Color Blind (16 page)

Angel was right again. No doubt about it, Kate looked flappin' mad.

“Okay, Angel, this is it. I'll park as close as I can to the house. We'll walk the rest of the way. Let me do the talking.”

“April, I'm scared!” Her little voice quivered.

“Me, too, honey. Me, too!”

I lowered each of the windows a bit to give BG some air. I thought it best if we just left her in the car for the time being. Angel and I got out of the Mini and headed for the house. Gumbo alerted to us first and loped down the block to greet us. One by one, all heads turned in our direction. Pandemonium erupted as everyone realized we had returned.

Simone flew after Gumbo. Kate, Miles, and Detective Baptiste followed closely behind. Simone scooped Angel into her arms, nearly hugging the life out of her, before the scolding began. Kate marched over to me. We eyed each other guardedly; neither one of us spoke. There would be no hug for me as Kate pulled her arm back, ready to slap. I braced myself for the hit, but the hit never came.

Kate was stopped mid-slap by Detective Baptiste, who said, “Don't make this any worse than it already is.”

Kate nodded, dropped her hand, and moved away from me and over to speak to Simone and Angel. At a complete loss for words, she turned and walked away.

Detective Baptiste pulled a female officer aside and brought her over to Simone and Angel. “Simone, this is Officer Jordan. I want you to go with her to the emergency room to get Angel checked out. I'll come by later for her statement.”

He turned to Miles, “Take April inside and wait for us in the kitchen.”

As Miles silently guided me towards the house, I watched as the NOPD officers turned off their flashing lights and left. The K9 unit officers bundled their German shepherds into the van and followed the police cruisers. Two indifferent FBI agents spoke briefly to Detective Baptiste, got into their black SUV, and sped off into the night.

Inside with Miles, there was nothing to say. I had no reasonable explanation for him or anybody else. At best, my behavior was wildly irrational. I didn't understand it myself.

Miles grabbed a hand towel from the powder room. “Dry off.”

“I'll be right back, I'm going to get into some dry clothes,” I said, heading for the stairs.

Miles took my arm and stopped me. “No, you're not. Dad said to wait in the kitchen. That's where we'll be when he comes in. I'm not sure you can be trusted to come back if I let you go upstairs.”

Without any protest, I let Miles lead me into the kitchen to wait.

I took a seat at the kitchen table. Miles crossed the room and leaned against the counter. I couldn't bear to look at him. I was too ashamed. I kept my eyes lowered and stared at the floor. I felt his gaze burning from across the room. He didn't say a word. His silence was deafening, even more so than if he'd yelled at me.

“Miles, I, uh . . .”

“No, don't. Don't say a word.”

“There's a goat in the car,” I blurted.

“
What?
”

“There's a baby goat in the back seat of Kate's car. She can't stay there. Would you please go get her? Please?” I begged, taking the keys from my pocket and sliding them across the table.

He huffed, grabbed the key ring, pointed at me, and said, “Stay put.”

I got up, took a bottle of cold water from the fridge, headed to the powder room and locked the door. I was a sight. Red, bumpy mosquito bites were crisscrossed by long scratches along my forehead and cheeks. My hands, shoulders, arms, and legs had also taken quite a beating from Mother Nature. There were bits and pieces of twigs, leaves, and even some sticky spider's web clinging to my curls. I took a long pull of the cold water, filled the sink with the rest and lowered my face into the frigid water, hoping to find some relief. The icy water felt like fire on my skin. I gingerly dried my damaged skin and finger-combed the odd bits of stuff from my hair. I unlocked the door, went back to the kitchen, and sat, anxiously awaiting my fate. I heard the front door open.

Kate, Detective Baptiste, Miles, and the click-click of goat's hooves headed my way. All eyes were on me as they entered the room, even BG, who looked confused.

“
Bleat!
”

“Where should I put the goat?” asked Miles.

Kate looked at the dripping goat and grabbed a handful of kitchen towels. She threw them to Miles and pointed at the door.

“Take the goat out to the sun porch and dry it off. There should be a blanket out there.”

“Wait outside, Miles. I need to get April's statement,” Detective Baptiste added.

“But, Dad, I need to hear this, too. I'll just stand over there in the corner. I'll stay quiet, I won't say a word.”

“Sorry, Son, this is a police matter. April has rights. As her legal guardian, Kate will stay during questioning.”

I looked up and searched Miles's face, desperately seeking an ally, but found none. He threw me a hard look before leading the goat from the kitchen.

My heart stopped.
Police matter?
Did I hear Detective Baptiste correctly?

“I'm going to read you your rights now, April. Please let me know if there is anything you do not understand. After the Miranda warning, you'll need to take us through today's events from the beginning.”

I stared at Kate. She said nothing. She hadn't said a word to me since I returned. This was so much worse than I could have possibly imagined.

“I'm being
arrested
?” I asked, in a very small voice.

“Not yet. However, if either Kate or Simone decides to press charges, I will have no choice but to arrest you,” he replied without emotion.

“Charges?” I whispered.

“Joyriding at the very least. Quite possibly grand theft auto.”

Kate stood stone-faced across the room.

“You could also be charged with reckless child endangerment or kidnapping.”

My stomach churned like the swamp as the grim reality sank in.

“Some of these charges are misdemeanors, others felonies. In the worst-case scenario, you could be facing felony charges and prison time, a fine as well. As arresting officer, it is up to me to identify the charges, but the district attorney will have final approval. Because it's an election year, the DA could decide to make an example of you as part of his ‘tough on crime campaign.'”

“I'm gonna be sick.” Racing from the kitchen, I made it to the powder room just in time. I heaved and heaved and heaved and passed out on the cool tile floor.

When I opened my eyes again, Kate was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, a hospital room. It was morning already. Brilliant sunlight streamed through a window, warming my groggy head. I struggled to sit up.

“How are you feeling?”

“Thirsty,” I squeaked. “What am I doing here?”

Kate rose to get some water. “You hit your head on the sink when you passed out. You have a concussion. You're also pretty sick with some weird swamp virus or a reaction to a spider bite. The test results aren't back yet. Angel is just down the hall with the same thing.”

“Am I arrested?”

“No. Not yet anyway. You passed out before Detective Baptiste could read you your rights or get your statement. Fainting last night worked in your favor. Angel told us her version of what happened, but that doesn't mean you're off the hook. This is far from over. You need to understand there are consequences for your actions. How severe they are, is yet to be determined. Detective Baptiste still needs to take your statement and still needs to speak with Simone about charges. She wasn't up to talking last night. He and I need to discuss charges as well.”

I averted my gaze, began twisting the sheet. I was speechless.

Kate continued, “I haven't quite decided what I want to do with you. The doctor recommended a psychologist for you.”

“But . . .” I began to protest.

“April, don't even bother. You aren't in a position to whine or complain about anything. Consider yourself lucky you aren't already handcuffed to that bed. Trust me, last night I felt like handcuffing you until the day you turn eighteen, when you would be free to go and do as you please. And another thing, I've locked up your driver's license and my spare keys.”

The nurse came in to check my vitals and draw more blood—like the mosquitoes hadn't taken enough last night.

Kate stood. “I'm going home to shower and change. I've been here all night. I'll be back later today. I need to be here when Detective Baptiste speaks with you. Just so you know, April, he got one of his colleagues to sit outside your door. Don't even think about going to see Angel or leaving the hospital. You can't see Angel until you give your statement. Even then, I'm not sure that Simone will let you near her. Get some rest while I'm gone. You're going to need it.”

“Wait! Where's BG?”

“Who's BG?”

“Baby Goat. Is she okay?”

“She's fine. She's tethered in my courtyard. She'll stay there until I can figure out what to do with her.”

Kate opened the door to leave.

“Aunt Kate?”

Kate turned around. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Don't thank me yet. You and I have a long way to go before we get this sorted out. Chances are you're not going to be happy with the results.” Kate left the room, the door closing softly behind her.

I threw back the blanket, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and went into the tiny bathroom. Feeling lightheaded and unstable, I gripped the handicap bar next to the toilet. I glanced in the mirror, but had to turn away. I looked as horrible as I felt. My head ached, my scratches were sore, and the mosquito bites itched like crazy. I was in a fine mess and looked it. I made my way back to the bed, slipped between the stiff, starched sheets and tried to process everything that was happening.

Prison time.

Prison was a real possibility. Maybe if I showed remorse, everyone would go easy on me. That's how it always worked on television. But this definitely wasn't some scripted TV drama, this was my very own horrible personal drama. This was real. I couldn't be more remorseful. Or scared. I'd only been in New Orleans a few days, and in that short time, I'd managed to disappoint, hurt, or alienate everyone who tried to help me.

If life had a rewind button, I would do things differently. At least I hoped I would. But who knew? I didn't know myself anymore. Dad didn't raise me to behave so badly, to lie or steal or hurt people. Maybe the doctor was right. Maybe some counseling is in order. And from what Kate said, I didn't have a choice.

I got back into bed and rang for the nurse. I needed something to help with the headache and the itching and the nausea, which had returned. She brought some ointment for the mosquito bites, two tablets for my headache and crackers for the nausea. After she left, I located the remote and channel surfed. I had hoped for a little respite, but there was no escaping the voices in my head. I turned off the television.

I couldn't leave my room. I couldn't visit Angel. I was more or less under house arrest. With nobody to talk to and without the television to distract me, I closed my eyes and reviewed the previous day's events. I came to the conclusion that I had quite a few reasons to be worried about what the afternoon held for me. There was no way for me to know what Angel told everyone. When Detective Baptiste and Kate came back, I needed to be honest for once and tell them exactly what happened and why. My future depended on it.

No more secrets, no more lies.

I didn't know what time it was when Kate and Detective Baptiste came back, but it didn't matter. It was time to get it over with.

“Hi,” I said quietly as I sat up and they sat down.

“Are you feeling better? Do you feel up to doing this?” he asked.

“I guess so. Do you want to take notes or should I write everything down, like they do on TV? Do you have a pen and pad?”

Detective Baptiste pulled out a recorder, turned it on and set it on the hospital tray table. He read me my rights and asked if I understood them.

Scared out of my mind, I nodded and said, “Yes.”

“Why don't you start at the beginning, take us through the events?”

And, that's exactly what I did. I talked for what seemed like hours. Once I started, I couldn't shut up. I told them everything I could think of, starting with the sudden death of my father and how I never got to say goodbye. I told them that since his passing, I had become more and more obsessed with saying good-bye. I convinced myself that Dad's spirit was as unsettled as mine. I thought I'd found the perfect solution in Marguerite and her spiritual cleansing ceremony. All I ever wanted was to find a final peace for both him and me. I told Detective Baptiste and Kate that I never intended to hurt Angel in any way. The only reason I took her with me was because I was afraid to go alone. The only reason I borrowed Kate's car was to get to the swamp for the Voodoo ceremony. I didn't put any blame on Angel or Marguerite or anyone else. Everything that had happened was my doing. I didn't try to minimize it.

By the time I reached the end, I was worn out and my head was throbbing. There wasn't much left to say, except that I was terribly sorry for the turmoil I had caused. Before stopping completely, I added one last thing. I hoped they believed the experience had left an indelible impression on me, that I had learned from it. I was, without question, remorseful. I left out the part about being scared out of my mind that I might end up in juvie or, worse, prison.

Detective Baptiste turned off the recorder, slipped it back into his pocket and stood.

“Thank you, April. Get some rest.”

He nodded at Kate and they both left the room. Thirty excruciatingly long minutes later, Kate returned alone.

“Where's Detective Baptiste?”