A Child is Torn: Innocence Lost (7 page)

I knew that Scottie liked to take control, so I wasn’t surprised when he spoke up first.

“This is your bed, and the bathroom is over there,” he explained to Brad as he navigated around the room. “This is Lance, he’s seven and he’s really good at arts and crafts. This is Ricky; he’s eleven but he needs help with a lot of stuff. I’m kind of like his big brother.” Scottie put his arm over the taller boy’s shoulder. “I take care of him, even though he’s older than I am,” he declared with pride. “I’m Scottie, what’s your name?”

Brad looked at Gabby and waited for Gabby to nod that it was okay.

“Brad.”

“You want me to show you the playroom, Brad?” Scottie asked.

Again, not sure what he should say or do, Brad looked up at Gabby. When he smiled, Brad slowly let go of his hand.

Scottie looked at me. “Is it okay, Dr. Hope? Can I show Brad around the playroom?”

“Okay,” I answered. “Just remember we have therapy.” I looked at my watch. “At four o’clock, Cindy will be around to get you boys.”

Scottie grabbed Brad’s hand and enthusiastically pulled him out of the room chatting obsessively as they went down the hallway with the other two boys trailing behind. I noticed a few heads popping out of doorways trying to get a look at the new kid.

“Thanks Gabby. He sure seems to have taken a liking to you.”

“No problem Dr. Hope. That’s a first; they’re usually scared to death of me. I try to make myself invisible, but I guess that ain’t too easy.”

“Gabby, there’s no way you could ever become part of the background, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Thanks, Dr. Hope,” he said with a wide grin, teeth as big and white as Chiclets. “Got some work to do, best get to it.”

Smiling, I returned to my office. My message machine was still blinking, so I sat down, grabbed what was now my cold coffee and hit the play button. An unfamiliar female voice came on.

“Hello, this is Evelyn Ginns. I’m told my grandson is being taken there. The police said.” She paused for a second; her voice sounded tired. “The police said that I need to speak to you about arranging to see Brad. I want to see my grandson.”

I could hear voices in the background, pleading with her. They were asking her to sit down and rest, but she was ignoring them. She was on a quest.

“Please, I need to see my baby. He’s all I have left of my Caroline.” She barely got out her phone number before she broke down into sobs, and I heard what sounded like someone else hanging up the phone for her.

I knew if I had been trying to reach a loved one, I would want someone to get back to me as soon as possible. I called the number she left, and a man came on the line. I introduced myself.

“This is Brad’s Uncle, we met at the hospital,” he replied.

I told him I was returning his mother’s call.

“We finally got her to lie down and get some sleep. I really don’t want to wake her right now. When can we see Brad?”

“Its policy, Mr. Ginns, that we not have any visitors for forty-eight hours. We need to get Brad acclimated and settled in. We’d like to keep him under observation with as little disruptions as possible.”

“I don’t give a shit about policies.” His voice took on a stern tone. “My mother wants to see my nephew.” He was silent for a second or two, and again the voice took on a different tone. “Look, just for a few minutes. Let her just see that he’s alright.” He was almost pleading now.

“Mr. Ginns, I sympathize with you and your family and I wish I could grant your request. But my first concern is Brad and getting him situated. We want to figure out what happened, and I welcome a visit from your family. I need to spend some time with Brad’s family so I can get a sense of what his life was like, why something like this would happen.”

A fax had come in on my machine, and I bent over to pull it out.

“There was nothing wrong with his family life!” His tone was almost frantic this time.

“I tell you what. How about I come for a home visit and meet with you and your parents. Perhaps I can comfort your mother by letting her know we are taking good care of Brad.”

“Look,” he said, a little bit calmer, “We have been hounded with reporters and well-intentioned neighbors, and well… let me make arrangements for you to come when the family can sit down and talk to you without, well, without these nosy-bodies butting in.” He paused. “Can you come tomorrow night, about seven p.m.? We have to make arrangements for the funeral and we’ll be pretty much tied up till then. I can call you if things change.”

“That would be fine, Mr. Ginns. I’ll put it on my calendar. I’ll be there at seven o’clock tomorrow evening. Again, I am so sorry for your loss.” I hung up the phone after jotting down the directions to their home. I felt that I had accomplished something, not knowing exactly what, but I felt better. I listened to the next message.

“Dr. Rubin, this is Detective Whitley. I was wondering if I could come over sometime tomorrow and pick your brain. Maybe we can meet for lunch tomorrow afternoon. Please give me a call when you get this message.”

I called her back and got her voicemail. I left the message that I would be available noon the next day at the Liars’ Den if it was convenient for her. The restaurant wasn’t too far from the hospital and was my favorite place for Shepherd’s pie.

Hanging up, I looked at the fax that I took out of the machine.

I recognized the stationary’s template immediately. “Shit,” I growled. It was from my brother’s law firm.

I faxed him back, avoiding the phone call.

“Didn’t forget. See you Sunday.” I kept it short and sweet.

I glanced at my watch; I was running late. I had an appointment with Judy and the board members in five minutes. I swallowed the last of my coffee, silently cursing my secretary Sandy for going on vacation. I took off for the last appointment before my therapy group, which now consisted of a new member—one Brad Madison, accused murderer.

Chapter Four

Jean

Going back to the kid’s house hadn’t given Jean any answers. She insisted that they interview the kid’s grandparents and the uncle again. Moran put up a bit of a fight at first, but knew it would be a waste of time trying to argue with her. As she walked into the office, she noticed some of the guys turning away and swore she heard a few snickers.

When she got to her desk she knew it wasn’t her imagination. On her desk was an empty box of Tampax, the tampons methodically laid out to spell “Beware. Cop on the rag.”

“You guys are so fucked,” she muttered as she gathered up the letters and tossed them into the trashcan. The laughter got a little louder, and she set out to find Moran.

He was sipping a cup of coffee. He offered her a cup. “It’s fresh,” he told her, his gray mustache moist with the remnants of his last sip.

“Moran, how the hell does Connie put up with you?” She sneered at him.

“Connie adores me, Whitley. She knows she’s got herself the best of the best. Just ask her.”

“I have asked her Moran. She just shakes her head and sighs.”

“She loves my body, all you women do. I got animal magnetism.” He flexed his arm and puffed out his chest to show off his well-toned anatomy. He had always been proud of the shape he was in, even if he was pushing fifty-four.

“Watch it, Moran,” came a male voice from one of the other cubicles.

“Grumpy will sue you for sexual harassment.”

“Yeah, I have seen some of the animals he attracts” Another interjected.

“Most women are attracted to men with working penises.” This time, it was Kathy, the other female detective.

Now it was Jean’s turn to laugh as she watched Moran’s cheeks turn red with embarrassment and heard the other men turning their laughter on him now.

“Are you ready?” Jean asked. “I want to go talk to these people, see if we can get some answers.”

“Look, we spoke to the teacher and the kid’s pediatrician; there were no signs of abuse. What are you looking for? There’s no smoking gun.”

“I don’t know Moran; when I find it I’ll let you know. Let’s just go.”

Moran poked his head into Kathy’s cubicle. “For your information my penis works just fine thank you.” He pointed his index finger at her as he walked out the door. She gave him a one-fingered salute, not caring if he saw it or not and continued typing her report.

There was still a lone media truck sitting out front of the Ginns’s home and as they got out of the car, a reporter tried to shove a microphone in Moran’s face. He batted him away saying, “No comment,” as they walked up the path to the front door of Brad’s grandparents.

A young, plump woman answered the door. She was wearing no makeup and her eyes were swollen from crying. She was holding a wiggling infant in her arms Moran introduced themselves. “Detectives Moran and Whitley. We’re here to see Mr. and Mrs. Ginns.”

“Oh yes, please come in.” She spoke with a slight British accent, as she transferred the baby to her other arm so she could make an effort to shake their hands; she gave up as the baby folded his body over her arms.

“Sorry,” she apologized for not being able to greet them properly. “I’m Maggie, Eddie’s wife. Please come in, they’re waiting in the den for you. How’s Brad?” she added as she led them past a formal dining room filled with casserole dishes and fresh flowers.

“Being well taken care of. They brought him to the best facility in the state,” Jean assured her, knowing that she would be repeating this statement again in the very near future.

“Mom?” Her mother-in-law Evelyn sat with her hands folded in her lap, twisting a napkin in a nervous manner. “The detectives are here.”

All three occupants in the room looked up simultaneously; Brad’s Uncle Eddie being the first to rise.

“Mama, this is—I’m sorry. I forgot who is who.”

“No apologies necessary. I’m Detective Moran, and this is my partner Detective Whitley. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Moran glanced first at the grandmother, and then to the grandfather, who was obviously having trouble getting to his feet. Next to him was a cane with a finely carved handle.

“Please sit,” Jean, told the older gentleman.

“Thank you. I had knee surgery a few weeks ago. I can’t get around much, but please have a seat.”

He slid over a little to make room on the couch for Jean, and Moran took a seat on a rocker across the room.

“They won’t let us see Brad,” said Mrs.Ginns.

Jean turned her attention to the grandmother. She was about sixty-five, maybe seventy, but her skin was clear with hardly a wrinkle. It was obvious to Jean that woman took good care of herself, but today she was without makeup and her hair was uncombed. She didn’t appear self-conscious or embarrassed by her appearance. Her eyes were swollen and red from crying. “Mama, they just said to give them a few days, and then we can see him.” Her son took his place next to her, placing his hand on her thigh. His wife excused herself and left the room with the baby.

“We all want to find out why this happened, Mrs. Ginns.” Jean was talking directly to Mrs. Ginns now. “Is there anything you can tell us about Brad that might give us some answers? Your son says he was well treated and well loved, and we saw his room at home… was he maybe, a bit spoiled?” Jean smiled, hoping it would make her less apprehensive about answering.

“I don’t know why this happened, I just don’t. He’s such a sweet little boy. Never a problem. My Caroline loved him so much, they were all so happy…”

Jean glanced over when the grandfather grimaced. She wasn’t sure if it was in reaction to her question and his wife’s answer of just the result of his physical condition. She directed her next question to him.

“How about your son-in-law, Mr. Ginns? Tell me a little about him.”

It was Mrs. Ginns who replied to the question.

“Evan. I spoke to Evan’s mother they’re staying at a hotel in town. I offered to let them stay here, but Evan’s father wouldn’t have it.”

Mrs. Ginns added. “Evan’s mom is very sweet, very quiet. She is broken-hearted, can hardly talk. It’s just so incomprehensible.”

“Did your daughter and her husband get along?” Again, Jean directed her question to Brad’s grandfather.

Once again it was Mrs. Ginns who answered. “They were inseparable. He was very good to my daughter. They were so excited when Brad was born; he was so proud of Brad. He just bought him tickets to the Yankee’s game… one of his coworkers knew someone, and they had box seats… Oh, God,” she began to sob. Eddie put his arms around her.

“Look,” Eddie said, “my sister and her husband were great parents, and they loved Brad. Don’t you start looking for some reason to blame this on Caroline. She would never hurt that boy.”

Moran sat up. “Mr. Ginns, we aren’t blaming anyone, just trying to get some answers. I’m sure that’s what you want as well.”

“How long was your daughter married to Brad’s father? I know your daughter grew up here; what about Evan Madison? Can you tell us something about him?” Jean asked.

This time the grandfather answered.

“They met in college, fell in love. They got married right after graduation.” He paused before he went on. “Evan was a good man, good provider. His parents are a bit strange and Evan is closer—”He paused, his voice beginning to break. “Evan was closer to us than his own parents. We treated him like our own son.”

“Did your daughter ever have any reservations about Brad’s behavior?”

“No, never.” Mrs. Ginns shook her head, hands still fumbling with what was left of the napkin.

“Well, she did say something a few months ago.” It was Eddie’s wife who spoke as she entered the room, this time without the baby.

This news seemed to come as a surprise to everyone in the room.

“Remember, Mama? We were at the Memorial Day picnic, and Caroline asked you when Eddie started to go through puberty. She was asking all sorts of questions about it. Asking if boys were like girls, did they get emotional; if Eddie had mood swings when he was about Brad’s age.”

Mrs. Ginns frowned in concentration, trying to recall the incident.

“I’m not sure, it sounds vaguely familiar. Eddie did drive us crazy, but he was older, fifteen I think. You were fifteen, weren’t you Eddie?”

“I don’t remember Mama. I don’t think… we trashed an abandoned building, did stupid stuff, if that’s what you’re referring to. Kid stuff. No one got hurt.” He emphasized, looking directly into Moran’s eyes.

“Did your daughter complain that Brad was starting to have mood swings, Mrs. Ginns?” Jean inquired.

“No, not at all. She did mention something that happened at school, and how Brad was devastated. It was an accident; they were playing ball, and Brad hit a boy in the face. It was an accident. Brad was very upset.”

“Yes, we heard about that, we spoke to his teacher. She agrees with you, that he was well loved and cared for.”

The doorbell rang. “That must be Evan’s parents,” Mrs. Ginns remarked as she stood up.

Before Mr. Madison’s parents could join them, Jean looked at the elder Mr. Ginns.

“You said your son-in-law wasn’t close to his parents—were they close to Brad?”

Mr. Ginns spoke in a hushed voice, as if trying to make sure he wouldn’t be overheard.

“They were pretty close until Brad was born, and then… let’s put it this way; they saw them every other year, and even then it would be just a quick visit. It was almost like they didn’t want anything to do with the boy.” He had the cane in his hands and he was nervously passing it back and forth between his palms. “Evan was pretty upset about it. He had been very close to his dad when he was younger. They’re a bit stuffy. She’s a nervous wreck. Evan just figured they were getting old and had no patience to be around a little one.”

As soon as Mrs. Madison walked into the room, she enveloped Mrs. Ginns in her arms and sobbed loudly. Jean watched as Mr. Madison shook Eddie’s hand and then did the same with the elder Mr. Ginns. He was a big man, with crew-cut hair. On his left arm was a tattoo of the American flag. She was slightly curvy, with a full bosom and little more on the short side. Unlike Mrs. Ginns, she wasn’t an attractive woman, but still gave Jean the impression she had, perhaps, once oozed sex appeal.

Moran introduced himself, and offered his condolences. Mrs. Madison finally settled down and took the seat that Eddie had occupied. Her husband stayed standing.

“This is so horrible, horrible,” Mrs. Madison said. In her hand was a clean linen hankie. She began dabbing at the black eyeliner that had smeared below her eyes. “Reporters tracked us down and have been hounding us. We just had to get out of there. I see they’re camped outside here as well. Thank God they didn’t know who we were when we drove up.”

Jean noticed Mr. Madison give his wife a sharp look. She instantly changed the subject.

Turning back to Mrs. Ginns, she asked, “Did you speak to the preacher, Evelyn? When will the memorial be?”

Moran was busy directing questions to the three men. Jean tried to inconspicuously listen to the older women’s conversation.

A few minutes later Moran announced, “Well, we’ll let you get on with your business.” He indicated to Jean that it was time to go. “Again, we’re so sorry for your loss. If there is anything we can do, please don’t hesitate to contact us.” He handed them each a business card. Eddie put up his hand and rejected the offer.

“I already have one detective, thanks.”

Jean overheard Mrs. Ginns telling Mrs. Madison that they wouldn’t let her see Brad yet. Mrs. Madison remained silent. Mrs. Ginns then mentioned the family was meeting with Brad’s doctor that evening and asked Evan’s mom to stay. Apparently Mr. Madison overheard and abruptly turned to his wife. He bluntly told them they couldn’t stay. They had some things to take care of and wouldn’t have the time.

Jean wondered if Moran had overheard the exchange. She didn’t say anything until they were in the car and he was buckling himself in.

“Did you notice anything weird?” she asked him as he started the engine.