A Child is Torn: Innocence Lost (16 page)

“Is there a place we can talk in private, Mr. Ginns?” Jean asked.

“Is Brad okay? Is he hurt?” Ginns frowned.

“Yes, Mr. Ginns. Brad’s fine. We just have a few questions.”

“Please, this way.” He led them down the hallway and into a room that was obviously some sort of dining area. There was a soda and snack machine in the corner, and a coffee urn sat on a white Formica cabinet with condiments and cups.

They each pulled up a chair and sat down at one of the tables.

“I’m sorry—can I get you some coffee? We have Danish somewhere.”

He started to get up, but Jean put out her arm. “No, we’re fine, please sit.”

He sat back down. “You said Brad is okay, so what can I do for you folks?” He folded his hands before him, thumbs up and touching.

Jean glanced out the large picture window that faced the parking lot, and then looked back at him.

“That your new car out there?” Jean asked. “Really nice, must have cost a bundle.”

He fidgeted, looking uncomfortable as he unfolded his hands; he looked first at Moran, and then back at Jean.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He glanced back at Moran. “You didn’t come here to ask about my car. What the hell is going on?” His eyes shifted back to Jean.

“When we first saw you and your parents,” Jean said, “your mother mentioned an incident that happened when you were fifteen. You said something about an abandoned building. I think you referred to it as “kid’s stuff?” Did you leave something out? Something about a stolen car?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t know Jack had stolen that car. I swear, he said it was his cousin’s. They picked me up. Jack said we were going to his cousin’s to bring it back. I swear to God, I didn’t know it was stolen. I didn’t say anything because I want to forget about it.” He let out a sigh of exasperation.

“You want to tell me about your visit with Brad the other day?”

“I don’t understand. I went with my parents to visit Brad. He was very upset when we told him we couldn’t bring him home, but otherwise he seemed fine. He wouldn’t talk about what happened, so we didn’t push it.”

He looked back at Jean, narrowing his eyes.

“Why? What are you getting at? Are you talking about him hitting that kid?” He sat back, looking more at ease.

“You know about that Mr. Ginns?” Moran asked.

“Yeah, the hospital called. I’m Brad’s legal guardian. It was in my sister’s will, if anything…” He started to tear up.

“Was buying that Mercedes in her will as well? I hear you got quite an insurance settlement.” Jean leaned in a little to get into his personal space.

He didn’t move. “Should I get a lawyer? Are you accusing me of something?”

“Do you need one Mr. Ginns?” Still standing her ground, she was close enough to see the hairs in his nose.

He ignored the question and raised his hand, placing the bottom of his palm against his forehead. He looked up, first at Jean, then at Moran.

“First of all, I put most of that money in a trust for Brad—for when he comes home. But yes, I did buy that Mercedes with some of it. My sister—” His voice began to crack. “My sister Caroline… when we were kids, we would lie out at night in the backyard, watch the stars, and dream. I promised her that one day I would buy her a horse, a Palomino. She loved horses. Caroline promised me a Mercedes.” Tears started to fall from his eyes, his eyelashes becoming moist. He wiped his nose with a napkin that was lying on the table.

“I never got to buy her that horse, detective.” His tears were falling harder now. “But we promised each other that no matter what, we would buy ourselves those things with the insurance money. If you had looked a little harder, detectives, you would have seen that I have a policy with my sister as a beneficiary as well. If it would have been me who died, she would have bought that Palomino.” He had forced the words out rapidly, trying hard to control his tears.

He continued. “My dad was an insurance salesman. He taught us how important life insurance was. We were weaned on it.”

Jean started to speak, but Ginns held his hand up.

“Look, I know you find this hard to believe, considering what Brad has done, but he wasn’t abused. No one hurt him. My sister and Evan loved that boy. We all do.”

“Look, Mr. Ginns,” Jean said, a little calmer. “I’m a cop, but first and foremost I’m a mother. I—, well, my first concern is helping Brad. Find out what happened.”

“You won’t find it here, detective. You’re looking down the wrong road. It’s as much a mystery to us as it is to you. Maybe you should talk to Evan’s parents. If you ask me, there’s something off there.”

Jean looked back and forth between Moran and Ginns. “What do you mean? I thought they had very little to do with Brad. They haven’t visited him, have they?”

“Not that I know of, but something’s strange about them. As soon as Brad was born, they kind of blew Evan off. Soon as the funeral was over, they took off.”

“Well Mr. Ginns, thanks for your input,” Jean said. “I’m sorry if this has been painful for you, but we’re looking for answers.” Starting to have some compassion for the man after noticing how sad and broken he looked, Jean glanced back at the car. She stood up, and Moran followed.

“It’s a beautiful car, enjoy it.”

“You know Detective Whitley; if Brad ever comes home I’m going to buy him that Palomino. I can promise you that.”

“I hope he does come home one day, and I’m sure he would love it. Take care, Mr. Ginns. My regards to you parents.”

Jean turned back and watched as Ginns continued to sit there as after they walked away. She noticed him grab another tissue to wipe away the tears, and then just put his head down and sob.

Chapter Nine

Hope

I was seated at my desk getting angrier and angrier by the minute. I couldn’t believe this guy didn’t think I was good enough for him. I mean, what was wrong with me? I’d called Diane the night before and kept getting a busy signal. Damn her for not having call waiting. I wanted to ask her what the story was with Marty.

I picked up the phone and tried her work number.

“Diane Sanders, may I help you?”

“It’s me. I tried to get you last night, but the line was busy. Why don’t you get call waiting?”

“I have call waiting. I shut it off. I didn’t want to be interrupted; I was talking to Justin.”

I could practically hear her glowing through the phone. I was getting nauseated. “I guess you’re going out with him again?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“Hope, I think I’m in love. Can you believe that? Me, in love?”

I thought she might break out in song.

“I’m happy for you Di. Just take it slow, okay? I mean, you don’t even know this guy.”

“I know him well enough. I have a feeling he feels the same way. We just love talking about everything, Hope, for hours. It feels so good.” I heard one of her other phone lines buzz in the background.

“Hope, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

“Sure
, I thought,
if you have time for me.
I tried to sound cheerful.

“Ok, Di. Have a good day, and I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks Hope! I love you. You’re my bestest friend!”

“Ditto,” I replied, and hung up. Grabbing a piece of paper off my desk, I crumbled it and threw it at the closed door. Well, it had been closed, but unfortunately at the time, Judy was walking through. She ducked.

“Uh, is there a problem?” she asked.

“No, sorry. Guess I’m in a bad mood.”

“I can see that. Brad is outside; he wants to talk to you.”

I started, looking up at her. “Are you serious?”

I got up and peeked out the door. There, sitting on a chair outside my office, was Brad, holding Jack. Gabby was kneeling down in front of him, talking softly.

I glanced back at Judy, and then walked outside.

“Brad, you wanted to see me?” I looked down at the quiet, sad child. He nodded. I smiled at Gabby who gave me a soft smile, nodded to Brad, and walked away.

I put out my hand and he took it. I led him back into my office while Judy followed. She sat in the back of the room, trying to blend into the background. I led Brad to the sofa and sat next to him.

“You want to talk to me, Brad? Is there something bothering you?”

His eyes were still slightly dilated from his medication, but he looked alert. His lower lip started to quiver, and his hand tightened around the stuffed monkey.

“I don’t know why,” he whispered.

“You don’t know why what, Brad? What don’t you know?” I tried to speak as gently as possible.

“I don’t know why I did it. I just—, it just happened. I’m so sorry.” He started to sob and I pulled him toward me. He grabbed hold of me and dug his little hands into my back, holding on for dear life.

After a few minutes I slowly removed his arms and held him in front of me.

“Please, please make me stop,” he pleaded.

“Honey, we’re going to find out what’s wrong, okay? I promise.”

I took a good look at him; he looked defeated.

“I promise,” I repeated, “Okay?”

He gave me a little nod. “Okay,” he replied.

“Is there anything else you need to tell me Brad? Do you want to talk some more?”

This time he shook his head.

“Okay. Maybe later, okay?”

Again I got a nod. Judy took it as a cue to get up.

“Come on, Brad. I think it may be snack time. Let’s go see.”

He got up and walked out the door. I saw him look both directions; I assumed he was looking for Gabby, but he was nowhere to be seen. He waited for Judy to join him, and then they walked down the hall together.

I made a mental note to call Detective Whitley to see if she had found out anything about his family.
Good,
I thought,
I had forgotten about Marty.

The rest of the day went on without incident, and I didn’t hear any more from Brad. He seemed to be back to his sweet self again, acting more like a ten-year-old boy. I even heard him laughing with Scottie during a game of tag in the gym.

When my shift ended, I decided I would stop off at the police station and see if I could catch the detective. I got in my car and took off. It was a beautiful, clear day. The sun was shining, and leaves of gold and orange swirled across my windshield. I could smell winter in the air, a season I always dreaded. It wasn’t the cold I minded—it was just all the happiness and cheer the holidays brought. I knew I was going to be alone again this holiday, and would be lucky if I found a date for New Year’s Eve. I thought maybe I should get a cat; at least then I wouldn’t be totally alone.

There was no one on the road, and being in a bad mood gave me a bit of a lead foot. As the speedometer started to climb, I started to relax.
Maybe a Persian or a Himalayan. They’re so ugly, they’re cute with those pushed-in faces
, I thought. I was smiling, picturing their squashed faces, when I saw them. Blue lights were flashing behind me. I glanced down at my speedometer; I was going fifteen miles over the speed limit.

“Oh shit.” I hadn’t had a speeding ticket in four years, which meant, I hadn’t gotten
caught
speeding in the last four years. I slowly pulled over to the side of the road.

I glanced in my rearview mirror as I fumbled through my pocketbook for my license and registration. A very tall, well-built cop with mirrored shades was heading toward me. I wasn’t sure, but he was looking more and more familiar as he got closer.

He leaned over into my window. I saw that smile, those full lips, and those two dimples on his now rosy cheeks. He took off his shades—yeah, I recognized those sky-blue eyes and black lashes.

“Hey, Doc. You have an emergency?”

Now I was really pissed. Not only did he have the nerve to brush me aside after our date, but now he was pulling me over for speeding. I gave him a chilly look.

“Look, what’s your problem?” I demanded. He was so close now I could smell his breath. He smelled of coffee and Certs. Maybe he had tried to cover the coffee smell with a breath mint. I didn’t know why, but for some reason the aroma was arousing my senses. The smell of coffee had never smelled so sexy before—but damn if I was going to let him know that.

“My problem? What’s with the attitude? You know, I thought we had a good time the other day, and then you…”

I watched his face change. He looked angry with me, and his fingers were tapping the car door where the window was down, like he was playing a piano.

I leaned back a little and so I could see him better. “And then I what?”

“Then you acted like you couldn’t get away from me fast enough at the mall—like you were embarrassed about your mother finding out you went out with me.” His arms were leaning into the car now.

“What?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “I—, you blew
me
off. You couldn’t wait to end that date. You certainly didn’t ask me out again.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to. I’m sorry… did you want me to?”

His head tilted a little, reminding me of how my mother’s old black lab looked when he was confused.

I couldn’t help it; my eyes started to water. “What would make you think I didn’t want you to? I—, God, did I?”

“Yes, you did. I figured you weren’t too keen on going out with a cop, you being a sophisticated doctor and all. I’m a little below your pay scale.” Now I was annoyed.

“How dare you presume I would think like that? First of all, you don’t know how much I earn, and second, I’m not a snob. I don’t care what a person does for a living. I—”

He cut me off. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I shouldn’t have presumed and no, I don’t think you’re a snob. Actually Dr. Rubin, I think you’re pretty damn nice, and I would most definitely like to go out with you again.”

“You would?” I started to smile.

“Yes,” he said, dimples popping out again. “So let’s start over, okay? Dr. Rubin, would you like to go out tonight? I get off at eight. I can pick you up, and we can grab a bite to eat at The Liars’ Den.”

I looked at my watch, I had three hours to get ready, and I looked like crap.

“If that’s not good for you…”

“No, that’s fine… Officer Keal. Do you want my address?”

His smile got bigger.

“No, I know it. I just ran your plates.”

“Are you going to give me a ticket?” I felt so much better now, I wouldn’t have even minded.

“No, just a warning. Don’t assume anything—I guess that goes for both of us.” He put his sunglasses back on. I was missing those baby blues already.

“Okay,” I said, turning the car back on. “I guess I’ll see you at eight.”

“Good, and keep the speed down, okay?”

“Yes sir, officer, I will.” He gave me one last smile, then turned and walked toward the patrol car. I watched him in my rearview mirror as I started back onto the road, and I could swear I saw him put a little wiggle in his walk. It was cute. He was cute. I was amazed how my attitude had changed in just a few minutes. Then I started to panic.

“Shit, what am I going to wear? I don’t think I have anything.” I checked my watch again. I changed my mind; instead of stopping off to see Detective Whitley, I decided to stop off at the mall. Hopefully I could find something. I would call Whitley tomorrow and make an appointment, but for the moment, I was in a hurry. I put the pedal to the metal, and headed for the mall.

Marty

Marty’s last call had been to a strip club after someone called 911 about a disturbance. When he got there, the bouncer had an eighty-nine-year-old man down on the ground, his knee in the old man’s back. Apparently, the old man had a little too much to drink and tried to grab one of the girls. The bouncer had ended up knocking him out, and the man received a nice cut on his forehead. A few other customers, angry about how the old man was being treated, got involved, and it soon became a free-for-all.

It took some doing, but he eventually got everyone to calm down, called for some paramedics, and had the old geezer taken to the hospital. He looked at his watch and realized he was running late.

He raced back to the station and signed out, then headed for home, praying he had enough time to take a shower and shave.

He practically bowled the Captain down as he rushed into the house.

“Hey, slow down, where’s the fire?”

“Sorry, Pop. I’m running late, gotta get a shower,” he said as he ran up the steps.

When he came out with a towel wrapped around the lower half of his body, his father was sitting on his bed, clean clothes folded beside him.

Marty started going through the clothing pile, grabbing a clean pair of jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt with snap buttons, and then grabbed a pair of socks from his dresser. He was whistling.

His father just watched for a few minutes. Finally he said, “Um, do you have a date?”

“Yeah, Captain, I do.” He got into the jeans, zipped them up and then discarded the towel on the floor. Seeing his father grimace, he picked it up and tossed it into the hamper. He turned toward the mirror as he put on his shirt and snapped it shut.

“Are you going to tell me anything more, boy? Or do I have to drag it out of you?”

Pulling a comb through his still-damp hair, he looked at the Captain in the reflection of the mirror.