Break and Enter (6 page)

“Certainly,” I said. “We just got back from walking up the mountain and back.”

“I know. I saw you from my front porch. One of you was carrying Robbie on your shoulders on the way up.”

“The extra weight added an element of resistance to the exercise, so we had to take turns.”

“No doubt. I’ll be right there.”

“How about a drink?” I said to Robbie after I hung up the phone.

“Sure.”

“Lemonade okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

I had made a pitcher of lemonade while I was cooking breakfast, so I got out a glass and poured him some. I poured iced tea for Mike and myself, and we carried our glasses out to the deck. Thor followed us and went down the back steps to check out his domain. Since the doc was on his way, I closed the gate in order to prevent Thor from getting back onto the deck until we were ready for him to do so.

Doc Jenkins arrived a few minutes later and joined us on the deck. After we shook hands, he said, “Okay, young man, let’s go inside and have a look at you.” He looked at me and added, “Do I have to worry about the watchdog?”

“No, Sir,” I said. “He’s down in the yard inside a fence and can’t get back up here until we let him.”

We went back to the guest room and stood at the door while the doc examined Robbie carefully. Finally, he looked up and said, “The infection is responding well to the antibiotics, so I think we can schedule him for Tuesday. Did he have a good breakfast?”

“He consumed a bowl of oatmeal, two glasses of milk, and a slice of toast,” I said.

“We’re planning to take him to the Golden Arches for lunch,” Mike said. “A burger, fries, and milkshake will help fatten him up a bit.”

“If he had no problem with a large breakfast,” Doc said, “I tend to agree. He’s a bit thin, so we’ll do some blood work Tuesday to make certain there are no deficiencies.” He turned his attention to Robbie and said, “You can get dressed now.”

“Mike went to the store last night,” I said, “and visited an ATM. How much do we owe you?”

“Call it sixty bucks for two house calls and the shots, and I’ll be happy,” Doc said.

“Don’t sell yourself cheap. Do you have any idea what we pay for an office visit in Jacksonville?”

“Probably, but I don’t have any overhead these days, and my needs are simple.”

“I won’t argue. I’m just glad Lucinda told us about you.”

“She’s good people.”

“That she is.”

Mike retrieved his wallet, produced three bills, and said, “Here you go, with our thanks.”

“Will you do the procedure on Robbie?” I said.

“Sorry, I don’t do surgery anymore, but I’ll make sure it’s done by someone I trust.”

“Thanks.”

We walked back to the deck with the doc, shook hands again, and he left. Thor was ready to come back on the deck, so I opened the gate and said, “Robbie, come here a minute. I want to show you something.”

I led him over to the gate that protected the stairway from the parking pad. “See this gate?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Always be very careful to keep it closed and latched. If it was left open, Thor might wander down the stairs and get lost, and we don’t want that to happen, do we?”

“No, Sir.”

I ruffled his hair and said, “Good boy. I knew you’d understand.”

“Robbie,” Mike said, “George and I are going to take a shower and change clothes. You can stay out here on the deck with Thor, or you can come inside and see the things I got for you at Walmart last night.”

Robbie’s eyes got wide at that, so we went inside, and Mike opened the plastic bin and showed him the toys, coloring books, and crayons.

“These are for you,” I said.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Boy’s got manners,” Mike said.

“You bet,” I said. “Okay, big guy, Mike and I are going to shower. Thor will stay here and keep you company.”

I don’t think he really heard me, he was so busy exploring the goodies in the bin.

B
ACK
in Jacksonville, a young man wearing dark trousers and an equally dark hooded sweatshirt slipped carefully and quietly through an unlocked window on the ground floor of his targeted house.
These old houses are so easy to get into
, the burglar thought as he lowered himself onto the floor and stood quietly, listening for any indication that his presence had been noted. As far as he knew, the house’s owner and sole occupant was out of town, but his natural caution kicked in.

After a time, he made his way carefully and quietly to the room he knew contained the occupant’s small home office, where he settled down at the desk and began to explore. Finding nothing of value, he was about to look elsewhere when his arm bumped against the desktop computer’s keyboard. The screen came to life, so he decided to poke around in the computer files. He wondered if there was a password and quickly discovered there was none, so he did some exploring.

Opening a folder with an unusual name, he uttered a quiet expletive as he began to scan its files. He’d been a Boy Scout once upon a time and had taken seriously the admonition to be prepared, which explained why he was able to fish a thumb drive out of his pocket. He inserted it into a USB port and began to copy files.

He removed the thumb drive and then made certain there was no evidence that anyone had accessed the computer.
This will either bring me a fortune or get me killed
, he thought as he secured the thumb drive in his pocket and quickly exited the premises without having stolen his usual quota of easily pawnable valuables.

•
5 •

A
S
WE
showered together, I said, “We ought to get him a couple of DVDs.”

“What do you get for a five-year-old?”

“Movies like
Finding Nemo
, cartoons, stuff like that.”

“Okay. After the Golden Arches, we’ll take him to Wally World and see what turns him on.”

“I know what turns me on, but this isn’t the time or place.”

“Actually,” he said, “it’s very much the place… just not the time.”

“Point taken. I just realized that spontaneity may have to take a backseat to our new responsibilities from time to time.”

“It’s a small sacrifice.”

Showered, shaved, and dressed in clean clothes, we went back to the great room. Robbie was sprawled on the floor, coloring in one of the books. I bent down to see how he was doing. “Wow,” I said, “you’re good at keeping within the lines.”

“Ready to go to McDonald’s?” Mike said.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Need to use the bathroom before we leave?” I said.

“No, Sir.”

“Then let’s get the show on the road,” Mike said.

We made certain that Thor had food and water, secured the front door, and went down to the garage. Robbie’s eyes widened when he saw the truck.

“You like the truck?” I said.

“Yes, Sir,” he said. “It’s neat.”

“You get to sit in one of the jump seats,” Mike said, opening the passenger door, which allowed him to then open the half-door. He folded down the jump seat and got Robbie strapped in.

I got in the driver’s seat and pushed the button on the garage door opener. As soon as it opened, we were on our way. “We need to look into child seats,” I said. “I’m not sure what the law says, but I’m pretty sure it’s based upon weight and/or age.”

“He’s out of sight back there. We’re probably okay for now, as long as we don’t get stopped.”

“True, but I’ll give Bob a call and ask him a few questions.”

“Whatever turns you on.”

We parked at the Golden Arches, went inside, and settled in a booth. “Okay, big guy,” I said to Robbie, “what’ll it be, hamburger, cheeseburger, or nuggets?”

“Cheeseburger.”

“Chocolate shake?”

“Can I have strawberry?”

“You sure can,” I said. “The usual, Mike?”

“Yep.”

I got in line and placed our orders. Back at the booth, I set the Happy Meal in front of Robbie, put a straw in his shake, and he dug into the food. Mike and I had chicken Caesar salads and unsweet tea. Robbie’s fries were tempting, but I managed to refrain from snatching one or two of them from his Happy Meal box. He ate everything in front of him and drained his milkshake.

“What kind of prize did you get?” I said.

He took out the little toy, showed it to me, and I said, “Cool. It’s hard to believe that there’s a city in California where an ordinance was passed that banned giving away toys with Happy Meals.”

“You’re kidding?” Mike said.

“Not at all.”

We went from there to Walmart and wandered around the entertainment section. We wound up purchasing
Finding Nemo
, a couple of cartoons, and a
SpongeBob
DVD. On impulse, I pushed the buggy toward the shoe section, and we found a better pair of sneakers than the ones he was wearing. To our surprise, we spotted the Plotts waiting in the checkout line ahead of us, and when I spoke to Martha, she turned and said, “Can we get out of line for a minute? I’d like to check some of these clothes and see if the size is okay.”

“Sure,” I said. “Go right ahead.”

I pushed our buggy over to one side and left Martha fussing with her purchases, holding them up against Robbie.

“Bob,” I said, “what do you know about the rules for child safety seats?”

“In this state, they’re based on age and weight,” he said, “and I think that pretty much holds true elsewhere.”

“I wonder if they make seats that fit the jump seat in my extended cab?”

“Most likely. Let’s go look while Martha is busy.”

I left Mike with Martha and Robbie, and Bob and I walked around until we found the appropriate section of the store. There was a bewildering array of child seats, but I found one small booster seat that looked as though it would fit the jump seat. We went back to Martha and Mike, and I placed the booster seat in our shopping cart.

“Did the clothes all fit?” I said.

“You bet,” she said, “at least as far as I can tell without actually having Robbie try them on. I guess I haven’t lost my touch.”

She went ahead of us in the checkout lane, and I was pleased to see that I had given her enough cash to cover the purchases.

In the parking lot, Robbie was yawning, so I suggested that we ought to get back to the cabin for a nap.

“Thank you so much, Martha,” I said. “I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t stepped up to the plate.”

“No problem, George,” she said. “I’ll call you tomorrow when I have more information about Robbie.”

“Good, I’d like to know his birth date and his full name, for starters.”

We thanked her again, and they went their own way. The booster seat fit the jump seat just fine. We got Robbie secured in it and headed back to the cabin. He fell asleep in the truck and had to be carried up to bed. As soon as we had him tucked in, we crawled into bed as well, although our nap was delayed just a bit—our erections kept getting in the way of sleep.

I spent a great deal of time Monday morning exchanging e-mails with my lieutenants and Chief Bridges, but I kept the e-mails devoted exclusively to business, making no mention of Robbie.

The next several days were instructive and occasionally frustrating. We came to know Robbie… and to love him, and I think the feelings were reciprocated. We took him to the local hospital Tuesday morning and waited forever until a young surgeon came to tell us that everything had gone as planned. We were allowed to spend a few minutes with him, but he was kind of groggy from the drugs he’d been given.

While Robbie was in the hospital, we had an appointment with Ernest Rodgers, our good “old(er)” boy attorney. We’d met Ernest when we’d purchased the strip of land uphill and adjacent to our cabin. He was in his sixties, and we found ourselves liking him immensely—so much so that we’d given him a small retainer in case we ever needed legal representation in North Carolina that couldn’t be handled by our Jacksonville attorney. His secretary showed us into his office.

“Have a seat, boys,” Ernest said, “and tell me what I can do for you.”

We filled him in on the details about Robbie, starting with our discovery of him the afternoon we got to the cabin. “What we want to do, Mr. Rodgers,” I said, “is adopt the boy.”

“Please call me Ernest,” he said. “If we get his grandmother’s approval and the right judge, I don’t see any problem.”

“That’s what our attorney friend in Atlanta told me,” I said.

“Does your friend have a name?”

“Charles Barnett.”

“Of Chandler, Todd, Woodward & Barnett?”

“I think that’s the firm’s name,” I said. “Why, do you know him?”

“No, but I know of him,” Ernest said. “You may remember me telling you that I worked in Atlanta when I was fresh out of law school. I had a good friend in those days who was law clerk for a federal judge. My old friend is now a judge in one of the suburban counties around Atlanta, but I digress. I met Judge Barnett two or three times in those days, courtesy of my friend, and he was a great man. Your friend Charles is his grandson, and I’ve followed his career for years. Do you think he’d agree to assist with this case?”

“I don’t know why not,” I said. “Do you think we’ll need him?”

“Son, that man has an outstanding track record in dealing with the kind of bigotry we might run up against, and I like to hedge my bets.”

“He told me that he’s licensed to practice in both Carolinas,” I said. I fished a business card out of my wallet and handed it to Ernest. “Why don’t you see if you can get him on the telephone?”

Ernest pushed a few buttons on his desk phone, and we heard the familiar touchtone beeps coming from the speaker. The call connected, and, after passing through a couple of intermediaries, we heard Charles say, “Charles Barnett.”

“Good morning, Charles,” I said. “George Martin here.”

“Hi, George, what’s up?”

“Mike and I are in the office of our Waynesville attorney,” I said. “It turns out that he’s a big fan of yours, and he’d like to ask you to be a part of this adoption process, if you can find the time.”

“I’ll make the time,” Charles said. “Who’s your attorney, and how does he know me?”