Leaving Yesterday (26 page)

“We’ve got some things to tell you.”

“Please, come right this way.” He held the door open and smiled, a cat that had all three blind mice lined up right there for the taking.

“There are several detectives at their desks right now. Shall I take us somewhere that we can have a little more privacy?” Detective Thompson stopped at the end of the hallway, waiting for our answer. Just past him I could see staircases heading both up and down. I wondered which direction led to the booking room—or whatever they call it.

“Privacy would probably be a good idea,” I said.

“Well, there’s the big conference room downstairs, but I think they’re having some sort of meeting in it right now. Shall we just go sit in one of the interview rooms?” The gleam in his eyes told me more than I wanted to know about this suggestion. He knew something big was up, and he was ready to pounce with full force.

I understood that this was his job, to get to the truth. I just wished he hadn’t been quite so happy about our impending demise. “Sounds good.”

Lacey got between Kurt and me as we retraced our steps down the hallway. “Anything you say from here on out is likely to be recorded. Think before you speak. Got it?”

We both nodded as we turned down another hallway with several doors on the left side. Detective Thompson stopped outside a door that looked as though it might lead to your basic classroom at your basic high school. It was painted white, but where there might normally have been a Classroom 15 sign at a school, here there was a small red plastic sign with white letters, Interview Room 3.

The hallway began to tilt around me, and I reached for the wall with my right hand, taking deep gulps of air. I tried to put my focus somewhere other than the door that was opening beside me. A little up ahead of us, I could see a room off to the right. I could only see part of it, but I could see enough to know that it was covered in Plexiglas and bars. That’s when dark spots started popping like paint balls before my eyes.

“Alisa, Alisa, are you all right?” The voices were coming from somewhere, I couldn’t tell where. All I knew for sure was the deepening blackness and the strength draining from my legs until I could no longer feel them. Maybe I fell, I don’t know.

The next thing I remember, I was lying on the floor in the middle of what could only have been Interview Room 3. Worried faces hovered all around me. I sat up and rubbed my head, which pounded with the movement. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

I made to stand up but felt a restraining hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see Detective Thompson. “Don’t try to get up just yet. Give your body a little time to get the blood flowing in the right direction again.”

I looked at the worried face of my son, and I knew the worry I saw was for me, not for himself, not for what he was about to go through. “Sorry about that.” I looked up at Detective Thompson and tried to smile. “I guess you’re thrilled you agreed to this appointment now, huh?”

He grinned. “Believe me, I’ve seen worse. A lot worse.”

In an effort to restore my bearings, I began to look around the room and study my surroundings. It wasn’t like you see on TV. Those rooms are always large, with a big table where the defendant is always leaning on his elbows, smoking cigarettes and looking nervous. This room was hardly the size of my closet. In fact, I wasn’t quite sure how someone had fit through the door while carrying me. And as for the table, it was more like a small shelf, stainless steel and attached to the wall. Barely bigger than the tray on an airplane. Certainly no place to lean on and smoke, even if you wanted to.

I pushed myself up into one of the white plastic chairs, which put me shoulder-to-shoulder with Kurt and Lacey. Detective Thompson was in the chair on the other side of the room, but if we all stretched out our legs we could have touched his chair. No wiggle room here.

“Well, I guess it’s time I tell you why I wanted to talk.”

“Mom, you don’t have to say anything. I’m here to do the talking for me. There’s no reason for you to say anything.” Kurt looked at Detective Thompson. “I’m the one who killed Rudy Prince. Not Gary Singer.”

Detective Thompson set a pad of paper on the small table and pulled a pen out of his pocket, clicking the ballpoint out of its protective case. “Tell me about it.”

“I owed him money, as you already know. He came to me one night down at De La Guerra Plaza. I was sitting against a wall, stoned out of my mind, and he started yelling about paybacks.”

Detective Thompson nodded. “Did he threaten you in any way?”

“Rudy always threatened people. That was the way he operated. He swung that stupid bat around, telling me how he was going to let me have it if I didn’t pay.”

“But he never actually hit you?”

Kurt shook his head. “I don’t think so. The memories have been coming back in flashes, but I’m pretty sure he never got too close to me.” He stared at the wall for a minute before he continued. “There was this homeless guy named Mike—skinny, harmless as can be—who was always sitting on the bench right near where we were.” Kurt rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “I keep seeing the smirk on Rudy’s face when he stood right over the old man and swung as hard as he could. I think he must have killed him, because I can still hear the sound of the wood cracking against the guy’s skull. Then he looks up at me and goes, ‘That’ll be you tomorrow night if you don’t come back with my money.’ And he started laughing. Laughing.”

“And that’s what set you off?”

“Well, yeah. He was still standing over Mike, and I thought he was maybe going to hit him again, and then somehow I thought it was Nick lying there.” Kurt closed his eyes. “I charged him with every bit of the hate I felt inside. I was so angry nothing could stop me. I managed to get the bat out of his hands, and in my mind, I could see the guy who’d killed Nick. I was hitting him after watching him laugh over Nick’s body. I hit and I hit and I hit, until I couldn’t swing the bat another time. But I wasn’t seeing Rudy, I was seeing Lonnie Vandever.”

I looked at Detective Thompson, wondering then if he was going to ask who Lonnie Vandever was. Then I remembered all his little visits to my conferences and the church, and realized he probably knew more about that case than I did. “What happened then?”

Kurt shook his head. “I’m not really sure. The next thing I remember was waking up in my bed and seeing the bloody baseball bat lying there. I picked it up and carried it to the sink and tried to wash the blood off it. It had already been stained by then. I dropped back down on my bed, hung-over and still a bit confused about exactly what had happened. I tossed the bat under the bed and called this rehab place I’d heard about, and they told me they had a spot for me. I got in my car and drove down there and checked myself in.”

“What happened to the bat?”

“Somewhere during the middle of the detox process, I realized that I’d left it back at the cabin where I was living. I planned to come home and see if it was really there, because by that time I had begun to convince myself that maybe the whole thing was a drug-induced hallucination. By the time I got out of rehab, the Brooks family had sold the place and the cabin had been demolished.”

“So the bat went down with the cabin, so to speak?”

“I guess so.” Kurt made a point not to look at me. I knew what he was doing. He was turning himself in for the real crime, telling the truth about his part. He figured there was no reason to give more information that would only get me in trouble.

I looked at Lacey, who nodded almost imperceptibly. She knew what he was doing and agreed, as well. Kurt was giving me an out. All I had to do was take it.

What came first to mind was a story from the Old Testament, when Joshua was leading the Israelites into the Promised Land. They surrounded Jericho, walked around it every day for seven days, and the walls fell. They had the victory, just like God had promised.

Except, there was a problem.

God had told them not to take any spoils for themselves. None. Nada.

When the army went up against the small group from Ai, whom they should have defeated without even a thought, they were routed.

Turns out, one of the men from Israel, Achan was his name, had seen a few things in Jericho that he really wanted: some gold, some silver, and a beautiful robe, so he took them. None of the people of Israel knew that he had done this, but God knew. When they went into battle, God withdrew his hand of protection and let them suffer a humiliating defeat.

Here I sat, having the opportunity to walk away from this room without any repercussions at all. I had burned the bat, but no one would need to know. My son had confessed to the crime; the guilty party was going to be punished. I wanted to walk out of here a free woman, to go home and see my daughter this afternoon and tell her it had all been a mistake after all. But what kind of example would that set for her about honesty? And what if, just like in the time of Achan, God poured out His displeasure on my son during his trial because I tried to hide the truth?

I looked at Detective Thompson. “There’s something else that you need to know.”

“No!” Lacey and Kurt yelled the word in unison.

I turned to Lacey first and then Kurt. “Yes.” I looked back at Detective Thompson. “Now, where was I?”

“You were just about to tell me something I need to know.”

“Yes, I was.”

Thirty-Five

“Okay, Mrs. Stewart, I think that answers all of my questions.” Detective Thompson made the last of a series of notes, then looked up.

My stomach twisted hard, because I knew what was coming next. Fingerprinting. A mug shot. The sound of clanking locks.

Detective Thompson stood and walked to the door, then turned and looked at Lacey. “I’m going to file a probable cause declaration with the district attorney’s office.”

Lacey nodded. “I expected as much. I’ll get in touch with them.”

“I expected as much,” the detective replied, but somehow his attempt at humor didn’t work for me, especially since I had no idea what they’d just been talking about.

Lacey looked at me. “I’ll come with you. Kurt’s doing just fine on his own.” Her skin was turning a pale blue, and I knew the long hours without her oxygen were taking their toll. She squeezed his shoulder. “You’re one fine young man. I’m proud to say I know you.”

I managed to push myself up from my chair, and, remembering my episode from earlier in the day, I focused on trying to stay conscious and upright. I followed Detective Thompson down the hall, trying not to think about what was coming next. At least Lacey was still with me.

He stopped at a doorway and held it open for us. I could see the lobby just on the other side, the same blue plastic chairs we’d sat in this morning. What was going on here? I didn’t understand, but thought maybe Lacey was supposed to escort me to the fingerprinting. It didn’t make sense, but then, what did I know?

A flicker of movement drew my attention. Rick had stood up and was walking toward us, his face as grim and pale as I’d ever seen it.

He nodded at Detective Thompson, who returned the gesture. “Tell you what, Rick, you’ve got a wife and son with more guts than most prizefighters even dare to dream about.”

“Son? Kurt’s back there, too?” He looked from Detective Thompson to me.

“Kurt decided to meet me here this morning,” I said. “He turned himself in, told them everything.”

Bruce Thompson said, “You should be proud of them.”

“Believe me, I am.”

I jerked my head around to see if Rick was joking. He was proud? That we were criminals? He waited only until I was through the door before he put his arms around me, and the sound of an involuntary sob spasmed somewhere in his chest.

The door closed behind Detective Thompson, and then it was just the three of us, alone in the lobby. I looked first at Lacey. “What just happened?” Then I looked at Rick. “And what are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “I came to see if I could help.”

I wondered how exactly he thought he might help in this situation, but before going there I turned my attention on Lacey. “So I guess I’m a little confused. Am I under arrest or not?”

“Not yet.” She walked toward the front door, and Rick and I followed her. “They’re filing a probable cause declaration, which basically is Detective Thompson’s sworn statement about what happened between you and the bat. They’ll spend some time looking it over in the DA’s office, and then they’ll decide what they’re going to do about it.”

“So I’m free to go?”

“For now, you are.”

“Well, I guess you won’t need me to bail you out, then.”

So that’s why he was here. I reached over and hugged him with more emotion than I’d felt in years. “I can’t believe you came down here to do that. I thought you were so angry you’d let us both rot in prison.”

He held me tight. “That’s what I thought, too, for about the first couple of hours after you told me. Then I realized what courage, what absolute gumption you had to come forward like you were.” He leaned back just enough so that he could look in my eyes. “I’d forgotten.” He shook his head. “No, that’s a lie. It wasn’t that I’d forgotten, it’s that I’d taken it for granted so long that I no longer noticed.”

We held each other for a moment on the sidewalk, until I became aware of the gentle wheeze of Lacey’s breathing. I checked my watch. More time had passed than I’d realized. Lacey needed to get home and our daughter would be getting out of school soon.

“Caroline was supposed to be with you this afternoon.”

“I called the school and Katrina’s going to be at the house waiting for her.”

“Our house?”

“Our house. I wasn’t planning to leave here today without you, whether through bail or jailbreak, but I was coming home to Caroline with her mother, no matter what it took.” He grinned and said, “To tell you the truth, I don’t think she would let me back in the house any other way.”

“Well, we better go see that girl then.”

We drove home in our separate cars, Lacey riding with me. I reached over and clasped her wrist. “Thank you so much for all you’ve done today. I can’t even begin to tell you how much it means to me.”