Cries in the Night (6 page)

It was an address she hadn’t been to before, which made her both happy and sad. Happy because it wasn’t a person who was in a bad pattern of victimization and sad because someone else had found a way to hurt another person.

Or in this case, it was a television set.

“Hey Julie. The kids are in the back bedroom,” the cop on duty told her.

“What’s going on, Don?” she asked as she looked around the living room, surveying the damage. An empty bottle of Crown Royal rested on its side on the end table and a dozen or so crushed Coors cans littered the floor around a well-worn leather recliner. Other than that, the house was pretty nice, if you could look past the clutter. Sitting on the couch, probably because he wasn’t sober enough to stand, was a man with his hands cuffed behind him. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair tousled, but even in his present condition, he had the poise of an executive used to giving orders, not taking them.

“This is all a misunderstanding,” he said, slurring it together as if they were all one long multi-syllabic word. “I have a permit for the gun.”

“It’s illegal to shoot in the city unless you’re at a range,” the police officer reminded him as he continued to take photos of the scene.

“I’m in my own goddamn home, and that’s my own goddamn television. I can shoot it if I want.”

“Not in your living room with your kids just ten feet away. If those bullets had penetrated the wall, you could be looking at homicide instead of an illegal discharge of a weapon.” The officer’s voice was stern and businesslike, but his expression showed his disgust.

“Wasn’t my fault. Fuckin’ Raiders.” The man slumped sideways, about to slip into unconsciousness, but the officer unceremoniously jerked him to his feet. With a nod of greeting toward Julie, he half-dragged, half-marched the guy to the front door.

“Nice role model,” Julie muttered.

“Yeah, I’m just glad he didn’t miss the TV. A few inches above or to either side, and …” Don’s voice trailed off. It wasn’t necessary to finish the sentence, because they both knew the possible consequences. “The kids are pretty upset.”

“I’ll take care of them. Does their mother live here?”

“Nope. Divorce. Just another fun weekend with Dad,” he told her.

“Has she been notified?”

Again he shook his head and smiled. “We save the fun stuff for you.”

“Thanks.” She walked down the hall and into the bedroom, glad that she was going to be talking with live children and not consoling a mother grieving over her dead ones.

The two young boys were sitting on the floor in the corner, huddled in each other’s arms.

“Hi, my name is Julie, and I’m going to stay with you until your mother gets here.” She knelt down next to them. “Do either of you know your mother’s phone number?”

The oldest boy nodded.

“Good. I knew you would. You’re what … eight?”

“I’ll be nine in January,” he said proudly.

She pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket. “Okay, let’s call your mother and see if she can pick you up early.”

He told her the number and she punched it in. To the boys she said, “I’ll be right back. Are you two okay for a minute?”

They both nodded solemnly, and she walked back into the hallway so she could talk to the mother out of their ear shot. The mother was understandably upset and promised to be there as soon as possible. Julie returned to the boys and squatted down next to them.

“She’s on her way. Do you have anything you need to pack?”

Again they nodded. She stood and they followed suit. “What’s your name?” she asked the youngest boy.

“Effan,” he said.

The older brother immediately corrected him. “It’s Ethan. He has trouble with his letters.”

“Oh. That’s probably because he’s missing his two front teeth,” Julie told him. “I’ll bet once they grow back in, he’ll be Ethan again. And what’s your name?”

“Patrick,” he told her. “I’m named after my daddy.”

Julie found a small duffel bag in the corner and placed it on the bed. “Let’s put your things in here.”

They collected some clothes and their Gameboys and put them in the bag, working silently for several minutes. Finally, Patrick couldn’t resist asking, “Did they arrest my daddy?”

“They took him to the police station,” she told him.

“Will he be okay?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“He killed the TV, didn’t he?” Ethan asked hesitantly.

Julie nodded. “I think it’s pretty messed up.”

“Daddy drank a lot of beers.” Patrick looked down at his tennis shoes, as if he couldn’t look at her as he admitted, “He yelled at Ethan.”

Julie kept her voice neutral as she asked, “Did your dad hit you or Ethan?”

Patrick shook his head. “He got really mad at Ethan for spilling his milk, but he didn’t hit us. We got scared and hid in our room.”

She reached out and ruffled his hair. “That was a really smart thing to do. You took good care of your brother and kept him safe.”

Patrick’s shoulders lifted and he looked up. Before he could say anything else, there was the click of heels on the hall floor and a woman, obviously their mother, swept into the room.

The two boys dropped everything and ran into her arms. The woman looked over their heads at Julie and mouthed, “Thank you.”

Julie nodded and smiled. Almost a happy ending. Likely the court would arrange a more protected environment for future visits with their father and, hopefully, she would never see any of them again. For her that was a success.

She went back into the living room where Don was finishing up.

“Looks like we’re through here,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m going to head home, but I’ll probably see you again tonight.” She pulled her jacket back on and zipped it up.

“Let’s hope you’re wrong. It’s still wicked cold out there.”

The mother and two boys came out of the bedroom. She had their duffle bag slung over one shoulder and was holding tightly to each boys’ hands. Don held out a piece of paper, and she let go of Patrick’s hand long enough to take it.

“Here’s the information about your husband.”

“Ex,” she reminded him.

“Ex-husband. He’ll be in detox overnight, and they’ll set bail for him tomorrow.”

Her finely arched brows lifted. She didn’t say it aloud, but clearly her plans didn’t include bailing him out. “Thank you both for taking care of my boys.”

“No problem, ma’am.”

Julie smiled at the boys. “You have two wonderful sons,” she told the mother.

The mother seemed close to tears as she nodded. “I know.” She led her boys out the front door and into the night.

Julie gave Don a little wave and followed them. They split at the sidewalk, and she walked alone to her car. The snow had stopped earlier in the day and the skies were clear. Her breath made frosty puffs in the crisp air, even inside her car. It was a short drive back to her house so her heater had barely started working when she arrived. She parked in the garage and hurried to her back door. Her gloved fingers fumbled with the key, but she finally fit it in and the deadbolt clicked open.

She paused in the doorway and looked around for the cat. “Kitty, kitty,” she called softly, not wanting to bother the neighbors. She waited a few seconds and walked in, locking the door behind her. She dropped her purse and keys on the table and took a glass out of the cabinet. As she was filling it from the refrigerator water dispenser, she felt something brush against her legs. Startled, she looked down at the cat who was greeting her with his usual arched rub, twining back and forth until she bent down to pat him.

“How’d you get in, Mister?” she asked with a frown. She could have sworn he’d run out when she left, but then how …? He must have slipped inside when she opened the door, and she just hadn’t noticed. Dismissing it with a shrug, she took a drink of her water, then poured some dry kibble into his dish.

“Maybe I should name you Houdini,” she told him as she squatted down to stroke his striped back while he attacked his food as if it was his last meal. The ringing of her phone brought her back to her feet. She grabbed her clipboard where she kept her call sheets.

“This is Julie,” she spoke into the phone.

No one answered.

“Hello,” Julie spoke again and waited.

There was only silence on the other end of the line. Actually, it wasn’t really a silence because she thought she could hear the soft whisper of breath as someone inhaled and exhaled, but it wasn’t the heavy breathing of an obscene caller. Someone was clearly there; they just weren’t talking.

“There must be something wrong with the connection,” she said, not really expecting an answer … and not getting one.

She hung up, but stood there with the phone in her hand, waiting for it to ring again. If it was dispatch, they would definitely call right back. If it was someone else … She really didn’t know how to finish that thought. It was too late for a sales call. She had no family and no friends who would call her at this time of night.

Slowly, she set the phone on the table and stared at it as the answer would flash on the screen. The window lit up and the phone rang again. This time she took time to read the caller ID before she picked it up.

Private.
The phone kept ringing and she was torn between the ridiculous compulsion to always answer a ringing phone and the hesitation to hear that sinister silence again. Her fingers hung suspended in the air over the phone, almost touching the
Answer
button.

The phone stopped ringing as abruptly as it had started. The quiet that followed was almost worse. Suddenly, Julie had the feeling that someone was watching her and she slid her gaze around the room to all the windows.

Outside he watched. He could see her, scurrying from room to room, shutting all the blinds like a frightened mouse trying to hide from a prowling cat. He could still see her shadow moving around inside, so helpless, so alone.

He had her where he wanted her.

CHAPTER FOUR

Mondays were full of paperwork and schedules. As much as Julie loved her job, she’d much rather be in the field than in the office. Only the manager of the department received a salary, and she couldn’t afford to support herself as a volunteer. Julie had never had any experience either working in an office or as a supervisor, but she had discovered she had a knack for it. However, depending on an all-volunteer workforce had its own complications.

Every month there was a meeting with a speaker, usually a member of the emergency response team, a medical or social services professional or a psychologist. It was also a time for everyone to select at least four twelve-hour shifts for the upcoming month. Most of her volunteers were either retired or unemployed and they usually offered to work more than their required four shifts. When someone had an illness or something unexpected came up, Julie would usually cover their shift if she didn’t have time to find a replacement.

So when Janice called in with the flu, Julie decided it would be a good excuse to get away from the desk if a call came in. Always in the background, here and at home, she had a police scanner tuned to the frequencies Denver PD and FD used. After years of listening to it, she had grown accustomed to the alerts and dispatch chatter. She was in the middle of her weekly report when she heard the code for a Victim’s Advocate. Only seconds later her telephone rang.

“This is Julie.”

“We have an auto accident involving three children on the 1400 block of York St. VA has been requested to standby with them.”
The familiar voice recited the details over the phone.

“Got it. I’m on my way.” Julie had jotted down the information on an incident sheet. They were color coded by event, but since she wasn’t sure what this particular case would be, she used a white sheet temporarily. She grabbed her coat and purse and headed to the parking lot. York Street was only about ten blocks away, so she arrived as quickly as the traffic would allow. She parked close but out of the way of the fire truck and police cars that were already on-scene.

As she approached, she saw a car that was leaning on its side against a giant blue spruce. Several firefighters were using the hydraulic cutters, better known as the Jaws of Life to cut the mangled door off. Julie knew she couldn’t help until the
occupants were out. She walked over to a cop who was also standing by, waiting for the fire department to rescue the victims.

“Do we know who’s inside?” she asked him.

“Three juveniles. I’m not sure of the ages, but they looked young.”

“Were they skipping school?”

“From the amount of beer cans in the car and the pot cloud inside when we arrived, I’d say this is leftover from a late night joyride.”

Julie still had lots of questions, but clearly the cop didn’t have any more answers than she did. They stood together and watched while the firefighters stabilized the car to keep it from rolling over or falling back, then pealed back the roof and dismantled the door. The paramedics rushed forward and leaned into the car to check on the kids’ condition and stabilize them, if needed. The firefighters continued to foam the ground where gas had spilled while holding the metal back so the paramedics could get to everyone.