John Grisham - Theodore Boone - The Accomplice

For a moment, she sat in her car and prayed that nothing was wrong, then got out. Inside the house, she found nothing — not a note, not a sign of either son. She had called and texted both of them driving home. Neither responded, but that was not that unusual. Often, late at night, the boys ignored their phones.

She turned on lights, called them again, and fixed a pot of coffee. It was probably going to be a long night.

She called her husband, who was two hours away with his work crew, woke him up, and told him the boys were not home. They were not his boys, but rather his stepsons, and there was nothing he could do at that moment. He suggested she call the police.

The minutes passed slowly, and Daisy sat in the den with a cup of coffee and watched the front yard. She prayed that any minute the little blue truck would arrive and her boys would be safe. She wanted to see headlights. It was midnight now and there was no traffic on their narrow street at the edge of Strattenburg. The next lights would be her boys, she just knew it.

At midnight, she called the police station but no one there had ever heard of the Lambert boys. She tried to sit in the den again but was too anxious. She poured another cup and went for a drive around town, looking for Tony’s truck, looking for red and blue lights at the scene of some terrible car wreck, looking for any sign of them, and waiting for her phone to ring. She stopped by Santo’s but it was closed.

After roaming through the empty streets for an hour, she saw two police cars in the parking lot of a motel. Their lights were on, their engines running, the policemen sharing some late night gossip. She parked nearby and nervously approached the two cars. She asked for their help. She explained her situation, and, in tears, asked if they could do anything. The policemen said sure and called the dispatcher on his radio. Within minutes word came back that the Lambert boys were in custody.

And charged with armed robbery.

When Daisy arrived at the city jail she found her way to the night desk where the dispatcher was drinking coffee while waiting on 911 calls and radio reports from the patrol cars. A night clerk sat at a nearby table and asked what she wanted. She identified herself and said that her two sons were in jail, and she was there to take them home. The night clerk frowned and asked her to have a seat across the room in a row of old plastic chairs. There was no one else around at that hour. She sat down and began chewing her nails, a nervous habit that kept her from crying, though she had cried all the way to the station.

Armed robbery? There must be some mistake. Random thoughts raced through her mind and she couldn’t control them. None were good. Smoking pot, drinking beer, driving while drunk, fighting, maybe shoplifting or petty theft — these were the small crimes that she might have expected. Sure, they were bad enough, but a lot of kids got in trouble for them and most survived.

But armed robbery? To her knowledge, Tony did not own a gun. He was only seventeen! Her husband — the boys’ stepfather — was not a hunter and did not keep rifles in the house. He owned two pistols that she knew of. One he kept hidden in their closet for self-defense and the other he kept in the glove box in his truck. The boys had never touched either weapon. How would Tony get a gun? Then, why would he use it to rob someone? And why would he involve his little brother?

The thought of Woody sitting in a jail cell broke her heart again and she began to cry, as softly as possible.

A jolly old deputy sat down beside her. He had a mass of gray hair that scattered in all directions, and plump rosy cheeks, and if he switched uniforms he could have easily passed for Santa Claus. “Now, now, it’s not that bad,” he said. “The boys are safe.”

Daisy wiped her nose and asked, “How do you know?”

“I’m the jailer and I’m in charge of all inmates, including the juveniles. Randolph’s my name. And you’re Mrs. Lambert?”

Randolph glanced at his clipboard.

“I am. Where are they now?”

“We keep the kids in a separate wing. They’re in a cell together, with no one else.”

“When can I get them out?”

“Well, not tonight. They’ll go before a judge in the morning, and he’ll set their bail. Do you understand bail?”

“Yes, I’ve been through this before, not long ago. Tony was arrested and I had to put up some money for his bail. Fortunately, it wasn’t very much and we got him out. But I’m broke now. How much is his bail?”

“Armed robbery is pretty serious, so I’d expect it to be high.”

“What kind of armed robbery? Can you tell me what they did? This is insane.”

“I don’t know the facts, ma’am. Just what’s in the report here. There were three of them, your boys and a kid named Garth Tucker. Looks like he was the driver. All I know is that they supposedly robbed a convenience store on the western edge of town.”

“A convenience store?”

“Yes, you know, one of those little grocery stores with gas pumps out front, stays open late at night.”

“I know what a convenience store is. Why would they rob a convenience store?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it was convenient.” Randolph chuckled at his cleverness. Daisy glared at him as if he were an idiot. “Sorry,” he said. “Look, Mrs. Lambert, you can’t do anything right now, so it’s best to go home and get some rest.”

“Rest? I won’t sleep a wink. Can I at least see them? Woody is only thirteen.”

“Sorry, ma’am, but we have rules regarding visitation. Trust me, though, both boys are safe. And by the way, they’re good boys. I’ve talked to them.”

“I guess I should say thanks but that doesn’t quite feel right. After all, they’re charged with armed robbery.”

“And underage drinking.”

“Of course. Anything else?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Why didn’t they call me? They both had phones.”

“Well, I’m not sure about that. The phones were confiscated when they were arrested, standard procedure.” Randolph flipped through his paperwork. “Don’t know why they were not allowed to call home. Somebody else must’ve screwed up.”

“Screwed up? These are my kids we’re talking about. Where are their phones now?”

“In custody. They can’t have phones in their cells. Another rule.”

“A lot of rules around here and none of them seem to be working. It’s pretty rotten that you don’t allow a thirteen-year-old boy to call his mother when he’s being thrown in jail.”

“You’re right. I agree. I’ll speak to my supervisor. Sorry about that.”

“You’re sorry that somebody else screwed up. This is insane. Why can’t I talk to them now?”

“Because it’s almost two in the morning. Lights out at midnight back there. I’m sorry, ma’am, but at least your boys are safe.”

“Safe? Forgive me but things don’t seem too safe right now.”

“I understand, ma’am. Why don’t you leave and come back in a few hours? You can see them then.”

“I’ll just sit here, okay? If I go home I’ll just walk the floors. Is it okay to stay here and read magazines until sunrise.”

“Sure. Would you like some coffee?”

She managed to smile and said, “Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”

The cell had three walls of concrete and one of metal bars. Bunk beds were attached to the rear wall. Tony arrived first and claimed the bottom bunk. Woody climbed onto the top one. All lights went out at midnight when everyone was supposed to go to sleep. However, in the darkness, it seemed like everyone wanted to talk. There was laughter in the distance, some yelling. As Woody was walked down the hall, he glanced into the other cells. All appeared to be juveniles, though a couple looked as mean as any veteran criminal. In one cell, a boy of no more than ten sat by himself.