A Child is Torn: Innocence Lost (8 page)

He looked at her sideways. “Weird, no. I think she was jonesing for a drink though. She kept looking over where their liquor was stashed.”

“No, not that. Didn’t you notice they never asked about the kid? Never once mentioned that little boy.”

“Hey, give them a break. They just lost their son. Kid’s still alive.”

“Something is off there,” she said, digging for a pack of chewing gum in her purse. She was jonesing for a cup of coffee and a cigarette herself.

“That’s what you said about the kid’s uncle. Still think he has something to do with it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe when I see the shrink later I’ll get a better idea.”

“Personally, I think you’re wasting your time, Jean. Kid lost it, killed his parents. Bad seed, end of story. You just can’t see it because you were blessed with “The Stepford” children. Perfect little specimens who were secretly created in a lab. Even my Annie was a pain in the ass, more often than not.”

“My kids are not perfect,” she said halfheartedly.

He gave her a dirty look.

“Well they are kind of perfect. But I still think we’re missing something here,” she added.

“Give it up, Whitley.”

“Want to put some money on it, Moran? If I find out that someone else was involved, someone else caused this—you up for it?”

“No, your instincts are usually on the money. Keep digging, maybe you’ll find that smoking gun. But I just think you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“We’ll see,” she replied, laying her head back against the headrest and closing her eyes.

Marty

Marty was disappointed to find the kitchen empty when he came down in the morning.

The Captain had set out a buttered bagel and a glass of OJ. He’d left a note on the counter for Marty explaining that he was going shopping and would see him later that evening. Knowing he needed to leave earlier than usual if he was going to stop off where Brad was sent to after being released from the hospital. Marty downed the juice in three big gulps, grabbed the bagel, and then scooped up the stuffed monkey on his way out the door.

As he pulled into the building’s parking lot, he glanced into his rearview mirror to scan his teeth, making sure they were clear of bagel bits, and trotted up the steps to the front doors.

A few children were being shuffled into a classroom as he entered the hallway. A freshly waxed floor caused his rubber soles to stick to the tile and he made a conscious effort to lift his feet to lessen the noise.

Two women were exiting one of the offices, deep in conversation. He knew the taller, big-boned one, the supervisor of the hospital. The other one; an attractive doctor he had seen on a few other occasions. The dark haired beauty was tiny in comparison to her boss, but seemed to be in fine physical shape. Her legs were shapely and well toned with a thin waist and narrow hips.

He was about to interrupt when he noticed the familiar face of his father’s old friend Gabriel Frost, entering the building. The big man immediately recognized the police officer and greeted him.

“Marty, how you doing? How’s the Captain?” He extended his giant palm to shake Keal’s hand.

Instead of shaking, Marty grabbed Gabby’s forearm and pulled the big man forward into hug. Grinning, the two men released each other.

“Hey Gabriel, it’s good to see you. Captain’s good—you need to come visit.”

The noise in the hallway caught Judy’s and Hope’s attention, and both women stopped their conversation. It was Judy who spoke first.

“Officer Keal, right?” She didn’t wait for confirmation. “What can I do for you?”

Marty lifted the hand holding Jack, the stuffed monkey.

“Belongs to the Madison boy. I thought he may—I mean—can I give it to him?”

He was stumbling over his words as his tried hard not to stare at the brown-haired beauty standing no more than five feet from him. He was surprised that she was making him nervous; he was never nervous around women. He couldn’t understand why he was suddenly so tongue-tied. He decided the best way to deal with the awkward feeling was to avoid the woman completely. He turned his full attention to Judy. “I just thought the boy would like something familiar,” he finally finished.

“That’s very kind of you, Officer Keal.” She glanced at the watch on her wrist. “He should be on his way down to speak with Dr. Rubin, would you like to give it to him yourself?”

It was at that moment that Brad, accompanied by a staff member, came down the stairway. Seemingly oblivious to everyone else Brad immediately made his way over to Gabby and grabbed the man’s hand. Everyone turned to watch the scene unfold before them, not knowing quite what to make of it.

Once again it was Judy who spoke. “Brad seems to have taken a shining to our Mr. Frost. We have no idea why, but they’ve bonded over a very short period of time.”

Marty was trying hard not to look at the pretty doctor and he couldn’t tell if she was insulted or flattered. Right now he was smiling broadly like he knew a secret that no one else knew.

Summoning up some courage, Marty turned and looked directly in Hope’s eyes. “It’s his shirt.”

“Excuse me?” Puzzled, Hope looked at Marty and then back at Gabby. The shirt was similar to the one he had been wearing the day before. The black sleeveless shirt showed off his huge biceps. She looked back at Marty, still confused.

He lifted the monkey and nodded toward Gabby’s chest. “The T-shirt—the picture of the pirate ship.” She still looked confused so he continued, lifting the monkey to her eye level. “Pirates of the Caribbean? Johnny Depp? This is Jack, the monkey. His room is covered with memorabilia. Even his bed is shaped like a pirate ship.”

It was at that moment that Brad recognized his furry friend in the officer’s hand. He looked up at Gabby. He was still holding his hand, practically digging his nails into the custodian’s palms. He remained motionless, his eyes riveted on the monkey.

Marty looked up for silent permission to approach the child. He received a nod and a smile from Hope.

“Hey Brad, remember me?” He got down on one knee so that he was at Brad’s eye level and held out the monkey. With barely a nod of his head Brad took the monkey and held it tight against his leg.

“You doing okay?” Marty asked.

Again without a sound, Brad nodded and then stepped back trying to disappear into the safety of Gabriel’s bulky body.

Marty stood up, gently touched Gabby’s arm, and then smiled. “See you got yourself a new buddy, Gabriel. You take good care of him, okay?”

“Will do, Marty.” Gabby smiled down at Brad.

“You go with Dr. Hope now, boy.” He gently pried the little boy’s fingers from his hand. “Dr. Hope wants to talk with you. You go on now, I’ll see you later.”

Marty watched as the doctor put out her hand for Brad. The small boy hesitated for a second, and then reluctantly allowed the doctor to lead him away, monkey in tow.

Dr. Hope smiled and looking up, met Marty’s eyes which were as blue as his uniform shirt.

Thank you
, she mouthed to Marty, as she turned and led Brad into a room on the other side of the hallway. What he did notice was when he turned around as he was leaving the building was that the pretty Dr. Hope had also turned around and it looked like the lady’s eyes were plainly focused on the area that could only be his backside. At that moment he suddenly felt a little less nervous and a little bit more self-assured.

Hope

I watched Brad carefully as he looked around what we referred to our one-on-one room. The large room was equipped with a child-size sofa. Across from the sofa was an unimposing deep-blue rocking chair for the therapist. Many times I had found myself holding a hysterical child in that chair. These were children who were often looked upon as monsters by society; children who just craved comfort and safety. We tried hard to make these kids feel safe here. The colors of the room were soft and muted. Children’s drawings adorned the walls. They were allowed to express their inner-most feelings in this room, and draw directly on special, erasable wallpaper. Occasionally we would have an outburst of anger or a temper tantrum that had to be physically restrained. But occasions like that were rare. This room was carefully designed to allow the child to feel as secure as if they were still in the protective armor of the womb. We would verbally tiptoe around them while carefully watching the child’s demeanor.

If my questions were beginning to solicit an angry reaction, I would quickly stop. We had other rooms for the child to express their frustration and anger. In this room we wanted them to feel comfortable in, safe in. I believed in most cases these children were injured emotionally very slowly and over a long period of time. Step by step those they trusted would invade their minds and bodies and in relatively small steps would their horrible stories be exposed.

I knew that Brad’s silence was a protective cover; inside he was screaming to get his story out. I brought him into this room hoping to start the first chapter. I was about to find myself extremely disappointed.

No matter how I approached it, or what I asked, he wasn’t talking.

“How are you doing, Brad? Do you like your roommates? Is the monkey’s name Jack?”

It didn’t matter if my questions were inconsequential or penetrating. His response was the same. Silence.

“Did you hurt your parents?”

“Why did you hurt your parents?”

“Did someone tell you to hurt your parents?”

Every one of my questions was answered with a shrug, a nod, or shake of his head. After forty-five minutes, I gave up. I sat beside him on the sofa.

“You don’t want to talk to me, do you Brad? You’re just not ready?” Again he gave me a shrug of his shoulders. His eyes were darting around the room, as if he were looking for some way to escape.

“You know Brad, I’m not going to force you to talk to me, and no one here is. I know you’re probably confused and don’t know who to trust, but I would like you to trust me. I can promise you I only want to help you feel good, and I don’t think you feel so good now.”

Getting no response from him, I stood up and put out my hand for his. He took it and got up.

“Come on, Brad. Let’s get you to your teacher.” I made one last effort. “Do you like school? What’s your favorite subject?”

He squeezed my hand gently. “Math,” he whispered. It wasn’t much, but I was thrilled. I couldn’t help but break out in a broad smile.

“Mine too.” I gave his hand a little squeeze. “Mine too.”

I left him with his appointed tutor and prepared to write my preliminary report for the judge. Then I got ready for my appointments; the first with the detective, and then with Brad’s family. It was going to be a long day.

I had a hidden love for the Liars’ Den and was looking forward to my meeting with Detective Whitley, knowing I would be devouring their Shepherd’s pie. I was salivating like Pavlov’s dog long before I got to the parking lot. It was a comfortable size pub, dimly lit, and with a working stone fireplace in the far corner. The lunch crowd was starting to dribble in, and most of the booths were full. A young waitress hurried by me wearing a black, fitted uniform with a white apron. With a motion of her hand she let me know she would be right back.

“Just one?” she asked when she returned, wiping her hands on her apron.

I spotted Detective Whitley sitting at one of the tables in the middle of the room. She had seen me at the same time and called out to the waitress.

“It’s okay, Trina, she’s with me.”

The waitress nodded and I walked over to the detective’s table.

“Thanks for meeting me,” she said as she offered me the chair across from her. Before I could get seated, Trina had returned with menus.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked as she refilled the detective’s drink.

“Diet Coke, thanks.” I apologized for keeping the detective waiting, but she waved me off.

“No problem, Doc. I’m just glad you agreed to meet with me.” She glanced down at the menu and then back at me.