“Sure.” Weyler brought out his phone. “What are you going to say?”
“This has got to be his catch.”
“Agreed.”
“So I’m going to tell him to meet us at the jail in thirty minutes.”
Bo looked taken aback when he got out of his patrol car and met Jane and Weyler. He hadn’t even seen Jake and Sam yet.
“Which one of you texted me?” he carefully asked.
“I did, Bo,” Jane said.
He looked at her with fearful eyes.
“We need your help, Bo,” Weyler broke in. “Jane’s got a plan but we need you to help make it happen.”
Bo still looked shell-shocked.
“Bo?” Jane said quietly.
“What?” Bo asked, his mind elsewhere.
“Can you help us?”
He nodded. “Whatever you need.”
“Well, first, old friend,” Weyler said, putting his arm around Bo’s shoulder and walking him around the back of the jail complex, “we need to introduce you to two important people.”
Bo looked up. “Holy shit.”
It took Weyler and Jane half an hour to work out an agreement between Bo and Sam. After that, they parted and Bo called Bailey to come down to the jail immediately. “Come alone,” Bo insisted to Bailey.
Bailey arrived ten minutes later, freshly coiffed, flush-faced and obviously congested. He was agitated with Bo, telling him that he had an important client he had to meet. But Bo explained to Bailey that Jordan Copeland asked to see him and make an on-camera confession regarding the kidnapping and murder of his son. When Bo insisted that this could wrap it all up, Bailey acquiesced. He led Bailey down the short hallway that led to the interrogation room and assured him that he and others would be on the other side of the mirrored wall watching and capturing the statement on video. Bo opened the door and Bailey walked in. As the door closed, Bailey heard the lock click loudly.
He turned and saw Jordan standing with his back to him, his trademark oilcloth duster covering his body and a hood covering the back of his head. Bailey brusquely pulled out a chair and plopped down, checking the camera with the red light on in the corner of the room so he could feature his best side. He folded his arms across his crisp white shirt and leaned back in the chair so that it balanced precariously on the back two legs. “Okay, old man. You said you wanted to see me. Tell me your confession.”
The man turned and removed the hood, revealing his face.
“You’re not Jordan Copeland,” Bailey said, dropping the chair back on four legs.
“Remember me?” Sam asked, his tenor confident.
Bailey was clearly confused. He looked toward the mirrored
wall, seeing only his reflection but knowing that Bo and others were behind the wall watching. “What in the hell is going on here?” He glanced nervously at the camera with the red light. “Who are you?”
“You don’t remember me? We sat across from the back table at The Cat House Lounge and had some drinks a few weeks ago.”
Bailey’s eyes froze. “What in the hell are you talking about?” he asked with a nervous laugh.
“I never called you back like you asked me to, so we could close the deal. You’re just not my type.”
Bailey got up, angrily shoving his chair into the table. “What in the fuck is going on here?!”
Sam moved a few steps closer. “But I’m glad we have a chance to talk again, face-to-face. Just so I can say…long time, no see, Bawy.”
It took Bailey several seconds to figure it out and, when he did, the look that Jane saw on his face from behind the glass was like none other she’d ever witnessed. It was a combination of someone seeing a ghost and their worst nightmare all wrapped up into one. Even though there was the thick pane of glass between them, Jane could smell the fear in that tiny room where the two men faced off. Jane turned to her right and put a comforting arm around Jake’s shoulder. “Are you positive you want to watch this?” she whispered to Jake.
The boy nodded, never taking his eyes off the scene playing out in front of him.
Bo and Weyler leaned against the mirror, both equally captured by the unfolding drama.
Bailey spun around and reached for the doorknob, but it was locked. “Open this door!” he screamed.
“It’s scary as shit to be locked in a room with someone you’re afraid of, isn’t it?”
Bailey gave the heavy door several kicks and turned the locked knob repeatedly. “Open this door
now
!”
“I screamed like that too forty-one years ago but it didn’t do any good. It just made your father crazier!”
Bailey paced to the mirrored wall. “
Get me out of here
!” he yelled, his voice rising several octaves in fear.
“Yeah, I paced like that. I sure did, Bawy. I shit and pissed my pants too, but none of it mattered. He still fucked me!”
“You’re insane!” Bailey screamed. “I don’t know you!”
The flip switched in Sam’s head. All the years of holding the pain inside erupted. He threw a wooden chair across the room, splintering it in half as it hit the cement wall. “
Excuse me
?! Don’t you dare call me insane, you fucking weasel!
You don’t know me
?! You son-of-a-bitch!
Who am I
?!”
“Get away from me!”
Sam grabbed another chair and flung it across the room, nearly hitting Bailey. “
Say my name
!”
“You are nobody!” Bailey screamed at him.
Sam strode across the room and clamped his hands around Bailey’s neck. “Say my name, motherfucker!”
Bo started to leave the observation room to intervene but Jane held him back. “No, Bo. Let this happen.”
Bailey gasped for breath, trying in vain to peel Sam’s fingers off his throat.
“How does it feel to be one breath away from death?!” Sam growled at Bailey, spitting in his face as he spoke. Bailey struggled, his eyes turning helplessly to the mirrored wall.
Jake regarded his father on the other side of the glass with a reserved front.
Sam continued to shake Bailey’s neck, pressing his fingers tighter around his throat. “Say my name, Bawy!
Say my name
!!”
Bailey fought for breath and gasped two words. “Samuel… Kolenkoff.”
Sam released his grip and slammed Bailey into the wall. “Yes!”
It took Bailey a good minute to recover and when he did, his ego took over. “You will pay dearly, you crazy bastard!”
“
Pay
? Pay for what?” Sam goaded.
“For everything you’ve done to us for nearly two weeks!” Bailey staggered to the table. “I should have given them your name and helped them find you! When I saw that fucking bear, I knew Jordan Copeland had nothing to do with this! There was only one man who couldn’t let the past go! You had to fuck everything up, didn’t you? Jesus Christ, you didn’t have to
take
Jake, you stupid son-of-a-bitch!
You could have let him hang himself and saved us all a fucking lot of trouble
!!”
Jake stared at his father, his worst fears realized.
Bailey started to laugh. “Think about it, Samuel. You could have let him die by his own hand, but you chose to take him and
then
kill him! So, which one of us is the fool?”
Jake heard enough. He stormed out of the observation room and pressed the button on the doorknob to unlock the interrogation room door. Swinging the door in, he stood in front of his father. Bailey fell backward into the only chair left in the room. “Which one of us is the fool now, Dad?”
CHAPTER 38
By the time the dust settled on the long, soul-baring day, Jane sat in her Mustang and felt exhaustion set into her bones. Because Jordan had violated his probation by talking with Jake, he would have to stay another night in the Midas jail until Bo could sort out the mess. Sam joined him, occupying an adjacent cell. From the few moments Jane spent with the two of them, she figured their reunion would be nothing short of ironic.
Bailey returned home, canceling his “client meeting” for that day. While Jane wasn’t sure, she surmised his revelation to Carol that their son was still alive and that Bailey had been used to support Sam’s future court case, fueled more tension between
them. Carol sent word that she wanted to see Jake, but the kid refused, choosing instead to reunite with Mollie and her parents. He would spend the first night of many under their roof.
Jane stared at Bo’s office window from her Mustang checking for any movement in the room. Her cell phone rang. Recognizing the number, she answered.
“Hello! Thank you for calling me back…..Yes…..Very good…..Tomorrow? That would work out very well…..I’ll arrange for your transportation…..Goodnight.” Jane hung up and quickly dialed Weyler, giving him the news. After making arrangements with him, Jane clicked off her phone. She let out a long sigh and felt her nerves shudder. She wasn’t sure whether it had to do with the phone call or what she was about to do.
She saw a dim light go on in Bo’s office and slight movement around his desk. Bo’s demeanor had remained cautious around Jane ever since she sent him the text message. When he and Weyler left to get dinner at Annie’s Diner, she could feel the tension building around Bo. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop and Jane was about to drop it.
Vi was heading out of the building, just as Jane walked up to the door. She buzzed Jane inside and wished her goodnight. The air felt thick with trepidation as Jane made her way to Bo’s door and gently knocked. When he didn’t answer, she pushed the door open. He was seated in his chair, his feet propped up on the desk and finishing off a bottle of Jack Daniels, which he’d poured into his coffee cup. He never looked up at Jane.
She set the trash bag filled with the items she’d taken into Jordan’s cell on Bo’s desk. “The stuff inside belongs to Jordan. You can give it to him when you let him out.”
Bo nodded, still not looking at Jane.
“I figured,” Jane continued, resting her leather satchel on a chair, “that with all the mess around here, it made sense to put Jordan’s stuff in a trash bag. I could put it in a box and label it but that wouldn’t work for you, would it?”
Bo turned away, his face sweaty and his lower lip quivering.
“Look, Bo, I’m not going to tell anybody about this, okay? There are only three people on this planet who know you can’t read. You, me and Vi. Oh, and Vi doesn’t know I found the text codes in her drawer. So please don’t blame her for giving me the secret symbols you two used.” Jane had to applaud Vi’s creativity in coming up with that one. Her text to Bo of
, ! … # ///
—meaning,
Emergency. Come to jail in 30 minutes
—
was
nothing short of brilliant. “But you know,” Jane was careful in her tone, “you really did get Weyler…Beanie…up here on pretext. All those years he thought he owed you something for breaking in that door when you were rookies, and it turned out it was your fault because you couldn’t read the address. Was that the incident that forced you to start memorizing text so well?” Bo shifted nervously in his chair and took a slug of whiskey. “I imagine your wife was a great help to you. Did you take home documents and have her read them to you and memorize what you heard? Her death must have been one helluva blow for a lot of reasons. You obviously trusted Vi with your secret. I thought her idea of putting pictures on the files was brilliant. You’re a man who is very visual. Jordan looks like a trash bag to you so there’s a picture of a
trash bag
on the front of his file, just in case someone asks for the file and Vi’s not here, right?
Juice Box Jake
, same thing.” Jane walked to the doorway and looked out into the main room where all the new computer equipment was set up. “This must have scared the shit out of you. Writing emails, navigating the Internet, digital files…Jesus, it was too much.” She turned back to Bo. “So when Vi said she was retiring, you had no choice. Your only backup was leaving you. You had to retire.”
Bo turned his chair around and faced the window. Jane walked around his desk and pulled out the front drawer. “But it’s not just that you can’t read.” She removed his appointment book and opened it. Page upon page was filled with scribbling and odd drawings that lacked form. “You’ve had something else going on for quite some time. Maybe since you were a kid?
Something wonky in your brain?” Jane turned to the last page of the book. On the left side, Vi had written his name in cursive down the page. On the right side, Bo had tried desperately to replicate the lines he saw. But if a letter leaned to the right, Bo’s attempt leaned to the left; if a letter rose above the line, Bo’s letter dipped below the line. “It’s like your brain is firing things backward.” She turned to Bo. “Did your father have the same problem?” Bo took another sip of whiskey from his coffee cup and hung his head. “Okay. Maybe he did and you didn’t know it. Maybe he kept it a secret just like you.” Jane set the appointment book back in the drawer and touched the yellow folder on his desk. “It’s tough to keep your son a secret though, isn’t it?”
Bo spun around in his chair, tears welling in his eyes. “How much?!”
Jane stood back. “How much what?” she asked softly.
“Money? I don’t have a lot but I can call Vi and she can come in and sign my name on a personal check.
How much
?!” Bo was shaking and desperate.
“That’s funny you should ask that question, Bo,” Jane replied, walking around the desk and opening her leather satchel on the chair. “Because I was planning on giving this to you…” Jane brought out a check. “Let me make sure I spelled the name of your son’s facility correctly.” She leaned across the desk and opened the yellow folder. Inside was the cover letter from the director of operations at the MacIntosh Center for the Severely Handicapped in Tampa Bay, Florida. The letter explained that Bo’s mentally disabled, twenty-eight-year-old son would be relocated to a residential apartment in preparation for Bo’s arrival and permanent guardianship of the young man. Jane laid the check in front of Bo. “I made it out for a thousand bucks and asked that it was allocated for your son’s needs.”