“Yes.”
“It’s time for bed,” Mrs. Fairmont said with a yawn. “Good night, girls.”
To the surprise of both Mrs. Fairmont and me, Jessie stepped forward and gave the elderly woman a hug.
“Good night. Thanks for letting me take Flip out for a walk.”
“You’re welcome.”
Mrs. Fairmont and the little dog climbed the steps and disappeared in the direction of Mrs. Fairmont’s room.
“Does he sleep with her?” Jessie asked.
“Yes. Where did you go on your walk?”
“Straight down Hull Street until it ran into East Broad Street then back the same way. It would be easy to get turned around and lost with all the little side streets, so I didn’t explore. You said something before that I didn’t understand. What does it mean for a dog to heel?”
“To walk alongside you without pulling ahead or lagging behind.”
“Flip stayed beside me the whole time until we were in front of the house.”
“He knows how to behave in public, a lesson you should learn.” I glanced up the stairs. “Why did you tell Mrs. Fairmont and her daughter that crazy story about coming to Savannah to take care of a dying aunt and not being able to go back home because your stepmother has a new boyfriend?”
Jessie shrugged. “They liked it. Her daughter almost started to cry. And the part about my stepmother is probably true. She’s had lots of new boyfriends. Some of them were scary.”
“But you need to stop lying. It’s wrong, and one lie leads to another. Then when you’re caught it makes the problem worse than the one you were trying to avoid.”
“That’s not always true.” Jessie shook her head. “I’ve lied my way out of beatings that could have sent me to the hospital.”
Jessie’s response stopped me. I imagined her face swollen and puffy.
“Well, you’re not going to be beaten here.”
“I’ll try to do better.” Jessie paused. “Can I read or watch TV?”
“Yes. I was reading in the den while waiting for you to come back.”
As we walked down the hallway, Jessie asked, “Were you afraid I wouldn’t come back?”
I started to say no but realized the truth demanded a different answer.
“Yes.”
Jessie stopped and gave me a hurt look. “Not while I was with Flip. Mrs. Fairmont loves that dog and trusted me enough to take him on a walk. I had to come back. And I’d be crazy to leave this house or Julie’s apartment. Before I went to jail, I was hungry most of the time and sleeping on a dirty mattress underneath a tarp on an overgrown vacant lot.”
“You weren’t staying with your aunt who’s visiting a relative in Jacksonville?”
“No.”
We went into the den. Mrs. Fairmont had rows of books on dark walnut shelves.
“I finished the book about animals of South America,” Jessie said, standing on her tiptoes to look at the titles on the spines. Every so often she would pull down a volume and examine and return it. Finally, she selected one and turned around.
“Have you read this one?” she asked. “
Little Women
.”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s a good choice.”
Jessie lay on the sofa with a pillow under her head. We passed a quiet couple of hours, not unlike times I’d spent with the twins in the front room.
“I know why you wanted me to read this,” Jessie said with a yawn. “You think Jo is like me.”
“Is she?” I asked, not at all sure.
“A little.”
“Are you sleepy?”
“Yeah. We had lights-out at the jail by now, and I had to get up early in the morning because I helped in the kitchen.”
Jessie sat on the edge of the sofa. “What’s wrong with Mrs. Fairmont? She seemed okay to me.”
“Sometimes her brain doesn’t work right, and she might have trouble remembering your name or forget things you said just a few seconds before.”
“That would be weird. If that happens and you’re not here, what should I do?”
“If it only lasts for a minute or so, just act normal and be patient. She’ll come around. If she complains about a bad headache, faints, or stays really confused for a longer period of time, you should call Mrs. Bartlett or me.”
“Or 911.”
“Try one of us first.”
“Okay. I hope nothing happens to her. I never had a grandmother.”
“Why not?”
“One lived in Kansas or someplace like that. The other one died when I was a baby.” Jessie looked down at the floor. “If my case was sent to juvenile court and the judge gave me probation, could I live with Julie or here with Mrs. Fairmont instead of going to a foster family?”
I closed my book.
“I don’t know. We want to provide a place for you to stay while your case is waiting to be decided. You’ve only been here a few hours. It’s too soon to make plans—”
“Maybe for you,” Jessie interrupted. “But I have to think about stuff like that. If I don’t, then something bad usually happens.”
“Give it time.”
I could tell Jessie wanted to say something else, but she got up and left the room. I followed her downstairs. Gracie had made up a single bed that was covered with a pretty bedspread.
W
HEN
I
WOKE UP EARLY THE NEXT MORNING,
I
GLANCED IN THE
living area and saw Jessie, already dressed, carefully making her bed.
“Not sleeping in today?” I asked.
“No, at the jail I helped fix breakfast and had to get up early.”
“I’m going out for a run. When I come back, we’ll fix breakfast together.”
“Can I go with you?”
Startled, I said, “I run fast and go far.”
“I could ride Mrs. Fairmont’s bike.”
“Mrs. Fairmont doesn’t have a bike.”
“There’s one at the other end of the basement. I saw it yesterday when I was exploring the house on my own. It’s under a plastic sheet.”
I’d never seen a bicycle in the house or heard Mrs. Fairmont mention one, but I hadn’t explored the storage side of the large basement.
“Show me.”
Jessie turned on the lights and led me to a corner where a fairly new bicycle was covered by a clear sheet of plastic. I pulled away the plastic. Both the tires needed air.
“You can’t ride it until the tires are inflated.”
“The pump is over here.” Jessie went around the corner and returned with a pump.
“You shouldn’t be snooping around Mrs. Fairmont’s things.”
“I wasn’t snooping. I just looked around for a few minutes while Mrs. Fairmont was taking a nap in her chair in the den. I wanted to make sure no one could get in from the outside.” Jessie pointed to the narrow windows close to the ceiling. “Are those locked?”
“I’ve never checked.”
“I can’t get up there. Would you make sure?”
I stood on my toes. The window was latched and probably painted shut.
“It looks okay.”
“The worst part about sleeping at the empty lot was worrying someone might bother me.”
“Did that happen?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“One night I heard a drunk in the bushes not far from me, but I lay real still and he didn’t find me. But when my stepmother and I were having to sleep under bridges—” Jessie stopped.
“Pump up the tires while I put on my running clothes,” I said. “I’d like you to come with me.”
It was a beautiful, cool morning; the perfect time to be outdoors in a Savannah summer, but few people took advantage of it. I ran on the sidewalk, and Jessie pedaled alongside on the road. In the areas where the cobblestones remained, the bike delivered a jarring ride. Jessie didn’t seem to mind. She smiled almost the whole time and peppered me with so many questions that it was a struggle to run, breathe, and serve as a tour guide.
Jessie was wearing shorts, and I could see numerous scars on her slender but muscular legs.
“Did you play any sports in school?” I asked.
“No. I wanted to run on the track team, but I didn’t have a way to get home from practice. I used to run everywhere I went.”
“You look like you’re in good shape,” I said. “Maybe we can start running together some.”
“I can’t go as fast as you. You have long legs.”
“But a lot of the best runners are your size.”
When we returned home, Jessie parked the bike behind the house in the courtyard.
“Do you think I can ride it during the day?” she asked. “I never had a bike as nice as this one.”
“Ask Mrs. Fairmont.”
Before taking a shower, I went around with Jessie to every window in the basement. I was tall enough to check the latches. All of them were locked. While Jessie cleaned up, I checked her shoe size. If we were going to run together, she would need a good pair of running shoes.
I prepared breakfast. I usually settled for fruit and yogurt, but I suspected Jessie might want something more. I brewed coffee for Mrs. Fairmont even though she rarely made an appearance downstairs before I left for work. The bacon was almost finished when Mrs. Fairmont came in wearing her robe. Flip ran past her down the hall to the doggie door.
“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.
“Yes, but I think Flip smelled the bacon and got restless. He wasn’t going to let me sleep.”
She sat at the small table in the corner of the kitchen. I poured her a cup of coffee.
“How did Jessie do last night?” she asked.
I told her about reading together in the den, then about Jessie’s concern this morning regarding the security of the house.
“You know how aggravating it is, but maybe we should start using the burglary alarm to make her feel safe,” Mrs. Fairmont said.
“That’s up to you. Mrs. Bartlett doesn’t like receiving calls from the agency when the silent alarm goes off and you’re not aware of it.”
“If I take it off silent, then Flip almost has a heart attack when that computer voice echoes through the house. It makes me jump out of my skin, too.”
The tiny speakers for the system generated a surprising volume of sound. I put the bacon on a paper towel to drain and put the scrambled eggs in a glass bowl. The biscuits would be ready in less than a minute.
“Oh, I let Jessie use the bike that was in the basement this morning. She rode alongside me while I ran.”
“That belongs to Christine. She bought it claiming she would enjoy riding through the district for exercise, but it’s only been on the street a few times. It was always too hot, too cold, too humid, too early, too late, or too many mosquitoes for a ride.”
I laughed as Jessie came into the kitchen. She greeted Mrs. Fairmont with a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Mrs. Fairmont doesn’t plan on riding the bicycle,” I said. “You can use it.”
“I don’t expect you to stay cooped up with me all the time,” Mrs. Fairmont added.
“I can ride to the store if you need something during the day,” Jessie offered.
W
E ATE BREAKFAST ON THE VERANDA THAT OVERLOOKED THE
courtyard garden. Jessie ate three times as much as I did. Mrs. Fairmont nibbled a few bites of eggs. Only one uneaten biscuit remained. When I left for work, Mrs. Fairmont and Jessie were in the den looking at old photographs.
As soon as I reached the office, I phoned Sister Dabney and told her what had happened.
“I’ll be praying for Julie’s father. How is Jessie getting along with Mrs. Fairmont?”
“Couldn’t be better.”
“Good. I knew that would happen. Will I see you and Jessie on Sunday?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
In my e-mail in-box was an update from Julie. Her father’s recovery was progressing well, but it would be several days before Julie returned to Savannah. I sent her a long reply reassuring her about Jessie.
M
ID-MORNING,
I
WENT TO THE COURTHOUSE TO FIND OUT THE
charges against Clay Hackney. When I entered the area of the clerk’s office where the criminal records were kept, I ran into Maggie, who had a stack of files in her arms. We stepped into a private corner beneath a bulletin board. She already knew about the status of Julie’s father, but I gave her a quick update about Jessie.
“What brings you here?” Maggie asked when I finished.
“Something that happened with Jessie the other day in court.”
Lowering my voice, I told her about Jessie’s reaction to Hackney’s presence in the courtroom.
“That explains why she doesn’t want to go to juvenile court,” Maggie said.
“Why?”
“Judge Gott would probably give her probation and send her home, which is the last place she wants to be if this guy is a threat to her.”
“And she’s smart enough to have figured that out.” I nodded.
“You’re sure Hackney didn’t see her in the courtroom?”
“I don’t think so. I had my eyes glued to him from the moment she let me know there was a connection, and she hid behind me until he left the courtroom.”
“I’ll get his file,” Maggie said.
In a few moments she returned with a thick folder already open in her arms.
“It’s a money case,” Maggie said. “The State alleges Hackney operated a scam in which he obtained money by false pretenses.”
“That would explain why there are tape recordings of conversations,” I said.
Maggie kept reading. “There aren’t any real details, just enough to get the grand jury to issue an indictment. Most of the indictment are quotes from the statute. Why is Mr. Carpenter involved in this? It’s not his area.”
“Zach told me the firm represents Hackney in his business interests.”
Maggie nodded. “In most white-collar-crime cases there is a lot of bluster between the lawyers for a few months, then the defendant takes a lenient plea bargain if he’s guilty or the State dismisses the charges if it can’t tie up the evidence in a neat bow. Neither side wants to waste a lot of time going to trial and risk an acquittal by a jury or a harsh sentence from the judge.”
“That makes sense, but how would Jessie know about someone like Hackney? She comes from poverty. This guy seems rich. At one point she and her stepmother were living on the streets.”
“You won’t know the answer to that question unless Jessie tells you.”
“If she has incriminating information about Hackney, she could be a witness for the State—”
“And use it to get the charges against her dismissed,” Maggie said, completing my thought.
“Right.”
“Maybe. That happens in TV shows, but in real life, people like Jessie are often too afraid to come out in the open. There’s no such thing as ironclad witness protection.”