Last Chance (20 page)

“That's way out in the west end,” I said. In fact, it was close to where Billy was working for the summer.

My father nodded. “The guy went into the house. When he went to get the car later to go home, it was gone.”

“Which means that it could have been taken any time between eight and eleven,” I said.

My father shook his head. “Some neighborhood kids were shooting hoops in the alley until a little after eight thirty. They all said the car was there when they left. And the accident happened . . . let's see . . . ” He consulted phone. “At 9:40. So, taking into consideration where the hit-and-run happened, that means that the car must have been taken sometime between 8:40, which is just after the kids went inside and, say, 9:20 at the very latest.”

“What do you mean, taking into consideration where it happened?”

“The car was taken from the west end. The hit-andrun happened in the east end, about five minutes away from where Nick's aunt lives. It would have taken at least twenty minutes to drive from where the car was originally parked to where the accident happened.”

“But nobody actually saw Nick take it?”

My father gave me a peculiar look. “Robbie, he confessed. He said he did it.”

“I know. And you said the police had a good case against him when they arrested him. But he didn't confess until
after
he was arrested. So if nobody saw him take the car, I was just wondering what they had on him before they made the arrest.”

“Nick has a record, Robbie. That means that his fingerprints are in the system.”

“What?”

My father misunderstood me. He started to explain what happens when people get arrested. But that wasn't what I meant.

“They found Nick's fingerprints on the car?” I said.

“Dashboard. Driver's side.”

That didn't make sense. “Why would anybody with a record be stupid enough to steal a car and the leave fingerprints? Especially if he'd hit someone and hadn't stopped to help.”

“Most people who do things like this aren't exactly criminal masterminds,” he said—just like Morgan had predicted. “Besides, he's just a kid who went for a joyride. It was probably an impulse thing. In my experience, young people like Nick who get into trouble aren't usually planning ahead. Mostly they're acting out.”

“Acting out?”

“Working out their feelings. Like I said before, what do you actually know about this boy? There could be other things going on in his life.”

“Only that he's had a lousy family life and he's been in a lot of trouble. What about the guy who was hit? Did he tell the police anything?”

“The victim, an older man, was riding his bike home. He had lights and reflectors on the bike, front and rear. He had just stopped at a four-way stop intersection. He was starting to ride across the intersection when a car came out of nowhere—his words. He tried to get out of the way, but . . . ” My father shrugged. “A pedestrian, a woman, saw the whole thing. She didn't get a good enough look at the driver to even tell if it was a man or a woman. But she saw the car. Said it was blue. She said whoever was driving didn't even slow down—they just left the guy lying in the street.”

“Lying in the street?”

My father nodded. “The guy was unconscious for a couple of minutes. Besides, with a broken collarbone and a couple of broken ribs, you generally stay where you've landed.”

I thought about what Nick had said when I'd run into him outside of my mother's office—that the guy had walked away. Had he been lying to me?

“In addition to the prints and the woman who described the car, they also have a witness who I.D.'d Nick as the person who abandoned the car at one thirty in the morning.”

“One thirty?” I said.

My father checked his notes. “That's my information,” he said. He frowned. “Seems like a long time, doesn't it?” It sure did. “If I hit a guy in a car that I had no business being in—assuming I wasn't going to stop and call the police or an ambulance—I'd be looking to ditch that car pronto. It took your friend Nick nearly four hours to get rid of it.” He thought for a moment. “Maybe he was trying to think of someplace inconspicuous to drop it. He didn't do too badly on that score. Left it at the drive-in up near Highway 10.”

“They don't have drive-ins anymore, Dad,” I pointed out.

“There are some still kicking around.” He looked wistfully off into space for a moment. “The drive-in where Nick dropped the car isn't in operation anymore, but the screen is still there. You've seen it. We pass it when I run you up to the animal shelter.”

“We do?”

“Sure. From the road it looks like a big, blank billboard. I'll point it out to you next time. I took your mother there a couple of times back before we were married.” He sighed. It didn't take much imagination to guess what he was thinking about.

“And Nick left the car there?”

“Hidden behind the screen.”

“But someone saw him.”

“A guy out in a field across the road gave the police a positive identification.”

“Some guy just happened to be in a field across the road from the drive-in in the middle of the night, and he was able to positively identify Nick? Come on, Dad!”

“Yeah, well, if it wasn't for bad luck, some people would have no luck at all, Robbie. The guy's an amateur astronomer. He was out there with his son and a telescope. They were watching for that comet, the one the papers were making such a big deal about? The guy says he saw a car weave into the old drive-in.” He checked the message on his phone again. “Weave. That's what he said. When the driver got out, the guy trained his telescope on him. He said he thought maybe the guy was drunk. But that wasn't it. It turned out the driver was just a kid. The guy got a good look at him before the kid took off down the road. Then he went home and called the cops. By Monday morning they'd tied the car to the hit-and-run. Nick was arrested, and the rest you know.” He looked across the table at me. “Not the way I'd want to celebrate my birthday, that's for sure.”

I remembered the colorful wrapping paper and the birthday card I'd found in his backpack. “Nick got arrested on his birthday?”

“The day after. He turned sixteen on Sunday.” He closed the notebook and tucked it into his pocket. “That's why he got sprung from the group home for the weekend—so he could spend the big day with his aunt. A couple of years ago, the timing would have meant a break for him for sure. Now things are different.”

“What do you mean?”

“The hit-and-run happened Saturday evening. Up until a couple of years ago, if a youth under the age of sixteen committed pretty much any offense, they'd get a youth sentence, which was pretty light compared to adult sentences. Sixteen and over, for certain serious offenses, they could get an adult sentence. But that's changed. Now the magic age is fourteen. Fourteen and over, for certain crimes—basically, any crime that would result in a sentence of two years or more for an adult, and by that I mean anyone eighteen and over—the prosecution can ask for an adult sentence. The kid's lucky he's got your mother on the case. She'll probably work something out with the other attorney. She'll argue that the guy dying wasn't Nick's fault. I wouldn't be surprised if the prosecution was only pushing the negligence-causing-death charge to bargain for a serious settlement on bodily injury. But no matter how you look at it, Nick's facing more time, maybe in secure custody this time.”

“Secure custody?”

“Locked up. As opposed to the group home he's in now, where he's under strict supervision and has to have permission to go out, but he's not locked up.”

My phone trilled. I answered it.

“That was Mom,” I said after I hung up. “She's here to pick me up. I have to go, Dad.”

My father stood up. “Then by all means, let's go.”

“Dad, I don't think you should—”

“Don't worry, Robbie. I'm just going to say hi.”

He said considerably more than hi. He said enough to put my mother in a bad mood. Enough to make me hesitate to ask her any questions.

“I
am not going to discuss this with you,” my mother said as we drove home. “I shouldn't have talked to you about it in the first place. And
you
shouldn't have discussed it with your father.”

“I was just trying to figure out what happened. Why he did it.”

“There's nothing to figure out, Robyn. He admitted he did it. He's ready to take his punishment. It's over.”

“But why was he even allowed to leave the house? His aunt was supposed to be responsible for him. Why wasn't she watching him?” If she'd been with him like she was supposed to, nothing would have happened. That man might still be alive. And Nick would be leaving the group home in a couple of months.

“He's sixteen years old, Robyn.”

“But you must have asked her,” I said. “He was supposed to be supervised, right? He wasn't supposed to go out alone. Right?”

My mother gave me a slightly exasperated look.

“His aunt works long shifts as a waitress,” she said. “She was working on Saturday. She started at six in the morning. After her shift, she went home, made dinner, even made a cake for him, for his birthday. They had a little celebration—”

“On Saturday? But his birthday was on Sunday,” I said.

My mother looked surprised. She was probably wondering how I knew when Nick's birthday was. But she didn't ask.

“He had to be back at the group home by three o'clock on Sunday afternoon,” she said. “So they had the cake and presents on Saturday. His aunt rented some movies for him. Then, because she had to go on shift again at six the next morning, she made an early night of it. She went up to bed and left him downstairs watching movies.”

“So she wasn't supervising him.”

“It's not her fault, Robyn. This is all on Nick.”

“How early?” I said.

“What?”

“You said she made an early night of it. How early?”

That earned me another exasperated look. “What difference does it make?” She shook her head. “Around eight thirty. She went upstairs a little before eight thirty. She trusted him, Robyn. That's what she told me. She trusted him to stay put.”

But he hadn't. Why not?

 

. . .

I had an idea, but my mother didn't like it. She threw her car keys into the bowl on the table in the front hall, kicked off her shoes, and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. While she waited for it to boil, she told me that she'd been over the incident a dozen times with Nick. He wasn't exactly communicative but that at least he hadn't tried to deny it. She said I'd be surprised how many people get caught practically red-handed and then deny they were even involved. She said maybe the RAD program really did work because Nick didn't seem angry about what happened. She said he was taking responsibility for his actions for maybe the first time in his life and that showed real maturity. She said even the police were surprised by how forthcoming he was.

“I just want to talk to him,” I said.

“Robyn, this is none of your business.”

“But it doesn't make sense, Mom. Everyone said he was doing so well, and then he does something incredibly stupid. It just doesn't make sense.”

The look of exasperation on my mother's face changed to one of concern.

“Is there something between you and this boy?” she said.

I shook my head.

“Because if there is—”

“There isn't. I just—” Just what?

“Robyn,” my mother said, her voice soft now, “do you have any idea why Nick is in that group home?”

I shook my head. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear this.

“He trashed the office at his school. Took a length of pipe and went through that place, smashing everything—computers, phones, windows, you name it. He even swung at one of the vice principals.”

“Just swung?” I said. “Did he hit him?”

“No,” my mother said. “But that's not the point. This boy has been in a lot of trouble.”

“Has
been. In the past.”

She looked even more concerned now. The kettle started to shrill. She turned away from me to pour boiling water over herbal tea bags in two cups, one for her and one for me. She handed one to me.

“I'm only telling you this so that you'll forget about this boy, Robyn,” she said. “This is not to leave this room. Do you understand me?”

I nodded.

“Something else happened on the weekend, something that Nick's aunt thinks explains why Nick did what he did.”

I waited.

“On Friday night, Nick met his aunt's new boyfriend for the first time.”

When his aunt had picked him up at the animal shelter, she had mentioned that she thought it was time Nick met Glen. Glen must be her boyfriend.