“We’re looking hard,” Chief Wilson said. “But it’s a tough case.”
“Right.” I turned and walked a few feet away from them. Part of me wanted to be done with them, let the whole thing go, but I knew that the families would come regardless of what I told Chief Wilson or Schmitty.
Chief Wilson allowed for some space and silence, then walked over to me. “We could be very helpful to you and whatever endeavors you may pursue. You want more legal work? We can make that happen. You want to run for something? I’ve got a thousand people, between the officers and civilian support staff under my command. They’ll put up those signs, make those calls, and attend a rally in the rain if I tell them to do it.”
I rolled my eyes, hopefully reminding Chief Wilson who I was and who was in control. “If I help, it’s because it is the right thing to do. And if I were to do it, and I do mean if, you’d need to have the tech there at my office during the initial response. If you want these families to call and make an appointment, it’s not going to happen. It needs to be right there or maybe train my paralegal, Emma, how to get the DNA sample.”
Both Schmitty and the chief smiled.
Schmitty clapped his hands together. “Good. We can do that.”
“And I want to know what you’re doing. You need to tell me how you’re following up on the information that I give you.”
Schmitty looked at Chief Wilson, who nodded, and then looked back at me. “Done.”
“Good.” I checked the time. It was still relatively early, and I’d be able to make it to the office and get some real work done. “Then that’s it.”
“Not exactly,” Chief Wilson said. “You mentioned that probation officer, and I heard you talked with Poles yourself.”
“I did.” I was surprised he’d brought this up, but I wondered whether this was the real reason they’d called me out to the woods so early in the morning. “Didn’t learn much, other than he didn’t want to talk with me.”
“Well that’s not a surprise.” Chief Wilson looked at Schmitty and then continued. “I don’t want you doing any of that type of investigation anymore. Just focus on the families.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No,” Chief Wilson said. “I know Sergeant Schmidt was trying to be helpful when he arranged that meeting, but I want you to leave that sort of thing for the real investigators.”
“The real investigators? You mean the ones that hadn’t noticed that a dozen kids had gone missing?”
Chief Wilson stayed calm. “This is a high-profile case, and I want you to be safe.”
I shook my head. “Safe?”
“And I don’t want you to do anything that is going to jeopardize the investigation.”
“I won’t jeopardize the investigation.”
“Well this is sensitive business,” Chief Wilson said. “Poles was placed on paid administrative leave.”
“And why’s that, exactly?”
“Can’t say too much,” Schmitty said, “but he has used the government’s computer system inappropriately and accessed files he shouldn’t have accessed.”
“Related to these kids?”
Schmitty shook his head. “Not exactly, but it’s important that you be discreet about him. I think what the chief is trying to say is that we don’t want people jumping to conclusions. We don’t want you telling people that he may be a suspect.”
“But he is,” I said. “The only suspect, as near as I can tell. Why don’t you tell me what you found? Tell me what you know.”
Wilson ignored my question and didn’t offer any further information on Poles. “It’s a tense time.” His face turned grave. “I know you can feel it. The hot weather isn’t helping anybody relax, either. I don’t want a media firestorm before we know what’s going on.”
“Things could turn violent.” Schmitty put words to what Chief Wilson had implied.
“You guys don’t get it.” I looked back over the crime scene. “Things have already turned violent.” I looked at them, thinking about laying on the ground with blood in my mouth as a white police officer cracked my ribs with his boot. Being cooperative and respectful didn’t make me safe. It didn’t change the color of my skin. “Things have been violent for years—not just this, but everything.” I started to walk away, then stopped and turned back to them. “But you’re right. When this breaks open, it’s not just young black kids who are going to get hurt.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I arrived at the office after one o’clock. My cell phone had been off. It was a deliberate decision, although somewhat irresponsible. I needed the quiet. I had meetings with clients all over town. Cases and tasks were waiting to be prioritized, and I had to make sense of all the mounds of dirt and little orange flags representing missing sons that the police didn’t want to find.
But even with no phone calls and no radio, I didn’t make much progress during the drive. My mind bounced from one case to the other and then back again. I tried to focus, but my thoughts drifted to Sammy and my brother and my father and my future.
I knew I was on the edge.
Things were going well, but it was now getting too complicated, and when it got complicated, things inevitably fell apart for me. Depression is like that. I was smart enough to know when I was about to be kicked down. I just didn’t know what was going to do it, and I certainly didn’t know it was going to happen the moment that I walked in the door.
Emma was on the phone at her desk, writing down a message. She looked up at me, and I waved as I went through the reception area toward my office. She held up a finger.
I stopped.
Without a word and with the phone still pressed against her ear, she pointed at the chair behind me. I turned and looked, and then I saw my daughter.
Sammy’s eye was swollen shut. Her lip was cut, and when she saw me, she started to cry.
I had failed.
My job was to protect my daughter from harm. I was supposed to love her, nurture her, and shield her from the ugliness that pervaded our brutal and broken world.
Some may argue that we shouldn’t shelter our children. We should let them see and experience the sins that are all around us. By keeping the children unaware, they say, we are preventing the development of their defenses.
I disagreed.
We have our whole lives to experience the ugliness. We have our whole lives to grapple with the reasons for society’s misplaced priorities. Trying to give a child a childhood was nothing to be ashamed of.
And now my little girl was broken.
I walked Sammy back to my office. “Sit down in my chair, sweetheart.” I guided her behind my desk. “Going to talk with Emma for a little bit, and then I’m going to get you home.”
I watched as she sat down in my chair. She wiped the tears off her cheeks and tried to be brave.