Presumption of Guilt (27 page)

“Where could he be?” she asked Jake.

“I don't know. You don't think—”

“He's run away.” Lynda headed for the telephone. “We have to call Larry and Tony.”

Jake got to the phone first and punched out the number of the St. Clair Police Department. Larry and Tony were out, he was told, so he left a message and hung up. He didn't want to report the runaway, not yet, not until he'd consulted with Larry and Tony, and even Nick, on how to proceed. So far, Jimmy hadn't been officially reported missing. Reporting it now to people who didn't know the case might do more harm than good; if Jimmy were found, he'd probably be taken back to SCCH.

“I'm calling Nick,” he said. “Then I'll call Beth. Maybe he went there, to the hospital.”

“Do you think he may have gone to see his mother?” she asked.

“Doubtful,” he said, “judging from the way he reacted today. On the other hand, sometimes our first reactions aren't what we really mean. Maybe he did go back to finally confront her.”

“Why didn't he just ask us to take him? He knew we would.”

“He was pretty upset,” Jake said. “I guess we underestimated how much.”

“But he seemed content in there playing on the computer.”

“It was a ruse,” Jake said. “He was just trying to distract us so we wouldn't see him when he ran away.”

Lynda paced across the floor, running her fingers through her hair. “We should have kept an eye on him. We should have been watching him.”

“We thought he was safe, Lynda. Who would have thought he'd leave here, knowing that Bill Brandon is still out there?”

“That's no excuse!”

Sighing, Jake dialed the number for Nick's house, but there was no answer, so he quickly dialed the hospital and connected with Beth's room.

“Hello?”

“Beth, thank goodness you're still there. I thought you may have checked out by now.”

“No, I'm still waiting for the doctor.”

“Beth, Jimmy's missing.”

“What?”

“He's run away. He's gone.”

“Weren't you watching him?”

“We thought he was playing on the computer. We were just in the next room. We're thinking maybe he went there to see you, or maybe even his mother.”

Beth paused for a moment, thinking. “All right, I'll be on the lookout for him. But aren't you going to call the police?”

“We put a call in to Larry and Tony, but we're reluctant to report this to anyone else.”

“Do it anyway!” she said. “Bill Brandon is out there, Jake. If he gets his hands on Jimmy, we'll never see him alive again!”

“But Brandon may have a police scanner. If he hears about the disappearance, he may find Jimmy before we do.”

“Call anyway.
Please,
Jake. Maybe the police can find him.”

In the hospital room, Beth hung up the phone and turned back to Nick. “He's gone.”

“Where did he go?”

“They think he may be coming here. Maybe to see me, or you—maybe even Tracy.”

“No way,” Nick said. “Not after his reaction today. He wouldn't come to see Tracy.”

“But, Nick,” Beth said, “what if he thought it over and decided he does want to see her after all?”

Nick shrugged. “Well, maybe we'd better go warn her,” he said.

“Yeah, maybe.”

They told the nurse where they'd be in case the doctor came, then headed to the elevator. They got off on the floor above Beth's and walked quickly to Tracy's room. Tracy's eyes were swollen and red, and she looked as dismal as she'd looked when Beth had left her earlier.

“Tracy?”

She looked up, but her expression was lifeless.

“Tracy, we need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“About Jimmy.”

She closed her eyes. “There's nothing you can say to me about Jimmy.”

“Yes, there is. He's disappeared.”

“What?” Her eyes came open fully, and she sat partially up.

“Tracy, I want you to listen to me, and I want you to listen carefully,” Nick said. “Jimmy's been in trouble. The reason I came looking for you is that he and Lisa were in a children's home and Jimmy was being used in a crime ring. We're about to have the operator of the home arrested, but meanwhile, Jimmy's been hiding with us.”

“And you let him run away?” Tracy asked. “How could you do that?”

“He's smart,” Nick said. “He duped the people who were watching him by setting up a distraction, and he slipped out of the house without anyone realizing it.”

“Well, is anyone looking for him?”

“Yes. But Tracy, we wanted to tell you, in case he comes here.”

“Here? Why would he come here?” Tears spilled over her lashes, and she smeared them across her face. “I can't think of a reason in the world he would come to me.”

“You're his mother.”

“I'm
not
his mother!” she shouted. “He doesn't have a mother!”

Beth moved closer to the bed. “Tracy, you
are
his mother, whether you like it or not. Whether
he
likes it or not.”

Tracy fell back on her pillows. “What if something happens to him?”

“We'll find him,” Beth said. “They'll find him. He couldn't have gotten far on foot.”

Tracy looked skeptical. “Like you said, he's a smart kid. He was smart when he was seven years old. He can go anywhere he wants to go.”

“Not if people are looking for him,” Beth said. “But Tracy, if he comes here, you have to tell us, okay? You have to call this number.” She wrote down Larry and Tony's number at the station and set it on the bed table. “Do you hear me? You have to call.”

“What if he doesn't want me to?”

“Do it anyway. He's in danger. The man who runs the home isn't in jail yet. If he finds Jimmy before we do, he may kill him.”

“Oh, terrific,” Tracy said. “So my son went from a bad situation with me to a worse one with some guy who could kill him, is that what you're saying?”

Nick leaned over her bed and touched Tracy's hand. “Tracy, look at me.”

Tracy looked up at him with wet eyes that looked too big for her face.

“Tracy, there's a purpose in all this, whether you believe it or not.”

“I
don't
believe it,” Tracy said.

Beth felt her cheeks growing hot, and she tightened her lips.

“Well, you'd better believe it, because maybe that purpose is to save and protect your son.”

Tracy shook her head as if to rid it of the cobwebs. “What about Lisa? Is she in danger, too?”

“We're trying to get her out of the home,” Nick said, “but we have to wait until the guy's arrested.”

She closed her eyes, taking in the horror of it all. “What have I done to my kids?” she whispered.

More tears ran down the sides of her face, and Beth sat there staring at her for a long moment, feeling the pain that she didn't want to feel, because she didn't want to empathize with this woman who had abandoned her children. She wanted to hate her like she hated her own mother, but something about Tracy's pain touched her, and she leaned over the bed and touched the woman's hand.

“Tracy, it's not too late.”

“What isn't?”

“It's not too late to become somebody to your kids. It's never too late until you're dead.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

“Take it from a kid who's been there.”

Tracy brought both forearms up to cover her face. “I don't want to do this!” she cried. “I don't want to be here. I don't want to see my kids. I don't want to face them, and they sure don't want to face me!”

“If Jimmy comes, we'll help you,” Beth said.

“And what if he doesn't?” Tracy cried. “What if he gets into more trouble? What if someone grabs him? What if—”

“Shhh,” Nick cut in, trying to calm her. “Jimmy's a tough kid.

He'll be all right.”

“
What if he isn't
?” she screamed.

The silence in the wake of her question lay heavy over the room. “He will,” Nick said finally. “Take my word for it. We'll find him within the hour.”

“What if he went back to that orphanage?” she demanded.

“He would never go back there,” Beth said. “He knows how dangerous that would be.”

Tracy's sobs were deep, wrenching, soul-rending. “Are you sure I didn't die?”

Nick's own eyes were filling with tears. “What do you mean, Tracy?”

“When you found me lying there on that mattress, are you sure I wasn't already dead?”

“I'm sure,” he said, glancing uneasily at Beth. “You're very much alive. Why would you ask a thing like that?”

“Because,” Tracy choked out, “this feels like some kind of hell.”

CHAPTER FIFTY

I
t was getting darker. Jimmy knew that he couldn't hitchhike, since police were probably already out looking for him. For all he knew, his face could be on the screen of every television in St. Clair by now.

So he ran, as fast and as hard as he could, cutting I through yards and plowing through woods, trying to get to Beth's house. His body was covered with sweat, and his shirt stuck to him, but he was glad that he had these running shoes. Bill hadn't skimped on shoes for the kids who “worked” for him. They had to be black, and they had to be quiet—for quick getaways.

His navigational skills were pretty good, just as his computer skills were, and he tried to remember where Bill had taken him the night he'd dropped him off at Beth's house. He had turned here, and passed that railroad crossing, then turned again . . .

By the time Jimmy found the long road that connected to Beth's dirt road, two hours had passed since he'd left Lynda's, and it was growing dark. He cut through the woods and hit the dirt road leading up to her house. He slowed to a walk as he headed up the dirt road, trying to catch his breath.

Because there were no streetlights on Beth's little dirt road, Jimmy was on the driveway before he saw that the house wasn't there anymore.

He squinted through the darkness at the gutted structure where he had hidden for so long, where he'd met the first adult who'd really cared about him in a long time, where he'd gotten to know the little puppy. He had known about the explosion, of course, but he had imagined it like one of those cartoon explosions, where one corner of a room gets soot on the walls, but nothing else is hurt. The condition of the house now stunned him, and he leaned back against a tree and slid down to the ground, almost dizzy with the reality of how close Beth had come to death.

And with that chilling thought came another: Bill had probably expected Jimmy to be at Beth's house, too. Had the bomb been as much for him as for Beth?

He felt that familiar pain in his stomach at the thought that his sister could have been killed delivering the bomb or setting the newspaper building on fire. He grew nauseous at the thought of her beaten up and awaiting rescue. He had to hurry.

But first he needed the gun.

There was nothing left of her living room. If the gun had been there, it was ruined now. Then again, she might have taken it with her in the car when she'd tried to go to St. Petersburg the day of the explosion, knowing that Bill was after her.

But where was the car?

He tried to think. It wasn't at Lynda's. It could be at Nick's. Or someone could have taken it to the hospital for her . . .

Yes. The hospital. It wasn't far from here. It shouldn't take long to get there.

He jogged back to the main road again, then cut through the trees skirting the street, hidden by the trees as well as the darkness.

Forty-five minutes later, drenched with sweat and panting, he reached the hospital. He went from one row to another, ducking between cars, until he spotted Beth's car. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the gun being there as he approached it, as if wishing could make it so. Please be there . . . please be there . . .

The car was locked.

He looked toward the front doors of the hospital. Would anyone recognize him if he went in? He had no choice. Sliding his hands into his jeans pockets, the same black ones he'd been wearing since Beth had found him, he ambled up to the doors and slipped into the lobby. There was a coat rack in the corner of the room, so he checked to see if anyone was looking, then went over and grabbed a coat hanger. He shoved it into the front of his jeans, then pulled his T-shirt out to hang over it.

Quickly, he headed back out to Beth's car. Just as Bill had taught him, he stretched the coat hanger into the shape he needed, then maneuvered it between the rubber and the top of the window. In seconds, he had hooked the hanger onto the lock and popped it open.

When he opened the door, the light came on, making him feel vulnerable and exposed. He closed the door quickly, encasing himself in darkness.

He felt around on the seat. No gun. He bent and felt under it. Nothing.

Then he saw the glove compartment, and he punched the button and slowly pulled it open.

The gun lay there on its side, filling him with bittersweet relief.

His hands trembled as he took it. Quickly, he pulled his tee shirt up again. He stuck the barrel into his pants, as he'd seen it done on television, then tucked his shirt back over it.

He was ready. He could face a standoff with Bill Brandon now. He could rescue his sister, and maybe some of the others. He was ready to do whatever he had to do. And if he had to go to jail—whether for burglary or for murder—to see Lisa freed from Bill's bondage, then it would be worth it.

He got back out of the car and started walking in the direction of SCCH. His courage rose with every step, until finally he was running again. He knew the way to the home from here. And those who were looking for him would never even think to look there.