Sins of the Fathers (28 page)

She heard a knock on the front door. She ignored it. The killer’s lawyer was in the hospital.

And I want her there,
Mona thought.
I want her punished for what
she
’
s doing.

The knocking persisted. She almost didn’t answer it. Then she heard Syl Martindale’s voice calling her name.

Dazed, Mona opened the door.

“Hi,” Syl said with a forced smile.

“What brings you by?”

“I’ve really missed you, Mona. I just thought I’d—”

“Did Pastor Clark send you?”

Real hurt appeared on Syl’s face. “It’s not like that.”

They sat in the living room in the fading afternoon sunlight. Syl danced around with small talk for several minutes, and Mona let her dance. Maybe she’d get tired and leave all the sooner.

But then Syl dropped her voice and stuttered. “Mona, do you . . . are you . . . in some way, are you questioning, at all, your faith?”

For some reason Mona had expected a question like this from Syl. “Don’t you ever question it?”

“I did when it first happened, when Matthew was killed.”

“And now you’re all better?”

Syl did not seem to register the slight. “I only know it’s at times like this we need faith most. We need to rely on God.”

“Did that come from The Official Guide for Hurting Christians? Because I don’t buy it. If God made me this way, then I’m this way. I can’t manufacture feelings. I can’t get over my doubts. Matthew is dead, doesn’t anybody realize that?”

“Of course we do, and we want to be part of your healing.”

“I don’t want to heal. I want to stay sick.”

“Nobody wants to stay sick.”

“Don’t tell me what I want, Syl.”

“You’re one of my closest friends in the world, and I can’t stand to see you suffering like this—”

“All you have to do is leave, and you won’t see it.”

“But your relationship with God is hurting and I can’t let that go.”

“Let it go.”

“You need to forgive this boy.”

Mona glared at her, ice forming in her chest. “Don’t tell me that.”

“It’s not me telling you. You know that. You know that we’re to forgive, that Jesus commands it.”

“You sound like Pastor Clark.”

“Is that so bad?”

“He came to see me. Preached at me about forgiving. You know, I actually checked out the Bible on it. Did you know that? I looked it up. It’s in Luke.”

She got up and took a Bible from the bookshelf. She had a bookmark in it.

“Listen. ‘If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him. If he sins against you seven times in a day, and seven times comes back to you and says, “I repent,” forgive him.’”

“Yes,” Syl said.

“First of all, it says
your brother.
Second of all, it says
if he repents.
That’s what Jesus said. I don’t see any repentance in this boy, and he is not my brother.”

Syl swallowed, with a deer-in-the-headlights look. Mona had her high beams on.

“But what about Jesus on the cross? He asked God to forgive the ones who were crucifying him.”

“It’s up to God then, not me. If God wants to forgive that boy, fine. But I don’t have to. I don’t. And I’m not going to.”

3.

“You got a message.”

Darren looked out from his cell at the deputy. Hedgecock was one of the bad ones. From hell.
Don
’
t listen.

“You listening?” Hedgecock said.

Darren sat on his cot, looking down. Hedgecock was trying to get to him, like he always did.

“Your lawyer . . .”

Darren’s head snapped up.

“Yeah, your lawyer. You interested?”

He wants me to talk. I won
’
t.

“I asked you a question. You interested in a little news about your lawyer?”

What is it? Does she want to stop being my lawyer? She want to go
away? I bet she does. They all do.

“Hey, I don’t have to say nothin’,” Hedgecock said. “You can sit and think about it.”

He turned around and started walking down the corridor.

“Come back!” Darren stood up.

Another K–10 screamed an obscenity.

“Get back here!” Darren screamed.

The deputy laughed, turned back. “That’s better, little man. You gonna behave now?”

Darren nodded.

“Your lawyer, she’s in the hospital. Ran off a road. You’re gonna need a new lawyer. Good luck.”

Hedgecock walked away.

“Stop!”

Hedgecock ignored him. A voice screamed at Darren to shut up.

He screamed back. Then he threw himself against the wall. And again. And again.

The devils came in to stop him. Hedgecock was one of them, and he cursed at Darren while they tied up his hands.

4.

Lindy was being crushed under a boulder. It was night, no sound, only impending death.

As the dream faded she became more aware of the pain enveloping her. The night of the dream gave way to the glare of the hospital lights.

Bad shape.

Thank God I
’
m alive
.

Darren
.

Her lips felt like balloons. She tried to move her tongue and form a word, but everything wanted to stay just where it was.

She did not move. To move was to bring pain.

What had happened? She was riding, yes, she remembered that. Remembered the fog. The Valley. And something alongside.

A ring of some kind. What was it?

She groaned.

Darren.

What was the ring? Familiar.

Don
’
t go back to sleep.

The ring.

“You awake?”

Roxy’s voice. Lindy groaned.

“Girl, you look fantastic,” Roxy said. “Frankenstein’s got nothin’ on you. The electrodes in your neck will go perfectly with your—”

“Don’t . . . make me . . . laugh.”

“I thought we were going to lose you. You were out, baby.”

“How long?”

“All day. You can do a public service announcement now.”

Lindy tried to figure out what Roxy meant, but thinking was painful too.

“Your helmet saved your life. Didn’t do much for your face, but outside of the improvement, nobody’s gonna know the difference.”

Lindy fought off a smile.

“I prayed my knees off for you,” Roxy said. “I want you talking to God about this.”

“Later. My cat.”

“Taken care of. Your neighbor, that funny old man, he’s gonna feed him.”

“Likes Fancy Feast.”

“Your neighbor?”

“Cardozo.”

“I knew that.”

Hot slivers of pain shot through her.

Roxy’s voice was anxious. “Need the doc?”

“No.”

“What happened, Lindy? How could you have gone off like that? You know I’ve been telling you to get rid of—”

“Roxy.”

“Yeah.”

“Listen.” Lindy motioned with her left arm. Her right was encased in plaster. Roxy leaned over the bed.

“Between us. Understand?”

Roxy nodded.

“I don’t think . . . it was an accident.”

“Huh?”

“Deliberate.”

Roxy sat back slowly, pulled by an invisible string. “No way.”

“Way.”

“We have to tell the police, we—”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Gut feeling.”

“That’s crazy.”

“I think it was a Mercedes. Dark color. No headlights. Moonlight. I saw the ring.”

“Thing?”

Lindy sputtered impatiently. “Ring.”

“Ring . . . hood ornament?”

“Yeah.”

“What are we going to do?”

“How is Darren?”

“I don’t know.”

“Find out. Tell him I’m all right.”

“But you’re not.”

“Tell him. And get Everett Woodard.”

Roxy saluted, then kissed Lindy’s forehead. Lindy took hold of Roxy’s arm. “And while you’re at it, pray some more, huh?”

“I’ve never stopped,” she said, and with another smile she was gone.

Lindy pressed her body into the bed, trying to feel the points of pain. She couldn’t count them all. Broken arm and ribs, seeming oceans of black-and-blue skin. Her fingers found a line of stitches along her cheek, and she could smell the treated gauze that, for all she knew, held her body parts together.

But she could move if she had to. She could stand up. She could walk and talk.

But could she be a lawyer?

Okay, God, why don
’
t you tell me? If you
’
re there. I
’
m not dead, I
realize that. Did you keep me from dying? Thank you if you did. I
’
m not
ready to die.

I need to get better. I need to help Darren. Can you hurry things
along? Sorry if I
’
m being rude. I don
’
t know how else to ask.

I need to know how to help Darren. No matter what people do, you
love them, right? Isn
’
t that the basic idea I
’
ve always heard about you?

Then love Darren and show me the best way to help him.

I need to know what
’
s going on. I want to know you
’
re there. I want
to see my cat.

Show me you
’
re there.

5.

Leon Colby met Everett Woodard in the courtroom, just as the deputies were bringing DiCinni in. Woodard had the same dignified look as Calvert Colby, the same sincerity. He’d look good to a jury. But he was a law professor. What were his trial skills?

“How’s Lindy doing?” Colby asked after they shook hands.

“Pretty bad, but stable.”

“Good. Tell her I said I hope she gets back on her feet soon.”

“I will.”

“You feel like talking any about a plea?” Colby watched the man’s eyes carefully, trying to size him up.

“I think we should get the substitution settled first. We’ll have time to talk.”

Colby shrugged. “I’d be willing to—”

“Let’s just wait,”Woodard said. “First things first.”

Sounds like Dad too.

“I can tell you one thing, Professor. This is not a winnable case. I tried to explain that to Lindy, but she has this streak in her.”

“Called a will to win,”Woodard said.

“You have to do what’s best for the client.”

“Thanks for the advice, and if you want some of mine—”

“No, thanks.”

The judge entered, and everyone stood up.

Judge Weyer wasted no time.“Mr. Woodard, do you wish to make a motion to substitute in as counsel for the defense?”

Everett Woodard said, “I do, Your Honor. However, I have not received the assent of our client, Mr. DiCinni. He wishes to address the court.”

Judge Weyer looked skeptical for a moment.“Very well, but I will ask the questions. Please stand up,Mr. DiCinni.”

Darren DiCinni stood.

“You understand that your lawyer, Ms. Field, is physically incapable of continuing to represent you?”

The boy made a halfhearted nod.

“You understand that the trial must continue?”

DiCinni nodded again.

“You are entitled to the lawyer of your choice,” Judge Weyer explained.“However, if that lawyer is unable to continue to represent you, in this case because of a physical condition, you do not have the right to delay the trial indefinitely. Mr.Woodard is a close colleague of Ms. Field and has volunteered to take over your defense. My advice is that you accept the offer. If you do not, this court will be forced to assign a lawyer to you.”

“I want my lawyer back,” DiCinni said.

“Mr. DiCinni, did you not understand me?”

“You don’t understand,” Darren said, his voice rising. To Colby it sounded very young. But the next words were not those of a normal young man. “You are all going to hell,” DiCinni said quietly. “You’re all against me. I know you. You are of the devil. You are—”

Judge Weyer rapped her gavel on the bench. “That’s enough—”

“—devils. Every one of you—”