I promised her I’d only be a minute or two, then turned and walked out of the office. I closed the door, because I didn’t want Sammy to overhear the conversation, and then said to Emma, “Sorry I had my phone off.” I shook my head in disbelief. “Didn’t expect this.”
“Not a problem.” She shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, but her eyes were filled with sympathy. “I go pick her up. Knew you were coming back.”
“What happened?”
Emma took a shallow breath. “Not sure.” She bit her lower lip. “They almost didn’t let me take her—not on some preapproved list—but I wasn’t having any of it.”
I looked back toward the office where Sammy was waiting and lowered my voice. “And she didn’t tell you what happened?”
“Didn’t ask, and she didn’t offer.”
“OK.” I tried to compartmentalize. I forced the sight of my daughter and what she was going through to the side. I needed to organize my thoughts and give Emma some direction before I left for the day. “We should be getting calls about the Lost Boys again. The police found more at Castlewood, so it’s going to be in the media.”
“Do the same as before?”
“Yes and no. We need DNA samples from everybody who comes in, even if we don’t interview. We’re also supposed to circle back and get samples from everybody else who has called or come to us. Saint Louis PD is giving us a tech or some training in how to get the DNA swab. They say it’s easy.”
Emma picked up a notepad. “Anything else?”
My mind wandered to Sammy and all the questions that I had for her, but I forced myself back into the conversation with Emma. “Talked to this probation officer named Jimmy Poles. There’s something there that Schmitty isn’t saying. Poles is now on leave. Hoping you could try and dig up something on him.”
“Like on the Internet?”
“Whatever you can find.” I shrugged. This was out of my depth. “Maybe some background databases that we can pay to search . . . court actions, past addresses, relatives, stuff like that. Cops are always protective of their own, and Schmitty doesn’t seem to think they’re going to press him. The chief is worried about whatever’s going on with him going public.”
Emma made some notes. “I’ll try.”
“And we have to connect with Cecil Bates. Try and convince him to plead. The judge isn’t too happy with us at the moment.”
“And the new clients?”
“New clients.” I smiled just saying it, more in muted bemusement than anything approaching happiness. “I have no idea. Put them off. Can’t do anything more today, maybe not even tomorrow.” I thought about Sammy and felt the darkness again, a black tar seeping down and through my head. “I don’t know.”
Back home, Sammy was tucked into her bed. I snuggled the blankets up a little higher than normal. The ice pack sat on the nightstand, wrapped in a kitchen towel. “Want to talk about it?” I leaned over and kissed her forehead, careful to move slow and act soft.
She shut her eyes and turned her head away. “I want to sleep now, Daddy. Please?”
“Fine.” I rubbed her leg. “But we’ll have to talk about it at some point.”
“I know.”
“Love you, tiger.” I turned and walked to the door. As I turned off the light, Sammy told me that she loved me, too.
I shut the door, walked out into the narrow hallway, and went downstairs to the kitchen. My mother and the Judge were waiting for me. It was rare for them to come to the carriage house. Their presence was a product of their concern.
My mother looked at me as I approached. “Anything more?”
“No.” I sat down at the table with them. “It was the other girls at school that had been giving her trouble . . . I can guess that, but nothing about what led up to it.”
“The bullies.” My mother took a sip of tea. Her hands held the cup so tightly that I thought it might shatter. “Sammy told me about them. Tried to reassure her. Told her they were harmless. Told her to talk to the teachers. Maybe I was wrong.”
The Judge shook his head in disgust and then pushed himself away from the table. “Public schools, one step removed from the—”
I held out my hand. “Lower your voice,” I said. “And it’s not the time—”
“It most certainly is the time.” The Judge wasn’t a man to be quieted by anyone. He sat more erect. “Had concerns for quite a while, but I’ve kept my mouth shut out of respect for you and at the urging of your mother to mind my own business. But this is my very special little great-granddaughter.”
“Judge, I appreciate what you’re—”
The Judge looked at me and I stopped. Even though I wasn’t in his courtroom, the Judge had that power. He had presence. The way he stared at me was an order to stop speaking, not a suggestion, and I didn’t want to know what would happen if I disobeyed.
“Thank you.” The Judge nodded. “This afternoon I made several phone calls to some excellent private schools. I explained the situation, and the directors assured me that Sammy is welcome at any time. They are ready to arrange for tours, and I have the personal cell phone numbers for all of them, when Sammy is ready.”
I looked at my mother and she looked away. I wasn’t going to get any support from her. Even if she didn’t like her father’s politics or approach, I could tell she agreed with the Judge.
My head bowed and I closed my eyes. In a whisper, I said, “Please don’t think that I don’t appreciate how much you love Sammy, or that I’m ungrateful for how much support you’ve given us these past few years.” I didn’t look up. I couldn’t look at them. “I simply can’t afford those schools.”
It was a shameful confession, even though my mother and the Judge were fully aware of my financial situation. Saying the words seemed to push me even further into the dark places in my head. Not only could I not protect my daughter, I couldn’t provide for her.
My mother’s hand touched mine, and she leaned in toward me. She put her head on my shoulder. “That’s why we’re here, son. That’s why you have family.”
“You’re not poor, Justin.” I felt the Judge put his hand on my other shoulder. “We have plenty of resources to do this. We want to do this. What kind of family would not support you? We’ve got money to cover whatever tuition there is. If you refuse to take it, consider the money a loan. Take it out of your inheritance when I kick the bucket. Who cares?”
I didn’t know what to say. I looked up at both of them with tears in my eyes, and then there was a knock at the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The video’s sound was bad, but the picture was clear. Light from the school’s hallway window flashed as the crowd of kids shifted and swelled. It was a mob, and in the middle was my little girl. There were screams. There were shouts, but the most haunting sound was laughter.
The laughter turned my stomach. It echoed, hollow and distorted through the iPad’s tiny speaker. If I had closed my eyes, it could have been laughter from a birthday party or flying on a swing, but it was not. The laughter came from kids reveling in the violence.