang along with Taylor Swift, feeling more and more frustrated as she drove toward the home of the two youngest Johnson children. Forty-five minutes later she arrived at the foster home of Blake and Wyatt. The foster mother invited her inside. Sabre heard Wyatt cry as she entered the spotless living area and saw Blake trying to console him.

“Is he okay?” Sabre asked.

The foster mother picked Wyatt up and he started to calm down, still whimpering as she coddled him in her arms. “He cries a lot. Sometimes Blake can soothe him, but most of the time I just have to hold him until he falls asleep.”

“Has he been checked by the doctor?”

“Yes, he’s fine physically.” The foster mother gently stroked Wyatt’s hair. “He’s especially bad at night. I think he just misses his mother. She called last night and he calmed right down when he heard her voice on the phone.”

“Has she seen him since he’s been here?”

“She’s scheduled to come tomorrow, but with all the transfers, it’ll take her about four hours to get here by bus, so I’ve agreed to meet her in El Cajon. That will cut a couple of hours off and she’ll be able to see Allie at the same time. Allie’s foster mother has agreed to bring her because she needed to go that way anyway. I don’t think she’ll make a habit of it because she wasn’t too pleased with the idea.”

Sabre looked at the room where Blake and Wyatt slept. Then she visited with the boys for a while before she started on the road to see Allie. She arrived at the scheduled time but no one answered the door when she knocked. Sabre walked around the big yard, trying to calm the black-and-white, mixed-breed dog that kept barking at her. Sabre went to her car and looked up the phone number to call the foster mother. Just then, a large, white van drove up the driveway.

When the van stopped, five children emptied out of it. Allie ran up to Sabre. “Where’s my brothers?” she asked.

Sabre knelt down on one knee and looked her in the eye. “I just saw your two little brothers and they’re doing great. You’ll be able to see them yourself real soon.”

“I miss my brothers. And my mom, too.”

“Well, I’m going to see your older brothers this afternoon. Is there anything you want me to tell them?”

“Tell them to come see me.” Allie started to follow the foster mother into the house. “And tell them I have a dog named Jingles.”

“I’ll do that.” Sabre went into the house. She was amazed at the contrast between the two foster homes. This one had loose toys lying around, jackets and shoes in odd places, and dirty dishes on an already cluttered counter in the kitchen. This foster mother growled at the kids to pick their things up and take them to their rooms. The last one had such a gentleness in her voice. Sabre wasn’t judging. One didn’t necessarily seem any better than the other; they were just different. And the children seemed to be adjusting about as well as could be expected.

After her visit, Sabre said her goodbyes and drove to see Cole in Chula Vista. The drive customarily took about forty minutes, but her GPS sent her the wrong direction and added another ten minutes to the already maddening drive. Sabre had to park halfway down the block due to all the cars in front of the house. One of them was a police car. Sabre’s heart began to race as she walked up to the house.

A policeman met her at the door. “I’m Sabre Brown, Cole Johnson’s attorney. Is he all right?”

Gillian, the social worker, came out of Cole’s bedroom. “Cole is missing,” she said.

“What do you mean, missing?”

“He apparently ran away.”

“How long has he been gone?” Sabre asked, looking over at the foster mother who was sitting on the sofa crying as the policeman took her statement.

“We think he left in the night,” Gillian said.

“What do you mean, ‘you think he left in the night?’” Sabre’s voice came out a little louder than she intended. “Don’t they know how long he’s been gone?”

“We’re not sure. The foster mother saw him last night just before he went to bed. The other little boy in his room said Cole was gone when he woke up this morning, but he just thought he was somewhere else in the house or outside or something.”

“What time was that?”

“About nine o’clock. Since it was Saturday, the children were allowed to sleep in.”

“Why wasn’t I called?” Sabre asked.

But before Gillian could answer, a detective walked up to Sabre, introduced herself, and said, “We’ve got a full force out there looking for him. Do you have any idea where he might be?”

Sabre shook her head. “I’ve only met him once so I don’t know him that well. I do know he’s very close to his siblings and his mother, so if he was trying to find someone, I expect he’d be headed home. But I doubt if he knows his way around here since he grew up in Vista.”