Hometown Favorite: A Novel (41 page)

He took pleasure in seeing Ms. Almendarez once again, even
though the hour was late and the atmosphere unappealing.
The lineup room behind thick one-way glass had not been a
suggested attraction in Dominical. But after tonight she might
at least allow him the pleasure of buying her a drink. He took
greater pleasure in seeing the surly and now disheveled bank
executive who had been roused out of his bed, driven to the
police station, and forced to identify the man who had given
him the SWIFT account number, the same number Hathaway
held in his hand from the list he had taken from the safe. But he
took the greatest pleasure after the mechanical voice instructed
Salvador Alverez to separate himself from the others and step
forward, and he heard the Boyles, the bank executive, and Ms.
Almendarez all say Tyler was the man.

Dewayne struggled to recall Hathaway's first visit. It seemed an
eternity had passed. On his second visit, Hathaway presented
a photograph of Tyler Rogan and asked for an account of his
involvement in the Jobe family. Dewayne told the detective the
same story that Rosella had given the day before, after Hathaway
faxed her Tyler's mug shot and interviewed her via videophone
in Los Angeles. Their synchronized stories, including Tyler's
history of violence and incarceration, sealed his fate.

Hathaway returned a third time to Dewayne's hospital room,
carrying a brown sack and wearing an uncharacteristic smile.
The smile appeared when the four witnesses in Dominical
identified Tyler Rogan. The smile remained throughout his
return to Houston and became brighter as he wrote the report
of his trip and included Dewayne's and Rosella's testimonies.
Fellow detectives had never seen Hathaway in such a state and
accused him of getting a new girlfriend or hitting the lottery,
both of which he denied. When he and the police chief entered the district attorney's office and presented him with the
body of new evidence, including videotaped interviews with
the Mendozas and members of the LA leadership, his smile
went radiant. This third meeting would be his final time to see
Dewayne in the county prison hospital.

Jake was asleep in the chair next to the bed, but awoke at the
first sound of Hathaway's knock on the door. Jake and Dewayne
had tacitly agreed not to bring up the subject of Dewayne's
earlier request to finish his life. Nature would take its course,
and Jake would stick by his side to the end ... subject closed.

Hathaway did not say a word when he entered the room,
his lips preoccupied with whistling. He set the sack beside
the bed and went for Dewayne's wrist, lifting it in the air with
one hand and producing a key from his pocket with the other.
While Hathaway unlocked the handcuff, a nurse came through
the door, wheeling a television on a stand. After plugging in
the cord, she slipped out.

"Thought you'd like to watch a little TV," Hathaway said as
the key opened the lock and Dewayne's gaunt wrist dropped
free onto his stomach.

"What's going on, Detective?" Dewayne asked, looking in
amazement at the chain and handcuff lying unoccupied.

Hathaway paused from his tune to smile and hit the power
button on the television. "I think the DA can explain it best,"
he said as he checked his watch. It was straight-up noon, and
as soon as the commercial was over, the local station would
go live to the Houston courthouse.

Hathaway was curious about how the DA would spin these
undeniable details after having been so adamant about Dewayne's guilt. He had enjoyed watching him squirm in his office
as he presented each detail in the case against Tyler Rogan,
and then took extra pleasure in the semi-tantrum the DA had
thrown when he realized the walls were moving in. The vindication was so sweet, who could blame Hathaway for whistling
a happy tune?

The district attorney was pleased to announce startling new
developments in the Dewayne Jobe murder case. Unanticipated and compelling evidence came to his attention proving Dewayne Jobe was not the perpetrator of these awful crimes.
Pandemonium broke out, and the reporters assaulted the DA
with questions, causing his lip to curl into a scowl for interrupting his train of thought. Hathaway laughed aloud, but his
glee was short-lived when he heard weeping and saw Dewayne's
face buried inside his blanket. Jake turned off the television's
sound. They had heard all they needed to hear.

Dewayne wiped his eyes and looked into Hathaway's sympathetic gaze.

"Thank you;" he said and covered his face again with the
blanket. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you"

Jake patted Dewayne's head, and then extended his hand
over the bed to Hathaway.

"You responsible for this?" Jake asked, cocking his head
toward the television.

Detective Hathaway gave an affirming nod.

"Then we're forever in your debt"

"Am I free? Am I really free?" Dewayne's supplications were
as pitiful as those of a menaced child unexpectedly removed
from his abuser.

"The DA closed the books on your case. The taxpayers no
longer wish to pay your medical expenses or foot the bill for
your incarceration. You are free, sir." Hathaway laid a hand on
Dewayne's shoulder. "I suggest if you can, you should leave
before the media descends," he said, pointing to the ongoing
interview on television.

"What about it, Dewayne?" Jake asked. "You feel up to it?"

"Right now I could walk on water," Dewayne said.

"Then let's get out of here" Jake clapped his hands together
in a loud whack. "I'll deal with the doctors. What about the
warden?"

"Before I came to your room, I turned the papers in to the
warden signed by that talking head on the screen, authorizing
the release of Mr. Jobe. I will escort us out of here when you're
ready to go:"

The moment Jake was gone, Dewayne began to laugh.

"I've got nothing to wear but this raggedy old hospital gown,"
he said.

"Temporary solution," Hathaway said, producing the sack.
Inside was a cheap red running suit. "Didn't know size or color
preference, but-"

Jagged laughter escaped Dewayne when he beheld the first
physical sign of freedom.

Jake returned with a wheelchair, and after a quick elevator
ride down to the first floor, he wheeled Dewayne to the loading dock of the back entrance, all the better to avoid as little
contact with other humans as possible.

Dewayne lay down in the backseat of Detective Hathaway's
car, and Jake covered him with the hospital blanket he had
grabbed from the room. Were Mr. Jobe to pursue treatment
beyond what the prison hospital had done, the hospital would
ship all records to the appropriate medical facilities, the doctor
said as he signed his name to the forms fed to him by administrative personnel. Because the tumor was inoperable and the
chemotherapy and radiation had not eradicated it, consensus
was that it would be best if Mr. Jobe found a good hospice to
finish out his last days.

Jake had been amazed at how the world had just discovered
Dewayne was an innocent man, but the medical staff expressed
no repentant conviction about their treatment of him when they
thought he was a criminal.

"This place is right out of the Dark Ages," Jake said. "Whatever happened to `first, do no harm'?" He had told them he was taking their blanket, and they could send the bill to the
Texas taxpayers.

Jake followed Hathaway in his car as they pulled out of the
county prison hospital parking lot. Hathaway suggested Dewayne ride with him until they had gotten well away from the
prison property. If the press should pursue, then Hathaway had
the means to lose them, and as he had predicted, a caravan of
television trucks and company cars of rag publishers was barreling down the road in the opposite direction with a couple
of helicopters buzzing overhead before they were two miles
down the highway.

"Did you kill him?" Dewayne asked as Hathaway drove him
away from his nightmare.

"He's locked up with his buddies in a prison in Costa Rica;"
Hathaway said.

"His buddies?"

"Rogan was building a drug ring with a gang out of LA and
local suppliers. It was a major bust."

Dewayne was silent for a while, listening to the vehicles
whiz past them headed for the hospital in hopes of capturing
images and recording words of a man just resurrected. But
he felt like Lazarus when Jesus had brought him back from
the dead. He was just going to have to go through the whole
process of dying all over again, and for Dewayne it would be
sooner rather than later.

"Was he hurt? Did he get shot, bleed, get bruised, anything?"
Dewayne asked.

"None of the above, unfortunately."

"That's not good enough," Dewayne said.

"I understand what you're feeling;" Hathaway said.

"I don't believe you do," Dewayne said, and Hathaway conceded the point with a nod. "He needs to die:"

"He'll get his chance once we get him back here. It will take
some time to work through the extradition process with Costa
Rica, but-"

"In the meantime he just sits in a cell with his homeboys"

"Trust me, the place you've been in is like a Ritz-Carlton
compared to the prison system in Costa Rica"

"Still not good enough;" Dewayne said, and he fell silent.

Hathaway knew he was fighting a losing battle trying to
satisfy Dewayne's desire for revenge. He decided it was best
to let Dewayne rest as they covered the miles back toward
Houston.

Once they were back in civilization, Hathaway pulled into
an alley behind a deserted strip mall and helped Dewayne out
of his car. Dewayne put his arms on Hathaway's shoulders as
much for support as a show of affection.

"What can I do for you?" Dewayne asked.

Hathaway looked over at Jake, who sat in his car waiting for
the two men to say farewell. Jake nodded for him to answer
Dewayne's question.

"See you play in a Stars game one day" was the first thing that
came to Hathaway's mind for some unexplainable reason.

"Don't know if I can pull that one off."

"I'm counting on it," Hathaway said, and he helped Dewayne
get into Jake's car.

"I can never repay you" Dewayne extended his hand to
Hathaway one last time through the window of the car. "In
another life I'd like to get to know you."

Hathaway squeezed Dewayne's hand. "I hope we get that
chance"

"One good thing I can see in all this," Dewayne said, pull ing his hand back inside the car. "At least I can die a free man.
Things are looking up."

As Jake eased the car back onto the street, Hathaway looked
at his watch. He had no idea what he would do with the rest
of his day.

Jake nudged Dewayne awake when they arrived. He was opposed to the idea, but Dewayne insisted. Dewayne gave Jake
directions and then fell asleep, exhausted by the dramatic turn
of events. He hoped Rosella had not remembered to tell the
Realtor about the key in a glass jar underneath the back deck.
The FOR SALE sign was in the front yard, but given the circumstances, the house had not seen much activity. The two men
sat in the front seat staring at the house, a house very much
like every other house in this upscale neighborhood, and the
exterior did not reveal in any way the horrible crimes that had
occurred inside its structure.

Dewayne had never owned anything in his life until he and
Rosella bought this house, their first home together, the first
home for his first child, the home that had sheltered his niece
and nephew from the cruelties of the outside world. But the
outside world had wormed its way inside, turned malevolent,
and he had done nothing to stop it.

He had been such a blind fool. He had opened the front door
to his home, opened his heart, to the outside world, and it had
turned on him with a viciousness he never could have imagined.
No security system could have alerted him to the danger. Even
God, who was supposed to have parted the Red Sea and raised
his Son from the dead, could not or did not prevent the outside
world from acting out this bloody micro-apocalypse inside his
home, inside his heart. And what about his son? Why was there no power to raise him from the dead? God was on the opposite
side of the universe, silent, and dare he believe it, pitiless.