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Half an hour later, I stood in the road outside Gail Ackerson's house, now ablaze with generator-powered work lamps set up by the volunteer firemen. They'd put down the fire, soaking the back of the house and yard with water and foam to keep the old tinderbox from going completely up in flames. Water, tuned to ice, hung from the edges of the roof like icicle-tipped drapes. Ritter was out back with the state police, the county sheriff and a couple of civilians: town council types and attorneys from the prosecutor's office. Allison Raynor had been rushed to the hospital, alive but critical.
Colin Maynard stood beside Jimmy sitting at the back doors of an ambulance. The boy had a blanket draped over his thin shoulders while a pretty paramedic gently attended to the boy's scrapes, bumps and bruises.
Sean Ritter came out from behind the house, watching me watch Colin and Jimmy. Colin doted over the boy, mussing his stringy hair and demonstrating nauseating fatherly concern. Not acting at all like the Colin Maynard I'd read about in the bail file.
"A quarter for your thoughts," Ritter said.
I gave him a quizzical look. "A quarter?" I asked.
"This is the Northeast. Everything's more expensive here." He jutted his chin out toward Colin. "What are you going to do about them?"
Maynard put an arm around Jimmy, pulled him in close for a hug. A lump formed in my throat. Why had Maynard come back? Why had he saved our lives when he could have run? Been gone, free and clear. And did it matter? It didn't change what I had to do.
"I don't know."
Colin straightened up as we walked over. Jimmy stiffened. The boy looked up at his father, eyes wide. "Dad?"
"Sit tight, buddy. I need to talk to these officers."
"Okay, Dad." The boy looked down, sullen and worried. The paramedic offered him a lollipop and he brightened a little.
"What happens now?" Colin asked me. "I go with you?"
"I've got a few questions first," Ritter said. He pulled a notepad from his back pocket, flipped it open to a clean page. "Tell me what you were doing here. Did you come here to hurt that girl for testifying against you?"
"What? Allison? No. I came here for Jimmy."
I glanced over at the ambulance. "For the boy? Why?"
Maynard paused to gather his thoughts. He was smart. He knew what he said and did next would have a profound effect on his future. "I mean? Look." He focused his attention right on me. "That shit back in Columbus. It was never about beating up Allie like the cops and the lawyers said. It was about me protecting Jimmy."
"Protecting him from what?"
"From Allie."
I hadn't seen that one coming. "Explain."
"Allie was a mess. When she wasn't out of her mind on drugs, she was out of her mind jonsing. Jimmy wasn't safe with her. She'd go out and leave him alone, sometimes for days. No food, no way to take care of himself. She'd hit him if he got on her nerves, which was always. She even had him shoplifting for her. She'd use the stuff they stole to score more drugs."
Ritter interrupted. "So this meth lab here, it's not your set-up?"
"Hell no. I'm clean, man. One-hundred-eighty-seven days, not a pop." He whipped off the coat someone had given him to show us his arms. He had track marks, lots of them, but old and scabbed over. "I was putting money aside, saving up so I could take Jimmy and get him away from her, away from Ohio."
"So why'd you beat her up?" I asked.
"I never touched her. Not ever. All that shit, when the cops got there, was me defending myself, from her. Listen. I went there to get Jimmy, to get him the hell away from her. I was ready to go, had money saved up and everything. But, Allie, she was so strung out, she went crazy and attacked me. Demanded I give her the money for herself. I told her no. She went nuts, started swinging at me and clawing at my face. I knocked her back. I admit it. I did, but only to defend myself. That's all. I swear."
"I saw the police photos," I said. "She looked like a punching bag."
"That was from her dealer. Stupid bitch was selling for some junkie asshole. But she tried to hold out on him, kept product for herself and he found out. Look, we fought, yelling, screaming and shit like that, all the time. But I never hit her. Never. Not even before I got myself clean. I swear. I tried to get her to dry out, do rehab with me but she refused."
"Let me get this straight," I said. "You jumped bail and came all this way out here, just so you could save the boy?"
"That's right." He nodded. "They were gonna convict me. I was looking at hard time. I couldn't go to jail and let her keep Jimmy. Jimmy and me, we were all set to take off. We were gonna be gone."
I tried to read his expression in the pulsating blue emergency lights. He appeared genuine. Sincere. But I'd bought that tee shirt before-with bad results. "Why would she suddenly let Jimmy go now, when she wouldn't earlier?"
Maynard looked over at his son and when he spoke, his voice broke a little. "Because I gave her the money. Everything I had. Everything I'd saved." He turned away so I couldn't see his face. Too late. I saw the tears in his eyes. "Imagine that," he said. "I had to buy my son from her."
When I was sure my own voice wouldn't crack, I said, "Then what? You two have someplace to go?"
Excited, he nodded. "I've got a job. It's through a friend of a friend. In New Brunswick."
"Canada?" Ritter asked.
"Yeah. On a fishing boat. Jimmy and me, we were going to Canada. I was going to learn how to fish." Then he got quiet, realizing Canada wasn't in his future. Columbus, Ohio was, as was a long stint in prison.
A voice nagged at the back of my brain. It said: Right and wrong aren't in your job description. You don't play judge and jury and they don't track down bail jumpers.
Ritter waved me away from Colin Maynard. Out of earshot, he asked, "What'd'ya think?"
"A made up story."
"I believe him," Ritter said. He held up a hand to stop my protest. "But I'm not intervening. This is your play."
"You're saying I should cut Maynard loose?"
He shook his head. "I'm saying it's your call entirely. But before you decide, think about that little boy. His mother, if she survives, is going away for a very long time. If the dad goes away too, the kid, he's got no one."
He let that hang. I glanced over at Colin. He'd returned to the ambulance, to his boy. Jimmy hugged him, pressed his face tight into his gut.
"He probably saved our lives," Ritter nudged. "And I don't know about you, but foster care ? not where I'd like to see a kid brought up."
My play. Yeah, right. My dad ran out at me when I was about Jimmy's age. I'd had my mom though. I wondered what it would be like for Jimmy. With no one.
"Fine." I stormed over to Colin. "This job in Canada, it's legit?"
"Absolutely. Look." Excited, Colin rooted around in his pants pocket. "Here's the letter I got."
I looked over the crumpled, folded, paper he handed me. It was an acceptance letter, complete with a start date. It had been opened and refolded many times. A tangible link to a new life. A fresh start. A way out.
After reading it I slowly folded the paper along the worn lines. I handed it back to him. "Get out of here."
Open mouthed, Colin said, "Really? You're serious?"
I nodded. "But you listen to me. It's illegal for me to cross international borders to go after a bail jumper."
He nodded, listening.
"But I've done it before. And you mess this up I'll do it again. Understand?"
He nodded vigorously. "Yes, ma'am. I hear."
"And don't come back to the States, not ever."
"I won't. Thank you." He looked to Ritter. "Both of you."
He and Jimmy ran for the Charger, excited and chatting. He fired up the car and backed out, threading through the emergency vehicles.
When the red taillights had disappeared, Ritter said, "You did the right thing."
"You know how much money that just cost me?" I asked.
He laughed. "For a big city bounty hun
ter you're not such a hard ass after all."
I put a finger to my lips. "Shush. You'll ruin my rep."
He smiled. I was really starting to like that smile.
"And for a backwoods, hick cop from the boonies, you're all right too. Now, didn't you say something earlier about getting something to eat?"
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