The Kindness of Strangers (40 page)

“Thank you, for taking care of him. I knew you would.” Courtney kept walking backward, edging her way out of the yard.

Sarah followed her. Nate did, too.

“Let him go!” Nate yelled.

Courtney started to run.
Shit
. Adrenaline surged through Sarah. She would chase them for miles to get that boy back. Her heart sank to see Jordan willingly cooperate and run with Courtney. Nate beat them to Lila’s driveway and cut them off.

Shrieking tires ripped through the neighborhood. A line of cruisers came from both directions on the street. Cars pulled in to Lila’s driveway and tore up the grass in Sarah’s yard, boxing Courtney and Jordan in. Uniformed officers sprang from the cars. Sarah saw Danny, still with the phone at his ear, stare into the mouthpiece with amazement.

Then Lila Ripley stepped onto her porch and shouted, “What took you so long? She nearly got away!” and Sarah understood the speed. Thank God for nosy neighbors.

Police officers surrounded Courtney and Jordan.

“Let the boy go!” someone commanded.

Courtney cupped Jordan’s face in her hands again. She pressed her forehead to his and whispered something. Jordan shook his head, as if answering no.

“Release the boy and raise your hands in the air,” that voice commanded again.

Courtney kissed Jordan lightly on the top of his head and stepped away from him. Officers rushed in immediately.

Sarah went to Danny, who had sat down in the middle of the driveway. She sat beside him, her arm around him. “Honey, are you okay?” she asked him. “Did she hurt you?”

Danny shook his head—she didn’t know to which question—then leaned forward, away from her, and vomited onto the driveway. Relief crashed against the walls of Sarah’s own stomach with such dizzying force that she felt for an instant as if she were on a rocking boat. She stroked his back and watched Courtney get handcuffed.

Lila pointed down the block as she talked to an officer taking notes.

Nate came toward Sarah, pulling the bottom of his T-shirt up to his bleeding nose.

Kramble’s face dropped into Sarah’s view. “Are you all right?” He touched her hair. His face was chalky white, his lips thin and pursed. Sarah thought,
He was scared, too
. She nodded. She felt better that he was here.

“Danny?” Kramble asked. “Did she hurt you?”

Danny shook his head again.

Sarah turned in time to see a handcuffed Courtney being put in a cruiser.

“Her brother called us,” Kramble said. “Right before Lila Ripley did. He thought she was sleeping, but then he realized she was gone. She’d climbed out the hotel window. And taken all his credit cards and the rental car.”

Sarah saw Jordan standing alone in the yard. He didn’t watch his mother; he stared at Danny.

“Danny?” Kramble asked. “What did she say to you? When you answered the door?”

Danny shook his head. “I didn’t answer the door! She didn’t knock. I was in the kitchen when Mom called, and when I hung up and turned around, she was there.”

“Was the door unlocked?” Kramble asked.

“She has a key,” Sarah said dully. “Last December she brought in our mail and fed the rabbit when we went to Michigan to see my folks. Lila was in Florida.” Sarah had never asked for the key back. She’d forgotten all about it.

Kramble helped them both rise. Nate was at her side, and she hugged him, hugged him tight and for a long time, so relieved and grateful that they were all okay. When she released him, she pulled the T-shirt from his face. “Let me see.” His nose and lower lip still oozed blood, and he had a jagged tear in his skin in the bottom corner of his left eye.

Kramble peered close and whistled a low note. “You’re gonna need some stitches, buddy. Mrs. Kendrick did that?”

Nate rolled his eyes and looked sheepish. “No. Jordan.”

“Too bad. I’d love to slap assault on her on top of everything else.”

A wave of missing Roy crashed over Sarah. She needed his calm presence. Needed him to tend to Nate. Like the time Nate had gashed his chin open during a hockey tournament. Roy had gone out to the car, brought in his kit, stitched Nate up, and let him stay and play the next game. Everything used to seem so
mendable.
Sarah felt her face crumple. Hot tears stung her eyes.

“Hey, hey,” Kramble said. “It’s all okay. Everything’s okay now.” He held Sarah’s elbow and said, “Let’s get Nate to the ER and Danny and Jordan to the station.”

“The station?” Sarah asked.

“Why?” Danny looked panicked.

“This was all over the police scanners. TV crews are going to be showing up any minute. Let’s get somewhere with some peace and quiet, so we can sort out what just happened.”

“Oh.” Sarah felt dazed. Wasn’t this bad enough already?

She looked at the van. The door still stood open, the
ding-ding-ding
patiently alerting them that things were not as they should be.

“My van—” Sarah said.

“We’ll drive you,” Kramble said.

“No, my keys. I need to get my keys.”

She thought Nate was going to get the keys, but he passed the van door and went to Jordan, who stood, still and alone, in the center of the yard. Nate stopped near him. He put a hand on Jordan’s shoulder, but Jordan snapped to life and shrugged him off with the speed of a striking snake. He moved in a fury to the van, snatched the keys, and slammed the door. The new silence seemed oppressive. Jordan walked up to Sarah and shoved the keys into her hands.

“Are you okay, Jordan?” she asked, but he walked to a police cruiser without speaking and climbed inside. Sarah’s heart hurt. That poor boy. That was the meeting with his mother he’d so looked forward to. Even Roy wouldn’t have been able to mend him. Nothing seemed mendable anymore. Now things got broken and just kept falling further apart.

Chapter Twenty-one
Jordan

J
ordan let Kramble lead him down the hall at the police station. He hated the feeling of Kramble’s hand on his shoulder, but he was too tired to shrug it off.

“Here.” Kramble pointed to a wooden bench. “Why don’t you just hang out here for a minute.” Jordan obediently sat. Obedient. O-b-e-d-i-e-n-t. He stared at the red-and-blue tiled floor.

“Sorry there’s nothing more comfortable, with a TV or something.” Jordan didn’t pull his eyes from the floor. This building used to be a school, he could tell. It felt like being in school, sitting out here in the locker-lined hall. People talked behind the cloudy glass doors—that glass with the chicken wire inside it that reminded him of Klezmer’s rabbit hutch. He closed his eyes and imagined he’d talked in class and got sent out to the hallway. That’s all. Just his name on the board, nothing more. But he opened his eyes again, lifted his head past Kramble still standing there, and saw the Wanted posters across from him. Heard the distant crackle of radio static and fragments of a conversation about a meth lab in someone’s basement. This wasn’t school. This was a police station, and he was in big trouble.

And talking in class? They’d been trying to get him to talk
more
since they brought him here two hours ago.

Kramble crouched in front of him. “We took your mom to the jail, okay? That’s where your dad is, too. That’s a different building. They’re not here. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Jordan nodded. They’d already told him this a million times. It didn’t matter.

“You want something to eat? Or a Coke or something?”

Jordan shook his head.

Kramble’s knees popped as he stood. “Sarah and Nate are back from the emergency room. I need to talk to both of them, so it’s gonna be a while. You sure about food? There’s chips. Candy bars.”

Jordan shook his head again, without looking up. Kramble finally sighed and said, “Okay. Let us know if you need anything. I’m right around the corner,” and he walked away.

Jordan exhaled, glad to be left alone. His mouth felt tight and sore from his mother’s nails. His head ached, and his torn knuckles stung. He’d never punched anyone before, and it’d felt good, which scared him.

They’d put Danny in a different room. Jordan had known that his only chance to get the truth out of Danny was to talk to him before Sarah and Nate got back from the emergency room, but now it was too late. He had no idea where Danny was right now. And he didn’t want to move. He’d seen the wall of TV monitors in the front office when they’d arrived. He knew that someone—probably that chubby lady who didn’t smile when she’d buzzed them in—was looking at him sitting here on this bench right now. It made that water sound rush in his ears. He wanted to look around for the camera but was afraid to. It was better to ignore the camera altogether. Put himself somewhere else. He closed his eyes.

His mom had come for him. She hadn’t forgotten about him like his dad had. She loved him, and she was going to take him away, far away from his dad, where it would just be the two of them. Without his dad, his mom would be okay, and the bad things would stop. Jordan tried to picture their new house. He’d get another cat and maybe a rabbit like Klezmer. He’d have his own bedroom and—

He opened his eyes, breath sharp. He’d pictured his mother slipping under the covers, too.
Stop it.
Kramble had told Jordan that Jordan’s dad told all the police that his mom had molested Jordan all the time and that she’d filmed all the parties. Kramble always said “molested” or “raped” or “had sex with” as if he was talking about anything people did every day, like go to school or eat breakfast. Everyone else always said “abuse” after pausing for a second, like they didn’t know what to call it. They weren’t supposed to call it
anything.
If you didn’t, it was easier to pretend it never happened.

He closed his eyes again, but he couldn’t keep his mother out of his dream room, so he stopped trying to picture one.

His dad had told the police that his mother’s “abuse” had been filmed once. Now they knew—but why should they believe him? Jordan thought he’d had everything under control, but now his dad was blabbing stuff and his mom’s secret brother was
here
in Dayton. He’d paid his mom’s bail, was staying with her. Why? What did he want? Kramble told Jordan that his uncle called the police when Jordan’s mom disappeared. The uncle had been afraid for Jordan, had come to the police station, to make sure “the boy” was all right. Jordan sort of wanted to at least
see
what his uncle looked like, but mostly he wanted him to go back to Seattle. Thinking about it made Jordan want to crawl under this bench and sleep for weeks.

Kramble came down the hall, with Nate walking behind him. “I brought you some company,” Kramble said.

Nate held a blue gel ice pack on his right cheek. A pale green hospital bracelet circled his wrist. Five black stitches outlined his lower lip, and two sat like little bugs next to his eye.

“We’re going to talk to Danny again, with Sarah,” Kramble said. Then the detective walked away, leaving Jordan and Nate alone in the dim hall. Nate clutched the blue ice pack over half his face and studied Jordan with his other, bloodshot eye. Jordan didn’t know what to say. Nate lowered himself stiffly to the wooden bench and stretched his legs out in front of him. Then he leaned back against the wall, tilting his head to one side so that the ice pack stayed balanced on his cheek, and crossed his arms over his chest.

Jordan swallowed a sour taste rising in his throat as he looked at what his punches had caused. He saw his mother skidding onto the grass from Nate’s shove and tried to feel the fury that had filled him before, but it felt far away. He pictured a whole ocean between that fury and now. The fury had disappeared when his mom had whispered to him. Just before she got taken away, his mom had held his face and asked, “Do you know where my disk is?” Danny must have said something to her. And her words had caused the thought to sneak into Jordan’s head that nothing had changed.

Nothing had changed.
If she’d taken him with her, the same bad things would happen over and over again.

He pressed his own fingernails into the cuts around his mouth.
Stupid,
he told himself. Stupid to think it would be different.

Stop it. Stop thinking like that.
He dug his nails into the cuts she’d made. He pressed until his eyes stung with tears. All he’d wanted was to be done with this.

Jordan decided that he didn’t care if right this minute Danny was spilling the beans. He hoped that maybe Danny
would
spill them, and for a few minutes he saw a picture of Danny hefting a heavy cloth sack and little black beans, like coffee beans, pouring out all over the police station’s floor.

Jordan looked up at Nate’s face. The Ladens would probably kick him out of their house. Nate hated him now. That made Jordan feel dizzy. He’d do anything for Nate. That dumb tree came into his head. He’d finally decided that if Danny brought it up again, he might say yes. Good thing they hadn’t planted one for him already. He pictured Nate yanking it out of the ground and snapping the trunk in half. “Nate?” he whispered.

Nate turned his head and caught the ice pack as it slid off his face. The cheek shone purple beneath it. “Yeah?”