The Second Trial (15 page)

Catherine walked hesitantly up the sidewalk. Someone had used knotted fishing line to try to repair a ragged
L
-shaped tear at elbow height in the screen door. She unlocked the water-stained inner door. Before she stepped over the scuffed threshold, she turned, a brave smile on her face.

“C'mon, kids, we're home,” she said.

“I'll bring the suitcases,” said Sgt. Sandhu. “I think we'd best leave Buddy in the van for now. You three go in and look around.”

Danny straggled in behind Jennifer. They entered a short hallway with a shallow closet along one wall and a set of metal coat hooks screwed into the other. The hall opened into a living room and a set of stairs to the second floor. He walked across the cement-gray carpet. He barely glanced at the furniture as he marched to the bare window above the kitchen sink. It overlooked a common area surrounded by identical units.

Danny turned to his mother. “There's no place for Buddy.”

“Don't worry, it's not for very long. We'll manage.”

He brushed by his mother and headed up the stairs.

The second floor had three rooms and a bathroom. The master bedroom was half the size of his parents' old one. The bathroom faced the street. Two cramped bedrooms looked down on the common area. Jennifer had already checked out the rooms and chosen the one farther from the stairs.

“Doesn't matter to me,” he muttered, and punched his hands into the pockets of the shorts he'd been wearing for days. He turned on his heel and strode out.

Their six suitcases lay on the living room floor. Sgt. Sandhu asked Danny to take them upstairs while he spoke with his mom.

Danny scowled, but picked up two bags. “Jen can carry her own,” he announced. He halted at the stairs and eavesdropped on Sgt. Sandhu and his mom.

“The telephone will be installed in a couple of days,” he said. “Once you have it, call this number,” he said. “They'll put you in touch with the NIVA reps here.”

“Okay.”

“It's critical you don't contact anyone in Edmonton. Not now…not ever.”

Silence.

“Paul's being released – today's Sunday – so in the next couple of days. When he finds out you and the kids are gone…well, that's the most dangerous time. He'll do anything he can to find you or flush you out.”

“I understand, but I'm worried about Danny.”

“I know. I am too.”

“If only there were some way to make him
believe
…to get him to trust me, accept that this is the only way…” she stammered, “…to save us all.”

“He's a bright boy. He'll figure it out. Until then, you'll have to have faith that he'd never knowingly put all of you in danger. I don't believe he'd deliberately do it, but he might make a mistake, an error in judgment, and endanger you that way. It's just another one of the risks you're going to have to guard against.”

Danny grabbed his mother's suitcases and trudged up the stairs. He dropped them in her room and went to get Buddy. He grasped the dog by the scruff of his neck and led him from the van. Buddy's nose twitched and he made a lunge for the cat. The neighborhood children abandoned their play and crowded around the border collie.

“What's his name?” “Can I pet him?” “Are you coming to live here in the condos?” “Does he bite?”

Danny struggled to keep his dog in check as Buddy tried to sniff every hand. The children smiled and giggled. Danny smiled too.

“His name's Buddy, and he doesn't bite,” he said, crouching to hold the dog's neck while the children fussed over him.

“Oh, he licked me!” cried a young girl who stuck out her hand to be licked again.

“C'mon, Buddy-boy, it's time to go in,” Danny said, pushing past the children.

“What's your name?” asked a boy about Jennifer's age.

Danny's smile faded. He led the dog up the front steps without a word.

Buddy raced around the condo and checked out every smell, his nose twitching like jelly shaking in a bowl. It didn't take him long to zip up the stairs.

Sgt. Sandhu was still talking. “I'll go and pick up some fried chicken while you get settled a bit. I'll have to be off pretty soon after dinner.”

“Thank you. How can I ever thank you…”

“Stay alive. Just stay alive, and it will all be worth it.”

Danny took the stairs two at a time and was out of sight before Sgt. Sandhu had left the kitchen. Buddy followed close on the boy's heels.

The police officer returned with a splotchy cardboard box and a small plastic bag. Danny had opened his suitcases, but had tugged out only a toothbrush and a fresh T-shirt. He'd had a shower, but he hadn't even shampooed his hair before the water ran cold. He wiped a wide arc across the green-edged mirror and gazed at his foggy reflection. His eyebrows were thickening and a few more hairs had appeared on his upper lip. He was beginning to look more like his father. Until now, everyone had said he looked like his mother.

He could smell the food even before he was half-way down the stairs. Lunch had been quite a while ago. Even though his gut was sometimes knotted with worry, he was hungry. Both Sgt. Sandhu and his mom looked relieved when he appeared at the table in a fresh shirt. Mom had laid out the chunky green plates she'd found in the cupboard. Cloudy glasses sat beside each plate. Some of the cutlery matched. Sgt. Sandhu opened the box of chicken and dumped fries out of a bag. Danny grabbed his favorite pieces. There wasn't much conversation. It didn't take them long to finish. There was no dessert.

“Could you help clear the table?” Mom asked Danny.

He picked up his plate and looked around.

“There's no dishwasher,” he said.

She scanned the pressed-wood cupboards. “Yes, I see that now,” she said with a thin smile. “Please just stack them by the sink.” She used a dingy dishcloth to wipe the arborite table.

“Let's go into the living room for a bit,” suggested Sgt. Sandhu.

They sat around the artificial oak coffee table. Mom and Jennifer took the sagging couch. Sgt. Sandhu and Danny were left with the armchairs. The red seat cushion went
whaa
as Danny sat, releasing the musty smell of old cigarettes and spilled beer. He stroked the arms, made oily and sticky by many hands.

As he spoke, Sgt. Sandhu looked back and forth between Danny and Jennifer. “I know this isn't much compared with what you're used to, but it's the best we can do for now. Don't worry, you know about your mom's plan, and it will all work out in the end. Remember, it isn't safe for anyone to know your old names. It's a secret, one you must always keep. This is the most important secret of your lives, because your lives depend upon keeping it.”

Danny fidgeted. He had a better idea, one that would give him back the life he wanted. Mom's plan didn't amount to a
secret
at all, did it? It was nothing but a lie – names and dates and a made-up past. And she'd said she'd never lie again.
I'll give it 'till Christmas,
he said to himself.
Then I'll contact Dad, he'll forgive Mom, we'll
move back, and this ‘between' time will all just be a bad dream.
He'd be right and they'd all be wrong. A Christmas to look forward to.

Sgt. Sandhu stood. “I – I have to go now. Remember to call NIVA when you get your phone. They'll help you…adjust.” He moved to the couch. Jennifer and Catherine rose. The police officer reached for Jennifer and hugged her to his chest.

“Good-bye, Julia,” he said. “Take care of yourself, and your brother, and your mother.” He kissed her gently on the top of her head, and let her go.

He brushed away a tear. He picked up a bag from the coffee table. “This is for you, David.” Danny sat stiff-necked as he took it. He reached inside and pulled out a new braided dog collar, much like the old one. It had two round brass tags that jingled as the collar moved. He turned them over. Each one was blank.

Sgt. Sandhu offered his hand. Danny rose awkwardly and reached out. The officer grasped Danny's hand, and placed his other palm over the top.

“Good luck, David. Take care.” Their eyes locked briefly, but Danny broke the contact and looked down.

“Thanks for the collar,” he mumbled, steeling himself against showing any emotion. He fiddled with the collar.

The police officer looked at Catherine. She moved around the table and took his hands in hers.

“You're a brave woman, Susan. You're doing the right thing.”

“Thank you,” she choked. “No long good-byes.”

“No long good-byes,” the police officer repeated as he started toward the door. He paused in the entryway.

“This is for you and the kids,” he said, holding out a white envelope he'd pulled from his back pocket. “From Anita and me.”

She took the envelope. “Thank you,” she stammered.

Sgt. Sandhu took a deep breath, collected himself, and said, “Don't leave anything to chance. Those notes you've made – keep them only until you have them memorized – then burn them.”

She nodded.

“Good-bye, Susan. Good-bye and good luck.”

Chapter 2

Danny buckled the collar on the impatient dog. The last couple of days had been hard. As they had driven away from their Edmonton home in the unmarked police van, he'd hung onto the worry stone. Jennifer had clutched her love-worn teddy, Shakesbear, and wiped away tears with her favorite blanket. They'd spent that night in a motel that resembled the YES. He'd never been to a motel, and it had never occurred to him that air conditioning could be optional. He pretended he didn't care, but he was too nervous about getting lost or losing collarless Buddy to do anything but stay in the dingy room.

Now he hoped he could find an off-leash park somewhere near the condo. Buddy needed it. Danny put the new collar on Buddy and when he saw the leash, the border collie dashed to the door.

His mom glanced at her watch. “Can you be back by nine?”

Danny looked at his wrist. No watch. He'd forgotten it at home.

He left without a word.

“See you later, Davey-boy,” his mom whispered at the closed door.

All eyes followed the new kid as the dog led him down the sidewalk. He turned abruptly and aimed for the mall.

A few featureless shops hung off the end of the parking lot. Abandoned grocery carts littered the parking spaces. A group of teens shared a smoke in front of the video store. There were two ways he could avoid them: go behind the mall onto a scruffy field, or angle toward a cluster of duplexes down the street. Although he wanted to let Buddy run, the dark was gathering and he opted for the street.

The day after they'd left Edmonton, Sgt. Sandhu had driven them around Saskatoon in the afternoon heat to show them the places they were supposed to be ‘from.' They'd cruised bumpy streets. Single-storey houses older than Grandma and Grandpa's huddled unevenly, back from the sidewalks. They were almost all the same. Steep-pitched roofs ended in wobbly gutters added like an afterthought.

“This district's called Greenview,” Sgt. Sandhu said. “These houses were built in wartime. You can see some of them have been nicely kept up, and some of them haven't. The original owners usually live in the nice-looking ones. The others tend to be rented by lower-income people with young children and immigrants on their way to something better. We picked this neighborhood because there aren't many families like yours, so it's unlikely you'll bump into someone who actually lived here. All the street names start with
Green
– Greenhill, Greenway, Greentree – easy to remember.”

Mom wrote it down.

A stumble over a frost-heave on the Winnipeg sidewalk jolted Danny back to the present. Dusk was falling. He ran his fingers through his hair. Part of him wanted to get off this road and back into the condo. Another part of him didn't want to ever return to the place he already despised. He chewed his lower lip and then steered Buddy back to the complex. As they rounded the far side, he saw a sign he hadn't noticed before. It announced the condo complex's name: New Haven.

New Haven!

His mom and sister were cuddling on the couch when Danny returned. His mom looked tense and she rose to greet him.

He shuffled his feet. “Do we – should we take off our shoes at the door?”

“I think it's okay to keep them on. We won't worry about it.”

He bent to unsnap the leash and spoke without looking up. “Where should we keep Buddy's dishes?”

“I've put them in the basement. The front entrance is too small, and in the kitchen he'd just be underfoot.” She paused. “And it's only for a while, a few weeks…”

“Okay,” he replied. Buddy's nose had already led him to the bottom of the stairs. Mom had moistened the food just the way he liked it. His muzzle dove into the water dish.

Danny scanned the basement. Someone had laid thin linoleum tiles over the concrete floor. A metal stand supported an old portable TV made before there were remote controls. A ratty couch and chair faced the dusty screen. Someone had tacked old tablecloths over two narrow windows, making the room gloomy. He sighed, turned his back, and went up to his bedroom.

He threw his suitcases on the bed and began to unpack. He tried to organize his things in the drawers and closet the same way he'd had them at home, but a week's worth of clothes ate up all the space. He had to hang his hoodies in the closet. He dumped his sports gear on the closet floor.
It's a good thing the rest of my
stuff won't arrive until we move to a bigger place,
he thought. There was no desk. He'd have to do his homework at the kitchen table. He was tired, but he'd forgotten his watch so he didn't know what time it was. But it didn't really matter anymore, did it? The only time he cared about was the time this would all be over. Until then, he'd coast.

Mom had settled on the living room couch in a shaft of morning sunlight. She was studying the newspapers Sgt. Sandhu had bought in Saskatoon so she would know a little more about the place. She lifted her head. “Good morning. I was hoping you'd come with me to the grocery store so we can buy some food. We need breakfast.”