Three Sides of the Tracks (12 page)

12

Confrontation

Martin threw on khaki pants and a silk golf shirt while relaying
Belinda’s message and the story of Danny’s arrest.

“I’ve heard some insane stories in my life, but I think this one takes
the cake,” Angela said.

Martin paused and put his hands on Angela’s shoulders. “It gets worse. I
was hoping for a more opportune time, but I’m sure you’re wondering why I’d get
involved in all this. I found out a few days ago that Danny’s my son. It
happened before you and I married, and, well, I just found out myself a few
days ago. For sure, that is. I don’t want you to think I’ve been keeping it
secret all these years.”

Angela’s mouth was wide open and her eyes big as plums. She stared for
what seemed an eternity then just waved a hand for Martin to leave.

Martin kissed her on the cheek on his way out. “I’m sorry about all
this,” he whispered.

*   *    *

The front door of the police station banged against the wall, the
doorknob punching a hole in the sheetrock.

Policemen gathered around the desk sergeant’s counter jumped. A few hands
moved toward their pistols.

Martin glared at each officer in turn as he strode to the counter.

All of them dropped their eyes, except the desk sergeant.

“I won’t bother telling you how big the lawsuit is going to be that will
include any of you personally involved in beating and arresting Danny Taylor.
For now, I want to see him.”

“You can’t see him. No visitors,” the desk sergeant said with a slight
sneer. The extent to which he’d confront Martin Townsend went only so far.

Martin’s hand banged the counter. “Get off your ass and go get Danny
Taylor. I’m his lawyer.”

“You’re not a lawyer.”

“If I have to go home and get my diploma from Duke University School of
Law, you’re going to have more sleepless nights than you can count, although I
doubt your ability to count very high.”

“You’re a lawyer? I thought you were a banker.”

Martin leaned across the counter, his face inches from the desk
sergeant’s. “Get Danny Taylor.”

The sergeant’s face was a collage of confusion as he fumbled for the cell
keys. He rose and headed for the cells.

  Angela’s shock at Martin’s news didn’t come close to the disbelief on
Martin’s face when he saw Danny. He barely recognized him as he shuffled toward
the interview room, scarcely able to walk from the kicks to his legs and back.
Martin heard wheezing when Danny breathed, obviously caused by broken ribs and
bruised chest.

“Call an ambulance,” Martin shouted at the desk sergeant.

“I can’t . . .”

Martin pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911. The operator hesitated
for a moment when she heard the location but continued when Martin said, “This
is Martin Townsend the third.”

Martin put his arm around Danny and helped him onto a chair. “It’ll be
all right, son. This won’t ever happen again. You have my word on that. And
most of these assholes won’t have a job tomorrow. I promise you that too.”

Danny could only nod.

Martin dialed 411 and got the number for Nancy Gresham, a reporter for the
Benton Daily News.

“Nancy, this is Martin Townsend. Get down to the police station. And make
sure to bring your camera.”

There was a pause. “On my way.”

Frightened for his job, the desk sergeant stepped forward. “Now, you just
wait a minute, counselor, or whatever you are. You can’t come barging in here
like you’re the president, telling us what to do. I’m taking this one back to
his cell, and that’s the end of that.”

Martin squared up. “Then you’re going to have to beat the hell out of me
first because the only way you’re getting to him is through me.”

Martin pulled out his cell phone again, and, this time, he speed dialed.
“Bart, get your butt down to the police station. I’m here, and there’s
something you’d better see for yourself; otherwise, you might not be the D.A. in
the next election, or sooner if something isn’t done.”

“What? It’s two o’clock in the morning.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Martin hung up.

Paramedics strode purposely into the building.

Sergeant Lovett just waved toward the interview room.

The man and woman team nodded to Martin, took one look at Danny and began
examining him. His short breaths were most noticeable. “Your chest hurt?”

 “Some. Mostly right here,” he said pointing at his right rib cage.

The woman felt his chest till Danny flinched then softened her touch and
examined the ribs. “I don’t feel a break but you need x-rays to be sure.
Doesn’t really matter. Not much they do for them anyway unless it’s really bad,
which these are not. I think just bruised but still pretty painful, huh?”

Danny nodded.

She pulled a prefilled syringe from her treatment kit. “I can give you
something to help with the pain, but you’ll have to see a doctor for anything
stronger. These abrasions will heal better if I don’t bandage them. Let the air
get to them,” she said. “Other than the ribs and bruised muscles, you’ll live,
although not very well for a few days. You want to go to the hospital for
x-rays?”

“Not really.”

“If you start feeling dizzy, get someone to drive you to the emergency
room, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She patted his leg, nodded at Martin and the two paramedics walked down
the hallway.

About that time, Nancy Gresham popped in the door.

Martin heard a disturbance and stepped out of the interview room.

Three policemen blocked the hallway. “Not tonight, Ms. Gresham. You can
put your camera back in the car. Look at the booking ledger if you like, but no
pictures and no interviews,” the sergeant said.

“You know what freedom of the press is, sonny boy?” Nancy said. “You
better get outta my way or you’re gonna have a civil rights law suit on your
hands.”

“Well that may be, Ms. Gresham, but we’ll just have to deal with that
when it happens. Now, I’ll save you some time and tell you that we arrested
Danny Tay—”

The policeman threw up his hand to shade his eyes as Nancy raised the
camera to her eye and began snapping pictures. He turned and saw Danny standing
in the hall with Martin standing beside him.

“Get his ass back in lockup right now,” the sergeant screamed.

Martin pushed Danny back inside the room, closed the door and leaned
against it. He pointed his finger at the approaching officers. “I’m still
interviewing my client. You can have him when I’m finished.”

“Lock him up too if he don’t get out of the way,” the sergeant bellowed.

“That’ll make a good headline,” Nancy said. “ ‘Local civic leader
arrested for interviewing client.’ Yeah, I think that’ll sell a lot of papers.
How do you spell your last name there, Sergeant? Is that two t’s or one?”

Sergeant Lovett’s face flushed. He grabbed Nancy’s arm and forcefully
pulled her toward the front door.

Nancy snatched her arm away. “Touch me again, you half-wit, and I’ll file
assault charges against
you
.”

Bart Phillips rubbed his sleepy eyes as he entered the police station.
Then he saw Sergeant Lovett and Nancy Gresham squared off.

“What in blazes are you two—”

“I’ll tell you, Bart Phillips. Your lackey here is interfering with
freedom of the press, and I’m not going to stand for it. These thugs have
already beat that boy half to death; now, I guess he thought he was going to
get rough with me too,” Nancy said and glared first at Bart then at Lovett.

Bart held up his hands in a plea for quiet.

“You get back to your desk, Sergeant. Nancy, what in the hell are you
talking about?”

“C’mon. I’ll show you.”

Nancy raised her chin and squared her shoulders as she strode to the
interview room. “Go on in there, and you’ll see what I’m talking about.”

Bart opened the door just as Martin reached it from the other side.

“Glad you’re here,” Martin said.

The D.A. looked at Danny and shook his head. “Geez, that’s some beating.
Police do that?” he asked Danny.

Danny nodded.

“Did you give them good reason?”
Danny felt the anger rising. “They busted in the house accusing me of robbing
some church, then jerked me out of bed, like to broke my wrists with handcuffs,
and then  . . . yeah, I gave ‘em a reason. Not reason to half kill me though.
No, sir.”

“Church. You part of the bunch that robbed—”

“Shut up, Bart. Of course he’s not part of that. You think I’d be here if
he were? He was home with his mother when all that took place. He’s Belinda’s
son.”

Bart look surprised. “Your Belinda?”

“One and the same.”

“That explains you being here. You sure he was home?”

“Positive. Belinda told me so herself.”

Bart ran his fingers through his hair and paced. “Belinda is Belinda, but
she’s a mother all the same. You know that a mother—”

“Stop right there, Bart. You’re letting the job get to you.”

“Uh huh. Don’t preach to me, Martin. If you saw what I see every day,
you’d be skeptical too.” He held up a hand as Martin started to speak.
“Nevertheless, because he’s, well, because of what it is or where we’re at, I’m
gonna let you take him outta here.” His face took on a sour expression. “Also
because I damn sure don’t like the looks of any of this,” he said looking at
Danny’s face again, “and I don’t want him around here after we leave. You’d for
doggone better make sure he doesn’t leave town though, and I mean that,
Martin.”

“You hear that, Danny?” Martin said.

Danny shrugged as if that were the stupidest thing said all night.

“All right, then, come on,” Bart said.

“This young man is released on his own recognizance, Sergeant,” Bart said
as he held open the door for Martin and Danny.

The policemen leaning against the counter straightened up. Sergeant
Lovett roused himself from the chair and hitched up his belt. “Can’t do that,
Mr. Phillips. Only a judge can do that.”

Bart walked to the desk. “Uh huh. Did a judge give your boys a warrant
when they went to this man’s house, beat him up, and dragged him down here?”

“No. They didn’t need a warrant. Had sufficient cause by the statements
of several eye witnesses that Taylor there was with Slink and his little posse
when they took the women off. It was exiginous circumstances too. They didn’t
have time to get a warrant.”

“It was what?”

“Exiginous circumstances.”

Bart looked at Martin and tried hard not to smile. “I’ll tell Judge
Whitmire it was ‘exiginous’ circumstances and my responsibility that Taylor was
released. That’s that,” he said when Lovett opened his mouth.

13

Getaway

The Barracuda fishtailed out of the gravel parking lot and left tire
marks for ten yards up the road as Slink pressed the gas pedal. By the time the
congregation busted the doors open, the Barracuda was almost out of sight.

Slink whipped the car onto the dirt road in less than a minute. A plume
of red Georgia dirt followed. Small rocks pelleted the undercarriage.

Brandy and Caroline clung to each other in the back seat, but Brandy’s
breathing suddenly sounded like that of a dog with a bone hung in its throat.
“Ah hugg ah hugg ah hugg,” she gasped as she sat bolt upright with a mask of
terror on her face. She clenched the back of the front seat as her chest heaved
up and down.

“What the hell’s wrong with her, Smurf?” Slink said.

Smurf looked almost as terrified. “Hell, I don’t know. Some sort of spell,
I think. What’s wrong with her?” he said to Caroline.

“She can’t breathe, you idiot.”

Smurf smacked Caroline with his open palm. “Watch who you’re talking to,
Missy.”

The sounds grew louder: “Ah hugg ah hugg.” Brandy’s skin became chalky.

Slink turned and glared at Caroline. “Dump that money in the floorboard
and hold that bag up to her mouth. I’ve seen ‘em do that when somebody’s havin’
trouble breathin’. Maybe it’ll work.”

Caroline kept her dubious thoughts to herself as she dumped the money then
rolled the bag up till it was small enough to expand and contract as Brandy
breathed.

Brandy panicked and thrashed.

“Hold her still,” Caroline told Smurf.

Enormous hands engulfed Brandy’s shoulders and pinned her arms to her
sides.

“Breathe into this,” Caroline urged her friend.

Brandy rolled her eyes but didn’t resist when Caroline held the bag to
her mouth.

The raspy guttural sounds continued as Brandy’s chest heaved.

“Shit, she’s driving me crazy,” Slink yelled as he slammed on the brakes.
The car skidded for twenty yards before it stopped.

“Take that bag down,” he shouted.

Caroline lowered the bag and just as she did, Slink hit Brandy’s jaw with
lightning speed. Her head snapped back and she flopped against Caroline. Her
breathing seemed to stop altogether.

“What have you done? You killed her. You killed her,” Caroline screamed.
She looked at Slink in disbelief.

A crooked smile came to Slink’s face. “She ain’t dead, Sweet Cheeks. Just
knocked out. You don’t hear her wheezin’ no more, do you?’

“No, you idiot. She’s not wheezing because she’s dead.”

Slink grabbed Caroline’s hand and put it on Brandy’s chest. “Feel that?”

Caroline felt Brandy’s chest rise a little then snatched her hand away.
She turned her face toward the window. “My name’s Caroline,
not
Sweet
Cheeks.”

Slink chuckled and hit the gas.

A few minutes later, he turned his head toward Caroline. “Put that money
back in the bag, but count it first.”

Caroline sat still. She didn’t want to touch the money. The man Slink
shot had probably died, and this money came from a church.
A church
.

“Ain’t gonna tell you again.”

The menace apparent, Caroline found the bag on the floorboard and began
picking up the money and putting it in her lap.

“Here, let me help you. Come on over here with big daddy,” Smurf said and
reached over Brandy’s shoulders and pulled her off Caroline.

He poked Caroline’s arm. “You think we make a cute couple?” His broad
grin exposed teeth a toothbrush wouldn’t recognize.

Caroline gave him a disgusted look. “You won’t be grinning so much when
my daddy hears about this.”

Smurf poked her again. “And just who is yore daddy?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“What makes you think you’ll be alive long enough for it to make any
difference?” Smurf said.

Whitey turned to look, and the glint in his half-crazy reddish eyes made
Caroline’s stomach roll. She struggled not to show her fear. “Won’t matter. Not
to him.”

Slink twisted around. “What do you mean it won’t matter? You mean he
won’t care whether you live or die or that he’ll come after us no matter what?”

Caroline gave a sigh of exasperation, mocking Slink for asking a stupid
question.

Slink’s right hand shot out and clenched around Caroline’s throat. He
yanked her closer as she fought to pry his hand off. “Missy, you better change
your attitude or I’ll leave your ass in one of these ditches.” He threw her
backwards with such force that her neck made a loud pop when she bounced off
the back seat.

Slink looked in the rearview mirror and pushed his hair back in place.