Don't Catch Me Page 8

  “Here, let me clear a spot for you to sit,” he said and lifted clothes from the chair before dumping them on the small suitcase sitting open on the luggage rack in what passed as a closet. He wiped the chair down and extended the flat of his hand to it. She took the hint and sat.

  “So tell me why you decided to drive all this way to see me.” He sat on the bed, lifting some papers. He was so serious and committed, two things that she’d never have expected from this man she barely knew.

  “You seem invested in making something better for a stranger, which I’m having a bit of a hard time understanding. Not that I’m opposed, because helping this girl is only right, but I also figured, with you not being from around here and seeing something from the outside looking in, you may not have the entire picture of what’s going on.”

  He rested his forearms on his legs, spreading them and leaning down, clasping his hands together. He was wearing nice dress pants, a white shirt with a coffee stain on the hem, and the bandage on his arm, which drove home everything that had happened. Now who was being quiet?

  He looked up at her, and his jaw was set. He was angry at someone, maybe her. “You know, this entire place I walked into is so fucked up. Do you know Billy Jo’s been tossed into some adult jail because there really is no other place to put her? The jail itself is overcrowded, which is something I learned in passing when I went to see her. The place is a huge shock. There’re a lot of guards, a lot of doors, and a lot of rules. If it was hard for me, how do think it is for her? Do you know I’ve never in my life been in a jail? I swear, even with my fucked-up family, not one of us has landed in jail. Never known anyone who’s been charged and convicted of anything other than traffic violations. Statistically, that must be rare, unheard of, but prison is something I’ve only seen on TV.”

  He was shaking his head. “I’d rather go back to that place of obliviousness than know what I’ve seen now, because seeing her in there, dressed in prison garb in a place that’s about as bad as it can ever get, she looked as if she fit in. A kid at fifteen looked as if she was home. How fucked up is that?” He wiped his face, shut his eyes, and then blew out a breath as if trying to center himself. “But you know what really pissed me off is the fact that she seemed resigned to her fate. No one has ever given a fuck about this kid.”

  He held up his hand as if he needed to interrupt her, but she’d said nothing as she took in how upset Chase was. “It isn’t anything she said,” he continued, “because I can’t get her to say fuck all to me unless I lose it on her, and then it’s as if, okay, I’ll give him something, toss him some crumbs, because he gave me his anger. It’s the only emotion she seems to understand. You know, what I can tell you is that this kid was born unwanted, dumped into a system that didn’t want her, and everyone in the places she’s been hasn’t wanted her. Her outlook is grim. Statistically speaking, she’s headed for a life of incarceration, drugs, you name it, but it’s almost as if her life was over the moment she was born, because no one wanted her.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rose said, and he lowered his hand, which was swiping his forehead as if he couldn’t believe what she’d said.

  “Why are you sorry?” He sounded so pissed.

  “Because you’re the only one who’s given a damn about this girl. That’s why I drove out here.”

  Chase wasn’t giving her anything. He wasn’t making this easy.

  “I want to help,” she said, though that was the one thing she’d never planned on doing. Helping meant getting involved and putting herself out there, and that kind of involvement was something she’d never meant to commit to for anyone, not ever again. However, Rose knew that despite the fact that Chase McCabe was willing to give his everything for Billy Jo, the girl would be screwed without her help, too.

  Chapter 16

  Rose was gorgeous, wearing low riders, a pair of Clarks, and a thin black sweater with a round neckline that accentuated the size of her bust. She had a great figure and a great face, with high cheekbones, the perfect complexion, and eyes that said she had a past she didn’t want to share. Yet she was here, sitting in his average hotel room, drinking cheap coffee and offering him help.

  “But what do you think is going to happen when you get her out?” she said. “She’d go right back to the Humboldts. I don’t know about you, but have you thought about what that means for her?” She was leaning back in the upholstered chair, and she settled her half drunk mug of coffee, which he’d made from the tiny coffeemaker in the room, onto a side table. Even he knew how bad it was.

  “Of course I have. I have a call in with Child Services,” he said. The truth was that while he’d left three messages for the social worker who’d shown up in court, she’d yet to call him back. “My first priority is to get her someplace safe.” Somewhere that wasn’t with the Humboldts, somewhere she’d be away from the horror of what he suspected she was living.

  “And safe would be what?” she said. She was asking questions he had asked himself.

  “Safe would be people who are there to help a kid like her, someplace where she wouldn’t be…” What could he say, hunted, kept, preyed on? He suspected it all was happening, in a manner of speaking, without knowing for sure what the specifics were.

  “The Humboldts have been on the Nevada side outside McDermitt forever,” Rose said. “His great granddaddy settled there. His rundown cabin, the original homestead, from what people have said, still sits someplace on the property. His grandfather was a bootlegger, and his father was part of it and then took up with the KKK in Oregon and later in Nevada. The Humboldts are about as homegrown as you can get for bringing arms against the government for the supreme race of the white man. Their views are so twisted that anyone on the outside who gets a first look has to be sickened by what goes on there, and what’s really twisted is that there aren’t only white kids with them but a mix of races, so why did they take them on if they’re white supremacists and all?”

  Chase didn’t know what to say. He was standing outside the bathroom and taking in this woman, who knew so much about the family yet had been there only once. “How can this be possible?” he said. How could something like this have been overlooked by Child Services? She had to be wrong. Maybe this was rural gossip?

  “You’re looking at me as if I made this up, but I assure you I haven’t. I’ve lived out here for a year. Took me two months to get into the grapevine. It starts at the post office, believe it or not. In rural places, it’s the hub for everything. The family has a long history. Child Services…I guarantee you they know, but people will also tell you, depending on who you talk to, that they pretend they don’t. It’s about placement. The good people who were once in the system have left because of how screwed up it is. You may want to ask yourself what decent folks would want to get mixed up in a system as dysfunctional and screwed up as this branch of the government. The Humboldts are a big name in the area. No one is going to mess with them. Yes, they have guns. Whatever you want, you get it from them. What else are they mixed up in?” She shrugged. “Not sure either of us really wants to dig too much and learn the answer to that. What has Billy Jo told you?”

  She was pacing in front of the door, and Chase didn’t know what to say to her. He couldn’t betray his client, and he wouldn’t share with anyone what she’d said. Not even Rose.

  “You know better, Rose. Can’t talk of what she’s said. That’s protected. I wouldn’t even if I could, because that kid has never been able to trust anyone, and I’m not going to be one more person who’s tossed her to the wolves and betrayed her.” He rested his hand on his hip, noting how she wrapped her arms around her middle. “I won’t do that to her. Trust is everything here.”

  “You think they’ll hurt her?” Rose asked.

  Chase didn’t know much, and he didn’t have any of the answers he needed. His cell phone rang and vibrated on the beside table. He walked over to it and took in the private number. “Chase McCabe,” he said.

  “Mr. McCabe, thi
s is Joanne Smith from Nevada Child Services, returning your call.”

  Actually, it had been several calls, but then, he was pretty sure she knew that. “Ms. Smith, thanks for calling back. Listen, I’m calling about my client, Billy Jo Thornton. I understand you are her social worker.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” She was cold, distant. He didn’t like that.

  “Listen, my client is currently being housed in a jail for hardened criminals when she’s just a kid. Are you seeking a different placement for her, a different home?”

  She sighed on the other end. “No, I’m sorry. She’ll go back to the Humboldts. They’ve agreed to take her back, although I’m not sure why they would, but it’s the only place who will take her. Listen, she’s got a long history. She’s not an easy child to place. She gets placed in a home and a few months down the road the parents are calling for us to come and get her. She’s done everything, and if you read her file you’d understand why going back to the Humboldts is the best for her. They’re the first family who haven’t complained, and they seem to be the only ones willing to have her. She’s trouble. She’s a runner, she’s started fires, she’s pulled a knife on one foster and threatened to bash in another’s head when they were sleeping. She steals. Should I go on?”

  He had to shut his eyes at the rant coming through the phone. This girl, he had no doubt, had done all of this and then some. “Look, I understand what you’re saying and what she’s done and how it looks on paper, but haven’t you asked yourself why she’s done all this? She was put in a system that’s made her this way. She’s drowning, and she’s reacting and fighting and just trying to survive. I’m sure she’s not making sound choices.” No, he had no doubt where she was headed, and it was nowhere good. The next time, the gun would be loaded by her. The next time she pulled a knife, that person would be dead.

  “Really, you want to lecture me on her choices? No, I’m sorry, do you have any idea the number of kids in care in this system and the lack of choices we have in terms of places to put these kids? There’s no other place for her. No one is going to take her. She either goes back to the Humboldts or she stays in jail. Those are her options.”

  Options that wouldn’t work. “Let me ask you this. How did the Humboldts ever get approved as foster parents in the state? I’m just passing through, yet I’ve learned things about their history as a stranger that I find disturbing and that raise a lot of red flags. Should we discuss the guns, how many visitors they get, or maybe their personal views?”

  “Mr. McCabe.” She was quick to interrupt him. “Let me be clear. There may be rumors of something illegal going on, but as far as the state is concerned, we don’t want to know. Is there anything else I can help you with?” Dismissive, to the point, and fucking disturbing. How could this be happening?

  “Yes, just one more thing. I’d like to know how I would go about getting Billy Jo released into my custody.”

  What had he just done? If the shock on Rose’s face said anything, it was that she had just realized how committed Chase was to seeing Billy Jo get to a place where she could breathe a little easier.

  Chapter 17

  It was getting late.

  The sun was going down, and she needed to get home. Chase had looked at his watch twice now as he listened to the social worker on the other end of the phone rattle off what he would need to do just to qualify as a foster parent. It seemed impossible—all the hoops, the bureaucracy, the time. She couldn’t figure out how the Humboldts could even have been approved.

  There was an application, references, criminal history and background checks, a home study, a series of interviews, fire and home safety… The requirements went on and on, and still she was stuck on how the Humboldts were even on the approved list.

  She was still thinking, and she didn’t even know how long she’d been sitting there, considering, when Chase said something to her. It was then she realized he wasn’t on the phone anymore. “Sorry,” she said and shook her head, taking in everything about him. “You really would take her?” Wow, maybe that was what she was stuck on. He’d just been bumped up closer to hero status. Careful!

  “Someone has to get her out of there. I knew it was a long shot even when I said it, but I had to do something. Qualifying seems almost impossible, though, from the hoops thrown your way, and it makes you wonder why they have the people they do in the system. It was designed to weed out the problem people, but in effect it works the opposite way. It deters all the good folks and attracts predators and those the system was supposed to keep out. It’s flawed. Our entire system seems to be one big flaw.”

  He tossed down his phone on the bed and rubbed his eyes. “I need to wash some clothes and go back to the jail. Visiting hours only have a small window, four evenings a week, but at least I can go every morning. I don’t want her to think I’ve up and left. The fear of that is there. She’s never said it, but she can’t hide it. That girl is just waiting for me not to show. Only way to reach her is to be there, news or not.”

  She was watching him, trying to figure things out. She wondered if he wanted her to go, maybe. “Where are you from?” she said. “I mean, you were passing through to where? I’ve realized I know nothing about you.”

  “As if I know anything about you,” he said right back to her.

  He was right, sort of, but she never shared with anyone. How could she? That meant trusting someone with something that would make her vulnerable. She said nothing.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’m from Springfield, Massachusetts. Well, sort of. I grew up in Nevada, Henderson, but recently I’ve split my time between Washington and Springfield, the home office. Went to Yale, got my law degree, and was an aide to one Massachusetts congressman until last month. I was his chief of staff. Now I’m…” She watched as he frowned, obviously thinking. “Looking at other options,” he finally said, whatever that meant.

  “So you’re a politician,” she said, hoping the alarm and how scared she was wouldn’t show in her voice. She cleared her throat, and he rolled his shoulders and appeared uncomfortable.

  “Yes—was, am. I don’t know. Right now I’m not. I’m helping a girl, then off to Nevada to see my family, and then I’ll decide where my next road is. That’s the beauty of this country. I get to choose what I want to do.”

  Really, an idealist? She wondered whether her surprise was in her expression, the way he was watching her.

  “So you just said on the phone that you wanted to foster Billy Jo, but you don’t live here. You know you have to be a resident, and then after you get her off or fixed or whatever you’re hoping to resolve for her in the courts, are you planning on just dumping her back in the system?”

  Was that what this was about, his need to do some good? Then he’d pat himself on the back and tell himself he’d been a good boy, helping out someone less fortunate.

  “What kind of asshole do you think I am? No!” He seemed pissed off with her, and then she wondered whether he was mad because she’d called him out on his plan. That was the kind of life she’d come from, anyway.

  “Really? Because you just said—”

  “I know what I just said. I don’t live here, you’re right. I’m racking my head, trying to figure out how to pull something together quickly, and I will. If I manage to pull it off, to find a place, get approved to get her the fuck out of that shithole, I’ll pull every string I can to make it happen. But to dump her and run?” He was shaking his head. “I wouldn’t do that to her. I get her out, we finish this, and whatever comes next for me, I’ll make sure she’s with me.”

  She hadn’t expected that. She was staring at this man, trying to figure him out, and maybe that was why she was looking at him and seeing him in a way she’d never seen any man before. “Would you like to move in with me?” she said. It was the one thing she hadn’t expected to come out of her mouth, and evidently, from the expression on his face, neither had he.

  Chapter 18

  Her cellmate’s name was Fred
a, she snored, and she had done nothing to be thrown into jail. She was just a witness in an investigation that had been going on for over a year. She had no money, no papers. She was an immigrant, and, the DA had argued, as a material witness in a major murder case, she was a flight risk with no ties to the community. The judge had apparently agreed and had signed the order to incarcerate. Freda had no money for a lawyer, so she was stuck with a public defender, and now, one hundred and sixty-four days later, she was still a guest of the Malheur County Jail.

  Maybe Billy Jo should talk to Chase. Or maybe she should mind her own business.

  She was in the community room after breakfast when one of the guards came in. “Billy Jo Thornton, your lawyer’s here.”

  Some of the women made cackling noises. Freda, who was sitting across from her, said nothing and turned her attention back to the TV mounted on the wall.

  Billy Jo followed the guard through the locked doors and past other guards, with no one talking to her. She was taken again to the same hallway, and she could again see Chase. This time a woman was with him in the room. Who was that?

  The door was opened, and she walked in. Chase was in blue jeans and a blue shirt. The woman had long blond hair and also wore blue jeans as well as a turtleneck. She was gorgeous, and she looked familiar, maybe. Billy Jo wasn’t sure, though. She didn’t say anything, looking from Chase to the woman and hearing the door being locked behind her.

  “This is Rose Wilcox,” Chase said. “She was at the station when you pulled the gun, and she was at court yesterday for you as well.”

  She noted the woman’s face. Now she remembered.

  “Hi, Billy Jo,” Rose said, sounding nervous. She was standing just behind Chase, and there was something about Chase and the way he was standing that let Billy Jo know something was going on. She hated that feeling because it twisted her stomach into knots, and now she thought she was going to be sick. How would this pretty thing react if she puked right on the floor in front of her?