Five minutes later, sitting in the chair, scratching my head, Sam cracked the door and passed me their clothes. They were wadded up and stuffed in a plastic bag. “If we didn’t have to put them back on, I’d tell you to burn them.” Beyond the door, I heard Hope splashing around in the tub. I rode the elevator down to the first floor and Marleena’s desk. On the way down, I dug through the bag and found Samantha Dyson’s driver’s license in the back pocket of her jeans. What’s more, I found Hope’s little journal in the front pocket of the dirty, hoodie sweatshirt she’d been wearing.
Dr. Jean Paul Micheaux shook my hand and smiled. “Good to see you, son. How you been?”
“Fine, sir, and you?”
“Can’t complain. Tell me about these two.”
I told him what I knew and we knocked on the door. Hope answered the door wearing the white terry cloth robe, which was dragging on the floor. Sam stood behind her, wet hair, same robe, except hers hung at knee level. A cut above her heel told me she’d shaved her legs.
“Doc, this is Sam and her daughter, Hope.” I led him in. “Sam, Hope… this is Dr. Jean Paul Micheaux. I been knowing him a long time. He’s sewed me up a time or two. He’ll take care of you. I’ll be outside.”
Fifteen minutes passed, the elevator bell rang, a woman stepped off wearing a white jacket, a stethoscope, and carrying a bag. She knocked on the door and the doc let her in. Another fifteen and the woman left. A few minutes after that Jean Paul opened the door and walked out. He said, “I put three stitches above Sam’s eye and wrote her a scrip for the pain. She took a pretty good hit to the head. Probably a mild concussion.”
“I saw it. It was a good hit.”
He sucked through his teeth and shook his head. “As for Hope, I wrote her several scrips. First, she’s got scabies.”
“Scabies, sir?”
“Mites. Comes from living in dirty conditions. Got her a topical cream that she will need to basically bathe in for a few days and she’ll be fine. Second, I’m putting her on a steroid for a few days, which will open up her airways. Get rid of that cough.”
“Any idea what’s causing it?”
“Yeah… cats. She’s allergic. Sam told me she was trying to get the money to buy the steroid at the truck stop but ran into some trouble. That’s when they met you.”
“Yes, sir, but I didn’t know anything about the steroid.”
“I’ll bet that’s not all you didn’t know.” He paused. “The girl… Hope… she’s got some… well that’s why I brought in Dr. Greene. She was the woman. We needed to catalog what evidence remained.”
“Evidence, sir?” I had a bad feeling I didn’t want to know where this was going.
He turned his reading glasses in his hands. “She’s got some tears in her, well, in a place where a little girl don’t want tears.”
“Sir?”
He stared at me. “Forced entry.”
Something in me felt real bad real quick. I stared at the floor. “That explains the blood on the blanket.”
He nodded. “It does. There wasn’t much, if any, evidence and it’s better to have a woman do that kind of thing. The girl wasn’t too keen on letting anybody have a look. Dr. Greene was a big help.”
“I’ll call down and have Marleena put a halt on their laundry. Might be some evidence left in there.”
“Be a good idea although I doubt we’ll find much.”
“What can you do?”
He shook his head. “I’m putting her on a preventative antibiotic but I can’t write a scrip for what really hurts.”
I nodded, turning my hat in my hands.
He paused. “Ms. Dyson asked me to tell you… when she heard about the… the tearing… well, she’s taken it pretty hard.”
I shook his hand. “Can’t thank you enough.”
He pulled down on my collar exposing my neck. He tapped my earlobe with his finger. “I heard about your trouble. Read about it. It was in all the papers. You call me if you need anything. Anything at all. And Tyler?”
“Yes, sir?”
“That’s good people in there. You do what you can.”
“I will. Thanks again.”
He stepped on the elevator and I paced the hallway asking myself just what I’d gotten into and how exactly I was supposed to go about knocking on the door. After a few minutes, the door cracked and Sam’s hand waved me in. We stood at the far end of the room in front of a marble-topped sink, while Hope frolicked in the tub behind a shut door. New Orleans shone through the window.
Sam rubbed her palms, glancing over her shoulder. “She loves that tub. Says it’s like a swimming pool. Got two feet of bubbles in there.” Bourbon Street lay two blocks away. People crisscrossed like large ants.
“Tell her to swim all she wants. There’s no limit to the hot water up here and we can get more bubbles.”
She turned, fists at her side. She was shaking. Speaking to her own reflection in the glass. “What kind of a man—?” She faded. Veins along her wrists popped out. She turned. “You must wonder what kind of a mother—”
I cut her off. “Ma’am, I’m not judging you.”
“Would you stop that?”
“What?”
“Calling me ‘ma’am.’ ”
“Okay.”
“I feel like I need to tell you…”
Part of me wondered if it’d be better if she had an attorney present but the other part of me chastised the first part for having the thought. Decades of law enforcement can jade a fellow. Twist the way you see the world. Also makes you a pretty quick reader of people and my read told me she had no idea. “You don’t need to tell me anything.”
“What if I want to? What if I need—”
I waited.
“He was… handsome in a uniform. Clean, for a change. Said all the right words.” She laughed. “Didn’t have a criminal record. No parole officer.” A shrug. “Had a little money. I thought, ‘How bad could he be?’ He bought me nice things. Had a little house. A mother-in-law suite connected by a covered walkway. Offered it to us. It was like our own little world. He’d built it for his mother before she passed. What kind of a grown man still loves his mother? I didn’t know he, until… I was working late, the cash register. Called to check on Hope. She didn’t answer, which was strange. She always answered. Then I called Billy and he didn’t answer and I knew he had to be there ’cause I don’t leave her without…” She trailed off. “So, I asked my boss if I could cut out early and he said yes, and so I drove home and Hope wasn’t in the little mother-in-law suite. She was inside.” Her voice slowed and the events replayed across her mind’s eye. “I called to her but she didn’t answer. I called again and still she didn’t answer. And then I found her, sitting on the bed. Naked. With her knees tucked up into her chest with—my baby—” She turned and wiped away the tears. “I saw the blood. How she was sitting. The tremble. The grimace.” Sam’s eyes filled. “I grabbed her, we stole the car and—” She was shaking. “I swear I didn’t know.”
A pause. I probed. “What’s his name?”
She stared out the window. Across Bourbon Street. Over the Mississippi. “Billy-freaking-Simmons.”
Just then, a knock on the door. A voice sounded on the other side. “Miss Sam, it’s Marleena.” I handed Sam a towel off the mini bar and she wiped her eyes.
Marleena marched in with two girls in tow who were rolling two racks of clothes. I turned to them, “Thanks, ladies.” Noise echoed from the bathroom. “Whatever they want. Give me the bill.”
I let myself out, walked down the hall to the window and dialed my cell phone. She picked up after two rings. “Deborah Vinings.”
“Hey, how you?”
“Well… if it isn’t Clark Kent himself. Been wondering when you were going to come ringing back into my life.”
“Was wondering if you’d let me trouble you.”
Her voice warmed. “You know better than that. What you need?”
“I need whatever you can tell
me about a lawman southeast of us. Somewhere around San Antone… Billy Simmons. Might run a SWAT or narcotics unit.”
“Anything else?”
I paused. “Yeah, let me give you a driver’s license number.”
“Who’s it belong to?”
“I was hoping you could tell me that.”
“Go ahead.”
I read her the number.
“Give me a few hours.”
“I will.”
“You got the same cell?”
“Number? Yes. Phone? No.”
She laughed. “I heard that. I doubt Motorola makes a fireproof phone.”
“Not yet. Maybe I should write a letter. Thanks, Debbie.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“Well… thanks anyway.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Outside the suite I listened to Marleena laughing inside it. I set there turning that girl’s notebook in my fingers. She had stuck a few of the Tinker Bell stickers on the cover. I know I shouldn’t have, but I did. I opened it. The first page read:
Dear God,
My flashlight is dying making it harder to see beneath the sheets, but I like it in here. It’s like my own tent. It’s quiet now. Momma’s at work. Second shift. Gets off at midnight. 2:00 a.m. if they give her some overtime. I like to wait up for her ’cause she’s tired and not sleeping much. I know ’cause I sit up and watch her. Sometimes I scratch her back and she falls to sleep. But, during the day, she rubs her hands together, and she’s always pressing her palm to her forehead or rubbing her neck.
I can breathe okay most of the time. Haven’t been to the hospital in a while. Not since that one in Georgia when my throat all swolled up. Momma makes payments to the hospital when she can. Says she’ll be paying that down for a long time. I told her I’m going to buy a lottery ticket when I get some money.
My cough is better. Well… to be honest, ’cause you’d know if I was lying, I don’t think it’s getting any better. Momma thinks it’s getting worse. We ran out of the medicine again. Momma says she’ll have enough money in her next paycheck to buy some more. I told her I don’t need it but I can breathe better when we have it.
The good news is that I think Momma really likes Billy and I think I like him, too. He’s real clean, he’s good at his job. Momma says he’s real involved in the community and he’s even received some awards for doing good stuff for people and kids. Momma says he looks good in a coat and tie. And he has lots of them. Says he’s a “looker.” There’s a picture of him with the mayor out there on the wall by the TV. Even some newspaper articles. Momma says she thinks he’s a good man. He’s real kind to her. Lets us stay in this little cottage for free. It sits right behind his house with a little stone walk to the back door. And we’ve been here a couple of weeks.
Last night, Billy got home before Momma and he knocked on the door and asked me if he could come in and I said sure. So, he sat me on the bed with him and put his arm around me and he’s real strong. He works out a lot. He’s got this big vein on his right arm that looks like a piece of yarn or cord. Anyway, we just talked like grown-ups do. He asked me questions and then listened. And I mean he really listened. And I don’t think a grown-up man has ever listened to me before. Then he told me that I’d be a beautiful woman one day, which nobody has ever told me.
You know all the other men that Momma’s gone out with never talked to me like that. They never asked me what I thought and nobody ever told me I was or would be beautiful. He was nice. Didn’t treat me like I was in the way. We even had ice cream at the kitchen table. He let me have three scoops and I covered it in gummy bears and chocolate sprinkles. And he said not to tell Momma. That it would be our secret. That sometimes secrets are good and it was okay if we had a secret and he asked me to promise. And I did. ’Cause I like ice cream. And I like the way he puts his hand on my back. It makes me feel good. Makes me feel wanted. Like he’s hugging me. And he smells good. Momma says she likes the way he smells.
I finished reading the entry and had to force myself to quit gritting my teeth. I skimmed through to another entry.
Dear God,
Last night, while Momma was working and me and Billy were sneaking some ice cream, Billy asked me if I’d ever been told how women become women. I told him no so then he whispered how that happens. Said, if I wanted, when I was ready, that he would help me. That it was up to me. No pressure. Said it would be our secret. Like the ice cream. Said a couple of times is all it takes. Said every girl does it. Said it doesn’t hurt and it’s real natural. Like, it’s the way our bodies are supposed to work. Said for me to think about it and we’d talk more tomorrow, which is now today. I was thinking maybe I should talk to Momma about it but then I got to tell her about the ice cream, too. And she’s not gonna be happy if I tell her that. Plus, I promised him I wouldn’t and he’s a real good man. Even Momma said so.
I turned the page. I was not ready for what I found.
Dear God,
He lied. It hurts. I didn’t like it. If that’s how you become a woman, I don’t want to be one.
I closed the book and cussed myself for opening it.
CHAPTER NINE
Thirty minutes later, the two girls and their carts walked out, followed by Marleena. She ushered them onto the elevator then returned to me. “Baby, you sure I can’t get you a room?”
“No, I’ve asked too much as it is. Will you make sure I get the bill?”
Her head tilted sideways. “You taking them to dinner?”
“Hadn’t really thought about it.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Their ribs are sticking out.”
I stared at the door. “They do look hungry.”
“You want me to make you a reservation?”
“I’m not sure they’re gonna feel like going much of anywhere. They’ve been… doing a lot of that.”
She scratched her chin. “You want me to have Chef Cleo cook up something special?”
“I think they’d like that. You still got that little room…”
She nodded and started walking toward the elevator. “About seven then?”
Marleena was the kind of woman that made you want to climb up in her lap and just set a while. The cradle of her bosom could deflect a nuclear blast. “Yes, ma’am.”
Marleena disappeared and the door opened. Turbo came scurrying out, checking every corner and dropping turds on the carpet. Hope followed. She was wearing her robe, crawling behind him on her knees. She still hadn’t said a word to me. She stopped, lifted Turbo to her shoulder, avoided eye contact, and nodded toward the open door.
Sam was standing against the window again. I walked in, feeling like a cat caught with his hand in the fish bowl. I handed her the driver’s license. “You left this in your jeans.” Then the notebook. “This was wrapped up in the laundry. I figure she’ll want it.”
She nodded. Set it on the bed. I could tell she wanted to know if I’d read it, the window into their lives, but to ask me might open a can of worms she didn’t want opened at the moment. Maybe I should have told her that I did, but I still had too many questions.
She was fidgeting with her hands. Chewing on her lip. “When I get someplace with an address, I think I’ve got one more check coming from Walmart, I’ll send money. For all this. They were good to me. They should send it.” She shook her head. Her voice dropped—lowered by the shame. “I wasn’t always like this.”
I checked my watch. It was nearly four. “Why don’t you two get a nap and—”
“Do you always do that?”
“What’s that?”
“Ignore people who are trying to thank you.”
“I’m not doing it for the thanks. Lady… Sam, why don’t you try and not look past the next few hours. We’ll figure out tomorrow, tomorrow. Take a nap, get some rest.” The television was a flat-screen and looked forty-five to fifty inches across. “Watch a movie, let me fill the prescriptions, and we’ll eat about seven p.m. Okay with you?” I gr
abbed the scrips off the tabletop. “You two hunker down. Kick your feet up. Raid the mini bar. Have a drink. Have two. You look like you could use one. I’ll be back at a few minutes to seven.”
CHAPTER TEN
I needed some air so I went and got it. Sucked in all I could. I walked down to the Mississippi and watched the water roll past. Imagined Huck and Jim paddling in the distance. Maybe Tom Sawyer close behind. The thought took me away for a minute. It was one of my favorite books. One of the few I’d read more than once.
I ran by the drugstore and picked up $407 worth of prescriptions. A number that made me want to get in my truck and drive away. I was standing in the checkout line trying to figure out if I had enough room on my credit card and noticed a neatly stacked pile of fleece blankets. The label called them “Cuddlies.” All rolled up and waiting on opportunistic buyers—like me. They had a light blue one printed with little angels. One light pink with Tinker Bell. I thought she’d like it.
I walked around the corner and stepped inside a bookstore. Found a pocket-sized American Heritage Dictionary for five dollars. It was about three inches thick so I figured she could most nearly find any word she needed. I threw the dictionary in the bag with the drugs and headed back. Slower this time.
I counted the cracks in the sidewalk while thinking about tomorrow. I won’t lie. I was starting to wonder what I’d gotten myself into. To be honest, I wanted somebody else to be in this place and not me. My plate was already full. I made it into the parking garage and around the backside of my truck where I started getting ready for dinner. I’d parked in the corner which gave me some privacy. Besides, there wasn’t anybody in here but the valets. I was starting to smell a bit ripe so I stripped off my shirt, and baby-wiped my pits and whatnot.
I put on some deodorant, shaved in my side mirror, slapped on some aftershave, then sat in a folding chair next to my truck and rolled a cigarette. Linus had his blanket. I have my truck and rolling papers.