The Riches of Mercy (33 page)

"I have."

Being unemployed meant she could read the paper's website each morning, over cheap instant coffee. Or, on Sundays, the Coffee of the Month Patrick had given her. Either way, she knew more than she wanted about the three morons running for the 10th district against the incumbent; who she was voting for because everything seemed fine.

"Democratic leadership has been sucking North Carolina dry. That's why our Hispanic population has quintupled in the last twenty years."

Jake closed his eyes.

"We're the perfect welfare state. Overqualified people are getting food stamps like they're handouts--"

"Food stamps are a federal program," Natalie said.

"--And they're still using them to buy booze."

Natalie glanced at the children.

"Daniel, please."

"We need to do something before we're all equal with the wealth distribution. All of us, living out of our car."

Suriya began to scream.

All three adults turned, but Merritt and Beau were nowhere near her, and seemed horrified. Hollingsworth darted into the kitchen.

"Oh, just her 'I need to be changed' sound. Charming, isn't it? Two years of sign language and baby chatter."

"I'll--" Jake started.

"No, I will." Daniel went and scooped Suriya up with one arm, grabbed the diaper bag, and pounded upstairs.

Beau and Merritt glanced at Natalie.

"Okay, yes. You can turn the T.V. on. Mute, okay? Only subtitles."

Jake frowned at Natalie.

"They watch
Law & Order
on TNT that way. It's a little scarring, but I think it's helping their reading."

Jake shook his head. "I'm sorry about Daniel. We're having some problems."

Natalie put her hand on Jake's. "Serious?"

"Republicans are okay in good times. Even cute. But now the economy's tanked--Daniel's bank has had the feds going through the papers for a month. They might seize it. Daniel doesn't like the feds much. And now they're talking about raising taxes on the places we might not be able to afford anymore. Daniel's investments have not done well, Nat. We might sell the beach house. At a loss."

"Oh, Jake."

"We're doing okay. I mean." He gestured at her living room. "But my income is the steadiest right now, and it just pisses off Daniel more. He thinks I'm driving up health care costs. All on my own. Exploiting one of the only avenues for revenue. Like I even know what it means. Every discussion is a fight about the state of the universe these days."

She rubbed his fingers.

Daniel came back and found them morose at the kitchen table. "Being an adult is fun."

Natalie got up. "The boys baked cookies for dessert. We'll have some milk and turn on the sound, okay?"

"Bread and circuses," Daniel said, and gazed at the television.

#

The cell phone's third ring pierced Natalie's dream. Meredith disappeared. Natalie groaned. She answered on the fifth, unsure if her mouth would work.

"Ivans."

"Natalie Ivans?"

"Mm."

"I'm calling from Tarpley City Jail, ma'am. This is a courtesy call to let you know Luis Duarte has been placed on a 24 hour suicide watch."

"I'll be right there."

"You don't have to--"

"Put me in the visitor's log." Natalie hung up the phone.

# #

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Natalie walked with Fasan to the infirmary, hesitating when Sheriff Duarte' voice boomed from the exam room.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

The response was inaudible. Natalie took another step forward. Fasan put his hand on her arm. She frowned.

"We have the labs, Luis. You weren't incapacitated. You were just stupid. You cared more about driving your car fast and listening to your music than you did anything else, even your surroundings? Was the speed worth it? Was it another rush? How could you be so callous? You're worthless."

Silence.

Natalie crept forward. Fasan followed.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

The silence continued.

"Well, you'd better think of something. Or you're going to be in prison for a very long time." Duarte stormed out, his eyes widening as he saw Natalie and Fasan. He moved past them without comment.

"You've been briefed?" Fasan asked.

She nodded.

"Need me to stay?"

Natalie shook her head.

"I'm going to leave the door cracked, so speak quietly. He's tied up. He won't be hurting you."

"Thank you, Deputy."

He nodded, glanced at the doorway, and then waved her inside.

"Hey, get me out of here. This is ridiculous."

Luis yanked at his wrist restraints. He was on his back in a bed, though it was tilted up so he was almost sitting.

Natalie didn't say anything, just came and sat down in the chair by the bed. The seat was warm. The sheriff must have sat, too.

"I didn't try to kill myself." The right side of his face was bruised.

"What did you do?"

Luis glanced away, his face hard.

Natalie leaned back. The only other thing on her agenda today was a manicure.

"I was crying. And I... I guess I was banging my head on the wall."

"Hence the bruises?"

"And the blood. It wasn't like--There wasn't enough--I wanted--"

Natalie kept silent. The sheriff stole all her complaints from her. Hearing them from his mouth showed how ineffective they sounded. The boy had been shamed and cajoled his whole life. She wouldn't be able to get through if his father couldn't. Robbed of a game plan, she just listened.

"I didn't want to kill myself," he said.

"Well, you succeeded."

Luis rolled his head back, gazing at the ceiling. Natalie studied his face. The bruises. Red marked his wrists where he pulled against the restraints. His orange jumpsuit. He'd been denied bail but his hearing for pre-trial detention wasn't for another week. The holding cells weren't going to be enough. Maybe another city jail would take him.

"I'm so angry all the time," Luis said.

"At who?"

"At me, who do you think? And at my father. At those girls. At my friends, who wouldn't let me crash on their couch because they wanted to have sex. At my car, which--You know how many DUIs I have?"

"Five, counting this one."

Luis snorted. "Right. You're the lawyer. Every time I got one, I thought, it's just the Man, my dad, you know. Gotta set an example. Gotta hold me to a higher standard while turds who blow .16s go free. I wasn't doing anything worse than anyone else. I wasn't--"

She leaned forward, not touching him, but was gratified when he turned to meet her gaze.

"Why couldn't he go after real criminals? I wasn't a killer."

She nodded.

"I'm not a killer."

"I know," she said.

"Can you make him stop visiting me? Make him stop pissing me off."

"I will."

"Really?"

"I can do anything you want, Luis," she said, reaching for his hand. "Except free you."

He nodded.

She squeezed his fingers. "Can I have the doc give you something? Calm you down?"

He shook his head. "You can't."

"Why not?"

He gripped her hand. "I'm a junkie."

"Luis."

"I'm twenty-four. Don't tell me I'm just a kid."

She glanced away. At twenty-four, Meredith was married with two children. Vincent had gone to war. She'd graduated from law school.

"I won't tell you, Luis. Your life is already over."

He nodded.

"We'll just see what you do with the rest of it, okay?"

"Yeah."

She got up. "I'll go talk to your father."

"Hey," he asked, when she was at the door.

"Yeah?"

"I've been asking around. Are you really a lesbian?"

She hesitated. She would always hesitate for that question. Her whole life she would wonder if protecting herself was better. If it was really true at all. If the person asking would hit her, or shun her, or confess secrets, too.

"Yes," she said.

"I've never met a lesbian before. Well, like. People at the supermarket, sure. But I've never known one."

"Here I am."

He nodded.

#

"Nobody is going to tell me who I can and cannot speak to," Eduardo said.

"Sheriff--"

"My own son doesn't want to see me? Maybe if he wasn't such a screwup I wouldn't have to be on his case all the time. If I could leave him alone without him--"

"Sheriff?"

He slumped into his chair and frowned. "Ms. Ivans, what you're asking for is idiotic."

She said nothing.

"He's in jail here. I work here. I see him all the time."

"I've just filed the paperwork to get him transferred to Burgaw."

"You what?"

"They've got a better facility, and--"

"I will not see my son in prison!"

"I know what you're going through," she said.

He closed his fist, but nodded, meeting her eyes.

"You can't see him," she said.

"Why not?"

"You make him feel bad."

"He should feel bad."

"He should, and he does. But it has to be his feeling, not yours."

Eduardo gazed at the ceiling. His shoulders slumped.

"You saw his head," she said.

"I did. The moron."

"And you put your trust in me. Let me take care of him. I know the system."

"I know the system, too. I want to see him."

"Because you love him."

He nodded. "I do."

"Please. I'm making an official request."

"I'll respect your request, Ms. Ivans."

"Thank you." She got up. "I was thinking I'd take him to church on Sunday, if you don't mind. And if he's off his hold."

"He stopped going to church when he was ten. He bit his mother."

Natalie nodded.

"I don't want him out there where they could hurt him."

"I promise. It's not that kind of church." She picked up her briefcase and went to the office door.

Eduardo nodded, but he seemed lost in thought.

Outside, Fasan tapped her arm. "We're done with the accident scene analysis."

"You are?"

"Even the fire department's secondary evaluation and the Charlotte PD's scene reconstruction people had a look. Just to be sure. And three different insurance companies."

"Do they have good detectives, too?"

He rolled his eyes. "I made copies for you. Can I take you to lunch and talk them over?"

"You're buying."

He stopped short. "You're the attorney, Ms. Ivans."

"I'm a public defender, remember?"

He sighed. "All right."

"You can even take me somewhere halal."

He laughed. "I wish. What about Dosa? They've got a vegetarian lunch buffet."

"All right. You know, even with the hospital, they're the only Indian restaurant in town."

"There's only a couple of Indian doctors on staff. Not enough to sustain more than one restaurant, or something. I know the owner's brother is a surgeon. They totally got lost on the way to Cary."

She grinned, but he seemed lost in thought. "They get vandalized sometimes, and bring us free food when we catch the nutjobs."

"Why?"

Fasan shrugged. "Some people around here think they're Muslim."

"Despite the elephant in the window? Not that it matters."

Fasan nodded. "Not that it matters."

# #

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Natalie pulled into Conrad's parking lot Saturday morning with a splitting headache. The kids had screamed for the entire last hour. If they were going anywhere but Rocky Mount, she'd have turned around and driven home. But they knew it. She'd tried separating them, putting Beau in the front seat and Merritt in the back.

Merritt kicked Beau's chair for ten minutes before Beau tried to climb into the backseat and she nearly veered off the road. She'd let them run around in a field until she was afraid they'd be late. At the exit for Conrad, the screaming contest began. She was supposed to be judging. Merritt's shrill shriek was more potent than Beau's bellow.

"I'm hungry," Merritt said.

"There's a peanut butter sandwich right next to you."

"I want MacDonalds."

I want Meredith not to be in prison. I want you to shut up. I want to go as far away as possible.

Natalie turned around and peered into the back seat. "You have two choices."

The voice on the parenting radio said always give them two choices. Empower them. But no more than two. Rookie mistake.

Beau and Merritt sat quietly in the backseat, trying to kill her with their hateful gazes.

"We can sit here, and have peanut butter sandwiches, and play cards, maybe listen to the radio. Or we can go inside and see your mom. But remember, when we go inside, they'll frisk you. And you'll have to be on your best behavior. Now, I want to see mommy more than anything else in the world, but I love you guys and I want to hang out with you, too."

Beau leaned sideways to gaze at the fence. The first month, Meredith would wait on the picnic table for them. But then the boys got too excited and would fight their way through security. So Beau was just imagining her there on the table.

"I hate it here. Why do we have to see her here?" Merritt asked.

Natalie closed her eyes.

"Mommy did something bad, so they locked her in jail. Remember, dummy?" Beau said.

"Don't call--" Natalie started, opening her eyes.

"I don't remember," Merritt said.

"Mommy made daddy go away, so she went away. It's an eye for an eye."

Natalie glanced at Beau. She didn't want to see Merritt. If he said he didn't remember again, her heart would break.

Merritt opened the sandwich bag and stuffed a quarter of the sandwich into his mouth.

Natalie opened her door. "Bring that with you. Beau?"

Beau lifted his present.

Natalie checked her pockets. Keys, ID, cash.

She took a boy's hand in each of hers and they walked inside the prison. She availed herself of a locker, putting Merritt's half-eaten sandwich inside. He'd want it later. Beau cried when the guard opened his package, delicately lifting off the lid to reveal the travel shampoo and body wash. Then he laughed when Joanne smelled them.