Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [118]
“Over there.”
“Okay. I’ll see ya.”
“Thought you needed a ride. I don’t even know where I’m going. Do you?”
“I’m sure one of your boyfriends will take you in,” he said. “And I’ll figure something out. I’ll call you when I find out where they’re taking Petey.”
“And then what am I supposed to do?”
“Have a funeral, Ma! What do you think? Were you just gonna leave him there, hoping somebody would dispose of the body?”
“Well, I can’t afford that.”
Brady turned on her and found himself screaming, cursing, calling her the vilest things he could think of—and he could think of plenty. She looked surprised, as if she couldn’t imagine what might have triggered this.
“Well,” she said, “if that’s how you feel, don’t come crawling to me, looking for a place to live. And by the way, you owe me last month’s rent.”
“Sue me,” he said.
When he got back to where he’d left Peter’s car, he prevailed on a tow truck driver to pull him out. He told the man he could pay cash and that he didn’t want some other car sliding in there and crushing his. The guy seemed perturbed but apparently agreed it was better to just get it done right then or it might not happen for days.
“I’m going to be living in this car,” Brady told him. “Just lost my trailer.”
But as the car came sliding up the embankment, a police officer approached. “I’m going to need to see some ID and proof that this vehicle is yours.”
Brady pulled out his wallet and gushed the story of all that had just happened.
“I’m sorry to hear that, son, but until we can confirm your story, I’m going to have to search you, and—”
“Search me why? What did I do? I just lost my home and my brother and—”
“That may all be true, Mr. Darby, but you were seen looting a disaster site, including the body of a victim.”
“That was my brother! And that was my place! Whatever I took from there is mine! You can ask my ma! She was just here. And I was giving the EMT my brother’s ID, that’s all.”
“That should be easy to confirm,” the officer said. “But meanwhile, hands on the car, feet back and spread ’em.”
“You don’t need to search me, man.”
“You gonna make this hard?”
“No, but see, you’re gonna find stuff I’m not supposed to have on me. I just got out of the joint and am on probation.”
“What have you got on you?”
“A weapon and drugs, but they’re not mine. They were my brother’s. He was in deep trouble, doing crimes, and I was trying to help him, you know?”
The cop got on his radio. “I’m going to need backup,” he said.
“We’re a little thin on personnel,” came the reply.
“Roger that, but this is a felony arrest.”
In the back of the squad car, hands cuffed behind him, bloody from embracing his brother, Brady lowered his head, praying he could die. If his hands were free, he would have found a way to kill himself. His life as he knew it was over anyway, and he had blamed the drugs and the shotgun on his own dead brother.
42
Adamsville
When Summer Grace Carey-Blanc was born, she was just the tonic for Thomas. It thrilled him to hold the tiny princess, and he chortled at her every look and sound. With an exotic mix of fair skin, dark eyes, and wisps of dark, reddish hair, she was intoxicating. He could barely look away from her curious expressions.
And to see Grace become immediately maternal toward both Ravinia and the baby, well, Thomas found his whole attitude and demeanor changed. Even at work, Gladys said she noticed Thomas’s new enthusiasm for life.
“We all wanna see that new baby,” Gladys said. “See the little woman what put a smile on your face. But don’t you dare bring her to this cesspool. You got to invite us someday, that’s all.”
Little had changed with Dirk and Ravinia. Thomas sensed more distance between them, yet they both doted on Summer. Grace had the temerity to ask if she and Thomas could have the baby dedicated at Village Church sometime soon, but Ravinia put her foot down. “I don’t want to go all lawyerly on you, Mom, but I can use your own logic against you.”
“Well,” Grace said,