Later, after finishing the repairs at Snake’s—reinstalling the toilet, clearing clogs in the drains of the bathroom and kitchen sinks, reconnecting the ground wire to the fuse box—Zach had just got home and was headed for the shower when the phone rang.
“Can you pick Jonah up at school?” Becca asked with an unfamiliar edge to her voice.
“Sure. What’s the matter?”
“I’ve got a flat tire.”
“Where are you?”
“At the church.”
“No problem, Bec. I’ll get Jonah home, then come help you with the tire. Just sit tight.”
“Zach, I’ve got two flat tires, both on the driver’s side.” Her voice cracked ever so slightly on the last word.
Zach felt his heart fall, way down into his stomach. “Anyone else’s car get hit?”
“They’re all gone. But no—if they’d been vandalized, they’d be in here with me, calling a tow truck or triple-A.”
“Any other damage?”
“Not that I noticed, but I didn’t look very close. I came back in here and called you.”
“Call the police.”
“What should I tell them?”
“That your car’s been vandalized.”
“Anything else?”
“I don’t know, Bec. That’s your call. Is the church locked?”
“Yes.”
“Stay inside till the police arrive. I’ll get there quick as I can.”
“Don’t tell Jonah.”
“What?”
“About the two tires. I don’t want to worry him.”
Zach scoffed. “What about me?”
“Too late.”
“Yeah. For us both.”
Becca sat on the passenger-side seat of the truck with the door open, facing out with her feet on the running board. She watched as Zach raised one tire with the jack from the truck, then the other tire with the jack he dug out of the car’s trunk. “You sure I can’t help?” she asked in a thin and tired voice.
“Sit tight, Bec. No need for you to get covered with sweat and grease when I’m already grimy.”
“I feel so helpless just sitting here.”
“You’re not helpless—you’re supervising.”
She laughed. “Straighten that jack!” she ordered. “Don’t get your fingers caught! Pop that hubcap off!”
“That’s the spirit!”
“Tell me this didn’t happen!” she ordered, her voice trailing off at the end.
Zach sighed. He broke free all the lug nuts on the front tire then raised the jack to take the weight off. He put the cross-shaped lug wrench on the first of those nuts and gave it a sharp flick. The wrench spun easily on the cradle of his palm and the nut came off the lug, cradled in the socket of the wrench. He repeated the sequence with the other four nuts. “What did the cops say?”
“Vandalism.”
“That’s it.”
“That there’s lots of it in this part of town. The other night, they had twenty-eight tires slashed on one street; last week, four windshields shot out with a pellet gun.”
He lifted the tire off the lugs and leaned it against the side of the truck. Off the car, the tire regained its normal symmetry. Zach saw the small puncture in its sidewall. It looked like it was made by an icepick or a small-bladed knife. He didn’t look at it closely or point it out to Becca. “Any other vandalism in this area today?”
“He didn’t say. I didn’t ask.”
Zach turned his attention to removing the rear tire. “What did you tell him?”
“Name, rank, serial number, insurance company. What else was there to say?”
“Who might’ve done this, or had it done.”
“What should I have told him, Zach?” she said, her voice rising in volume and emotion. “That I’ve hijacked the eight-year-old son of a crackhead to give the kid a chance at a better life and now the crackhead is maybe straight, is maybe pissed, is maybe looking to get even with the girl who took her son or maybe scare that girl away or both? How would that sound in a police report?”
“Like the truth, if you switched a few of the ‘maybes’ with ‘probably’.”
“Like a scared child with an active imagination. And even if the guy wrote it in the report—shaking his head the whole time, I’m sure—what good would that do? Nobody knows where Latonya is. And even if you could find her, no cop’s going to scare her away from doing what she wants or needs to do, if it is her that did it—which we don’t know.”
Zach gave the lug wrench such a furious spin that the nut came loose and the wrench kept on spinning so fast it twirled out of his palm and rolled a few feet across the pavement before falling to the asphalt with a high-pitched clatter. “So what are you going to do?” he asked, staring at the tire hanging from the hub by one lug.
She touched his shoulder lightly, hoping not to scare him. Then she squatted beside him and laid her head on that shoulder and looped her arm around his neck and pulled him against her. “I’m going to keep on doing what I’ve been doing,” she said in a low firm voice near his ear. “If Latonya wants to talk, I’ll talk—anytime, anyplace. Well, anytime and anyplace that’s safe. She’s Jonah’s mother and she should be involved in his life. But I’m not going to abandon Jonah now, Zach.” She paused a moment, then added, “No matter how scared I am.”
Zach released a long slow sigh, then turned his head just enough to kiss the back of her hand hanging limply in front of his chest. He slid out from under her embrace and finished removing the second tire, loaded them both and all the tools into the back of the truck. By then Becca was again on the passenger seat of the truck, facing forward this time. Zach got into the driver’s side, started the engine and pointed them toward home, leaving the car, tilted askew on its paired jacks, in the encroaching dusk.