Push Comes to Shove (25 page)

“You need a drum roll? Don’t stop now.”

As the traffic congested, pedestrians filled the sidewalks.

“I can get Mrs. Patterson probation, but I’m afraid, because of your record, you’re going to do a few years in prison.”

“I’ll be damned. Prison!” He took a deep drink of air. “Then tell me, Vivian, what the hell is my family supposed to do while I’m in the pen? I thought you said you and the DA were buddy-buddy.”

“He’s going to do everything he can for you. The child endangering charges—dropped. Public disturbance—dropped. He’s fully aware of the whole situation. The fact of the matter is, whether Mr. Tharp deceived you or not, you and your wife assaulted the man with a deadly weapon. I assure you that Mr. Tharp has no
intention of dropping the charges.” She handed GP another document. “He’s even pressing the DA so you can compensate him for the time he’s been out of work.”

“What’s this?” GP wasn’t in the mood for another bit of bad news that would anchor him deeper in debt.

“It’s the criminal complaint that Mr. Tharp filed against Mrs. Patterson and yourself.”

Kitchie sat on the porch of the group home, surrounded by the other boys and girls, rocking Junior in her arms as Nancy Pittman and two squad cars entered the lot. “Help is here now, baby.” Her tears fell to his face. “No one is gonna hurt you again.” She exchanged looks with the other children. “Any of you.”

“Mrs. P.” Nise slid an arm around Kitchie and leaned on her shoulder, imitating what Secret was doing at that exact moment.

“Yes.”

“I wish I had a mother like you; someone who cared about me.”

Nancy slowed her pace when Kitchie’s facial expression rattled her sense of well-being. “I hope there’s meaning behind this.”

“I told your stupid, spoon-fed ass not to separate me from my children. My husband even showed you proof that this Reynolds bitch was abusive. Now look at my baby. He won’t talk.”

An officer came forward. “Your language, ma’am, in front of the children. Calm down and tell us what the problem is.”

Junior blinked occasionally but failed to focus on anyone in particular.

“He locked us in caskets ’cause we ran away.” Secret held hands with Nise around Kitchie’s back.

“The old faggot beats me ‘cause…” The boy lowered his head and his voice. “‘Cause I wet the bed.”

“That ain’t nothing,” Samone said. “He ties me to the bed most nights.”

“Uh-huh, sure does.”

“That’s awful. Why would he tie you to the bed?” Nancy felt her anger mounting as her cheeks turned red.

Jason stuck his tongue in Samone’s direction. “’Cause she’s a creepy sleepwalker.”

“Shut up, pussy, I can speak for myself. At least I wasn’t traded for crack.”

Nise nestled against Kitchie. “I get punished with the nearest thing to me just for being me. Look what he did to me.” She took the cheap sunglasses off.

Son of a bitch
. An officer headed up the stairs. “Where is this Mr. Reynolds now?”

“He locked himself inside.” Kitchie kissed Junior’s forehead.

Nancy’s eyes searched to find Secret’s, to read them, as she took her hand. “I know you want to go home with your mother. Telling stories won’t make it—”

“Where the fuck do you get off insinuating that my child is a liar?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Nancy looked at Secret, her probing eyes continuing their search for truth. “Are you telling me that Mr. Reynolds locked you inside a coffin, a dead person’s coffin? That’s just a little far-fetched.”

Secret sucked her teeth. “Yeah, me and my brother. Why do you think he’s acting that way?” She aimed a finger at Junior. “You know he’s afraid of the dark. Go inside and see for yourself.”

“You got a lot of nerve,” Nise said. “Coming down here, accusing people of lying. You don’t know any of us. You high-class white hoes is a trip, with your ugly outfits. I’m the one who let Secret and Junior out, but I guess I’m lying, too.” She pulled out
a Newport. “Somebody give me a light; this bitch shot my nerves.”

Kitchie shook her head, communicating much more than no.

“Sorry, Mrs. P.” She shoved the cigarette back in the pack, then placed them in the palm of Kitchie’s open hand.

One officer went to the rear of the facility. Another began to interview the children one by one. Nancy and the remaining officer pounded on the heavy oak door.

The door eased open. “Thank God you’re here. I want that woman arrested.” Mr. Reynolds pointed to Kitchie.

Grief overwhelmed Miles as he watched his mother strain her tired eyes, staring at a school picture of Jap. Miles set his skateboard down and closed the door behind him. “Are you okay, Ma?”

Ms. Silex lifted her saggy eyes. “I miss him.” Her hands trembled. “I miss him; that’s all. I can feel it; he’s never coming home.”

Miles walked around the glass coffee table, eased the photo from her grasp, and sat beside her. “There’s something I should tell you.”

She grabbed a hold of his wrist. “You got your cast off. Boy, you need to get this thing some sun. It’s so pale. How does it feel?” She rubbed his arm.

“It’s good.”

“Now, if I can only keep you off that skateboard. You’re too old to be breaking bones. Baby, you don’t heal like you would if you were still a teenybopper.”

“I didn’t break my arm on the board…”

Her forehead wrinkled; her brows pointed inward. “You told me—”

“I know what I said, Ma.” His voice softened. “That’s what I came over to talk to you about.”

“Why would you lie to me about a broken arm?”

He sighed. “Because…I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, I’m worried.” She folded her arms.

“I owed these people some money. They broke my arm because I couldn’t pay them on time.”

She took her purse from behind a throw pillow. “I have about twenty dollars; my Social Security check will be here in a few days.”

He stopped her from rambling through the purse. “Ma, I—”

“No, you take this money, you hear me?”

“It was ninety-thousand I owed.”

The look in her eyes was disturbing. “How could…” She paused. An irritating silence hung heavy in the air. “How could you owe somebody that type of money, Miles? You fooling with them cracks?”

“I have a gambling problem. I’m getting help now, and I haven’t gambled since Jap’s been missing.” His eyes fell on the photo. He whispered, “I’m sorry, Jap.”

Her skin puckered with goose bumps. “What…Miles, what does Jap have to do with this?”

“I think they did something to him as a personal message to me.” He blinked a tear loose.

Ms. Silex nibbled on her lip. Her heart began to pound irregularly in her chest. She staggered a bit as she attempted to stand.

Miles tried to assist her.

“Keep your filthy hands off me.” She felt light-headed. “If you’re the cause of something terrible happening to Jap, then I’ve lost two sons. I’ll never forgive you for…for—” She went into cardiac arrest and crashed through the glass coffee table.

“There has to be a thorough investigation done into the accusations made by these children.” Nancy followed the group to the loading dock. “There will be someone here from Social Services around the clock. Whatever is going on here is going to stop today.”

Secret stopped in front of a door marked with an
Off Limits
sign. “Right in there.”

“Your fat ass is going to jail now.” Nise rolled her eyes and put her hands on her narrow hips. “Betcha won’t lock nobody else in a coffin.”

The tallest officer tried the door. “Open it up, Mr. Reynolds.”

“I always keep it locked. I don’t want the kids playing back here and hurting themselves.”

“Yeah, right.” Kitchie held on to her mute son’s hand.

Mr. Reynolds unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The loading dock was bare, with the exception of a broken broom handle.

“I told you that these children have outrageous imaginations.” Mr. Reynolds shook his head at Secret. “I haven’t stored coffins back here in over a year.”

Secret turned to Nancy. “I swear they were here last night.”

“Sure were.” Nise tugged on an officer’s sleeve. “On my grandma’s grave.”

A truck horn was blown just outside the mechanical garage door.

Mr. Reynolds went to the loading platform and pressed a pudgy finger on a red button. “The dairy delivery is due.” The door was fully raised.

Tucker leaned out of the semi’s window. “Claude, will you ever stop being an asshole?” He scratched his beard stubble. “The Smiths have no room for these caskets. You need to find a place for them, or you and these brats can get them off my truck.”

“You’re carrying coffins for Mr. Reynolds?” the smallest of the three officers said.

Mr. Reynolds frowned, a signal for his asinine brother to keep his rotten mouth closed.

“Yes, sir. Took the job this morning. Picked up twenty from right where you’re standing.”

An officer took a set of handcuffs from his waist. “Mr. Reynolds, you’re under arrest for child abuse. You have the right to remain…”

The children clapped as the officer recited the Miranda warning.

Jewels punched in the numbers on the phone’s keypad. “May I speak with Congresswoman Cynthia Martin?” She rubbed her stitches; they were still sore.

“Speaking.”

“My name is Jewels Madison, and I’m calling in support of Parole Bill H.R. 3072.”

“What state are you in?”

“Ohio. Ms. Martin, get them brothers out of prison.”

“We’re trying, but it’s going to take the people to force the government to act. Your call is the first step, and it will be logged in its proper order. Thanks for your support. Spread the word.”

“You’re welcome.” She hung up and called GP.