About That Man (10 page)

Walker's shoulders visibly sagged with relief. “Not yet,” he admitted.

Daisy's heart thudded. “What sort of compromise?”

“As you've already pointed out, school won't be out for a few weeks. Why not keep Tommy here with you until he finishes the school year? Detective Ames can continue to visit on the weekends and get to know his nephew. He can take a closer look at the adjustments he'd have to make to his life to accommodate having Tommy with him. Then all of this can be resolved during the summer.” She glanced at Frances. “What do you think?”

“I had hoped…” she began, then shrugged, her expression resigned. “If Detective Ames and Daisy agree, I suppose it could work. We want this to be a smooth transition for the boy.”

Holding her breath, Daisy waited for his answer. Walker looked like one of those deer that got caught in the headlights during hunting season around here. He was clearly torn between obligation and his desire not to complicate his life with a boy he barely knew.

“I think it's a wonderful solution,” Daisy said finally, hoping to force the issue.

He frowned at her. “How often would I have to come down here?”

“Weekly, I should think,” Frances said.

“Impossible,” he replied at once. “Not with the kind of job I have. Half the time I don't even know my days off until the last minute. And if I'm caught up in a case, I might not take time off at all.”

“Then you'll have to work on changing that,” Frances retorted with a touch of exasperation. “After all, the whole idea is for you and Tommy to get to know one another. It's not as if there are travel expenses to consider. It's an easy drive, two or three hours at most. If necessary, I could
speak to your boss about making sure you have the time off. He seemed like a reasonable man.”

“Forget that,” Walker said fiercely. “
I'll
tell Andy whatever he needs to know.”

“You can stay here at the house,” Daisy offered again, ignoring Anna-Louise's warning look. “It'll be easier for you and Tommy to bond if you're under the same roof. And you won't have any extra expenses.”

“It's not the money,” Walker protested. “It's the time.”

“I guess you're the only one who can decide what your priorities are,” Frances told him.

With three expectant faces turned his way, Walker sighed heavily. “Okay, fine. We'll give it a try. I'm not promising I'll be here every weekend, though.”

“As long as you intend to do the best you can to be here as often as possible,” the social worker told him.

Walker frowned at her. “Whatever made me think you'd be a pushover?”

For the first time, Frances grinned. “I'll take that as a compliment.” She gathered her papers together and stood up. “I'll see all of you next weekend, then. We'll plan to get together every Sunday to assess how things are going.”

“I never said—” Walker began, then muttered a curse under his breath. “Okay, whatever.”

His lack of enthusiasm didn't bother Daisy. All that mattered was the fact that he intended to come back. And he hadn't said no to staying here with them, either. That little shiver of anticipation that washed over her had nothing at all to do with winning a first-round victory for Tommy's sake. Oh, no, she suspected it had everything to do with the prospect of having Walker right where she could keep an eye on him.

 

“What do you mean the boy is still with Daisy?” King blustered at Anna-Louise on Tuesday morning. He'd summoned her out to Cedar Hill the minute he heard about the big powwow at Daisy's Sunday morning. To his indignation, she'd taken her own sweet time about coming. The woman had had the audacity to tell him she was off on Mondays. He was still smarting over that one.

Frowning at her, he said, “I thought I told you to take care of this. Can't anybody do what they're supposed to these days? Do I have to do
everything
myself?”

“Your daughter knows exactly what she's doing,” Anna-Louise retorted.

“Don't be absurd. Daisy's got a soft heart. She needs to be protected from herself.”

“If you ask me, the only person Daisy needs to be protected from is
you,
” she shot right back. “You want to control her.”

“Don't you get uppity with me, young woman. I think I know my own daughter.”

“Then why don't
you
handle her, instead of asking me to do your dirty work for you?”

King frowned at her. “Isn't that what I'm paying you for?”

“You're not paying me,” Anna-Louise said mildly. “The church board is. And nobody's paying me to tell people how to live their lives. I lay out God's recommendations, but He pretty much gave us free will.”

“His mistake,” King grumbled.

Anna-Louise looked highly amused. “You want to tell Him that?”

“I might,” he declared. “As for who's in charge, me or the board, who do you think tells them what to do?”

She dared to grin at him. “I know you think you do.”

“I do, dammit!” He caught himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “No disrespect intended.”

“I'm sure,” she said, lips twitching.

King's gaze narrowed. “You don't take me seriously, do you?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Then fix this.”

“How?”

“If I knew that, would I be asking you?”

“Probably. You enjoy delegating. You get your way without having to catch any of the flak. In fact, I suspect your biggest frustration these days is that you're running out of people you can delegate to. Bobby's got his own jam-packed life to manage with the marina and his restaurant. Tucker's worrying about the safety of the whole county. And, most galling of all, I'm sure, now Daisy's paying more attention to Tommy than she is to you.”

King frowned at the accuracy of her assessment. Granted he had a whole cattle operation to run, but he was beginning to feel useless and out of control where his own family was concerned. There had been a time when all of them jumped to do his bidding, Daisy especially.

When her mama had died, Daisy had done her best to step into the void, even though she was only an itty-bitty thing herself. She'd kept King's life comfortable and running smoothly, at least until she'd gotten the ridiculous notion to move into town. Now this.

“Those three will still do what I tell 'em.”
More or less and in their own good time,
he added to himself.

“Will they?” Anna-Louise challenged mildly.

King sighed heavily. He'd liked the way the pastor had stood up to him when they'd been interviewing her for the job. Now he was finding it damned inconvenient.

“Letting them grow up and make their own mistakes isn't a bad thing,” Anna-Louise told him when he remained silent. “That's what every parent has to do sooner or later. You've kept them under your thumb long enough, taught them some invaluable lessons in the process, I'm sure. Now it's time you had a little faith that they'll wind up doing what's best.”

“Best for whom, I ask you?”

“I think I'll let you work that one out for yourself,” she said. “See you in church next Sunday.”

“Oh, I'll be there,” King told her. He regarded her with a dire expression. “You might give a thought to whether or not
you
will be.”

To his astonishment, instead of quaking in her boots, she planted a kiss on his cheek.

“You don't scare me, King Spencer,” she informed him.

“Well, damn,” he murmured after she'd gone. Seemed like he didn't scare anybody these days. He was going to have to do something about that.

T
he boy seated on the brick step next to Walker reminded him of another kid he'd just spent a lot of time with. Small and wiry, his face innocent, he had the same distrustful attitude that Tommy had had when Walker first arrived in Trinity Harbor.

Of course, that was where the resemblance ended. This child's huge, chocolate-brown eyes had already seen too many horrors, including the death of a five-year-old neighbor the week before. Walker was trying to get the kid to open up about what he'd seen, but so far he'd had no luck. Rodney Carmichael wasn't talking.

He tried again. “You know, Rodney, what happened to Keisha is a bad thing.”

“Shit happens,” the boy said with a disinterested shrug and far too much cynicism for a child his age.

Walker wanted to shake him, to tell him that accepting the shooting of a playmate as normal was wrong. Instead, he forced himself to temper his response.

“Next time it could be you.”

“No way,” Rodney protested. “I ain't no fool. I know how to stay out of the way.”

“A bullet doesn't give you a lot of time to duck.”

“Yeah, but I know who's who around here. Nobody's comin' after
me.
”

“They didn't come after Keisha either. She just got in the way. She was practically a baby, and now she's dead. Do you think that's right?”

“Ain't none of my business.”

“Rodney, I know you saw who did this. I know you know who that shot was really meant for. Give me something to work with, okay?”

“No way.”

Walker felt like screaming in frustration. He got to his feet and pulled Rodney up with him. “Okay, let's go.”

At long last a reaction. Alarm flared in Rodney's eyes. His gaze darted around as he looked for help.

“Go where?” he demanded, though he was losing a little of his belligerence.

“Down to the precinct.”

“You can't arrest me,” the boy said with one last display of smug defiance.

“Watch me,” Walker said, all but lifting the boy off his feet.

Rodney struggled to break free, but Walker kept him dangling in midair, though Rodney was in grave danger of losing the baggy pants that were barely clinging to his narrow hips. Walker had already spoken to Rodney's mother, who had authorized him, in writing, to question the boy, at the police station if need be. Mrs. Carmichael said she'd done her best to get an answer from her son about what had happened that night, but Rodney had clammed up with her, too. Keisha's mom was her best friend, and she was beside herself at not being able to help, at not being able to convince her boy to do the right thing.

“I want that murderer caught,” she'd told Walker. “Killing babies ain't right. And if Rodney knows something, you make him tell you.”

Then she had called her son and told him to answer Walker's questions. Her advice hadn't swayed Rodney a bit.

“This is police harassment, man,” he shouted now. “It's brutality. I want a lawyer.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Walker said, unimpressed. “Report me.”

“You think I won't? Wait'll my brothers hear about this. You ain't gonna be safe in the 'hood.”

“They aren't here protecting you now, are they?” Walker had seen them scatter when he'd arrived in the neighborhood. These so-called brothers of Rodney's—most of them older and doubly street-smart—wouldn't give two hoots about this ten-year-old unless he snitched. Walker was going to have to be very careful to be sure they never found out…assuming he could actually persuade Rodney to talk.

“But they'll come when they find out,” the boy said, fighting tears as well as the truth—that he had been abandoned by older teenagers he wrongly idolized. “They will, and you'll be sorry.”

“What I'm sorry about is that Keisha is dead. That's the crime, Rodney, that and the fact that you won't help me find the killer. You know what that's called? It's called obstruction of justice.”

“I ain't obstructing nothing. I'm telling you I didn't see nothing.”

Walker carried the still-wriggling boy to his unmarked car, put him into the back and locked the doors. Rodney refused to be intimidated. He was still mouthing off when
they got to headquarters a few blocks away. Walker saw a lot of officers hiding a grin when he crossed the squad room with the belligerent boy in tow.

“Sit,” Walker ordered, gesturing toward a chair beside his desk.

Rodney remained defiantly standing.

“You want something to drink? A soda maybe? There's a vending machine with candy, too.”

He watched as Rodney struggled against temptation. “There's nobody here to see if you accept something,” Walker said more gently. “Come on. Let's go see if there's something you like in there.”

He led the way to the cluster of vending machines in a small break room. He handed Rodney enough change to buy whatever he wanted. The kid surveyed the candy machine first, then the drinks, then the cigarettes.

“No way,” Walker said when he realized what had captured the boy's attention. “Something to drink or eat. That's it.”

“What are you, my mother?”

“I'm the guy who's trying to teach you to do the right thing.”

“Well, who asked you to?”

“Nobody. I'm just a nice guy.”

Rodney rolled his eyes, but he finally popped the change into the machine and retrieved a soft drink, then added a candy bar and chips.

“Okay, over here,” Walker said, pointing to a table in the corner. He waited until Rodney had wolfed down the chips and started on the candy bar before he reminded him why they were there. “Nobody can see you in here. Nobody's going to know you said a word.”

Rodney stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. “Everybody saw you haul me off. If you go rushing out and pick somebody up, who do you think they're gonna blame?”

To Walker's deep regret, Rodney had a point. “I'll talk to a lot of people before we go after anybody,” he promised. “Rodney, you have a chance to do the right thing. Maybe you'll be saving another kid's life.”

“A lot of good that'll do me, if
I'm
the one who's dead.”

“Nobody's going to kill you. I'll see to it you have protection. You and your mom.”

“And if I don't help you? Are you gonna put me in jail?”

Walker sighed heavily. Jail was not an option for a ten-year-old. Not when Walker couldn't prove the boy had seen something when he swore he hadn't. He suspected Rodney knew it, too. These children had the wisdom of adults when it came to knowing their rights. It was bred into them by their older, tougher heroes with a little help from the cop shows on television.

“No jail,” he admitted. “You'll just have to live with your conscience.”

Rodney seemed totally comfortable with that. A swagger in his step, he headed for the door. “Then I'm outta here.”

When Walker started to rise, Rodney waved him off. “I can walk, man. That's better than being seen with you twice in one day.”

Resigned to failure, Walker watched him go, then got himself a cup of coffee. He sat back down and tried to figure out where to go next. Andy wandered in, grabbed a soda and sat across from him.

“Any luck?”

“The kid figures his chances are better with the bad guys than with us.”

“He could be right.”

Walker rubbed his eyes. “God, I hate this. Interrogating kids who ought to be riding their bikes or playing ball makes me sick.”

“Did you show Rodney a picture of Keisha's body lying in a pool of blood on the sidewalk?”

Walker had debated with himself long and hard over that one. “He's ten years old. He shouldn't have to live with that image for the rest of his life. It's hard enough for me.”

“Maybe he needs to live with it,” Andy suggested. “Maybe all of them do. Maybe if they were forced to face the reality of what they've done, it would finally sink in that this isn't some damned macho game, that innocent kids are dying. It's not like TV where the actors get up, dust themselves off and go out for a beer. Maybe we should take the pictures of Keisha and all the others into the schools. Maybe that would shock some sense into these kids. They don't value life, not the way you and I do. Damned if I know how to fix that.”

Andy's voice shook with frustration and anger. That was one of the things that Walker most admired in his boss. The man cared deeply.

“I think the ones we need most to reach are already lost,” Walker said. “They've dropped out of school.”

“Then we'll start with the younger ones. Find some way to make them care about themselves and each other. Maybe those pictures would get through to them.”

“And you know what the reaction from the parents will be. They'll be in front of the school board hollering that their babies don't need to see that kind of thing,” Walker
said. “Doesn't matter that it's happening right in front of their eyes as it is.”

Andy closed his eyes. “Yeah, I know you're right. How do we stop it, though? What's the magic way to put an end to this?”

Walker sighed heavily. “I wish to God I knew.”

They sat there, the silence between them filled with shared dismay. Finally, Andy said, “Let's get out of here. I need some lunch, the greasier the better.”

Walker's expression brightened. “I know just the place.”

They headed for a barbecue joint where the shredded pork was doused in spicy sauce and the fries were crisp and plentiful. Andy didn't say much while they ate, but as soon as he'd finished, he studied Walker.

“Okay, you want to tell me what went on down in Trinity Harbor?”

“Not especially.”

“You going back down there to see your nephew?”

“I promised that I would.”

When he thought of that promise, it wasn't Frances Jackson's face or even Daisy's that he thought of. It was Tommy's. The boy had stared up at him, fear and hope warring on his face, his voice trembling as he asked if his uncle was coming back. Walker had known right then that whatever his trepidation, whatever his misgivings, he had to go back.

He just couldn't bring himself to think beyond that.

 

Daisy was beginning to settle into a comfortable routine with Tommy. They ate breakfast together and then she dropped him at his school on her way to the high school a few blocks away. In the afternoon, he walked over
and met her in her classroom and they drove home together.

Usually Tommy chattered nonstop about his day, about the progress he was making on his boat and his anticipation of his uncle's next visit. It was clear that Walker had already become something of a hero to him.

On Friday afternoon, though, Tommy was unusually quiet. Nothing Daisy asked could draw him out.

“Did something happen at school today?”

“Nah.”

“Do you have a lot of homework for the weekend?”

“Same old stuff.”

“Is there anything special you'd like to do?”

When he didn't respond, she slanted a quick look at him and saw a tear spill down his cheek. Suddenly she understood.

“Tommy, Walker will be back. He promised.”

Tommy's shattered face turned toward her. “But when? He hasn't even called,” he said angrily. “Not once.”

“I'm sure he's very busy. He has a very difficult job.”

“I suppose.”

At that moment she could have cheerfully strangled Walker. She bore some of the blame. Why hadn't they even discussed his calling Tommy, especially if Walker couldn't make it down for the weekend?

“You could call
him,
” she suggested.

A glimmer of hope flared in Tommy's eyes. “Really?” Then his expression fell. “It's long distance. That costs a lot.”

“Not that much—and even if it did, it wouldn't matter. It's worth it. I'll call Frances and get the number the minute we get home.”

“All right,” Tommy said excitedly.

The minute they reached the house, Tommy dismissed her offer of cookies and milk. “Just call, okay?”

Daisy went to the phone and dialed.

“Tommy hasn't heard from him all week?” Frances asked, immediately indignant. “I thought that man had more sense. Maybe
I
should call him.”

“I'll do it,” Daisy said. She had a few things she'd like to say to him herself, once Tommy had talked to him.

As soon as she'd hung up, she handed Tommy the number and the phone. “You can call him. Just remember, I'd like to speak to him when you're done.”

Tommy was so eager, he punched the numbers too fast and made several mistakes, winding up with a wrong number. Disappointment spread across his face. “This number's not right.”

Daisy guessed what had happened. “Try again, but do it slowly.”

Tommy punched in the numbers with exaggerated care. Suddenly his face brightened. “Uncle Walker, it's me, Tommy.”

Suddenly the room was filled with familiar, excited chatter. Daisy listened, a smile tugging at her lips from time to time. Her nerves tingled with anticipation as she waited for her own turn.

“This won't do,” she muttered under her breath. She was supposed to be working up to give Walker a piece of her mind, not getting all jittery like a schoolgirl waiting to talk to the boy she was crazy about.

She looked up and realized Tommy was regarding her with a puzzled expression.

“Did you say something, Daisy?”

“Nothing, sweetie. You finish talking to your uncle.”

A minute later he turned and handed her the phone. “He says he's coming tomorrow,” he said happily. “He didn't forget.”

“Good,” Daisy said. “Now you get your cookies and milk and run along while I talk to him. You can call your friend Gary when I finish talking to your uncle. Maybe Gary would like to work on your boat with you.”