Sandra Robbins - Yuletide Defender

He reached his car and climbed inside. Weariness surged through his body. He hoped he wouldn’t be called out tonight for the murder of another kid. This last one had been younger than the others, not much over sixteen. It troubled him to think of the wasted lives he’d seen in the past few weeks. Gang violence in Lake City was escalating out of control and he had to help the department find a way of stopping it.

There had to be a solution, but what it was he didn’t know yet.

The next morning, Rachel strode down the hallway of the Lake City Police Department toward the open office door a uniformed officer had pointed out. She peered inside at Matt Franklin. He looked tired this morning. His dark eyes, usually filled with excitement, appeared bloodshot.

The pencil he held dropped to the pile of papers in front of him. He yawned, rubbed his hands across his eyes and then ran his fingers through his thick dark hair. She knocked on the door frame. “Good morning. Are you up to having a visitor?”

His eyes lit up when he saw her. “Rachel? What are you doing here?” He rose and came around his desk.

She laughed, dropped her briefcase on the floor and shrugged out of her coat. “You look tired this morning. Did you work last night?”

He shook his head. “No, I went to the Bible study at church, then dropped by the Youth Center to do some work.” He took her coat, hung it on the rack and pulled out a chair for her. Walking behind his desk, he sat down and folded his hands on the top. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from Lake City’s favorite investigative reporter so early in the morning?”

Rachel chuckled. “Favorite reporter? I don’t know about that. You should see some of the emails I get. You might change your mind.”

Matt’s tired eyes twinkled. “If they’re anything like mine, I completely understand. If we don’t solve a crime, we’re wasting the taxpayers’ money. If we do make an arrest, the jailed person’s friends think we’re persecuting him. Sometimes it’s a no-win situation.”

Rachel nodded. “I guess we have something in common.”

Matt smiled. “So tell me, what brings you to the station this early in the morning?”

Rachel took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday about being careful about the stories I write.”

“Good. I’m glad you listened. I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I don’t either, but I have a job to do. I have to tell the stories of the gang killings and how their presence in the neighborhoods is a danger to the people there. This may mean I have to dig a little deeper into the gang culture. I thought you might be able to give me some pointers about how I should proceed.”

Matt frowned and leaned forward. “These are dangerous people, Rachel. They don’t appreciate attention. I’m not about to give you advice that might get you killed.”

Rachel waved her hand in dismissal. “So far I haven’t focused on them other than to report what the police have told me about the murders.” She scooted to the edge of her chair. “But the facts are that at least six gang members have been murdered in the past few weeks. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s more to the story.”

Matt’s hair tumbled across his forehead and he brushed at it. “What do you mean?”

She got up and closed the door. Returning to his desk, she planted her hands on the top and leaned forward. “I talked to a mother at that murder scene yesterday. She’s scared for her son to leave the house. I feel a responsibility to the people who’re living in the shadow of these bullies.”

He jumped to his feet. “They’re more than just bullies, Rachel. They’re dangerous. You need to stay away from them.”

Rachel straightened and crossed her arms. “I’m not looking for trouble. I just need to know how to talk to them. You probably encounter them on a daily basis in your job, and I know you volunteer at the Youth Center. So you deal with the kids who live in the neighborhoods controlled by them.”

Matt walked around the desk, stopped in front of her and shoved his hands in his pocket. The muscle in his jaw twitched. “I do. And I see what it does to their lives. They live in a violent world.”

Rachel thought about the whispered words she’d heard the night before from someone wanting to escape that environment. To help him she needed to understand it. “That’s why I came to you. I know all about the Center’s success record with these inner-city kids. You can help me understand what it’s like for them.”

He pulled a hand from his pocket and raked it through his hair. With a sigh he returned to his chair. He sat in deep thought before he looked up. “I can’t even imagine the terror they feel each night. Afraid that at any time a stray bullet could sail through their window and kill one of their family members like it did Carlos’s baby brother last month. I was the detective who questioned the family after the shooting.”

Rachel swallowed and eased into her chair. “That must have been difficult.”

His eyes took on a faraway look. “Can you imagine what it’s like to tell a mother there was no reason for her baby to die? Or to calm down a teenage brother when he’s ranting that he’s going to find whoever shot into their house and kill him? And all the while the mother’s begging him to be quiet, she doesn’t want to lose another son.”

A bitter taste flowed into Rachel’s mouth. “That must have been horrible.”

“It was, but the sad thing is it only seems to be getting worse. When morning comes, I don’t know how the kids gather their courage and go to school where they know at least half the students are carrying concealed weapons.” He took a deep breath before he continued, “How do children survive in such surroundings?”

The concern she saw in Matt’s eyes pricked Rachel’s heart. “These kids are lucky to have people like you who care.”

Matt shook his head. “I don’t know about that. I’ve been fighting the effects of these criminals ever since I came to Lake City five years ago, and I’m mystified by what I see. No matter how bad it gets, too many kids long to be like the guys who are destroying their neighborhoods. Wannabes, I call them. They hang around the fringe of the gangs just waiting until they’re old enough to throw their lot in.”

“Surely there are some success stories.”

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Yeah, there are some. I’d like to have more, though.”

Guilt coursed through her. “David’s asked me several times to volunteer at the Center but I’ve always put him off. Maybe it’s time I did my duty and helped out more.”

Matt smiled. “He’d like that. We can always use extra help.”

Rachel nodded and stood. “I’ll talk to him about it. This might help me to understand better what I’ve been writing about.”

Matt walked around the desk, pulled her coat from the rack and held it for her. “The gang members tend to stay away from the Center, but there’s one thing you need to remember. With them, it’s all about respect. They see themselves as the most respected individuals in their neighborhood. If you ever come in contact with them, be courteous. They’ll respond to you in the same way. They leave the Center alone because of the way David treats them.” He chuckled. “He told me once that it’s because a lot of them are kids he didn’t save.”

She turned to face Matt. “I’ll remember everything you’ve said.”

Concern flickered in his eyes again. “Remember what I told you yesterday. You need to be careful with your stories. I don’t want to answer a call that you’ve been hurt.”

The warmth of his voice flowed over her and her breath caught in her throat. “I will be. But you’re the one out on the streets. You take care of yourself, too. Thanks for seeing me, Matt.”