Looking for Julie (16 page)

She flung the door wide and yelled, “Get in here, Jamie. Quick!”

Instead, Jamie ran toward his car, screaming, “Call nine-one-one and lock the door.”

With the door still open she pushed in the numbers on her cell with shaking fingers. Nita ran out of her bedroom and called for Jamie to come inside. When he kept hollering for her to shut and lock the door, she did.

Sam was crying on the phone and Nita took it away from her. “Yeah, four-thirty-five West Washington. Hurry! He’s beating on the car with a tire iron, and he just hit the owner with it. We’re trying to get him inside. He won’t come.”

But then Jamie was banging on the door. Sam unlocked it and he stumbled inside. She slammed the door shut as tires spun on icy pavement, then caught and squealed away. Sirens filled the night air.

Jamie was holding his right arm carefully with his left hand. It looked crooked, and he stared at it a moment and then staggered to the couch. Sam sat next to him, wondering how they were going to get him to UHS or to the hospital.

“My car looks like a piece of crumpled aluminum foil. I don’t think it can be fixed.” The color had drained from his face. “My dad’s going to kill me.”

“It’s not your fault that a lunatic is after you,” Sam said, telling Nita with a glance not to say he’d pissed this crazy man off.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” he said, and Nita ran for a vessel.

She hurried back with the dishpan and Sam held his head, as her mother had done for her, while he retched into the pan.

Hammering on the door startled them. Nita and Sam shot fearful looks at each other. Someone said, “Open up. Police.”

“Don’t open it. We don’t know they’re police,” Sam said, when Nita bounded to let them in.

Nita peered out the window and then opened the door.

The police were the same two officers who had questioned Sam and Jamie at the dorm.  The woman officer said, “Another squad stopped a man in a black truck. He had a tire iron with him. He’s being transported to the police station.” Her gaze honed in on Jamie. “He needs medical attention.”

“I know,” Sam said. Jamie was leaning heavily against her, his head lolling on the back of the couch.

“I’m going to call an ambulance for the young man. I think one of you should notify his parents.”

“No,” Jamie said, sitting upright, still leaning on Sam. “Take me in the squad car. I’ll be all right.” He looked at Sam. “Call my mom, Sam. The number is programmed in my phone in my pocket.”

Sam called from the police car, the siren rising and falling eerily at intersections as they drove through red lights and stop signs.

The two police officers helped Jamie out of the car, bustling him through the doors and into a wheelchair at the emergency entrance to University of Wisconsin Hospital. Sam and Nita followed—Sam worried and Nita grumbling.

“How did we get caught up in this, Sam? Jamie will always lead to trouble.”

Sam gave her an outraged look as the doors opened and they walked into the emergency waiting room.

“What did his mother say?” Nita asked with a sigh.

“They’re on their way. She sounded scared, even though I didn’t really tell her what happened.”

They found a couple of chairs. Before Nita fell asleep, she said, “I’m going to fail everything.”

Sam thought it was an accusation. It was more likely she and Jamie would fail. She’d gotten a D on the learning disabilities test. Her mom would have a shit fit. She too fell asleep and was awakened by the woman police officer.

“Come on, we’ll take you home.”

“Can we see him?” Sam asked.

“He’s out cold. His arm is badly broken. They had to put it back together. The collarbone was a pretty clean break. You can see him tomorrow, but you need to come to the police station Monday morning.”

“How am I going to get there?”

“I can arrange to have someone pick you up.” The police officer’s name was Dana Talmadge. This time when the two had shown their I.D. badges, Sam had paid attention. The policeman was James Delacourt. She had repeated the names to herself in an attempt to remember them.

Dana was tall with short hair and pretty features. Delacourt was the same height as she was with a crew cut and pitted skin. He looked younger than the woman and seemed in a hurry to leave. Maybe their shift was ending.

She went alone to the hospital the next morning and said she was Jamie’s sister. He was pale, his eyes huge with dark skin around them. His damaged arm was in plaster and fixed somehow against his chest, so as not to move the broken collarbone, he said. The rest of him looked long and skinny.

She said, “I have to go to the police station tomorrow to identify him.” Him was the guy who had assaulted them, the one who sent ripples of terror through her. “I never got a really good look at him. Did you?”

“Older guy with a ball cap and greasy hair. Shorter than me.”

“That’s a real good description, Jamie,” she said sarcastically and then was sorry because he looked like he was in pain. “Does it hurt terribly?”

“It aches, but hey, I’ve got my own morphine machine.” He nodded at a bag filled with a solution dripping through a tube into a needle in his hand. “Nail him, Sam. We can’t let him get out of jail. Who would’ve thought this would happen.”

She left then. His mom and dad were on the way from the hotel where they’d spent the night, and his Aunt Edie was driving down for the day.

Karen came to the apartment that afternoon. She looked from Sam to Nita and said, “What happened?”

After they told her, she took Sam into the bedroom and lay down with her. “This will help you forget, she said, getting under the covers and touching Sam in those places that made her gasp with pleasure. Even as she hovered on the verge of coming, Sam could not forget the man she was supposed to identify in the morning.

There were several men of about the same age and size. She looked from one to the other behind the one-way window and was unable to pick one out and say for certain that this was the man who had grabbed her. She said instead, “He always wore a black ball cap.”

The guy in charge left the room and next she knew the men behind the window took turns wearing a ball cap. It made them look even more alike. Desperate to identify the right man and have him jailed, she was close to tears. The thing was if she identified the wrong man, then the guy who had been harassing Jamie and her would be set free.

“Will they turn him loose?” she asked Dana on the drive home.

“I don’t think so. He was found with the tire iron right after your friend and his car were attacked. The arresting officers will no doubt say he’s dangerous. Can you identify the truck? It’s been impounded and has a stolen plate.”

“I don’t know. It was nearly always dark when I saw him and the truck.” Except for the first time in the parking lot, and she only remembered that the truck was black and four-wheel drive, not the make or model.

“Why was this guy after you and your friend?” Dana’s profile was clear in the morning light without the police cap she had always worn when on duty. Her chin-length hair had a nice flip at the ends.

She told her the story. “I know Jamie made him mad.” She was thinking that she would never see Julie now that Jamie’s car had been impounded as evidence too.

“That’s no excuse for harassment and assault.” Dana’s deep voice resonated with conviction. She threw Sam a quick look. Her eyes were a golden brown. Her hair was dark blond like Edie’s and Jamie. She seemed a lot like Edie to Sam, confident and in charge.

By some miracle there was a parking spot in front of the apartment and Dana eased her car into it.  “My partner, Jim, and I’ll be in court during the trial. We’ll be on your side.”

“Thanks.” Sam got out of the car.

The man’s name was Charles DeWitt. It was strange to give this person who terrified her a name, like he was a regular person. “Sorry I didn’t recognize him.” She felt this was a monumental failure. If DeWitt was released for some reason and came after them, she would be responsible.

“That’s not uncommon,” Dana said. “You can always reach me if you need to. It’s always okay to call.”

Nita was at the apartment, studying with her bedroom door open. “Hey, how did it go?” she asked.

Sam leaned against the doorframe. “There were five guys and they all looked alike.”

Nita’s dark eyes bore into her. “So you couldn’t ID him?”

“No.” Sam’s phone was ringing. She pulled it out of her pocket.

“Hi Sam. This is Edie. I’m at the hospital with Jamie. He wants to talk to you. How are you anyway?”

“Me?” she asked with surprise. “I’m okay. I just got back from the police station.” She told Edie about the lineup and how she couldn’t pick Charles DeWitt out of the five men.

“Most people can’t, I hear. I wanted to thank you and Nita for getting Jamie to the hospital.”

“Are his mom and dad there?”

“Yes. We’re all here. I’ll give you to Jamie.”

“Hey.” Jamie’s voice was weak. “I’m being released today.”

“Do you think you can recognize the guy and his truck?”

“I’ve been thinking about this, and I don’t know if I want to anymore. What happens if he gets out?”

The fear was palpable. She shrank from it. “But you said we have to keep him in jail. You’re going to have to testify at trial.”

His voice dropped to a whisper, “My mom keeps trying to take me home.”

She was thinking maybe that was a good idea.

Edie looked at Jamie’s pasty face and the white cast and sling that held his collarbone in place and felt a helpless anger laced with fear. This person who had attacked him three times was unpredictable and dangerous and likely to be on the streets again soon. If the judge set bail and he could come up with the cash, Jamie would become a target again.

She glanced at her sister-in-law, who looked bewildered and sort of lost. She and her husband—Edie’s brother, Dave—had not been kept apprised of the situation. Her brother was pacing the floor, looking furious. He glanced at Edie and jerked his head toward the doorway.

Out in the hallway, hands on hips, he asked, “How did this happen? Why would someone use a tire iron on Jamie and his car?” He was a big man but had never grown the belly many men develop with age.

She was silent for a moment, wondering how to make him understand. Then she told him the story as briefly as possible.

“Only Jamie could make someone mad enough to try to kill him.”

“The man not only attacked Jamie three times, but tried to force Sam—you know Sam—into his truck. He’s anti-social.” That’s what Lynn would call him. “No one has the right to attack another person because they’re annoyed with him.”

“Wouldn’t you be pissed if some kid with purple hair nearly ran you down and then mouthed off at you?”

She lost patience. “Leave the hair out of this, will you? You had long hair when you were young. Dad hated it. Have you forgotten?”

He stared at her and the ghost of a smile jerked at his mouth. “I did, didn’t I? Do you think he’ll be safe here? His mother wants to take him home.”

“I think we should find out if this guy gets out on bail.”

“You shouldn’t keep things from me, Edie.” Her brother’s hands were still on his hips.

“You’re always so hard on him, Dave. Why? Because he’s gay?” she asked, surprising herself. She’d never talked about sexual orientation with him.

Dave looked away and mumbled something.

“What?” she asked.

“It didn’t come from me,” he said defensively.

“Maybe it came from me,” she admitted, like it was a disease or something. He walked away and she watched him for a few moments before going back in the room. He was her baby brother. When she’d left for college, he was six years old. He’d seemed more like her son than a brother, and she’d loved him with all her heart. Over the years, he had morphed into their father, disapproving and rigid. She supposed their father had once been rebellious himself. Why did all memory of what it was like to be young seem to evaporate with the years? She could remember being eighteen and defiant. Maybe it was the gay thing he couldn’t swallow. She thought, as she had before, that it might be different between Jamie and his father if he’d been a girl.

Jamie was reaching for his mother with his good arm when Edie returned to the room. “Hey, Mom,” he said.

Jean got up and put a hand on her son’s unhurt arm. “It must hurt terribly, Jamie.”

“Nah. I’m okay. I can’t wait to get out of here. Are you and dad going to stick around?”

“How are you going to do anything without help?”

“I’ll have plenty of help. There are people lots worse off than me. There’s a guy in one of my classes who has MS and is in a wheelchair.”

“I think you should come home for a week at least to recover,” his mother said.

Edie jumped in. “I agree. You’ve just had surgery, Jamie.”

He caved then. He would ride home with his parents and if they didn’t take him back the next weekend, Edie promised she would.