You Believers (35 page)

Jesse just smiled and said, “I want everyone to see I’m cooperating here. But I don’t have an answer to this question. Why would I know anything about a blue truck? I drive my momma’s car.”

Then the detective asked where Jesse had been on the day he’d gone to Mrs. Carter’s house.

“Mrs. who?” That grin played again on his lips.

“The grandmother of Michael Carter.”

Jesse threw his head back with a little laugh. “Oh, my boy Mike. Yeah, I was hanging with Mike that day. He wants to be my bitch sometimes. But I don’t need no bitch. We tried fishing in the river. We didn’t catch nothing. So we went to his granny’s house to find something to eat.”

“That’s all you did that day. Fished, caught nothing, went to his granny’s house.”

Jesse looked at his lawyer, smiled, said, “Somebody deaf around here?”

The lawyer reminded him that he didn’t have to answer.

Jesse leaned back as best he could to look relaxed, but the shackles kept him hunched forward. “Yeah, I was with Mike. He was having car trouble, and I told him I knew a guy might fix it cheap. But the guy’s shop was closed. So we tried fishing. Gave up. It was one of those days nothing goes the way you want, so we went to his granny’s house.”

The detective sat, leaned close. “You spent the entire day with Mike Carter.”

“Yeah,” Jesse said. “You tell that little bitch I said I spent the entire day with him. You tell him he knows every goddamned thing I did. Only reason he called in on this Land Fall shit is he knows that’s where I live, and it pisses him off. You ask Mike what we did that day. Goddamned snitching bitch.” There was spit in the corners of his lips. He had white, white teeth. It was something you didn’t want to see when his smile shifted to a snarl.

I knew they should never let a man like him on the streets. I knew then that I wanted to hear the sound of Jesse Hollowfield being led from the courtroom to serve the suspended sentence he’d been given for beating up a hooker, leaving her unconscious in an alley for some drunk to find. I knew once he was locked up, he’d never get out. He’d do time for the hooker and the Flynn girl, and in time I’d see to it he’d do time for Katy Connor. I wanted to be there and watch his smug little world start tumbling down.

When they lowered the lights in that room to show the slides of the Flynn girl, Jesse leaned forward for a closer look. A grin played at his mouth when he saw the thin cut on the blue-veined throat.
I saw the lean white belly, a red knife mark tearing across, the skin, not deep enough to gut her, the bruised arms, the neck all blue and again a knife mark on her chest, thin and jagged, enough to make her bleed but not deep enough to make her bleed out and die. He leaned closer, studying the marks, no remorse, just interest, like a surgeon’s interest in a cut badly made, how he might get it right next time.

“Anything you want to say?” the detective asked.

Jesse shrugged. “Seems to me whoever did that needed a sharper knife if it was real blood he was after.”

“She bled plenty,” the detective said.

“The way I hear it, she lived,” Jesse said.

His lawyer tried to restrain him from talking. But Jesse was too proud for silence. He jerked free of the lawyer’s hand on his shoulder, leaned to the detective, and said, “You ain’t got nothing on me. Like I said, that shit in my backpack, I found it. I was out walking my dog and found that shit scattered on the sidewalk. My guess is whoever did this, they got spooked and ran, spilling that shit on the sidewalk. Me, I was just walking my dog and scooped it up. Ain’t no crime picking up stuff off a sidewalk.”

“But you kept it,” the detective said. “You took it in your backpack, tried to fence it off to your buddy Zeke.”

He got a little frozen look then. I could see thoughts turning, the way a man looks when he’s hit a wall at the back of an alley, scans the walls for a place to grab, swing up, get the extra step, the leap, anything it takes to find a new way to run. Then he shrugged, looked at his lawyer. He turned back to the detective and grinned. “I got a fucked-up childhood, man. My daddy, he’ll get me out of this. Hell, I might even be crazy. We ain’t played that card yet. Crazy?” He rolled his eyes, made a gurgling, choking sound, something ugly enough to back away from when I was only looking at the recorded image of him on that screen. “I can do all the crazy I need, man.”

The detective stayed right on him, patted his shoulder the way you pat a dog that’s done just what you want. “You left evidence, Jesse.”

Jesse looked at his lawyer, who told Jesse keep his mouth shut. But Jesse liked to talk. “Bullshit.”

The detective leaned closer, grinned. “Oh, yeah, you were careful—condoms, kept your clothes on, and we’ll find those in time.”

Jesse grinned, said, “You just keep on looking.”

The detective went on as if he hadn’t heard his words: “And those batting gloves your daddy bought you. When was the last time you were in a batting cage?”

Jesse shrugged.

The detective went on, “You sure have worked your way through that box of batting gloves we found in your room. You’re good, Jesse; no prints anywhere.”

Jesse nodded. “I told you I found that stuff on the sidewalk. I was walking my dog. Ask any of my neighbors. I’m always out walking my dog.”

He sat straighter then, said, “I’m a model son, I tell you. Just go ask my dad and mom. Mow the grass, rake the leaves, walk the dog. Don’t know why you gotta pick on me just ’cause I did some time in juvy.”

“Yeah, you were careful,” the detective said. “Sat in that living room, eating Chinese food, stuffing it in that hole in the ski mask. You even got rid of the scotch bottle, the chopsticks, used condoms, took care not to leave any DNA. It’s like you’ve really studied up on these things.”

Jesse laughed, said, “Yeah, all that
CSI
I’ve been watching. I learn all my best tricks watching TV.” The cop leaned forward, his grin just as tight and hard as the one on Jesse’s face. But Jesse didn’t see that. He was enjoying himself. He said, “You know, I watch a
lot of those shows.
CSI
,
NCIS
. It’s mostly the tits and tight asses I like to watch. ’Cause the research, man, it’s fucking Disneyland if you ask me.” Jesse kept his smile tight, but I could see the tension in his eyes, not putting out anything, his expression blank as he could keep it as he waited for the next words the detective would say.

The detective stood up and paced, casual, shaking his head. “Thing about TV crime, Jesse, it just ain’t real. You ever notice that?” Jesse nodded, waiting for the next words. The detective went on, “Not once, not ever in my career have I seen the rapist, the sadistic fucking rapist who likes to tear girls up for the fun of it, not once have I seen him get the shits; not once have I seen him have to run from the girl all tied and naked and waiting for his next move; not once have I seen the man run to the john and sit and spray his shit. That’s some projectile shittin’, man.” He straightened, shook his head, winked at the other cop in the room. “Man, ain’t it nice to be the ones interviewing him here? I wouldn’t want to be the guy had to swab that shit—and I do mean shit—from all over that toilet.”

Jesse looked away, kept his eyes on his hands shackled on the table. The cop kept at it with the other cop. “You ever have to clean a rapist’s shit from a crime scene? Now, I know sometimes the victim shits, hell, no wonder with the things done to her. But the man, what kind of man gets the shits at the scene?”

The lawyer stood, said something like “We’re done here,” the way they say it on TV. I guess he couldn’t find his own words for getting out of that room.

After Roy clicked the screen off, we sat in the dim light. It took me a while to say the words: “So they’ll get him for Molly Flynn?” But I was thinking about Katy. Even though they had him for Molly Flynn, I knew it would be another long road to link him to Katy. We’d need more than some granny’s talk about a truck out of
gas. We’d need more than Molly telling how he’d bragged about the blue-truck girl. We needed Katy, wherever she was.

Livy leaned into me, brought me back to the courtroom. She asked me how much longer they would make us wait. I watched the guards, who didn’t look like they’d be up to anything anytime soon. But to give her something, I pointed to the door where they’d lead Jesse Hollowfield into the room. “When the guards head toward that door, that’s when they’ll be leading him in.” She settled back and locked her eyes on the door as if willing him to come on and get it over.

I didn’t want Livy to see him, didn’t want her to hear that laugh, yet I knew she had to see him. Sometimes we can’t resist walking straight toward the beast we fear. If there really was something called evil in the world, it would move like Jesse. I kept seeing Jesse Hollowfield’s face on that videotape: dead eyes, mouth grinning.

Livy suddenly reached for my hand, and the courtroom went still, and I remembered where I was. One of the guards went to a side door, pushed it open to two guards leading Jesse in. He stood as straight as the shackles would allow, face cold, jaw tight. The room stayed still, leaving only the sound of his shuffling feet, the soft clanking of the shackles. I watched him pause, scan the room. Even though he was slightly bent from the chains pulling his hands toward his feet, he raised his head, turned from side to side so he could take us all in, his audience. He grinned. That was how he saw that crowd of strangers. We were his audience, and he was ready to show us the powers of Jesse Hollowfield. Even in shackles, he could hold us all frozen and waiting to see what would follow that arrogant, disgusted gaze. He shook his head as if we were hardly worthy, and he let the guard lead him to his chair.

We all knew where the hearing would go, a simple confirmation of what we knew, which was why I wanted to take Livy’s arm
and leave. I looked for Roy. He stood at the back of the room, his eyes on his cell phone. I’ll admit that after one look at Jesse’s hard and grinning face, I wanted Roy beside me. I’d never tell him that. But the sight of Jesse’s face, seeing him taking his seat so easy and grinning like he knew it was all going to go his way, made me dizzy deep inside, made me want to grab on to anything steady and good. Which was why Livy’s hand was squeezing my arm, her eyes locked on Jesse Hollowfield, her face tight with wondering could this be the man, could this really be the man whose hands had last touched her girl?

I heard the
all rise
, and we stood while the judge came in, not looking at anyone, eyes only on where he needed to go. He sat, shuffled through his papers as if he didn’t know precisely why we were there. I watched Jesse. He kept his eyes on the judge as if this were his personal showdown. He really didn’t give a damn. He leaned back in his chair and shook his head as if to say,
Enough of the bullshit now
, and grinned.

Livy took my hand and whispered, “He’s not as big as I thought he’d be.” It was true. He didn’t look like a man capable of such violence against a girl. Put him in a polo shirt and khakis and a ball cap on his head, and he could have been any man’s kid. But I saw the mean strength in his arms, the tension in his jaw. He worked hard at being what he was. Probably did push-ups while they kept him locked in his cell, probably practiced that grin of his every time he passed a mirror. He wasn’t ready to give up anything easily, even while he sat shackled in a courtroom waiting for the judge to sentence him.

Roy had said Jesse’s lawyers wouldn’t even try to plead a way out of Jesse serving time. They’d gotten all the mileage they could on the last charge when he’d beaten that girl. He’d said she’d tried to steal his billfold, tried to grab the keys to his mother’s car. He’d said something in him had just clicked and everything had gone black. He had
said he couldn’t even see what he was hitting, and when she’d dropped to the ground, all he’d thought to do was run.

I wondered what other assaults he’d committed. Like Katy. I knew this was more than his second offense, and I knew there’d be more to come. This was a man who would never be rehabilitated. He was far too happy with exactly who he was.

I know that behind every horror story is a horror story, but a man has to be accountable in some way for the things he’s done. Even when it’s some unseen hand reaching from back in time to make a man weak in spirit and then strong enough to hurt everything in reach and to feel vindicated by the pain he can cause in the world.

I heard the judge clear his throat. Livy squeezed my hand, and I tightened my grip. I watched the judge look around the room, making sure all eyes were on him and not on the man shackled in the chair.

The judge explained that there would be no bail, and there would be no leaving Jesse to his parents’ custody while he awaited trial for the assault on Molly Flynn. Assault, I thought;
what an empty word
. An assault can be something as simple as slapping someone in the face. Or burglary. Or rape. What words we find sometimes for the evil a man can do.

I leaned to Livy, said, “You need to be ready.” But she didn’t seem to hear me, just kept her eyes locked on Jesse Hollowfield.

The grin never left his face. He shook the shackles on his hands, said, “Damn, y’all must be scared of me.” Then he winked. “Don’t y’all know I’m Houdini? I can get free from any chains you put on me.” The judge banged his gavel, hollered for order. I thought about Houdini, how after surviving all his tricks, he died because he was a smart-ass. He died because he dared some college boys to punch him in the gut. Too much arrogance for one small man. He’d trained his pain threshold so high he couldn’t feel the internal injuries, told the boys to keep punching. He died days later, gone septic
from all the damage done while he stood there grinning, saying,
Hit me again
.

I sat thinking that would be a good way for Jesse Hollowfield to die: death by his own arrogance. I kept seeing those images of Molly Flynn. I saw the tightly framed photographs of the violence done to that girl. I thought of Darly, Darly. What had they done to Darly all those years ago?

Back in the courtroom, I saw Jesse still grinning. The judge had heard all he needed. I had no doubt the judge had seen the tape, at least heard of it. The judge knew what Jesse had done. He wouldn’t be the judge to try the case. They were already moving to change the location of the trial. With all the news about the assault in Land Fall, it’d be hard to find anyone to serve on the jury who didn’t already have their minds made up that Jesse Hollowfield was a monster who should never be let out. So he’d be serving his sentence for the old crime while awaiting the trial for what they were calling his second offense. They’d be shipping him to the work farm. He’d be locked up at night, chopping tobacco all day. It was just about the lightest sentence they could give. The crime against Katy would take time to surface. The cops, the judge, anybody who knew anything knew Jesse would have killed the Flynn girl if she hadn’t kicked free and run.