Don't Catch Me Page 6

  She was following her plan: Get in, get out.

  The building was old, and the floor creaked as she walked. There were two stories, and she followed the sign that said, Courtrooms, second floor. There were maybe twenty or thirty people outside what looked like four courtrooms—people sitting, standing, huddled together, discussing. Then she saw him.

  She didn’t walk right up to him but paused, staring at the doors, the signs. For a second she considered turning and walking right out.

  “Rose?” His voice was unmistakable: deep, meaningful, the kind of voice she’d not tire of listening to.

  She looked his way. He was standing in a dark blue suit, with a spotted tie, and he looked sharp. He had an attache case, one of the fancy leather ones. She didn’t have to look too hard to know it wasn’t cheap. The man liked quality; it was written all over him, everything about him. “Mr. McCabe,” she said, needing that formality.

  He smiled, but it was a distracted, tired one that didn’t meet his eyes. “You changed your mind.”

  She had the moment he pulled away. “I’m still not sure how you think I can help,” she said. She was scared shitless of getting on that stand, with her name in the record. But the alternative…it bothered her to think of what would happen to the girl.

  “Every little bit helps. Listen, this is going to be quick. It’s a formality to get her out of jail.”

  She caught a glimpse of the Humboldts, Marty and Elma Mae, casually dressed. The man was staring at her and Chase, trying to discreetly take in everyone at the end of the hall outside Courtroom A. The doors opened, and they stepped inside.

  “Great, I see the Humboldts have shown,” Chase said. “Any idea who that is with them?”

  She didn’t recognize the woman—short, young, dark hair, glasses, with a bag over her shoulder. “I have no idea, but I don’t know a lot in these parts.” She suspected a government person, a social worker, maybe someone from the DA’s office by the way she dressed, stood, and looked around. She was busy, distracted, not emotionally involved. “I’m still not clear exactly what you need from me if this is just a bail hearing.”

  “Character reference. Listen, let’s go in. I wish I had more time, but I’m piecing a lot together still and am wondering if she wouldn’t be better off in jail until I can figure out another living situation for her.”

  She had to take in this man, who seemed bothered, not that she knew him, as she walked with him into a courtroom filled with people. The judge at the bench was overseeing another individual, another lawyer. There was an empty seat in the second row, and Chase extended his hand toward it. Rose slid in first, and he sat beside her. Her heart was hammering, and she wondered whether he picked up on her nerves. She took in the Humboldts with the young dark-haired lady sitting in the front row on the other side.

  “If she gets out, you know she’ll be right back with them,” Rose said. “Not a good situation, from what I hear, but what alternative is there? Jail, seriously? That can’t be a better option.” She kept her voice low, but someone still turned and shushed her.

  The judge slammed his gavel on the bench and called out the next case. Chase stood up and pushed through the gate, buttoning his suit jacket. The DA, who was sitting at the table on Rose’s side, had salt and pepper hair, and he was wearing an older tweed jacket. She could only see the back of his head. She took in the girl from the gas station, cuffed and escorted in by a deputy. The she was uncuffed and left with Chase, and he said something to her that Rose couldn’t make out.

  Rose just watched the Humboldts, the way the mister was sitting so straight and staring at the girl. There was an exchange between the two. He was trying to intimidate her, and maybe Chase knew, as he made sure she didn’t look back. He was talking to her again when the judge called the court to order and was handed a file by his clerk.

  “What do we have here? Attempted armed robbery, it says.”

  “Your honor, we’re looking at a charge of second-degree robbery,” the DA said. “There could be additional pending charges, considering the weapon produced by the defendant was defaced, possibly stolen.”

  “This is a minor girl, and charges are in adult court?” the judge responded.

  The DA was standing, now reading from a file. “That’s correct, your honor. We’ll also be looking for the maximum of ten years for the seriousness of the crime, with remand, no bail.”

  “And how does your client plead…” The judge was reading something in a file. “Mr. McCabe?”

  Chase leaned down and said something to Billy Jo.

  “Not guilty,” she said.

  “Your honor, this is an overreach on the DA’s part,” Chase said. “There was no robbery. My client was acting in self defense—”

  “Save it for the trial. This is just a bail hearing,” the judge said. “I see here too that CPS is here, a Joanne Smith?” The judge looked up, and the dark-haired young lady with glasses and a pale face stood up and walked forward. The bailiff held open the gate as she approached and stood before the judge.

  “Yes, your honor,” she said. “Billy Jo Thornton has been a ward of the state of Nevada and is currently in the care of the Humboldts, who are in the courtroom. We request that she be released to the Humboldts, and they’ll see to it that she’s returned for trial. We’d like a provision in the bail terms that she can leave the state, as the Humboldt property is just outside McDermitt on the Nevada side.”

  The judge was shaking his head. “The DA have any objection?”

  It sounded a little too easy, and Rose could see things going badly for the girl.

  “Actually, your honor, the defense objects,” Chase said. What was he doing?

  “You object to what, exactly, Mr. McCabe?”

  “There are extenuating circumstances, your honor, and the defense would like to request that Billy Jo be required to remain in the state of Oregon and in the vicinity of Vale. We would also like to bring a motion that she be removed from the care of the Humboldts, considering the seriousness of the incident and the fact that there is undue influence from the Humboldts and possible abuse.”

  “I’m sorry, your honor, but we have no record of any such allegations,” the social worker said, looking to Chase and around him to Billy Jo. “You making stories up again, Billy Jo?”

  Rose couldn’t believe the social worker had said that.

  “Do not address my client,” Chase said, and the judge lifted his hand to get everyone to calm down.

  “Okay, let’s back up a bit. Mr. McCabe, is your client stating that she’s been abused by her foster parents, and have there or have there not been charges or an investigation started somewhere?” He actually looked over to the DA. Rose couldn’t see his face, but she looked to the Humboldts and watched as the mister stood up. He was a big man.

  “Your honor, I’m Marty Humboldt, and the accusation is a lie. This is not the first time Billy Jo has told a whopper of a story. Telling the truth is something unheard of with this girl—”

  “Your honor, seriously, Mr. Humboldt is testifying,” Chase said. He was facing Rose, looking at Mr. Humboldt and then the judge. She could see how angry he looked.

  “Yes, it seems he is. Sit down there, Mr. Humboldt. This here is not the time for such testimony. I’m just deciding on whether to release the girl on bail.”

  Then Chase’s gaze met hers for an instant, and she knew before he said her name that he was going to bring her into something she didn’t want any part of. Yet here she was.

  “Your honor, Ms. Rose Wilcox is in the gallery and has offered to speak of the incident, as she was a witness at the gas station.”

  Now what? She was frozen and felt as if every eye was on her.

  “Ms. Wilcox, stand up so we can see you,” the judge said, and Rose wanted to kick Chase. What was she supposed to say? Chase was motioning her forward, and she stepped into the aisle.

  “Ah, there you are. This isn’t a trial today, but I need to decide whether this girl will
show up if I let her out on bail. Do you know the defendant?” the judge asked her.

  “No, I do not know her. It’s just that I was there at the station and fear that Roy, I mean the gas station attendant, may have taken advantage of her.” She didn’t know what else to say, and she looked to Chase, because she didn’t have a clue what she was doing or what he needed from her.

  “That’s right, your honor. I was there as well, and…”

  Rose sat, her legs shaking, because everyone had heard what she’d said. She knew the Humboldts were watching her too. Whatever was this going to accomplish?

  “Okay, I’ve heard enough, I think, to decide,” the judge said. “Yes, this isn’t a trial, and, Mr. McCabe, you will get time at trial to argue the facts. Today is about deciding on bail, and considering the seriousness of the charge and the fact that Billy Jo is a ward of the state of Nevada, I’m inclined that bail be denied and she be held at the county jail—”

  There was talking and distraction, and she took in Chase and then the girl, who was still standing. This time there was no emotion in her expression. It was a resignation to fate or something entirely different. She could be wrong, though.

  “Let me finish, you all,” the judge said. “Until a local suitable foster situation can be found, she’ll be a guest of the state. Ms. Smith, that will be up to you to coordinate with Oregon state officials.” Then the judge banged his gavel and called out for the next case, and the bailiff was cuffing Billy Jo and taking her out the side door. Chase lifted his briefcase and was through the gate, stopping just beside Rose, waiting as he gestured for them to leave, and she stood up and left the courtroom with him.

  “Well, that didn’t go well,” she said, taking in Chase. He appeared distracted. “Or did it? I mean, what would have happened if he’d let her out and she went back to the Humboldts?”

  He touched her arm and pulled her over to the side by the stairs. “I wanted to talk to you about that. There was something you said, something else you mentioned that’s been bothering me, about the guns and the visitors the Humboldts have. I need to know everything you know about that.”

  She wondered whether her face showed her panic. Chase looked over her head and then reached for her arm again.

  “Let’s go outside,” he said. “I have questions that I need answered, and I believe you know exactly how to do that for me.”

  Chapter 12

  It wasn’t lost on Chase, the panic that had come over Rose—nor the fact that she’d cleaned up nicely. More than nicely. The lady had style, fashion sense, and he was positive she could have fit in with the wives of the politicians he worked with, though DC wasn’t a society for everyone. He had the sense there was a lot more to Rose Wilcox than she was letting on.

  “Let’s take a walk,” he said, and she said nothing as she fell in beside him, past the courthouse and down the sidewalk toward a city park. “When I came to see you this morning, you mentioned the Humboldts, the guns, the visitors. I’m getting the impression that there’s a whole lot more than we know going on in that house.”

  Rose was showing nothing on her face as she continued to put one foot in front of the other. She looked up to the sun, the day bright with some clouds, and her eyes narrowed as she looked to the side and then straight ahead as if making note of who was around, or maybe she was thinking of what she needed to say or not say.

  “Just answer this,” he said. “How do you know the Humboldts have guns?”

  This time she seemed to stiffen before pausing and facing him. “Everyone around these parts knows that if you need guns, you go to the Humboldts. There’s an underground grapevine in communities everywhere, and it’s for just about anything you need. Overregulation from government has forced a lot of folks into doing things a different way—like selling local meat, milk, everything so the money doesn’t go through local governing bodies. Guns are just one more thing. You ask, and someone tells you, ‘Oh, you need this? Go here. You need that? Go there.’ But then, you have to talk to the right person, because a lot of stuff is underground underground. Folks need to be careful they don’t get burned and let just anyone into the network.”

  Chase was watching her and trying to figure out how she could compare illegally butchered meat to guns.

  “Yes, the Humboldts have guns,” she finally said. “You and everybody knows that Billy Jo showed up at that gas station with one of those stolen guns. Is it the kind of place that should be providing a home to kids? No, but is there anything better? Did Billy Jo say something? I’ve been wondering about the girl. I don’t know much about her, and I’d never seen her before.” Rose shrugged.

  “Can’t share with you what my client has or hasn’t said, but anything you can tell me would be helpful.” Anything that would help him understand just what kind of abuse the girl had faced, that is. What had gone on in that house, and what was Rose’s story? There had to be one. Everyone had one.

  They were walking again. “I don’t know what to tell you except that people don’t say a lot about the Humboldts in the usual way of ‘Oh, they’re such great neighbors’ and such. It’s more that they have a steady flow of people in and out of their place. It’s a two-story home that’s only half finished. The property is isolated, and the driveway in is half a mile long so they can be waiting for you before you even get to the front door. No surprises, you know.”

  So she’d been there. He wondered whether she had any idea what she was giving away.

  “And they have ten other foster kids?” he added, knowing he had to find out what kind of conditions allowed for such a thing to happen. “What is it like there?” he said.

  She said nothing.

  “Rose, come on. I’m just trying to help a kid who could use someone on her side to give a fuck about her. Help me out, please. I’m not in this community, but you are.”

  This time she stopped and faced him. “There are a lot of kids. The Humboldts have two of their own. Boys, older, I think. A lot of mouths to feed. The foster kids seem to be a wide range of ages, but they work, from what I can tell. Not sure what kind of conditions, but I was only there once and can only go by what I saw, first impressions, you know, which may not be accurate.”

  “Really?” Chase said. “I think that’s bullshit. I think you’re the type of person who can figure out a lot from a first impression.”

  She hadn’t expected that, and he could see he was breaking through her layers. Would she tell more or shut down? He couldn’t tell with her. It would be one or the other.

  “You can see it in their faces,” she said and started walking again, slipping her hands into the pockets of her cardigan. “You know, the faces of kids not wanted.”

  He didn’t know what to say. “You’ve seen it. You were there, but you don’t know them.”

  She knew something. She was playing it down, glancing off to the side, thinking maybe, deciding what to say.

  “You buy one of those stolen guns?” he asked, and she didn’t really answer. “Ah, I see. You did.”

  “Everything isn’t always so black and white, you know. I needed a gun.”

  “Why not just go to a store, any store? Oregon has to be the easiest state to pick one up in.” He didn’t get why she’d have gone and bought one she knew had to have been stolen. It made no sense unless she had a record.

  “Going into a store, you still have to register the gun. That doesn’t work for me. I need to be safe, and I also need to not be found.” She looked away, and he wondered about the story. He was getting dragged into lives here when he needed to be in Vegas, but right now it couldn’t be helped. He’d call his brothers again, explain the situation here as best he could.

  “Are you wanted?” he asked.

  “Not in that way. No, I don’t have a record,” she said and stopped walking, facing him. He was so close to her he could feel her. She glanced down once, maybe considering what she could say.

  “Come on, Rose. Is someone looking for you? Are you in some kind of
trouble? You can tell me, you know. I’m a great listener, and it won’t go anywhere.” Husband or boyfriend, it had to be. Something bad, maybe.

  “You asked about the Humboldts, if they’re fit to have kids.”

  It wasn’t lost on him how she hadn’t answered and was trying to manage the conversation. Maybe she wasn’t ready to share. Trust issues seemed to be something of a pattern here.

  “Okay, got it. Not ready to share yet. Just know that whenever you want to tell me, talk about it, or just have a sounding board, I’m available. Whatever it is you’re running from, it’s safe with me.”

  She didn’t smile. She didn’t nod, either. Another tough broad. He wondered whether Rose had any idea of the similarities between her and Billy Jo.

  “So what are your thoughts on the Humboldts?” he said. “Because I’m sure there’s more going on there than just running guns.”

  Rose gave him a questioning look. “You think the kids are being hurt,” she said.

  “I think Billy Jo has been hurt. Don’t know about the other kids. Haven’t even seen them.”

  “Are you saying she was physically or sexually abused?” Rose said, stopping and looking up at him, her expression so sad.

  “I’m saying someone has abused her, or a lot of someones. Who and how, exactly, I don’t know.”

  “You need to get her out of there.” She sounded upset now. She stopped, looked up the street and over to him. “Find her another place. Just get her out of there.”

  “I’m working on it. The problem is Child Services weren’t too inclined to step in and help her. They don’t believe her. It’s as if they’ve written her off and won’t give her the time of day. Did you see the social worker? More on the Humboldts’ side than Billy Jo’s. They think she’s a liar.”