Conviction (17 page)

Agent Nichols whispered something to Cabot just as I was getting my senses back, and I could see Dad wringing his hands together. That made me stop laughing, but only because I knew I had to hold it together for Dad’s sake. Losing my mind was not a reasonable option right now.

“Mr. Battes, how about you reconsider that cup of coffee? I don’t know about you, but I sure could use a cup right about now.”

I wondered if they were trained for this, for getting someone out of their chair before they can answer, but sure enough, before Dad could look one way or the other, Agent Cabot had him up and was leading him out the door. Little did he know Dad isn’t so easily convinced of any one thing, and he shrugged off the friendly arm from around his shoulder like it was contaminated. I could tell he didn’t want to leave me alone with these people but he was unsure about what to do. 

“Addie, uh—is this okay?”

I looked at Agent Nichols and then back at Dad. Strangely enough, despite how cumbersome he could be, I briefly wished for Adam.

“Yeah, Dad.” I smiled. “It’s fine.”

Of course the second Dad was gone, I wanted to smack Agent Nichols in the face. Though maybe that was just a part of me missing Charlie.

“So, eighteen now, huh?”

Obviously
. Was I supposed to question my own age? Was this a test of my sanity to see if I was really nuts or pretending or what?

I compromised, shrugging and smiling at the same time.

She peeked at her computer screen but her eyes didn’t move, so I knew she hadn’t actually read anything. Unfair, I thought, that she had time to prepare and I didn’t.

“I understand you’ve been living away from home. A political science major at Sonoma State University?”

“Yep.” Short and brief, I decided.
Don’t give them anything else that isn’t factual.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“I was a political science major, too.”

Okay so this was the warm up. Through commonalities we were supposed to ‘bond’ and then I’d relate enough to her to spill my guts. Torture would be more efficient if they wanted me to talk.

I just smiled, nodded some more, and tried not to squirm too much.

“Miss Battes, do you understand that you’re not the one in trouble here, that you did nothing wrong?

“Yes.”

“Good, because it’s important that you do understand that what happened to you wasn’t your fault and the people who hurt you will be punished for it.”

I thought of the hold, the rage that coursed through Charlie, and how I never asked what happened to Wallace. How I still didn’t want to know.

“Miss Battes, are you all right?”

“Fine.”

“I’m going to ask you some questions about events pertaining to before and after the incident on last August 10th now, all right?”

Why was she asking me for confirmation? Obviously this was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not, it would only make it more difficult if I didn’t cooperate.

“Shoot.”

What’s your relationship with Agent Harpsten?”

Warm up over.

“He was one of the agents assigned to my case.”

“Anything else?

I hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“He came to see you not long ago, is that correct?”

“We met for coffee, yeah.”

“I see. Did you discuss your case?”

“No.”

“Then what did you talk about?”

“He asked me about school, told me about his girlfriend; I recommended some books…nothing special.”

She made some notes on her computer but I didn’t have a good enough view to guess what they could have been.

“And why did you continue to speak after your initial case evaluation?”

I sighed. “I feel guilty about living far away from home and with my brother away—he checks in on my Dad every now and then. He updated me about things my Dad might not say.”

“I see.”

“Why did you choose to go to a school so far from home?”

“Excuse me?”

“If you feel guilty, then why choose a school so far from home? There are plenty of others nearby.”

“My mom wanted me to explore. She wanted both of us to explore. It’s partially why Robbie joined the Army, and Sonoma State offered me a partial academic scholarship…”

“I see.”

“On the evening of May 2nd, your dormitory was vandalized and some items stolen, is that correct?”

“Both my roommate’s and my laptop and my phone.”

“Why would someone steal your computer, Miss Battes, your phone?”

I smiled, shifted my weight. “I guess they needed one.”

She smiled but was obviously not amused. “What about the vandalism, then?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged.

“Why was your dormitory the only one vandalized?”

“I don’t know.”

“I see.”

Dad came back but we were left alone as Nichols left the room to be with Cabot in the hall. I imagined they were doing that same kind of quiet note comparing that Dad and I were doing.

“You okay?” Dad looked over his shoulder as though they could hear us through the closed door.

“Yeah.” His suspicion almost made me feel like cheering up. “You?”

He scoffed. “Sure. A hell of a lot of questions, though. You’d think I was applying for security clearance or something.”

I nodded solemnly. “Same here.”

“These people are way too uptight. Not even any elevator music, did you notice that?”

I smiled. “I did. Explains the low work morale.”

When the door busted open though, I lost my smile. Agent Cabot stormed in more annoyed than mad, but glaring at me as though I was the cause of his headache, a cutter of minutes into his lunch hour, and he was all done with me.

“Miss Battes, you need to be honest with us.”

“I am.”

He sat at the head of the table his time, like this seat made him more authoritative somehow, but since it was closer to the door, it only made him look more impatient.

“We know Hays has been intimidating you. That he vandalized your dormitory, threatened you into not testifying about his identity after your escape. He already admitted it. It’s okay for you to say it out loud.”

Several different things happened at once. Dad’s jaw fell to the floor. Nichols visually disciplined her partner before sitting herself. I listened to a wheezing in my chest. It kind of sounded, felt like the plastic part of a squeaker toy trying to emerge from my throat. How are those things even made, anyway? Do they stick it deep into the belly of the toy when it’s already a half-toy, or do they wait until it’s full-grown and change its identity forever?

Oddly, this is what I was thinking about as Dad was insisting I wasn’t a liar and Agent Cabot was trying to explain the importance of witness cooperation and Dad called him several choice words, reminding him that he and his son served their country, and Nichols was telling everyone to calm down.

“I don’t understand.”

Speaking simmered everything down, and I noticed the way Nichols leaned forward in her chair, a distinct method of body language used for trying to gain a better audience when public speaking.

“Hays confessed to kidnapping you, Addie.”

Apparently we were on a first name basis now.

“I read that in the paper.”

She nodded. “He admitted that he and the other man, Wallace—”

I guess my reaction was appropriate, because for the millionth time they said, “You don’t have to be afraid, Miss Battes.”

Not of Wallace. That much I knew.

But I wanted to know what Charlie had said,
needed
to hear more.

“W-what else did he say?”

“The week you were missing, they kept you drugged in the trunk of a car.”

Dad did something between cursing and simultaneously sighing into his fist. Agent Cabot asked him to stay calm.

“He admitted that they were going to ransom you once they got to California, but he and Wallace fought, and during the altercation, you escaped the vehicle during the confusion.”

“Jesus, Addie, why didn’t you say—”

“Mr. Battes, please.”

“Is that correct, Addie?”

I replayed the story in my head. It made more sense now. Charlie had given them something believable, something that left out Ben and the guys, Elise and Tyler. It was nearly a year ago and Wallace’s body could be gone by now, it would explain why I had been found at a rest-stop by myself, drowsy and confused. Charlie was covering for everyone, even me—especially me.

I shook my head.

For a brief, blissful moment there was silence, and I sank into the black, thinking of Charlie and what it must have taken for him to say that he had hurt me like that.

“Addie, why did you really decide to go to California this past semester?”

Dad took this one. “She got a scholarship.”

“Mr. Battes—”

“I already told you why.” I didn’t want to lose it, so I broke eye contact. Though I knew it must have looked bad, I couldn’t get Charlie out of my head, the image of him in a gray interrogation room, shackled to the floor, signing a confession for something he could never do.

“Didn’t Hays say that if you didn’t go to California, he’d hurt you? Hurt your family?”

“No.”

“Did he say he’d kill you if you identified him?”

No.”

“Miss Battes.” Nichols bit her lip. I saw her fiddle with her wedding ring, though it didn’t move. “I know you were asked this when you were first interviewed, but I’m going to ask you again. “Were you, at any time during your abduction, forced in any way to do anything that made you uncomfortable?”

I looked up at her, secretly hoping the chair she sat in would explode. “No.”

Cabot came right out with it. “Did Hays sexually assault you?”

“No.” His chair could explode, too.

“That bastard.”

“It’s okay, Dad.”

“He said he’d kill you if you told anyone, didn’t he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Nichols sighed and tapped her pen seven times against the conference table. I was expecting smoke to explode out of Dad’s ears any moment or little bolts of lightning to wing out of his fingers. Frankly, I’m kind of surprised it didn’t. Maybe that was what Agent Cabot was trying to prepare him for during their warm-up.

“Shortly before being arrested, Hays made several phone calls. One of them was to Agent Harpsten.”

Charlie had called Adam? Even if he didn’t know he had a few hours of freedom left, I could never see Charlie doing that.

Cabot nodded.

“He made comments of a life-threatening nature should Harpsten continue contact with you,” Nichols explained.

“He then continued to emphasize that your life was in danger.”

“My life…” The words slipped out before I could stop them. I knew it; Charlie’s main priority had always been me. And the last time we had talked he had been more jealous than usual. Still, there was something Charlie knew that I obviously didn’t. What was he thinking?

“You don’t have to worry, Miss Battes. Though Hays hasn’t named the rest of his associates, local police will keep uniforms outside of your house until after sentencing.”

“How long will that be?” Dad asked.

“After paperwork,” Agent Cabot shrugged, “three weeks, tops. This one is top priority because of the media.”

“He won’t hurt me,” I tried to explain. “He’s never hurt me.”

“Miss Battes, this may be hard to accept, but Hays
did
break into your dorm to harm you. And knowing you’d run home, he returned to New Jersey in order to murder you.”

“You’re wrong.”

Dad stood up with me, though we were angry for entirely different reasons. “Addie, don’t defend him. That lowlife—”

“Everyone, calm down—”

“No,” I declared. “I’m done. I—I have to be done now.”

“Addie?”

“Miss Battes?”

“I must insist we finish our conversation.”

I filed out of the room, stepping into sunlight that blinded me just a little but made the goosebumps on my arms go away.

Chapter 13

Though it wasn’t bright, I watched the sun move across my bedroom wall. Its journey was progressive, slowly making the room darker. I had been laying there for hours, trying to figure out what to do, but I was hardly inspired, and my brain wasn’t getting any clearer.

My main objective was coming up with a plan. Unfortunately, still hadn’t decided what my first move should be. I wasn’t capable of helping Charlie from outside of prison, at least not without resources. No doubt Ben Walden would be a valuable resource if I could get ahold of him, but as I tried unsuccessfully to once again get in touch with Elise, I was beginning to accept that it just wasn’t going to happen.

I was even useless to him inside jail. If I tried to see Charlie or communicate with Charlie it would have been poisonous for him. The FBI already thought he had me brainwashed…he had all but admitted as much. I cursed myself. If I was a law student, I could have had any other name in the world but my own and probably had access to him.

Tired of my own thoughts, I made my way downstairs. Looking around the corner, I watched while Dad struggled with the laundry. It seemed like in the few months I had been gone, he had mastered folding bath towels and t-shirts, but that was about it. I took another step into the kitchen. Dad swore as he tried to fold a fitted sheet. He held it by the ends, rotating it and finding no beginning or end, rolled it up in a ball and threw it back in the laundry basket.

He turned when he heard me laughing. “Need some help?”

Dad shook his head. “Your Mom didn’t train me properly for this.”

I laughed, but there was still an awkwardness in the air that neither of us knew how to deal with. It was only after the dryer went off and I came back with the remaining clothes that Dad finally broke the tension.

“If you want to talk about anything, you can, and if there are things you don’t want to talk about, that’s okay, too. Whatever you decide to do, I’m really proud of you.”

I sat, the unfolded dish towel in my hands. “Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“That guy I was seeing?”

“Yeah?” His voice went up two octaves.

“I’m in love with him.”

He froze, conflicted with what to do with the collar of a polo. I handed him a hanger.

“I don’t know if you’ll ever meet him, but if you do, you won’t like him.”

“Uh, okay.”

“And Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Charlie Hays never hurt me. I-I’m not sure why he told the police that…but he never did.”

He sighed. “Are you sure?”

I rested my elbow against the table and put my head in my hand. “I think I’d know, Dad.”

“Those guys start talking about Stockholm Syndrome and—”

“Dad…”

“Well, I don’t know. Your Mom didn’t exactly train me for this, either.”

I took the sweatshirt he fumbled with and smiled. “You’re doing pretty good so far.”

We were watching TV when the news came in: mindless noise with slap-stick comedy and well-timed moments of confusion. I laughed when Dad laughed, a few seconds behind on the joke but I was hardly there at all and didn’t really bother pretending to be. The police at the door were backing off but only because of the voice that insisted they get out of the way. I recognized Adam’s immediately, excited and lively, but tuned with concern all the same.

I leaned over, picked up the remote, and turned the TV on mute. Dad was already at the door, his stance all seriousness and prepared for the worst.

Dad let them in, Adam and Agent Nichols, but I didn’t see a lot between the flashes and blinding lights of news vans. I looked away and curled up in the corner of the sofa. I had hoped to be done with this, at least for the day. Then again, it was late. Late for questioning at least, so if they didn’t have questions, what could they be there for but bad news?

“Addie, Mr. Battes.” Agent Nichols nodded at both of us but Dad just paled and looked at his watch.

Adam smiled at me. “Hi, Addie.”

“I told you I didn’t have anything else to say to you.”

“Yeah,” Dad chimed in. “What do you want?”

I felt a twinge of pride for Dad, sticking it to the man and giving me the benefit of the doubt when I wasn’t giving him a whole lot of go on in the first place. I imagined that was hard to do for anyone, maybe especially for a parent.

Adam stepped up to me cautiously, like I’d freak out on him again if he moved too quickly. “There’s been a development.”

“Development?” Dad said.

“What kind of development?”

Everyone turned their attention to me but neither Adam nor Nichols seemed to know how to say what they had to. I knew then that it was bad news even from their perspective. But they didn’t know just how much worse it would be to me.

“There was an incident this afternoon in the yard at Northern State Prison.”

Charlie
. My mind blanked out. Was he dead? Gone from me forever?

“Hays provoked a fight with several members of Trinitario.”

“Is he dead?” It was all I asked, all I cared about, because if he was dead, then I was dead. I stared at a sun stain on the wall.
Charlie.

“No,” Nichols said. “But you should be aware that because of the price on his head and the severity of his injuries, he’s been moved to Beth Israel.”

“Thank God.” I shuddered out the words and clutched a pillow close. It didn’t help cover up the shaking but if I couldn’t hold Charlie, it was better than nothing.

Confused by my reaction, Nichols kept talking. “3T won’t tolerate any signs of disrespect, so word will get out quickly about wanting him dead.”

Adam walked toward me as she talked, studying my moves as I rocked backed and forth, willing Charlie better.

“H-how bad is he?”

“Skull fracture, broken arm, a few busted ribs, and a punctured lung. He’s still in surgery for some internal bleeding, so its touch and go.”

Adam watched my reaction, watched and waited for what I would do when I heard that Charlie might not live through the night. Except I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of solving a mystery for him, of letting him in on a secret that I had worked so hard to keep close.

“What was the fight about?” I heard Dad ask

“According to the guards,” Nichols chimed in, “Hays walked up to several important individuals within 3T and made some racial remarks.”

“We wanted to tell you before the news did,” Nichols added. I opened my eyes and stared into space. So he had provoked a fight, looked for even more pain than he already had. What could have motivated him to do something so stupid?

“He’ll still be on 24-hour watch,” Adam said. “Cameras, police, he’ll be sedated at all times, unable to go anywhere.”

Nichols smiled at Dad. “Unable to hurt anyone.”

But he already had, they just didn’t realize how, and I didn’t understand why.

“You people don’t know anything.” I threw the pillow at Adam, if nothing else to wipe that smirk off his face. Prideful, as if he had been the one to hurt Charlie, his daydreams come true.

Prisoner Attempts to Start Race Riot

Article by Horton Smith/The Express-Times

Five individuals were detained this evening after brutal fighting between gang members. Recently arrested terrorist Charles Hays was moved to Beth Israel Hospital, suffering the worst of the injuries in what some believe was a staged attempt to start a riot within Northern State Prison. Anonymous sources within the prison say that many have been trying to get in touch with Hays and the riot was actually an assassination attempt. 

As a result of the prisoner’s injuries, sentencing has been delayed until further notice.

I didn’t wake up until late the next afternoon, and then only because the sounds of epic water-pistol wars were going on across the street. There was a brief second that I smiled at the sound of laughing, the light on the window pane. Save for Dad called my name, and I remembered that it was all still true.

“Addie?” The soft rapping on the door was all Dad, cautious and authoritative at the same time.

“Yeah?”

“You have a phone call.”

“Phone?”

I jumped out of my bed, though it was more like a flop than anything else. Could it have been Charlie? Was there even the slightest even remote possible chance? Or Elise? Yuri? Polo? Hell, I would have been happy to hear from Reid at that point.

“Hello?” My voice croaked from the crying. I pulled the phone away, coughed, and tried again. “Hello? Hello?”

“Addie, hey.”

The wind had been knocked from me yet again. Even Dad looked like he had been through the hurricane a little himself. I tried to keep my lip from trembling.

“Hi, Melinda. H-how are you?”

“How am I? Are you nuts?”

I smiled and backed into my room. Dad seemed okay with this even as I closed the door, Melinda’s voice was one he recognized and trusted enough to leave me with.

“What’s up, Melinda?”

“What’s up?
What’s up?
How can you be so casual?”

“The same way you can answer questions with questions, I guess.”

I walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain. The reporters were gone for now, seeking new victims to irritate.

“Battes, this is some intenseness.”

“Yeah,” I said. But it wasn’t me who said it, just my voice.

“Media people have been calling me.”

“Sorry.” I wasn’t, but it seemed like an appropriate thing to say.

“Don’t be. This is an opportunity performers dream of. I don’t want to do anything though without your okay.”

She stopped talking, like she expected me to break in, and though I heard her tapping against something impatiently, I had nothing to say. Charlie was in a hospital bed not too far from here, unconscious and hurting. Was he thinking of me at all? Was any part of him still awake enough to know that I couldn’t stand being away from him?  

“Hey?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

It was the first time I had been honest when someone asked me the question. In the last week I had forgotten what okay even was, and if Charlie died, I knew that I would forget the word altogether.

“I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I’m a pretty crappy friend.”

“No,” my voice said. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

I didn’t know if it was true or not, but it didn’t matter.

“I wanted your permission to talk to a journalist and I didn’t even check on you first.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean?”

I could picture her sitting at a mirrored vanity in her bedroom. She probably had twice as many bins of makeup and boxes of jewelry than she had in our dorm. It reminded me that I never returned the earrings she lent me, and I felt irrevocably guilty.

“I’m not okay. And the only thing that can make me better is in Beth Israel.”

“W-what? I thought they caught the guy, didn’t they?”

“That’s why I’m not okay.”

Silence. Even her finger tapping stopped and I imagined her looking away from the mirror, to face something far less glamorous. “I don’t get it.”

I was ready to spill my guts, literally or figuratively, with the worst case Charlie dead or dying, and the best case him being in protective custody for the rest of his life. Our secret was irrelevant.

“Nevermind. Uh—why did you call again?”

“A couple of reporters have called me; one especially wants to interview me.”

“About what?”

I thought I heard her giggle. “You, obviously.”

“Why?”

“Because people are interested in you.”

“So?”

“The media is a learning tool. Take advantage where and when you can.”

Again I closed my eyes. Though Melinda had a point, when I wanted to know more about Charlie than the FBI would tell me, what did I do? Straight to the internet. When we had first met, Charlie had ample opportunities to know me through the news alone.

Ideas came then, hard but flighty, like most wonderful and dangerous ideas do.

“Melinda, I have to go.”

“Wait, is it okay?”

“It’s better than okay. Talk to whoever you want. J-just as long as you’re honest, I guess.”

“Really? Cool.”

“Melinda?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Kidnapping Victim Speaks Out

NEWARK (KRB17)

In an exclusive interview with KRB, Adeline Battes, who was kidnapped from a rest stop last August, denied the charges against suspect Charles Hays, saying, “I identified Martin Wallace and gave very detailed descriptions for the FBI. I’ve seen several photographs of Charles Hays and he was not one of them.”