Dwight hovered near the back of the room, staying well away from the happy throng. His all-night marathon of answering questions about the babys mother and what the blood in his office and on the note might mean made him testier than usual. Theres no way Im taking it home with me.
Hes not an it, Dwight, A. J. Rodriguez insisted. His name is Tyler, and even though hes only been around a couple of weeks, hes still a living, breathing human being. You have to deal with him.
No, I dont, Dwight enunciated, in case there was someone on the planet who didnt yet know just how little he wanted to be responsible for the welfare of a child. I bought him a bag of diapers and some formula. I gave you my report and turned over all the case files you requested. The Department of Family Services is on the way to take care of the kid from here on so hes not in any danger. If they cant locate any family, theyll find someone else. Ive done my part.
Nice speech. But I dont think you really believe that you can write off that kid.
Dwight didnt even blink. Believe it.
The Latino detective wore his guns, his badge and his usual cool-under-fire expression. Dwight hadnt rattled him one bit. If what the note says is true, that baby is the grandson of a man who murdered his wife and terrorized his family. Maybe he is in some kind of danger.
Then its a good thing I turned him over to you.
What happened to the bulldog prosecutor who goes to the mat for victims who dont have the right kinds of allies? Wheres the man who had the cajones to back me up when the DA said my wife had only imagined that bastard hit man who was after her? People count on you, counselor. That babys counting on you.
That baby doesnt know me from Adam.
His mother knows you. A.J. held up the handwritten letter that had been sealed in plastic and labeled as potential evidence.
Dwight already had the desperate adolescent words memorized.
Dear Mr. Powers,
I wanted to talk to you in person, but I cant stay any longer. Its probably better this way. I always bawl at goodbyes.
Let me introduce you to Tyler. He was born August 2nd. I have something important to take care of, so I cant be a mom right now. But I need to know that my son will be okay.
I dont know how to say this so a judge will believe it, but Im giving him to you. I remember my aunt reading an article in the newspaper a long time ago that said you had lost your son, so I figured thered be room at your house. Please take care of him. You can change his name if you want, though I think Tyler Powers sounds pretty cool. Dont forget to tell him how much I love him.
You saved me from Daddy when no one else could. Now Im asking you to save my son, too.
Someday, I hope
The last sentence had been scratched out without being completed. Then the letter was simply signed
Thanks!
Your friend,
Katie Rinaldi
Dwight pulled back his jacket and splayed his fingers on his hips. He breathed deeply, trying to ease the tension that corded his shoulders and arms. Troubled as he was by the letter, the blood and the abandoned baby, he was hardly equipped to play the role of savior. According to my files, Katie cant be more than seventeen years old. She probably just contacted me because Im the only attorney she knows.
A.J. didnt buy the argument. She doesnt want an attorney. She thinks youre some kind of superhero whos gonna save the day.
Dwight edged toward the door when the kid began to fuss and the buzz of conversation turned to who wanted to hold the baby next. A superhero he wasnt, not if an infants needy cries could turn him inside out like this.
Hell, A.J., I barely know this girl. I prosecuted her father four years ago. Outside of my office and a few minutes in the courtroom, Ive never even had contact with her. It doesnt make any sense to leave the kid with me.
A.J. pulled out his notepad and glanced at a notation. When I ran Rinaldis name through the system, I found out that MODOC moved him to its mental-health facility in Fulton, Missouri, for psychiatric testing. His sentencing said hes not to have any contact with his daughter, right? Maybe some paperwork got mixed up in the transfer or there was a glitch in supervision and he found a way to get a message to her.
A chill of suspicion temporarily cooled Dwights pulse. I just saw Warden Vaughn yesterday at a parole hearing. He would have mentioned if the Department of Corrections had had any trouble with Rinaldi.
Unless hed been so focused on keeping the man whod ordered the murder of Dwights wife and son in prison that Ralph Vaughn hadnt wanted to bother him with details on another prisoner. Dwight swiped a hand across his scratchy jaw. He needed a shave, a shower and a few hours of guilt-free sleep.
Yeah, right. Like that was gonna happen.
But he sucked it up, voided his own needs and gave A.J. the relevant feedback he was seeking. Its worth looking into, I guess. Rinaldi tried to pass himself off as some kind of Ichabod Crane in the courtroom. He tried to convince the jury that a skinny guy with glasses couldnt possibly have committed murder. But there was something missing when you looked him in the eye. Like a conscience. It wasnt any mild-mannered accountant who cut up his wife like that.
A.J. dotted an I and closed his notebook. So if this potentially crazy, definitely violent dad did somehow contact his daughter, that could spook her. Make her fear for her own life or her sons. Make her turn to someone she trusts for protectionnamely youwhether that threat was real or perceived.
Dwight worried about the possibility of Katie Rinaldi being in danger, even as he shook off the notion that he could serve as her protector. Ive got issues of my own right now, A.J. I need to be out of the picture.
We can handle the investigation and keep tabs on Rinaldis activities. The moms already on our missing-persons list. But until we hear differently from family services, this document states that youre the babys guardian.
That letter would never stand up in court.
Forget the legalities for two seconds. A.J. thumped him in the chest. Whats it telling you, right in here?
Dwight absorbed the flick against his skin like a heavyweight punch. Sure, with Joe Rinaldi as a father, Katie had been given a bum deal. Her abandoned son wasnt getting such a hot start in life, either. But Dwight couldnt fix those kinds of problems.
Youre killing me, A.J. Give me murderers, rapists and drug runners to deal with any day. But not that kid. He searched for logical reasons to back up his emotional claim. Im forty-three. Old enough to be his grandfather. Im single. I work hellish hours. I have enemies. He needs Dwight fisted his hand in a frustrated plea. But he had to say the words. The kid needs somebody who can be a father to him. That isnt me.
Damn the man. A.J. never even batted an eye. When are you gonna let go and move on, amigo?
A vein ticked along Dwights jaw, the only betrayal of the emotions he held in check. Maybe when I find something to move on to.
I think you just did.
The baby cried, right on cue. And while half a dozen police officers surged forward to help, Dwight slipped out the door into the hallway. There were consequences to caring that he wanted no part of ever again.