David Baldacci - True Blue

The furniture was cheap, all probably secondhand, but arranged with some thought and even design. The small windows had what looked to be hand-sewn curtains. A few toys were stacked in one corner in an old cardboard crate that had “Deer Park” stamped on it. From what they could see, the place consisted of only two rooms, the one they were in and another, probably the bedroom, where the door was closed. The “kitchen” had a hot plate and an under-the-counter mini-fridge.

Non had a key to the apartment and had let them in.

“Alisha!” she called out. “Social’s here.”

There were footsteps in the other room, a door opened, and Alisha Rogers stepped out. A three-year-old boy was riding on her slim right hip. Her hair was long and pulled back and tied with a clip except for a tightly braided ponytail that poked out on the right side of her head. Her eyes were big, her face small, and her lips thin and cracked. At five-three she probably didn’t weigh more than ninety pounds, while the little boy had to be almost half that.

Roy looked down at the file he was holding documenting Alisha’s background. Roy had seen enough while at CJA that teenage mothers did not really surprise him, though he also knew that a child raising a child was never a good thing. Yet it was far better than leaving the little boy in a Dumpster. He had to admire Alisha Rogers for taking that responsibility when some others didn’t.

Non said, “I’m gonna leave you folks to it. Alisha, you need anything I’ll be down in the laundry room.”

“Thanks, Non,” Alisha said, her gaze on the floor as the boy stared at Mace and Roy openmouthed.

Mace stepped forward. “Alisha, I’m Mace and this is Roy. We met with Carmela this morning.”

Gaze still on the floor, Alisha said, “Carmela’s nice.”

“And she was very excited about us meeting with you.”

“That’s a good-looking boy you have there,” said Roy. “What’s his name?”

“Tyler,” she answered. She lifted one of her son’s pudgy fists and did a small wave. When she let go, however, Tyler let his arm drop limply to his side and continued to stare at them, his mouth forming a big O.

“You want to sit down while we talk?” said Mace. “Tyler looks like a load.”

While Roy and Mace sat on a small battered sofa with trash-bag-covered foam, Alisha put Tyler down on the floor and sat cross-legged next to him. She snagged a toy out of the Deer Park box and handed it to him.

“You play, Ty, Momma’s got to talk to these people.”

Tyler plopped down on the floor and obediently started playing with the spaceman action figure from Toy Story that was missing an arm and a leg.

Alisha looked up. “Carmela say you folks got something for me.”

“To be part of a study,” said Mace.

Alisha didn’t look happy about this. “I thought it gonna be a job. A real job, you know, with child care and some health benefits.”

“No, that’s right. The study does have a money and training component.”

“How ’bout school?”

“And an education component too. That’s considered critical, in fact.”

“Ain’t got my GED. Dropped out to have Tyler. Went back but couldn’t make it work.”

“We can help with that. You still want to get your GED?” asked Mace.

“Got to if I want to get out of here. Here’s just drugs or Mickey D’s if I ain’t got no school. Can’t take care of Ty good.” She reached out and stroked Tyler’s wiry hair.

As Mace looked at the little boy’s face it struck her that she recognized his features, but couldn’t remember from where. “Let’s go over the details and we’ll see if it’s something you’re interested in.”

“I’m interested in anything that’ll get us outta here.”

“You and Tyler, you mean.”

“And my brother.”

“Your brother?” Mace said questioningly. That had not been in the report.

“He just got back.”

“From where?”

“Prison.”

“Okay. How about Tyler’s dad?”

She hesitated, her gaze darting to the floor.

Mace had seen that same maneuver a million times. The lady was about to lie.

“Dead probably. I don’t know. He ain’t here, that’s all.”

“How about your parents?” asked Roy.

“My daddy’s dead. He sold heroin on the corner a block over from here. My momma left me with my grandma.”

“Why did your mother leave you?” Roy asked.

“Had to. She in prison for killing my daddy.”

“Oh,” said Roy.

“Ain’t like he didn’t deserve it,” she said defensively. “He beat her bad all the time.”

“And your grandmother?” asked Mace.

Alisha’s big eyes became watery. “Drive-by. She just walking down the street with her groceries and got caught between two damn crews. But she got to see Ty born. He got to see his great-grandma.”

“That’s pretty rare,” said Roy. “Four generations.”

“She was only forty-nine when she got killed. My momma was thirteen too when she had me.”

Mace was about to ask another question when the door to the apartment opened. When Mace saw who it was she realized where she’d seen Tyler’s facial features before.

“What the hell you doing here, bitch?” the man at the door screamed.

Darren Rogers, a.k.a. Razor, the guy Mace had pepper-sprayed, stood in the doorway. A moment later the “crappy” semi-auto pistol was pointed right at her face.

WHAT THE HELL you doing, Darren?” said Alisha as she jumped to her feet.

He pointed at Mace. “This the bitch what sprayed that shit in my eyes last night. I told you ’bout her.”

“Well, in all fairness, I wouldn’t have if you weren’t pointing a gun at me.”

Alisha stared at him. “Did you do that?”

“Hell no. The bitch just shot me with the shit while I was walking by. I never pulled no gun on her ass till right now.”

Mace turned to Alisha. “He’s also got a.22 caliber revolver in a left ankle holster. And his street name is Razor ’cause, as he told me, he’s so sharp.”

Alisha put her hands on her hips and scowled at Darren. “How she know all that if you just walking by and ain’t pulled your damn gun?”

Darren’s face screwed up in frustration. “How I supposed to know that?”

Mace turned to Alisha. “Is he your brother?”

“Hey, you talk to me ,” snapped Darren.

“Okay, are you her brother?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“What were you in prison for?”

“Who told you I was in prison?” Darren glanced darkly at his sister.

She said, “Darren, put that gun away before somebody gets hurt. Look at Ty, he’s scared to death.”

Unnoticed for the last couple of minutes, Tyler had crawled into a corner and tears were dribbling down his chubby cheeks. He was holding up his spaceman, apparently as a shield. Darren’s hostile look instantly melted away. “Ah hell, Ty, I’m sorry, little man.” He put the gun in his jacket pocket and hustled over to pick up the child. He held his cheek against Tyler’s and talked softly to the little boy.

“He’s not crying,” said Roy curiously.

Alisha started to answer but Darren beat her to it. “He ain’t crying, ’cause he can’t talk. Can’t make no sounds or nothing.”

Mace looked at Alisha. “Have you had him checked out?”

Tears again filled Alisha’s eyes. “It was ’cause I doing drugs. Ain’t even know I was pregnant. Doctors say that messed up something in Ty’s head.”

“I’m sorry,” said Mace.

Alisha rubbed her eyes. “My damn fault for getting pregnant.”

“You got raped , Alisha,” snapped Darren. “This ain’t nothing you did.”