Read A Child is Torn: Innocence Lost Online

Authors: Dawn Kopman Whidden

Tags: #Suspense & Thrillers

A Child is Torn: Innocence Lost (6 page)

BOOK: A Child is Torn: Innocence Lost
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He knew better than to argue with her when she was wearing a skirt. He turned out of the parking lot and headed towards the Madison family home.

 

Marty

 

Marty was there when the crime scene technicians took the family computer and a few other items. After they left, he took another look around, taking notice of how clean and orderly the place was. The living room looked comfortable and lived in. A large sectional sofa showed signs of wear and tear, but was well maintained. The television that Brad had been playing Nintendo on was set in what he assumed was a custom-made wall unit made of oak wood. It was now covered with black powder the crime scene technicians had left behind. The wall unit was filled with knick-knacks and family photos. Silver frames held photos of Brad at various stages of his life; as an infant, as a toddler. Brad smiling, front teeth missing. Brad in a pirate costume trick or treating. Brad graduating from what was probably kindergarten. One shelf held at least two dozen DVDS; he noticed the majority of them were Disney movies. Another shelf held books, again Disney.

 

He went back upstairs to take a second look around. In Brad’s room, one wall was adorned with posters of Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow from
The Pirates of the Caribbean
. A child-sized bunk bed resembling a pirate ship was against the opposite wall. Both mattresses had fitted sheets and pillowcases covered with pictures of Captain Jack in action. A comforter lay crumbled on the bottom bunk, with remnants of forensic powder scattered over it. He saw something lying in the corner and picked it up. He recognized the stuffed monkey from the movie and blew away some black powder that had fallen on the doll. He thought its owner was probably missing it right now, and thought about taking it to him.

 

“Keal, you up there?”

 

He recognized Moran’s voice.

 

“Yeah, up here.” He placed the stuffed monkey on the bed.

 

He started to go downstairs, but Moran and Jean met him at the bedroom door.

 

“Kid’s room, huh. Nice,” Moran stated as he glanced around. “Looks like he didn’t want for much. Forensics find anything?”

 

“They grabbed the family computer and a small laptop which appeared to belong to the kid. They were all over the house and I don’t think they found anything much. Guess time will tell.”

 

Jean picked up a photo in a silver frame from a small dresser. The photo, taken at Disney, captured a smiling Brad, with missing front teeth, and his parents. It appeared to have been taken a few years ago; Brad looked to be about six or seven at the time.

 

“Whitley here wanted to take another look. Thinks she’s going to find proof that the parents are part of some crazy cult.”

 

“Shut up, Moran,” she slapped him across the shoulder as she walked over to the bed and sat down, picking up the monkey.

 

“Ever meet these people when they were alive, Keal?”

 

“Actually, I think one of my brothers may have gone to school with his mother. I don’t think the dad was from here.”

 

“Which one of the Captain’s brood is that, Keal?”

 

“Ryan, I think. Not sure, but she’s his age and her parents’ name sounded familiar.”

 

“You know her brother? An Eddie Ginns?”

 

“Not sure, sounds familiar.”

 

Jean got off the bed taking care she didn’t hit her head on the top bunk. She placed the monkey against the pillow.

 

“How’s the Captain?” she asked.

 

“Good. Has a bit of a limp, but it doesn’t slow him down one bit.” Marty glanced at the stuffed animal. “Do you think it’d be okay if I brought it to him?”

 

Moran just shook his head. “Tell me you aren’t another ‘poor baby’ sympathizer, Keal. You think the kid’s innocent? Or just that it was justifiable homicide?” He picked up the photo that Jean had been holding earlier. “Looks like he was abused, doesn’t it?”

 

“Joe, you know sometimes I wonder how your wife puts up with you.” Jean snorted as she walked out of the room, picking up stuffed monkey and tossing it to Keal.

 

As Moran and Keal walked out of the room, Moran turned to Keal and whispered, “Be careful, Keal, she’s on the rag.”

 

Marty wasn’t surprised when he heard Jean yell, “Asshole!”

 

“I am going to close up here detective, if you guys are done.”

 

“Sure Keal, tell the Captain I said hi.”

 

“Will do, detective.”

 

Marty locked the door and watched the detectives get into their car. He could swear he saw Whitley give Moran the finger as they were driving away. He tossed the monkey in the air, and caught it.
Bet he’s missing you
, he thought.

 

It took Marty longer than usual to get home that evening; traffic had been tied up with road construction. He was thrilled when he walked into the house and smelled a familiar aroma coming from the kitchen. There was no mistaking that smell. The Captain was cooking his famous tomato sauce.

 

Grabbing a wooden spoon he helped himself to a spoonful from the pot and blew on it before putting it in his mouth.

 

“Hey, be careful. That’s hot,” The Captain warned as he closed the refrigerator door.

 

“Hey Pop. It’s good.”

 

He didn’t feel the least bit embarrassed that his six-feet, one-hundred-and-eighty-pound father was wearing a frilly apron that hung just below his slightly protruding stomach.

 

“‘What’s that?” The Captain motioned to the furry object in Marty’s other hand.

 

“Stuffed animal. Kid had a thing for
The Pirates of the Caribbean.

 

“What are you doing with it?”

 

“I thought maybe I would bring it to the hospital so he could have it.”

 

The Captain shook his head and smiled as he went to set the table. “Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. You going out tonight?”

 

“No, I think I’ll stay home and hang out with you, and take control of the remote. I’m going to take a quick shower. Be down in a bit.”

 

“Don’t you have something better to do than hang out with an old man? Can’t you find yourself a girl?”

 

As Marty left the room he heard his father talking to himself. He first overheard his father chuckling, and then offering a   prayer that his son would find someone special to settle down with. Maybe then he would stop wasting his life worrying about his old man.

 

Hope

 

When I got back to my office after my rounds, I noticed the red light on my answering machine was blinking. Hoping it was a return call from Brad’s pediatrician, I listened to the messages. The first call was from my dentist, reminding me of my appointment in two days. I had to figure out what new excuse I was going to use to cancel. I would rather go to the gynecologist than the dentist any day.

 

The second call came from my brother Lenny.

 

“Just called to remind you that we’re going out for Mom’s birthday next week. Call me.”

 

Damn, I had forgotten. My dentist appointment was starting to look good. Dinner with my mother, my brother, his wife and 2.5 kids meant an evening of interrogations.

 

“Are you seeing anyone?”

 

“Have you heard from Richard?”

 

“Where do you go to meet men?”

 

Please, stick a drill in my mouth. No Novocain necessary.

 

I was just about to return the calls, when Judy buzzed my intercom. “Madison is here, come on down.” Click.

 

I took a deep breath and told myself I was going to be able help this kid. I tried to put the bloody images of his parents out of my mind.

 

The lower floor that contained our administration office and reception area was quiet. The clicking of my heels echoed softly as I walked toward Judy. She was standing with a female police officer and a large-boned, stout woman whom I recognized to be Janet—a case- worker for the county. In the middle of the crowd stood Brad, as tiny as could be compared to Judy and the other two women. He was pale, and appeared confused. He had a death grip on the young female officer’s hand, seemingly afraid to let go.

 

I smiled, acknowledging Janet and the officer. “Hello Brad, remember me? I’m Dr. Hope, we met at the hospital.”

 

His eyes stayed targeted on the floor. Barely looking up, he silently nodded his reply, platinum-blond hair falling into his eyes.

 

“Would you like to come with me?”

 

I knelt down so I would be down on his level. Children tend to be less intimidated when you bring yourself into their field of vision.

 

“You can see the room you’ll be staying in, and meet some of the other children.”

 

He didn’t answer this time as Gabby entered the lobby, mop and bucket in hand. Brad’s eyes were fixated on the massive body of Gabby, whose black skin looked like it was poured over his biceps and chest. He was built like an oak tree, but was gentle as a lamb. Gabby stopped short, trying to be inconspicuous, when Brad let go of the officer’s hand and walked over to him. For a few seconds, we all watched the two. Brad put his small, pale hand in the giant’s palm and looked up at him.

 

“Seems like you’ve made a friend, Gabriel,” I said smiling.

 

“Looks like, Dr. Hope,” he answered with an inquisitive look, not knowing what he should do next.

 

“How about you accompany us to Brad’s room and we’ll get him settled in?”

 

“I think I can do that Dr. Hope. Is that all right with you, young man?” Gabby didn’t bend down or move his body, just turned his eyes to meet Brad’s that answered with a soft “Yes.”

 

Apparently, large adults didn’t intimate this kid. I filed that info away in my head to be taken out at a later date.

 

I said my goodbyes to Janet and the officer and told Judy I would check in with her when I was through. By now Gabby had put down the mop and pail and was walking with Brad, asking him questions.

 

“How old are you, son?”

 

I was surprised when Brad answered him without hesitation.

 

“I turned ten Thursday. Thursday was my birthday. My dad got me a Lincoln Log set. He had one when he was a kid, and he got us tickets to the Yankee game.” He stopped talking abruptly and paused, carefully choosing his words. “But I can’t go now. My dad’s dead.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that, son. My dad is passed on, died when I was not much older than you.”

 

Brad looked up at him, his vibrant blue eyes beginning to water. Moisture was building up on his long dark lashes, making the color of his eyes even more intense. I saw sympathy in his eyes; he looked like he wanted to comfort this giant of a man, but didn’t know how to do it.

 

Gabby stayed with us while we introduced Brad to some of his roommates. We limited it to four children in each room and we tried to keep them about the same age, or temperament. Sometimes that was impossible, but I think this time Judy had made a good choice. Two of the other boys were a little bit younger.

 

Lance was the youngest at seven years old. His mother had dropped him off at the ER one day, screaming she couldn’t take it anymore. Lance had been attacking his new baby sister every chance he got. The last time she walked into the nursery, Lance had a pillow over his eight-week-old sister’s face. Lance’s mother had taken him to every kind of doctor in the tri-state area, had him on loads of medication, but nothing stopped his aggression towards the new arrival in his life. We diagnosed him with several medical monikers and put him on new medication; we hadn’t had an incident with him since. But every time he would go home for a visit, the aggression would start up again.

 

When asked why he wanted to hurt his sister, Lance’s only reply was, “I hate her.”

 

He couldn’t tell us why, because he didn’t know himself.

 

Scottie was a chubby nine-year-old who suffered from bipolar disorder. He was placed under our care after he tried to jump from his second-floor bedroom window with a rope around his neck. Fortunately the rope got caught around the legs of his bed, and a lamp came crashing down which made his mother come up to investigate. It had been his sixth suicide attempt in two years.

 

Ricky, the eldest, was eleven years old, but about age three emotionally. He never developed past the age of a toddler socially. His mother had been a crack addict and Ricky had spent the first four months of his life in the hospital. He’d spent time in a few foster homes before he was put in our care. He refused to be potty trained and would remove his clothes and have a bowel movement or urinate wherever he was, whenever the urge struck. He had to put up with a lot of teasing from the other children, but he didn’t seem to care.

BOOK: A Child is Torn: Innocence Lost
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