My Name Is River Blue (41 page)

"That's
more confirmation that I got the plant on January 6," I said to Papa. "And
a woman delivered it." Papa nodded. I told Jean to go on with her story.

"I asked Eddie
Chapman, the security guard, who the woman was and why he allowed her access to
your room after visiting hours. He acted ignorant and I checked his log. Hal
Mackey was the only one to sign in on the log after six o'clock that night. The
only activity afterwards was Hal signing out of your room at ten. When I asked Chapman
why he didn't have the woman sign the log, he continued to act as if I imagined
her. I reported the incident to the head nurse. Later that week, I heard that Chapman
no longer worked there. The head nurse took me into her office and told me that
I was never to discuss what I saw with anyone.'

"As far as
I knew, all Chapman did was allow a woman to bring you a plant after visiting
hours. You were fine, Chapman no longer worked there, and I dropped it. It all
came up again when you visited Mr. Edmunds. My sister overheard a disturbing
conversation between him and Mr. Floyd about our late night visitor. The woman
bribed Chapman so that he would allow her to visit you after hours without
signing the log."

"We thought
of that, didn't we, Papa? How about the security camera?" I asked.

"I suppose
the woman didn't know about the security camera, and Chapman knew that no one
would see the woman on the video unless they had a reason to look for something
specific."

"When Mr.
Floyd was dealing with Chapman's security breach, he discovered that HR had
failed to do a background screen, so he ordered one to have on hand in case his
department was audited. When the background screen came back showing that Chapman
had failed to mention a criminal record and prison time on his application, Mr.
Floyd had to advise Mr. Edmunds. They wanted to avoid any negative publicity, the
possibility of a lawsuit, or the board finding out. I think they also worried
that one of us who worked on that floor might use the violations against them.
They made sure that there was no evidence that a patient's security was
violated, including editing the video of the woman's visit to your room."

I was furious
with Edmunds and Floyd. I believed that my mother was on the surveillance video,
and they destroyed it. "Those assholes may have cost me the chance to see
my mother for the first time. To have some clue how to find her."

"River, watch
your language." Papa said it softly, but I knew he was never happy with
profanity.

"I'm
sorry," I said. "It just upsets me."

"River, I'm
sorry, too," said Jean. "If I had known what it could mean to you, I
would have told you. Since I saw no harm to you, and Chapman was not there to
endanger anyone else, I did what I was told and put it out of my mind."

"Jean, you
had no way of knowing," said Papa.

I worked up a
smile for Jean. "He's right, Jean. As soon as you knew it was important,
you told me. Thank you."

"River, you've
had such a hard time. I wanted to do something to help."

"Jean, you
said you saw the woman from behind. Is there anything you can tell me?"

Jean paused to
think. "My impression was that she was a tall, well-dressed lady, maybe
middle-aged. She had dark hair that was either professionally done or possibly
a wig. I had a cancer patient with a wig that looked almost identical. She wore
a long, dark coat and high heels. It all looked expensive to me, and she walked
confidently with good posture. I'm not sure I'm making any sense."

"It makes
sense to me," I said. "When they found me in the hospital waiting
room, there were people who described a tall, young woman with dark hair.”

“Maybe it
was
her,” offered Jean.

I had an idea. "Jean,
where can I find this Eddie Chapman guy? Do you know where he lives? He talked
to her. Since he talked to her, he might be able to tell me more, if he
would."

Papa interrupted.
"Whoa, River. Did you hear the part about his criminal background? Let's
take some deep breaths and get a plan together of how we need to approach this."

"Okay,
Papa," I said. "Jean, do you know where he lives?"

"No, but I
can find out for you. My sister can get the information, but she might have to
wait until Mr. Edmunds leaves. I'll call you by five o'clock tomorrow."

At the time,
that didn't sound soon enough to me, but I told her that I would appreciate her
giving me the information as soon as she could. I knew that as anxious as I was
to speak with Eddie Chapman that the next day would be a long one.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR

The morning
after Jean Simmons' visit to the farm, I woke up tired. It had been impossible
for me to sleep well when I kept waking and wondering what Eddie Chapman could
tell me about the woman I believed was my mother. I was glad that Papa had
planned a busy day that would make the time pass quicker while I waited for
Jean's phone call.

After breakfast,
Papa and I did a final check on the food and supply list for the booster club's
summer football camp, which would begin in four days. Deer Lake Farm was
hosting the first of the three sessions for thirty-two junior high school boys.
Helping Papa and me, there would be coaches from the junior and senior high school
teams and a few senior high players.

So that the camp
was not all hard work and drills, Papa planned a few fun activities, including
an afternoon hike to Deer Lake for a swim and a picnic. In the evenings before
the boys went to bed, they would gather around a campfire to roast marshmallows
and listen to Papa and Manny tell ghost stories about the Long property. Papa
knew that after the boys heard the stories that most of them would be less
likely to wander away from the safety of the barn during the night.

When we
finalized our shopping list, Papa took Lewis with us to town to make our
purchases for the camp. Lewis was one of the Mexican-American brothers who had
been living and working at the farm for years. He was a big guy and good to
have around when Papa needed extra muscle for chores such as carrying, lifting,
and loading. I think that Papa wanted to make sure that I didn't do anything
strenuous.

We did our
shopping in three different stores, saving the grocery store for last since we would
have refrigerated items that could spoil in the heat. After we parked the truck
in the grocery store lot, we walked together to the entrance. I was using my
cane as I often did.

About two weeks
prior to that day, pain from my back shot through my leg and caused me to fall
in a parking lot. I decided that falling was more embarrassing than using the
cane, so even when I was having a good day, I normally used the cane in public.

As we walked to
the front of the store, I saw a boy sitting on one of the sidewalk benches to
the left of the entrance. Usually, old men sat on the benches and swapped
stories while their wives shopped inside, but I thought it was probably too hot
for the regulars. The closer I came to the bench, the more familiar the blond-haired
boy looked, and I soon recognized Tyler Thomas.

About the time I
reached him, Tyler sat up and leaned back. He couldn't have looked more
miserable than he did. When he saw me, Tyler pushed off the bench and threw
both arms around me. Not only did he continue to hold me tightly to him, he was
obviously sobbing. I motioned to Papa and Lewis to go on in the store so that
Tyler would not be any more embarrassed than he already was. It was hard for
Papa to walk away from his friend's grandson, but I assured him with my eyes
that I would take care of the boy.

"What's
wrong, Tyler?" I whispered to his ear.

Tyler eased back
and then guided me towards a bench farther away from the door of the grocery
store. He nervously looked to the store entrance, then back to me. I sat down, and
Tyler slowly sat on my left side so that I blocked the view of him from anyone
coming out of the store. The way he eased down on the bench, I wondered if he
was already on his uncle's bad side.

"Okay,
Tyler. Tell me what's got you so upset?"

Tyler sniffled
and spoke in a halting voice between sobs. "I hate my uncle. All he wants
is the money Grandpa left me. He's been cussing me since the minute he picked
me up from Tolley House. He shoves me around and calls me names. Last night, I
told him if he hated me so much, I could tell Miss Martin to find me another
home. He told me I wasn't talking to anybody about him, and then he whipped me with
his belt."

"He
shouldn't have hit you with a belt, Tyler."

"Well, he
did. He went crazy and whipped me all over. I didn't think he was ever going to
stop. It was like he was trying to kill me."

I was pissed. I told
Tyler to stay there while I went in the store and confronted his uncle. My
first thought was to knock him on his sorry ass. As I started to stand, Tyler
pulled me back.

"No, River.
You'll make it worse, and you'll get in trouble too."

"Well, we
have to do something. What he did is child abuse, and it's against the law. Tell
you what, Tyler. Why don't I get Papa to talk to Miss Martin for you?"

"No! My
uncle will know I told. He said he would whip the skin off me if I said
anything bad about him."

"Well, then
what are you going to do?"

"I'm
thinking of running."

"And where
would you go with no money and no place to live?"

"I don't
know. I just know I can't keep living with him. We need to hurry. I don't want
him to see me talking to anyone when he comes out of the store."

"Okay, Tyler.
You're coming to the football camp, aren't you?"

"After I
told him that Papa paid camp fees for foster kids, my uncle said it was fine
with him to get rid of me for a while, but he won't take me there. He said if I
want to go, I got to get a ride."

"Tyler,
I'll come get you and take you out there. Does your uncle know when the camp
starts and how long it is?"

"Not
really."

"Why don't
I come get you a few days early then? Like tonight. I might have a reason to
come to town anyway, but if not, I'll still pick you up."

"Thanks,
River. That'll give me time to get my stuff together."

"You can
bunk in my room for the weekend and then join the other campers in the barn when
they come." I noticed the shape of Tyler's prepaid phone in his jeans
pocket. All the boys in Tolley House had one for emergencies, and the minutes
were always at a minimum. "If you still have some minutes on your phone,
I'll call you when I'm coming."

"I still
have minutes, and thanks again. I didn't think you cared."

"Tyler, I
can be a jerk, but it has nothing to do with you. You're my buddy, okay?"

Tyler nodded his
head. "Okay."

"I promise that
I won't let your uncle keep hurting you, but I have to tell Papa. He saw that
you were upset, and he'll want to know what's going on. He'll know what to do,
and he won't make it worse. Trust me."

***

I was helping
Papa prepare dinner when Jean Simmons called at a little past five o'clock to
end my agonizing wait. Our conversation was brief since she was on duty and
more than a little paranoid that someone might overhear her giving out the former
security guard's personal information. She had intended to give me a phone
number and an address, but his file noted that the man didn't have his own
phone. The landlord of his apartment building would relay a message to him, but
only in the case of an emergency. Jean told me that Chapman lived in unit 6B of
Franklin Apartments on Railroad Street in Harper Springs.

Papa heard
enough from my end of the conversation to know that I had Chapman's address,
and since I repeated the address to Jean, Papa knew where Chapman lived. He
told me something that everyone in Harper Springs knew, and that was that
Railroad Street was the center of the worst area of town. Good parents from
other parts of town would never allow their kids to hang out on Railroad Street
even in daylight hours. I was fortunate that it was summer, and the light would
not begin to fade until after eight o'clock that night. I planned to leave
right after dinner, which would put me on Railroad Street no later than seven. Papa
reminded me that I would have his company.

"River, you
know I'm going with you, right?"

I grinned. "Of
course."

***

Railroad Street
was the main drag through what had been a nearly self-sufficient mill community
before I was born. Papa told me that at one time, the street was lined with the
same kinds of stores and shops, as there were on Main Street in downtown Harper
Springs. The mill and a shirt manufacturing plant had provided plenty of work
for all the people in the area, and local businesses thrived until both the
mill and the shirt plant closed. The railroad tracks still ran parallel to the
street, but they no longer cut over near the yard of the old mill. The building
stood condemned with large signs warning people away from its broken windows,
tumbling bricks, and weak supports.

As Papa's truck
rolled down Railroad Street, I saw that there were more businesses closed and
boarded than there were operating, and there were more people, mostly young and
black, hanging out in small groups on the sidewalks than there were patronizing
the few businesses that were open. The only place I saw much customer traffic
was at a beer joint, which was nowhere near nice enough to call a bar. When we
reached Franklin Apartments, it was hard for me to believe that people lived in
the old three-story building. I hoped for the tenants that it was much nicer on
the inside because when a state kid turns his nose up at a place, it's bad.

People stared at
Papa and me as if we were trespassers when we rode by them on the street. After
we parked, the natives, some black and some Latino, spied on us even more
suspiciously as we walked up the front steps of the apartment building. Papa
told me that the members of the community knew everyone who belonged there, and
that the two of us were obviously outsiders, and outsiders usually meant
trouble. The locals were probably trying to decide if Papa and I were bill
collectors, undercover cops, or representatives of the Atlanta drug kings, who
often sent enforcers to Railroad Street to resolve problems with the local dealers.

Papa and I found
apartment 6B. I knocked and waited in the hall for a response that wasn't
coming. I was disappointed, but I decided that I would keep trying until I
caught the former security guard at home one day. We were turning to leave when
we saw a tall, middle-aged black man coming down the hall towards us.

"I'm the
landlord. Can I help you guys?" His voice was deep and loud. I could have
heard him from the street.

Papa spoke up,
his voice as loud as the landlord's. "Yes, maybe you can. I'm Ray Long and
this River Blue. Eddie Chapman knows someone that I need to speak with, and I
was hoping he could help me out with a phone number, but I guess he's not here.
Would you have any idea where I might find him?"

The landlord
stared at Papa a moment. "I'm Marvin and I might know something, but I'm
really not supposed to tell things like that, unless I have a good
reason."

Papa reached
into his pocket and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill. Showing the money to
Marvin, he said, "Is this enough reason? I'll add another one to it if I
really believe what you tell me."

Marvin took the
fifty. When he spoke, he sounded like a more educated man than I expected to
find in that building. "Chapman lost his job at the hospital back in
January. He looked for two months and couldn't find work here. When he moved
out in March, he said he was going to live with his cousin on the Outer Banks. His
cousin said with the tourist season starting soon that he could give him plenty
of work."

"Did he say
what town or whether it's the upper or lower part of the Banks?" Papa held
out the other fifty.

"No, but he
did say that his cousin owns a couple of shops on the beach and was part owner
in a restaurant. Chapman was going to work in one of those places. That's all I
know." Marvin slid the fifty from Papa's fingers.

"Thanks,
Marvin. If there's anything else that you think of that could help me locate Chapman,
give me a call and I'll be grateful." Papa gave Marvin one of his Deer
Lake Farm business cards with the horse head silhouette in the background.

When Papa and I
turned to leave, Marvin addressed me. "I watched you play once, young man.
You were damned good. It's a shame life gave you the shaft."

"Yeah, well,
shit happens. I'm over it," I lied.

In Papa's truck,
I thought about the information Marvin gave us, and a familiar shroud of
depression settled over me. Eddie Chapman had moved to the Outer Banks of North
Carolina to work for his cousin who owned a couple of shops and part of a
restaurant. I had no name for Chapman's cousin or for the businesses. I had no
picture of either man. How would I even begin a search with that little information?
When I considered what I knew about the Outer Banks, it did nothing to improve
my mood.

I had been there
once during the summer after my junior year when Papa took Ant and me on our
first real vacation. Papa wanted to expand our knowledge of American history
while we were there, so we spent half of our time learning the historical
significance of the chain of barrier islands that make up the Outer Banks. The
number of permanent residents made the area two of the least populated counties
in North Carolina, but a brochure I read boasted of four and a half million
visitors just in the month of June the year before I was there. In Dare County
where the normal population was around 34,000, the seasonal daytime population
rose to around 220,000.