Chapter 11 "...that's all we know so far Roy.  The Police are trying to find the boy's biological father." Johnny's stomach did a back flip as he entered the kitchen the next morning, and heard the topic his co-workers were discussing at the table. "No luck so far?" "No, last I heard they had gone to the guy's apartment, but the landlord said the he hadn't seen the guy in a few weeks." "So now the guy's missing...sure makes him look guilty, doesn't it?" "Pretty convenient for Mitchell," Johnny muttered into his coffee. "You say something, John?" Cap asked him. "No." "You all right there, partner?" Roy asked noticing the dark circles under his friend's eyes. "I'm fine, Roy, just fine.  I'm gonna go check the equipment." "Oh...okay," Roy answered, slightly baffled by the younger man's demeanor.  "So, where are the Mitchell's staying now, Cap?" Johnny paused in the doorway.  "They stayed with Captain Hanson the first night, but they have a house rented already just a couple blocks from his station.  Everyone in their department is chipping in with things they'll need." "Maybe we could all chip in things too," Marco, volunteered, "after all, he is a fellow firefighter." "Hook, line, and sinker," Johnny hissed as he left the room to bury himself in his morning duties. Johnny did his best to keep to himself for the entire shift.  If there was one thing he was not good at, it was painting on a false happy face for the benefit of others.  He also didn't feel like having a conversation with anyone about his continued ill feelings for Mitchell.  He felt they would give him a hard time, harass him about his inability to ever let anything go.  They were just like everyone else he had ever known, so willing to believe any excuse, any reason given to explain horrible things; because it was easier than believing there were people among them who could do those horrible things.  Besides all of that, he needed time to think.                   Chapter 12 He now had four days off, four days to figure out what to do.  On his way home, he stopped at a grocery and bought several rolls of film for his camera.  He forced himself to eat breakfast, lunch, and then dinner, but could not coax himself to sleep.  He still didn't have a plan beyond trying to get some evidence to what he knew in his heart to be true.  When his phone rang, he ignored it, tapping one of the boxes of film on the table, willing the time to go by.  A half an hour before dark, he loaded his camera, and placed it in its bag with the rest of his film.  After patting his pockets to check for his keys and his wallet, he put on a light jacket, turned off his lights, and locked his door.  Still unable to paint on a smile, he avoided his landlord's eyes, and simply gave her a nod as he passed her smiling face in the hallway. By the time he reached Malibu, it had grown dark.  He didn't have the exact address where the Mitchell's were now staying; he hadn't dared ask for it.  Two blocks from the station was all he knew. "Lots and lots of houses," he sighed as he drove through the surrounding residential streets.  He stared at each one, wishing for some unexplainable insight to draw him to the right house.  Around eleven, he gave up driving, and parked his Rover at a grocery, five blocks away.  Getting out of the car, he realized the night had grown cool.  He pulled his collar up, and slipped the shoulder strap of his camera case over his head, to rest on the opposite shoulder.  He hiked back to the area, and again began staring at the houses.  From the sidewalk, it was easier to see in through the windows of those that still had lights on, than it had been from his car.  Unfortunately, the late hour meant most of the houses' lights were off.  He cursed himself for not having taken to footing it earlier. An hour later, he became braver, and ventured into back yards to peer into windows if he happened to see any lights.  After his fifth circuit through the neighborhood, he began to hear some shouting.  He jumped out of his skin as a lady in a second story window right above him, shut her window loudly against the noise.  Johnny crept through a few more yards, trying to pinpoint where the yelling was coming from.  Circling to a side yard, he could hear a child crying softly, and again jumped out of his skin as a light in the room the sound was coming from suddenly snapped on. "I said, shut up!" Mitchell screamed at the child.  Johnny ducked down and braced himself against the side of the house, just beneath the opened window. "Steve, honey," Elizabeth Mitchell called from a room deeper in the house. "I'll be right there, Elizabeth, go back to bed." "But I need you now.  I don't like the dark." "Shut up!" Mitchell screamed again.  The man's shadow flickered against the whitewash of the house next door as he grabbed the side of the crib, and shook the entire thing violently.  Johnny placed a death grip on his camera, and clenched his jaw to keep from making a sound. "Stevie, can't we just get rid of it," Elizabeth moaned from the doorway. "No!  It's mine!  Everything that was yours when we got married is mine now.  Everything!  And I'm not giving anything to anybody. Not your mother, not your stepfather, not that bastard Bill Summers, not anyone!  And that includes giving them this little bastard here!  I've told you that!  Now go back to bed, Elizabeth!" "Well, shut him up at least!" "I will." The door closed, and Steve again walked over to the crib by the window.  The boy barely made a sound.  Johnny stared at the man's shadow.  Without warning, Mitchell raised his hand and slapped the boy soundly across the face.  Johnny froze, dumbfounded, feeling as if thunder had just rattled though his entire being.  Seconds later, the door opened and closed as the light was again shut off.  For several moments, Johnny couldn't move.  The child continued to cry in the darkness.  Why didn't I bring a tape recorder, Johnny thought in anguish, as he was again able to think.  'What good is a camera...why didn't I bring a tape recorder?'  When the lights went off in the rest of the house, Johnny stood to examine the window above him, and discovered it had a pop out windscreen.  With only his lock blade, he managed to pry the screen out toward him; then he crawled through the window.  Looking around the room, he was appalled.  The crib stood alone in the corner.  Items for the child that had been given to the family sat in boxes in another corner of the room.  Several toys had spilled out on to the floor, but not one lay in the crib with the child.  Aside from the mattress, the crib was bare, without so much as sheets, a pillow, or a blanket.  Johnny set his flash and took some pictures of the bare room and the child alone in his crib.  After just a few shots, he could no longer stand it, and reached into the crib to pull the boy out.  Johnny dug in one of the boxes and pulled out some sheets, a blanket, and some toys, and made up the bed properly.  He lay the child down, and stroked his head until he believed him to be asleep.  Thumping one corner of his camera against his right temple, he tried and tried to figure out what he could possibly do for the boy.  Who could he go to?  How could he explain what he found, much less how?  Eventually the sun began to rise, and he knew he had to go.  He slid one leg out of the window, and glanced back at the child one last time, vowing to find a way to help him.  The boy woke, and upon seeing him leaving, stretched out his arms for Johnny to pick him up. Johnny's heart broke, and tears began to stream down his face.  "I'm not leaving you," he cried quietly.  Climbing back through the window, he picked up the boy and held him close.  "I'm not leaving you."  After stripping the bed again and placing everything back the way he had found it, Johnny opened his jacket and wrapped the front of it around the boy as much as he could.  After crawling out of the window, he easily slid the screen back into place.  Just before reaching the sidewalk, he heard a screen door slam on the porch of the house next door.  An elderly woman gazed back into his eyes, causing him to quickly look away, shrug himself off, and do his best to act normally, despite his bulging jacket.  He hurried down the sidewalk in the growing daylight, wishing now that the grocery where he had parked had not been so far away.  He fought a strong impulse to start running as he noticed more and more people starting to go about their day.  As soon as he got to the grocery, he got into his Rover, and drove directly toward the freeway, toward home.  Once back in Carson, he put on a pair of sunglasses, wrapped the boy up in a blanket, and dared to take the child with him into the largest supermarket, then discount department store that he could find.  He bought everything he felt he would need for the boy, and then some; clothes, blankets, toys, food, bottles, everything.  He bought non-perishable food and some clothes for himself, and tried to mix it all together; hoping all of the baby stuff would not jump out at the checkout as much.  The baby, wrapped snuggly in one of Johnny's camping blankets, and still half wrapped in his jacket, sleepily, but hungrily sucked away on one of Johnny's hands as he waited to be checked out.  The young female clerk cooed at the boy, remarking on how adorable he looked.  Johnny tried hard to smile at her, but was sure his face must have looked as if he was about to be sick at any moment.  Once safely out of the store, he hurried home to make up a bottle for the kid.  "Eating disorder my eye," Johnny muttered angrily as a second bottle lay empty, and the boy slept snuggled up next to him on his bed. "Now what," he asked himself aloud, "wait for them to come get me?  They'll know it was me, won't they?  My fingerprints will be all over the place.  But they can't trace fingerprints until you've already committed a crime, can they?  Still, if they suspect me, they can just come get me and fingerprint me then, can't they?  What am I gonna doooo?"  Johnny hated to do it, but he stripped the boy, and took photographs of fresh bruises on his legs, and the one the slap Johnny had witnessed had left on his face.  "I don't know what good this'll do, they'll probably say I did it to you," he whispered to his sleeping companion as he dressed him once again. Chapter 13 Every sound Johnny heard in the hallway, he believed the police were coming to get him.  He kept the TV on constantly, waiting for something to be said about the kidnapping.  Almost three days later, and the evening before he was scheduled to return to work, it finally came on the news. "This afternoon, the son of one of Malibu's firefighters was abducted from his bedroom on the first floor of this rented house behind me." "What?" Johnny shouted at the TV. "The police believe the boy may have been kidnapped by his biological father, who is also believed to have started a fire in the firefighter's home earlier this week.  Firefighter Mitchell's wife and child were nearly killed by the smoke and flames, only to be rescued in the nick of time by LA County's finest." "I don't believe this!  How can they think he was taken this afternoon!  Didn't they ever check on him?   No wonder he was so hungry!  He's probably lucky if he gets a bottle a day!  Oh man!  Now what should I do!"   Johnny paced back and forth in his living room, trying to come up with a plan.  As Johnny paced he heard the baby stirring in his bedroom.  The sound started out mournful, as if the child was in pain.  Then sucking sobs as little Johnny fully woke.  Johnny hurried into his bedroom and approached the infant lying on his bed.  As he reached out for the boy, he smiled at the paramedic as if sensing he would not be in trouble for his crying.  Johnny scooped the child up into his arms, and began to talk softly into his ear. Taking the baby with him into the kitchen, he pulled a readymade bottle out of the fridge, and then immersed it in a pitcher of hot water to warm it.  He then carried the pitcher and little Johnny into his living room, taking a seat on his couch.  The TV was still tuned into the news.  Johnny kept his ears tuned and occasionally glanced at the screen wondering if any more information would be released about the Mitchell baby's disappearance.  While taking in the rest of the news broadcast, Johnny began to give the young boy the warmed bottle.  With the bottle empty, the baby looked up into Johnny's face and cooed.  He made noises that should have been words, but considering the neglect, all they were was unintelligent sounds.  Johnny smiled and talked softly to the young boy. Suddenly the breaking news about little Johnny's abduction was once again on the TV. "This afternoon, the son of one of Malibu's Firefighters was abducted from his bedroom on the first floor of the family home.  The police have questioned the surrounding neighbors extensively about anyone strange in this usually quiet neighborhood.  Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell are extremely upset at the disappearance of their son and are pleading for his safe return." "I'll bet they are," Johnny said sarcastically. "The police believe the baby's natural father, Bill Summers, may be responsible for the abduction.  A questionable fire destroyed the Mitchell's home earlier this week.  While the police haven't revealed any details, they have informed us that Bill Summers is wanted for questioning about the fire, as well as the child's abduction.  "So far, the police are at a loss.  They have not been able to locate Mr. Summers for questioning in either matter.  He hasn't been seen in over a week, at his residence in Fresno, according to his landlady.  Also, no one in the neighborhood has been able to provide any clues about anyone suspicious, lurking around the Mitchell's rented home, at anytime over the past 24-hours.  The police ask, if anyone out there, knows of Bill Summers whereabouts, please notify them, immediately." The phone ringing beside him caused Johnny to nearly jump out of his skin and drop the baby on the floor. Oh man, should I answer it?  It's probably Roy, wondering if I'm watching the news.  If I talk to him, he'll know.  I know he will.  I can't talk to him.  "Stop ringing!" he eventually shouted. Little Johnny began to fuss, so Johnny started to rock him back and forth, the motion calming himself a little, as well as the child.  After fifteen rings, the phone finally stopped. The quiet that followed felt deafening.  He turned up the TV, and realized he had not eaten in over twenty-four hours.  As he fixed something to eat, he opened some jars of baby food for the boy.  Soon he was fully absorbed in alternating between helping him get a bite of food into his mouth, and stuffing food into his own.  Little Johnny's aim was little to be desired, but rather than becoming annoyed or angry, the boy found that his new caretaker couldn't stop giggling at his attempts.  The fourteen month old squealed in delight at the laughter, making the laughter that much louder. After half an hour of playing more than eating, Johnny scooped the boy up, and plopped him into his kitchen sink.  After wrestling him out of his clothes, and discarding his own food-coated shirt, Johnny began to shower the boy with the spray hose.  Little Johnny started to cry.  "Hey, its okay, it's okay...see?" Johnny implored, spraying the side of the sink.  Little Johnny reached for the handle in curiosity, so Johnny handed it over.  The baby's little eyes turned into saucers, and his hands froze in mid-air as he accidentally sprayed himself in the face.  Oh way to go John, Johnny cursed himself, 'now he's really gonna to hate it.'  For the child, however, the fearful look on his new friend's face held his attention more than what had just happened with the black handle in his hands.  Figuring maybe he wasn't meant to have it, he tried to hand it back to Johnny, spraying him fully in the face.  Startled, again both froze.  Water dripped down Johnny's hair and into his eyes.  After a few moments, he bit his lip, wanting to laugh, but not sure if the little guy would be offended. "Uhhhhah." Little Johnny grunted, again trying to offer the hose back, and again spraying Johnny in the face.  This time the baby laughed. "Oh that's funny, is it?" Spraying again, this time Johnny tried to turn away, but only succeeded in getting a blast of water into his ear. "Are you taking lessons from Chet or what?  Give me that." "Goooooo." "Oh gooooo, my turn, watch." Johnny crouched with his head over the sink, and gave himself a constant spray on the face.  The baby laughed, and patted Johnny's cheek, putting his hand through the spray.  "There you go, see...it don't hurt.  It's water.  It's nice.  Your turn."  Grabbing a bottle of baby bath out of the grocery store carton, still sitting on the floor, Johnny proceeded to bath him.  After Johnny had carefully soaped up his face , Little Johnny stuck his tongue out to touch some suds that had yet to be rinsed away, and made a horrible expression.  Johnny nearly busted a gut.  "Please don't tell me you're hungry again!"  The baby laughed with him, but again made the horrible face.  "Okay, okay, I'll get you some milk.  You wanna try a cup this time?  You may as well.  If you spill it, I can just hose you down again."  The boy took the cup, expertly placed it to his lips, as he had just spent the last three days watching his companion do, then lifted the bottom up to get the full contents right up his nose.  "Oh man, are you okay?  You have to do it slooowly.  I...are you still speaking to me?" Johnny asked, as the expression on the boy's face was a mixture of shock and accusation.  "I'm sorry," Johnny pleaded, holding his breath in an effort not to laugh.  Little Johnny handed the cup back, and stared him in the eye.  "What...you wanna try it again?  Oh okay."  Johnny poured another cup, but this time, kept his hand on it, as he helped his charge learn how to drink from it.  After a couple more nose sprinklers, and several air sips, little Johnny began to get the hang of it.  Johnny busted with pride.  "Ahhh," he exclaimed after the cup was empty, "you're turning into a prune."  After dressing the boy, Johnny decided he needed a shower as well.  Placing him on the floor of his bathroom, Johnny began to strip.  He got as far as his boxers before he stopped, staring at the child.  "Maybe you should close your eyes," he said half seriously.  "I'm not sure what the laws are.  Is it legal for kids to see their kidnappers naked?"  Johnny tugged on his shower curtain in frustration, wondering what kind of accusations could later be made against him.  "Well...you're a boy...and I'm only gonna be a few minutes.  Don't look," he added as he turned, dropped his shorts, and jumped into the shower.  After five minutes of washing and peeking out at the baby every ten seconds, Johnny climbed out, and wrapped a towel around his waist.  Again the phone began to ring.  Johnny's stomach dropped to his feet.  He picked up the boy, and hurried out into the living room where the news was repeating their story; ending by saying they still had no new information. "It's Roy, I know it is.  Do you think he thinks....no.  There's no way he could...is there?  He's just wondering if I'm seeing it.  Come on, Roy, hang up!  Nobody lets it ring fifteen times!" Once the phone stopped ringing, Johnny sat on his couch, holding the baby close, and again rocking him back and forth as he wondered what was going to happen to them both.  After several minutes, he realized he still wore only the towel.  Flushing red with embarrassment, he carried the boy into the bedroom and ransacked his drawers for some clean clothes, finally settling on light blue boxers, and a pair of black jogging pants.  The stress of the last few days washed over him as he sat on the bed next the boy, who sat playing with the wrinkles in his sheets.  He lay down, and allowed himself to close his eyes, as he rested his head in the crook of one arm.  His breathing became deep as he drifted off to sleep.  Little Johnny gave up a game of squashing one wrinkle, causing a new one to jump up, and crawled up next to Johnny.  He stared at his face with complete focus, for several minutes.  After a while, he laid down in the same position, sitting up a few times to study his friend, then laying down again, as if making sure he was getting it right.  After twirling his finger in his hair, he abandoned the idea, crawled up next to Johnny; then, using Johnny's arm as a pillow, went to sleep.                        Chapter 14 His lungs burned, as did his eyes.  He tried to wipe away the tears with the back of his hand, but the dirt from days of not being able to bath made his eyes hurt even more.  Nearly blind or not, he kept running as fast as he could.  The fact that he knew exactly where he was going was a big help; still, he tripped from time to time, causing himself to sprawl face first into the dirt.  His heart pounded harder in his chest as he heard the heavy footsteps gaining on him.  Jumping to his feet, he ran directly into a wooden fence post.  Ignoring the pain that radiated up his arm, he slid between the cross slats, and raced into the barn. "Get back here, boy!" "Nooo!" he screamed, ducking into the tack room, and locking the door from the inside.  Just as the lock slid into place, a heavy blow against the door from the opposite side caused the boy to stumble backwards.  "Open this, now!" The boy curled up in one corner of the small, closet like room, wrapping his arms around his legs, and burying his face against his knees.  "Mama pleeease.  Please come get me!" "Open this door!" Something hard smashed against the door, causing the hinges to start to give. "Mama, please!" "Stop that!" "Leave me alone!  I didn't do it!" "Open this door!" "I didn't do it, daddy!  Please...I didn't do it!" "Shut up, boy, and open this door!" he screamed, smashing something against it again.  Two of the hinge bolts popped off. "Mama!" One final blow sent the door flying to the ground, missing the boy's small body by mere inches. "I didn't do it!" "Get up!" he shouted, yanking the boy up by one arm till his feet dangled above the ground.           ~/~/~/~/~ "Noooo!" Johnny shouted out loud, causing little Johnny to start to cry.  A loud banging sent Johnny into cloud of bewilderment.  "Its okay, it's okay," Johnny soothed, rubbing the boy on the back.  The banging came again.  "What is that?"  The banging erupted a third time.  "Shhhh," Johnny whispered, laying the boy down, stepping out into the hall, and closing the door most of the way behind him.  The banging starting a fourth time sent Johnny into a low hiss of cursing.  The TV was the only light in the now darkened living room, and it gave off a ghostly glow.  Johnny swiped at his sweaty brow with a shaky hand, and flipped on a light.  Tiptoeing to the door, he peered through the peephole. "Oh shh....." he started, trying to compose himself, "it's Roy."  Roy knocked at the door again.  "Johnny!  Open the door!"  He was certain that his partner was inside.  He could see faint flickers of light coming from under the door, and he was sure he had heard a shout from inside only seconds before. Taking a deep breath, Johnny slowly opened the door.  He held it ajar only far enough to speak to the man on the other side.  "Hey, Roy...how ya doin'?" "I'm doin' better knowing that you're home.  I tried calling several times.  You never answered." "I was sleepin'.  What did ya want anyway?" "I wanted to see if you saw the news on TV." "The news?" "Yeah, Johnny.  You know the stuff they broadcast everyday to let us know what's happening around the city and the world," Roy answered sarcastically. "Oh yeah, the news.  No, Roy I haven't seen the news, I ah..." god I hate liars, Johnny thought to himself, "I was sleeping." "What's wrong with you?" Roy said as he tried but failed at an attempt to get inside Johnny's apartment. "Nothin'!  Now that you know I'm okay...I'll see ya at work tomorrow," Johnny replied blocking the door with his body. "I'm not going anywhere until I find out why you're so jumpy?" "Me!  I'm not jumpy!" "Then how about you let me come in?" "I--"  Before Johnny could reply, little Johnny began to cry.  Giving Johnny a perplexed look, he stepped inside.  Little Johnny continued to cry.  Roy was beginning to have a sinking feeling as he walked toward Johnny's bedroom.  Pushing the door open, Roy found the baby that he and Johnny had rescued only a few days before, sitting in the middle of Johnny's unkempt bed. Roy turned and faced his partner, at a loss for what to say. "It's not what you think!" "You couldn't possibly know what I'm thinking!  Do you know how much trouble you're in?  Do you realize you could...and most likely will go to prison for this?  For the love of Pete, Johnny, you kidnapped him!  Are you completely out of your MIND?  What in the world were you thinking?" "I couldn't leave him there!  If you could have seen...I watched Mitchell hit him…hard!  He's just a little boy!  He doesn't deserve to be treated like that!" "I agree with you, but there are other ways...legal ways to--" "Legal ways!  Get real!  They didn't do anything!" "That's not true, Johnny.  If there was anything more Doctor Brackett could have done, you know he would have done it!" "That's the point!" Roy ran his hand through his thinning hair.  To him it felt a whole lot thinner at this moment, all because of his partner.  The last thing Roy wanted was for Johnny to lose everything, his job, his freedom, and his friends.  He knew that little Johnny couldn't be held captive; no matter how good Johnny's intentions were.  Roy looked at the upset child and then at his partner.  "Well my friend, you may as well pick him up so he'll stop crying!  Then you and I are going to have a talk before we call -" "I can't call anyone!  They'll put me in jail and they'll give him back to them!  They don't want him!  Not for love!  All they do is abuse him, and neglect him, and starve him half to death.  For God's sake, Roy, he's been here for three days!  They didn't even--" "Three days? The news said…" "That he was taken this afternoon, I know!  I'm tellin' ya, Roy.  They don't care and the things that I saw…man, you wouldn't believe me!" "Johnny as much as I don't want to see this child hurt...  You have to believe me.  I don't want to see him hurt.  I also don't want to see my best friend put in prison for the rest of his life!  We're going to have to think of something." "We?" "Yes, Johnny.  We!  Who else is crazy enough to put up with your brainstorms, no matter what they are?" "Roy!  I don't wanna see you get into trouble.  I mean, you have a family to worry about!" "Don't worry.  If we talk to the right people, I'm sure things'll work out." Johnny held the baby in his arms.  Little Johnny bubbled with delight from the kind attention that he was receiving.  Johnny took him to the kitchen to get him another pre-made bottle. After warming it, he joined Roy in the living room.  Johnny was somewhat relieved that he no longer had to face his current problem alone, but he was still very nervous about what he was going to do in order to help this child. Roy took a deep breath and blew it out.  "Okay, let's just try to think this out." "I've been trying that for days." "I know.  Just...let's just…" "Shhhhh, it's on again," Johnny exclaimed turning up the volume on the TV. "The police are still investigating the kidnapping of young Johnny Mitchell from this home earlier today.  It was from this bedroom," the news anchor said as the video on the screen cut to an inside shot of the house, "that the boy was taken." The room Johnny saw had undergone a complete transformation.  Curtains now hung over the window he had entered.  The crib was completely made up with Winnie the Pooh sheets, and a little comforter that matched.  A small pillow of a smiling Tigger peeked out from under the comforter, left as if undisturbed from the moment the child would have been taken.  Every toy the couple must have been given for the child after the fire now laid spread out like a magazine picture, all over the room. "I don't believe this!  Roy, that's not how the room was at all!  There was nothin there!  I....I can prove it!  I got pictures of how it really was!" "Pictures?" "Yeah." he said picking up his camera and putting it back down.  "They know they're guilty for what they were doing, and they're trying to cover it up like mad!" "Johnny --" "There were no sheets, no blankets, nothing!" "Johnny --" "The window was open...and it was freezing!" "Calm down...Johnny, just sit down." Little Johnny sat on the floor between Johnny's feet, gazing up at the angry man. "I'm not mad at you," Johnny spoke reassuringly to the baby as he picked him up.  "I'm not mad at you at all.  I'm just --" "...a possible eye witness to the abduction.  Ma'am, can you give us a description of the man you saw?" cracked from the TV like a bolt of lightning into Johnny's brain.  The elderly woman from the neighbor's front porch now seemed to stare right into his eyes again as she looked at the camera. "Oh no..." "Johnny?" "I'm dead.  She saw me." "She SAW you?" "I...well...it's not like I planned this you know!  It just happened!" "I know that, but --" "Shhhhh!" "Yes," the lady spoke from the TV, "he uh...he had red hair, and was very pale.  Yes, he uh, he wore a suit, a grey suit, and he was about five foot three...and very chubby." "Huh?" Johnny grunted, his mouth dropping open. "...and I'll tell you something else.  I hope he's gotten as far away as Timbuktu by now," the lady added with more than a bit of self-confident bite. "Ma'am?  Ma'am, why do you say that?" "I...well I have my reasons.  Now that's all I have to say.  Get off my porch," She added shooing them away. "Ma'am?  Have you talked to the police?" "I talked to them, now get on with you," she said, slamming her screen door. The news cut back to the desk anchor.  "Well that was a little strange.  She did say she spoke with the police.  I guess that will be something they'll have to investigate.  Angela, have there been any other new developments?" Angela, on location, responded, "No, Michael, that's all we have so far.  The Police are still trying to locate the biological father, but as far as we know, they have not yet been able to do so." "Well thank you, Angela, and we will keep you, the viewers, up to date on this developing story.  Now for your weather." Johnny turned the volume down on his set.  "She lied," Johnny, whispered stunned. "Maybe she didn't really see you.  I mean, they're saying he was taken today.  Maybe she saw --" "No, Roy, she looked right at me.  Right at me!  I couldn't hide him, my jacket barely closed over him.  She saw, Roy." "Maybe --" "She knows.  That's why she said what she did about getting away.  She knows what they were doing.  She's right next door!" "Are you sure?" "Yes I'm sure!" "Okay, okay, well...that's good!  You'll have someone to back you up when you go to the Police." "Police!  Roy, I can't do that!  Look, if she was willing to get involved she would have called them herself before I ever took him." "So they'll have to question her again." "What if she's scared?  She lied to them already.  What if she keeps lying, and won't say anything else so she won't get into trouble?" "Look, I don't know what else to do!  We'll call Crocket.  We'll talk to him directly.  If you turn yourself in now, maybe it won't be so bad.  The longer you wait --" "What if the cops give him back?  What if they give him back before they even talk to her or me?  Five minutes in his parent's hands...especially when Mitchell's gonna be angry...especially when he knows what I saw...he's gonna know people are going to be looking at him again.  What if he runs?  He could even kill Johnny to make it harder for the cops to find him...and that's if they listen to me at all!" "Crocket will listen to you.  He knows you." "No..." "Look, just let me call him.  Maybe we can get him to come over here so you --" "Roy, I --" "You can't just hide him here forever, Johnny!  Even if they never figure out it's you, what're you going to do with him?  Geez, you are supposed to be at work tomorrow morning!  What are you gonna do, call a baby sitter?" "No!" "The longer you wait, the worse it's gonna be.  You have to do it, Johnny, and you have to do it now!" "I...go home first." "Huh?" "You need to go home first.  I don't want you to get into trouble." "I won't get into trouble.  All I did was come over here, find the baby, and tell you to call the police.  I can't get into trouble for that, believe me." Johnny sat down on his couch and put his head in his hands.  Just in front of him, little Johnny gazed wide eyed around the room, as if trying to make sense off all of the tension he was feeling around him. "I'm calling Crocket," Roy said picking up the phone and dialing. "I don't want to go to jail tonight, Roy.....I'm scared." "I...I know," Roy offered.  As the other end of the line was answered, Roy turned away, trying to keep Johnny from hearing his end of the conversation.  "Crocket's coming over," Roy eventually told him, hanging up the phone.  Johnny didn't so much as nod.  Roy walked over to the couch and sat down right next to his friend.  "It's gonna be okay," he said rubbing Johnny's shoulder. The minutes passed.  Crocket seemed to be taking forever.  Johnny bent down to pick up the baby.  He cuddled him in his arms, and rested back against the couch, trying not to feel sick while they waited and waited.  Little Johnny played with his face, tugging at his nose and ears, patting him on the cheeks.  "You're such a good boy," Johnny smiled. Johnny's front door slammed open and three officers entered with their guns drawn.  "Put the child down!" one shouted full of anger and excitement.  Johnny froze, unable to move.  "Put…down…the…child!" the man screamed, his trigger finger twitching. Little Johnny started screaming in terror. "Wait a minute!" Roy yelled. "Face the wall!" another officer shouted, pointing his gun at Roy, and propelling him by the arm to face the other direction. "Wait a minute!" Roy shouted again.  "Where's Crocket?" "Drop the baby!" the first officer screamed again.  "Put you hands on your head!" the second officer shouted at Roy. "Where's Crocket!" Roy repeated, trying to look back at Johnny.  His friend stood petrified, the first officer's gun pointing right at his face. "Put…it…down!" "Hold on a minute, hold on a minute," Crocket said entering the room. Johnny still remained frozen in place, his face a chalky white, his breaths short and fast. "Give me the boy, Johnny," Crocket said, trying to get Johnny to see him.  "Johnny, give me the boy."  Crocket lifted the baby out of Johnny's arms. Little Johnny gave off blood curdling shrieks, his arms reaching back for the man that had saved him.  Crocket stepped away with the baby, doing his best to comfort him. "Down!" the first officer screamed, grabbing Johnny by the arm, and throwing him to the ground. "Hey!" Crocket shouted, "Take it easy!" The first officer cuffed Johnny's hands behind his back, and then yanked him back to his feet. "I said," Crocket started only to stop as his loud voice made the baby scream even more. The first officer marched Johnny out of the apartment. "Not him," Crocket said to the second officer who was beginning to cuff Roy.  "Not him!" The second officer nodded and left the room with the third that had stood covering the scene the entire time.  Seconds later Dwyer and his partner, Curt hurried into the room and took charge over the Mitchell baby's care.  Detective Crocket had called for paramedics to be at the scene when the officers went in, but the two men were stunned when they discovered whose apartment had been busted into.  The baby continued to scream hysterically, making Crocket more than happy to relinquish the child into someone else's hands. "Crocket!" Roy shouted. "Now, Roy..." "You said you'd talk to him!" "I am going to talk to him, just as soon as we get him down to the precinct." "Crocket!" "Roy, this is a kidnapping.  That's a federal offence.  I can't just --" "But you said --" "I talked to my superiors and I --" "Called out the National Guard?" "Okay, maybe they were a little over zealous." "A little?" "Roy, this isn't helping.  I've got to go," he said.  Roy grabbed him by the elbow, glaring at him in the eyes.  "Let go," Crocket warned him. "When can I see him?" "I'll let you know.  If you really wanna be his friend, maybe you should start by trying to find him a lawyer." "A lawyer!  Crocket, I told you there were very extenuating circumstances here." "It's up to you, Roy," Crocket said following the ambulance attendants and paramedics from the apartment. "Wait!" Roy shouted, making him turn back.  Roy began to rummage around. "This is a crime scene, Roy," Crocket warned as two other officers appeared at the door. "But --" "You can't touch anything." Roy defiantly picked up his own discarded jacket and walked through the door to join Crocket on the other side.  He held his jacket between his knees, and then began to remove his shirt.  "For Johnny," he said handing it and his jacket to Crocket.  "I'm going home to get him some shoes and socks.  I expect you to see me when I get there, and I expect you to give them to him." "Roy..." "I don't want to hear it, Crocket!" Roy said as he stormed down the hallway toward the stairs. Chapter 15                      Roy caught himself as he nearly slipped off of the hard plastic chair that was bolted to the floor.  I can't believe I nearly fell asleep here, he thought as he rubbed at his tired face and tried to focus his eyes on his watch.  Ten hours!  Darn it, Crocket!  At least come get the socks.  How would you like to be running around here barefoot all night!  See if I ever talk to you again, once this is over. Crocket peered over the high counter at the blond headed man he knew would still be there.  Between trying to get a hold of children's services, trying to talk his superiors out of reuniting the child with his parents before he had a chance to talk to his prime suspect, and finally following the ambulance that had the distraught and inconsolable child in it to Rampart, Crocket had only just made it back to his station.  He waited for the man to look the other way before sliding down the hall to the interrogation room.  Two officers glanced guiltily at him before focusing back on the paperwork in their hands.  Crocket ignored them and opened the door.  Johnny sat, still clad in only his jogging pants, on a hard wooden chair placed next to a table.  The room was colder than usual, and Crocket shivered in his jacket.  When he closed the door behind him, Johnny didn't even glance up to see who had entered the room.  "Johnny?"  Johnny didn't move.  "Johnny!"  Still nothing.  "Look, I can understand that you're mad at me, but I'm here now, so tell me your story!"  Nothing.  Crocket walked over to the table, dragged out the only other chair in the room, placed it right next to the other man, and sat down.  "Are you going to talk to me or not?  Johnny!"  Now close up, Crocket could see the thin man was shivering.  "Look at me when I'm talking to you!"  Johnny's head started to rise, only to drop back down again.  Crocket lifted the man's chin to discover a discolored eye, and a slightly bleeding nose.  "Damn," Crocket cursed, "Johnny..."  Placing his hand on his back to shake him, he realized exactly how cold he was.  "Johnny!  Oh damn, Johnny!"  Crocket jumped up and ran to the door.  "Where's that shirt I had," he yelled out into the hallway.  A desk officer appeared with the shirt, and Crocket hastily tried to put it on him.  He rubbed Johnny's arms roughly, trying to warm him and rouse him.  Panic began to form in his throat.  "Come on, Johnny.  Talk to me.  Tell me what happened.  Why did you do it?  Why did you take that kid?  Johnny!"  Despite his efforts, Johnny remained lethargic.  "Is Desoto still out there?" Crocket asked the desk officer that had followed him into the room. "Yeah, I..." "Get him in here now." "I don't think we can allow --" "He's a paramedic.  He's coming in as a professional.  Now get him!" A moment later, Roy rushed into the room.  "What happened?" Roy asked, dropping down beside the chair with his friend. "I don't know." Roy lifted Johnny's head and checked his eyes by waving his hand back and forth between his face and what little light the room offered.  "What happened to his eye?" "Roy...I don't know.  Is it that bad?" "The eye?  No." "Then what's...?" "He's in shock!  Can't you see that?" "I just got here." "So you have no idea how long he's been like this?" "No!" Roy looked around the room.  "Where's my jacket?" "I...in my car." "Well get it!  Or get a blanket.  Get something!  And call it in!"  Roy pulled off the new jacket he now wore, and wrapped it around Johnny's shoulders, then lowered him carefully to lay him on the floor.  "Johnny, can you hear me?  Johnny?  Come on, junior, it's gonna be all right.  The worst of it's over.  We're gonna work this out.  Johnny?" Crocket appeared with a blanket along with a pillow.  Roy's eyes blazed back at him as he accepted the two items that had been denied his friend thus far.  "How is he?" Crocket dared to ask. "Did you call for an ambulance?" "Yes." "And a…" "I called an emergency in to the fire department." Roy nodded to himself, wondering who would show up.  Several moments later, Crag Brice and Bob Bellingham appeared with their gear in the doorway.  Despite Brice's desire for passive perfection at all times, his eyes bugged out at the recognition of the two men before him.  "Roy." "He's in shock, and hypothermic." "Bleeding?" "No, cold and psychological." "Come again?" "He got one hell of a scare." Brice called it in, identifying the victim.  Dr. Brackett, having taken in the hysterical child earlier, knew some of the story from Crocket and Dwyer already.  He ordered an IV, and to transport immediately.  Crocket and an armed officer stood waiting by the door as they loaded Johnny onto a gurney.  Roy chucked the station's blanket and pillow back at Crocket, as he changed it for the ambulance's blanket, which was heavier, warmer, and softer.  Crocket and the armed officer followed them out to the ambulance.  The officer began to get in after Brice.  "You can't ride back there," Roy informed him sharply. The officer looked at Crocket for instructions.  "Get in the front," Crocket told him. "There's no room in the front," Roy challenged, getting in himself beside the ambulance driver. Crocket scowled.  "We'll follow them," Crocket told the young man, turning for his car.  Roy slammed his door shut and glared at the road in front of him.  "Let's go, Paul," he told the driver. Chapter 16 Roy followed closely behind as Craig and the other ambulance attendant wheeled the gurney into Rampart.  He took a certain pleasure out of closing the exam room door, just as Crocket and his accompanying officer got close enough to see inside the room. "Johnny?" Dr. Brackett asked, "Can you hear me?  How long, Roy?" "I don't know.  Crocket was the only one with him when I got in there." "Crocket?  Crocket!" Brackett shouted out into the hallway. "Yeah," Crocket asked opening the door. "How long?" "Huh?" "How long!" "Uh...I don't know.  He was like that when I found him.  I --" "They had him for over ten hours, Doc." "What happened?" Roy quickly spilled out as much of the story as he knew.  "You should have seen the guy," Roy said, referring to the police officer, "he looked like he was ready to pull the trigger at any second, and the gun was only an inch or two from Johnny's face." "That would help explain the baby," Dr. Brackett muttered, noting the difference between Roy's version, and the version Crocket had given him earlier, Roy's being much more dramatic.  He figured reality laid somewhere in between, but for Johnny, it was obviously every bit as bad as Roy had said.  "Do you know if he had any food or water during the time he was there?" he asked Roy.  Roy looked at Crocket, still standing in the doorway. "I uh...it's possible..." "But?" Doctor Brackett asked. "I uh..." "I didn't see any cups or anything lying around in there," Roy informed him.  "And this is all he had on, a shirt and jogging pants?" "He uh...he didn't have the shirt," Crocket admitted.  "I uh...put it on him when I got back." "How cold was this room?" "Cold," Roy said firmly. Dr. Brackett felt Johnny's chest under the blanket and shook his head.  "Dix, get me a warming blanket and ten milligrams Diazepam.  I'm going to sedate him, and try to get him warmed up.  The cold is probably just as much to blame as the little show he was forced to go through, but I still don't want anyone questioning him about anything until I give clearance, is that understood?" he said looking directly at Crocket.  "Depending on how much of this is emotional, you could make him go catatonic." Dixie moved quickly to get the items Brackett ordered.  As she walked past Crocket, she narrowed her eyes at him.  Dixie had known Crocket for several years and she was appalled by the condition that Johnny was now in.  Yes, she knew Johnny's actions were wrong, but Dixie also knew Johnny.  She knew that he didn't act on things with out the best of intentions.  If the police had of just handled things differently, if Crocket had handled things differently, Dixie was certain that Johnny wouldn't have had to grace the ER department of Rampart like this. Brackett injected the Diazepam into the IV port and with Roy's help Dixie placed the warming blanket over their friend.  With this completed, Brackett looked up at Dixie, "Keep check on his vitals, Dix.  I'll be right back. " Dixie nodded. Brackett then turned and looked at the police officer. "Crocket, I'd like to speak to you for a minute, please?" Crocket nodded and joined the doctor out in the hallway. "Crocket, I want to know what in the hell happened?" "I told you all I know.  I found Johnny much like he is now in the interrogation room, cold and non-responsive." "And he was wearing only his jogging pants." "Yes." "How did he get the black eye and the bloody nose?" "I don't know." "Well from my examination so far, I'd say it looks like somebody decided to use him for a punching bag.  There is bruising just starting to form on his neck and chest.  Even with being left in such a cold room for--" "I don't know what the deal was there and I--" "At ten hours, that means he was injured while in police custody." "I don't know what happened after Johnny was taken from his apartment. As you recall, I was here with the Mitchell baby.  I--" "I'm aware of the fact that you were here, Detective.  I'm not going to butt heads with you over this.  I plan on making a full report to the police headquarters."  Crocket was about to speak when Brackett raised his hand to quiet the man before him.  He had to say his piece.  "I'm a friend of Johnny's...and, I'm not making excuses for his actions.  If he took that child, what he did was wrong.  But, I know that you're aware of the fact that a child abuse issue was raised in regards to the Mitchell baby.  Unfortunately, because this type of thing is hard to substantiate without admission or eyewitnesses, not much could be done at the time.  I'm sure if you or the other officers involved with Johnny's arrest had of talked to him...did you or anyone else at any time speak to him about taking the baby?" Brackett asked, and then waited for an answer. "No.  No one that I'm aware of questioned him." "I see.  So no one bothered to get to the bottom of things, but instead, it appears some of your police officers have already determined his guilt without due process, and then handed out their own sentence." Crocket focused his eyes on the floor tiles in the ER.  The things that Brackett had to say weren't entirely without foundation.  He was Johnny's friend too, and he should have taken an extra step to speak to his friend, to try to help his friend without all this.  Crocket began to wonder if they, the police, were any better than what Johnny, Roy, and Brackett had accused Steve Mitchell of, plain abuse. "Doctor.  Make your reports.  I'm heading back to the police station to see if I can find out what is happening in regards to Johnny's arrest and the kidnapping of baby Johnny Mitchell."  Before clearing the entry doors, Crocket ran smack into Hank Stanley. "Hank!" Crocket nearly shouted in surprise. "Crocket...would you mind telling me exactly what is going on?" "I uh, I take it Roy called you." "He left me a message that Johnny had been arrested, that I'd need to replace him next shift, and he'd explain later.  I went down to the station as soon as I heard, but they said he'd been brought here.  What did you do, put him in a cell with some drunk twice his size?  And what was he arrested for in the first place?" "He kidnapped the Mitchell baby." "What?" "He --" "I heard what you said, but it just doesn't make sense!  Why would he do that?" "From what I can tell, he believed the boy was being abused.  Exactly how that led to kidnapping him, I don't know.  I haven't been able to question him yet." "Abused," Cap, murmured thoughtfully, "I thought we'd figured that one out." "Come again?" "Steve Mitchell blamed the boy's biological father...the fire, the abuse, the fact that they moved away to make it more difficult for the father to see the boy...it all made sense.  Especially when after the fire, no one could find the guy." "Yes, I know about all of that...the investigation into the arson.  What I didn't know until tonight was about the alleged abuse of the child." "Johnny was sure Mitchell --" "And he apparently stayed sure, despite Mitchell's story." "I didn't know he still thought Mitchell was the one doing it." "Well...apparently he did...and here we are." "What do you mean, 'here we are'?  So you arrested him...how did he end up here?" "That I don't know.  I was occupied most of this evening, and when I got back..." "What?" "Cap!" Roy shouted from down the hallway.  He had just left Johnny's room after bruising developing further on Johnny's warming body had prompted Dr. Brackett to order x-rays. Dr. Brackett followed Roy out of the treatment room, and looked down the hall in the direction he saw Roy looking.  "Crocket!" he shouted, seeing the police officer still gracing his halls. "Dr. Brackett," Crocket said, starting down the hall toward him with Captain Stanley right on his heals. "As soon as they're finished in there, I want you to see something." Crocket kicked at a mark on a tile on the floor, taking a deep breath.  "What is it you want to show me?" "You'll see." "Roy?" Cap started to ask. The x-ray technicians exited the treatment room, pulling their equipment along behind them. "Get me the films back as soon as possible," Brackett, ordered the tech before ushering the men in the hall into the room. Captain Stanley hesitated at the door, unsure if he would be allowed in.  Roy held the door open, so after a second, he too followed.  He stood back against the wall, but being a tall man, he was able to see what the other three were looking at.  There laid his paramedic, seemingly unconscious, very pale, and more than a little black and blue. Dr. Brackett pulled down the warming blanket to a reveal long, narrow, dark purple bruise across his patient's left collarbone.  "Exactly what would cause this?" Dr. Brackett demanded pointing it out to Crocket. Crocket was speechless.  He had a suspicion, but he didn't really know what to say.  "I'll get to the bottom of it, Doc," he promised. "You better," Brackett replied angrily. Crocket began to leave.  "Doc," he asked from the doorway, "let uh, and let me know what you find on the X-ray." "I will." Roy shook his head in anger and frustration after the door had closed behind the man.  "I can't believe he let this happen," Roy grumbled mainly to himself. "Come on now, Roy," Cap cut in, "from what I understand, he wasn't even there." "That's the point!  He should have been!  He was the only one that was suppose be there!  This never should have happened! Johnny was only trying to help that kid.  He...oh shit!" Roy bolted out the door in search of the officer that had just left. "Crocket!" he shouted, bursting into the parking area, and seeing the man starting to get into his car. Crocket took a deep breath, and waited for Roy to approach him.  "What is it?" he asked. "Johnny...he said he had the kid for three days." "What?" "He had him for three days!" "Roy, that doesn't make sense." "Doesn't it?  It makes sense to me!  Johnny's right!  They're abusing that kid, and neglecting him!  How else can you explain it?" "I don't know.  Are you sure?" "Yes, I'm sure!  That's what he told me!  He said the room had been done up after he was there, that it was cold and the window was open and everything was bare.  Nothing like it is now.  He said he took pictures!" "All right, Roy, I'll look into it." "What does that mean?" "I'll look into it, there's nothing more I can do." "But if you tell the district attorney...they should know he didn't just take that kid, he did it for a reason!  Right or wrong, he did it for a reason!  It matters, doesn't it?" "I'll do the best I can." Roy stared at the ground. "I'll do everything I can.  I better get going." "Right, bye," Roy said hotly. "Roooy," Crocket tried to appeal.  Roy turned on his heal and walked away.  "You're never going to forgive me for this, are you?" Crocket murmured to himself as he got into his car and drove away.                        Chapter 17 Having gotten nowhere with the officer that had actually arrested Johnny, Crocket called in the second officer, the one who had kept his sight on Roy.  "Sit down ah..." "Daniel, Daniel Richter." "Richter.  Daniel, I need to find out what happened with your kidnapping collar last night." "What do you want to know?" "Why don't you tell me?" "I don't understand." Crocket drummed his fingers on the table in front of him.  "How about you just tell me everything you did last night, starting with the arrest at the apartment." "Uh...our report--" "Never mind your report, your partner wrote the report...I just want to hear it from you.  So let's start again.  Tell me everything you did last night...starting with--" "The arrest." "Yes." "Sir?" "Yes?" "Stevens is ah...Stevens is my senior officer." "That's nice, now let's get started.  I'm sure you have better things to do today than spend all day in here talking to me.  I know I do," he added laughing at his own joke.  "Sooooo..." "Well uh, we made the collar at the apartment, and uh..." "Yes," Crocket encouraged. "Well Stevens had him in the squad by the time I came down.  So we just drove him to the station." "All right, and then what?" "Well, when we...tried to get him out of the car...he wouldn't move." "Did he fight you at all?" "No, he just wouldn't move.  He ah, asked me 'where's Crocket,' and you weren't there so I...just told him to get out of the car.  Stevens came around and he asked him 'Where's Crocket?' and Stevens pulled his gun out.  After that he just, well, he didn't look so good, he kind of froze and Stevens...well I said...I thought...I said maybe we should just leave him in there for a while.  It was cold and...well...I thought...you see...I figured if we just left him in there for a while, when we came back, he'd be ready to get out.  Just to come in and get warmed up, you see?" "I see, go on." "Well, after a while, Jeffrey's came in with a drunk.  A bad drunk, and he needed some help with him.  The guy was all over the place.  Every time we thought we'd got him settled, he'd just go off again.  Finally we just put him in a cell to process later.  He just wasn't having it, you know?  So then we got some coffee and started talking to Jeffrey's and everything.  Jeffrey's started telling us about the night he was having and then we remembered our collar.  So...well...we went to get him out." "How long had it been?" "Sir?" "How long had it been since you'd arrived at the station?" "Four hours." "You'd left him outside in that weather for--" "Sir, we were really...busy...that guy..." "All right, all right, never mind.  Just go on." "Well," Daniel Richter continued with growing nervousness, "we uh, Jeffrey's came out with us.  I just kind of...well, Jeffrey's used to be Steven's partner, and before I became a cop, so I just...well they...Stevens...pulled his gun out and opened the door.  When that guy saw the gun...he wouldn't come out, no matter how much Stevens yelled.  Jeffrey's told him he didn't know what he was doing, yelling at him wasn't going to do it, so, and he pulled out his baton and...he got in there with it and dragged him out." "How did he grab him?" "From behind, he...held the baton with both hands, and just yanked him out with it." "Well that explains the bruise on his collar bone," Crocket muttered. "Sir?" "Nothing.  Then what happened?" "Well, they were kind of mad by then...and he just sat there, on the ground.  He wouldn't get up." "Was he conscious?" "Yeah, he seemed to be.  He was sitting up, but, he wouldn't look at them.  He didn't try to get away or anything, but he just wouldn't move!" Crocket rubbed at his face with one hand, remembering a conversation he'd once had with Johnny.  "Go on." "Well...they started in on him a bit, trying to get him to get up." "Hitting him?" "Yeah...Yes.  I...I just watched, I didn't--" "I take it they eventually took him into the station, and into the interrogation room." "Yeah, after a while they just decided to drag him.  If he had just done what they told him--" "What about the interrogation room?" "Sir?" "Which one of you turned the heat off in there?" "I...it wasn't me, sir.  I don't know." "Thanks, Daniel, I'd appreciate it if you'd write your own report.  I want you to include everything you just told me.  Understand?" "Yes...yes sir.  Am I...will I be suspended?" "I can't tell you that.  I can tell you that you did the right thing, being honest with me.  We are police officers, after all.  If we're not honest, who will be?" "Yes sir.  Thank you, sir."                       Chapter 18 Crocket drove back to the hospital.  It was now mid-morning the day after the arrest.  When Roy and Cap Stanley were nowhere to be found, Crocket figured they had gone to their shifts at their station.  He wondered if Dr. Brackett, having been on the night before, would still be working.  He was both surprised and happy when Carroll told him he'd crashed in his office, as he often did, too tired to drive home.  Crocket tapped on the office door, figuring the doctor wouldn't mind waking up for a few minutes in order to talk to him.  Dr. Brackett pulled his door open abruptly with a scowl on his face, his hair tousled, and his eyes bloodshot with lack of sleep, he looked into the face of the one interrupting his rest. "Oh...Crocket...come on in."  Picking up a blanket and a pillow off of the sofa inside, he tossed them into the corner behind his desk, and gestured for Crocket to sit down.  "Can I uh, can I get you a cup of coffee?" "No, no thanks, Dr. Brackett.  I don't have much time." "The x-rays...the x-rays showed a fractured ulna in his right wrist, and he has two fractured ribs...the rest fortunately, is just bruising." "Actually, I came here to tell you something." "Well?" "First, let me tell you a story.  Maybe it will help you understand why he did what he did." "Who?" "About two years ago, a white police officer pulled over an Indian from one the reservations for a burnt out headlight.  After he pulled over, the Indian got out of the car, and started to walk back toward the squad.  The officer told him to stop, and turn around, and place his hands on the car.  Seeing the gun, the Indian stopped, but he just stood there.  The officer kept yelling at him to turn around and do what he'd said.  Another squad pulled up, and the two officers inside also drew their guns.  All three of them started to shout at him to lie down, or place his hands on the car.  Still, he just stood there.  They ended up shooting the man seventeen times.  All three of them emptied their weapons.  It would have been eighteen times, but apparently, one of them missed a shot.  During the investigation, they were asked why they shot him.  They said he'd made a threatening move.  He'd moved.  I ran into Johnny one night on the beach.  He'd been there with some girl who'd run into an old boyfriend and taken off, so he was there by himself.  I was there with the family.  While my kids played in the water, we got to talking, and somehow, he ended up telling me this story.  He knew the guy, and he'd seen it on the news.  He wasn't friends with him or anything; he just remembered seeing the guy around as a kid.  The man was deaf, and a mute.  He never heard what those officers were shouting at him.  When he moved, he was reaching for his wallet, probably figuring they wanted his ID.  Johnny told me the one mistake that man made was moving.  If he had just stood there, they never would have felt they had to shoot him.  He told me when a cop gets that livid, the best thing to do is not move.  No matter what they do or say, don't move...and that's exactly what he did.  It made perfect sense to him, and believe it or not, with a couple of hotheaded cops like he had to deal with, he possibly saved his own life.  Don't get me wrong, it may not have been the best thing to do, but...knowing what he does, I also can't say he was wrong." "So he...?" "He wouldn't get out the squad at the station, wouldn't move no matter what they told him." "So now what?" "Well, it isn't much of a twist to claim he was resisting arrest, in which case it becomes a question of whether they used unreasonable force to handle him." "So they're going to get away with it." "Probably." "And what about Johnny?  Are they going to prosecute?" "I don't know.  The police still have an investigation to conduct.  Unfortunately, despite the motives I'm sure he had, and regardless of other peoples' conduct --" "Meaning the parents." "Meaning the parents...the fact remains, he did kidnap that child.  To be honest, my next priority is the child.  If Johnny is right, the last thing I want is for him to go back to his parents.  So the next thing I need to do is to try to keep that from happening.  I need to talk to Johnny...find out what he knows, and if I can use it.  How long before that can happen?" "I don't know, Crocket.  They really did a number on him last night.  Let me...let me go see how he's doing."                         Chapter 19 He lay under his bed.  The floor felt hard, and so very cold.  He'd been there for hours, waiting for the drunken yelling to stop.  The cold made his hands and feet hurt, but he didn't dare move.  One sound, the smallest sound...  He felt his stomach lurch as his bedroom door banged open. "Where are you, ya little son of a....  Get out here!  Get out here now!" He heard his dresser tip over, and the mirror above it come crashing to the floor. 'Don't breathe...don't breathe...don't breathe,' he chanted to himself. The man seized him by the ankle, and dragged him out from under the bed. "Are you hiding from me?  Did you really think you were hiding from me?  You stupid little jerk!"  The man shook him violently, and dropped him to the floor.  "Stand up," he shouted removing his belt, "I'll teach you to hide from me!" "Daddy, please!" "Stand up!" "Daddy, no!" Grabbing the boy by the hair at the back of his head, he lifted him to his feet. "No, Daddy...please!" The belt came down hard.           ~/~/~/~/~ "No, don't!" Johnny shouted in his hospital bed. Dr. Brackett heard the plea as he came in the door, and hurried over to the side of the bed.  Crocket remained in the doorway.  "Johnny?" Dr. Brackett asked. Johnny blinked into the light coming in through his window.  Sweat plastered pieces of hair to his face. Dr. Brackett pressed the call button.  "Kristen?" "Kristen's off, sir," another voice answered, "can I help you?" "Yes, bring in a washcloth and a basin of tepid water." "Yes, sir," she answered knowing who was requesting it by his voice. "Johnny?" Brackett asked the man breathing jaggedly in his bed. Johnny glanced at him, scowled at the man in the doorway, and tried to close his eyes.  In a moment, his nerves forced them open again, but he focused them on his blanket. Brackett frowned, not liking the fact that Johnny would not look at him.  "Cool him down," he whispered to the nurse as she wheeled in a tray. "Cool?  I thought--" "I know, but now he needs to be cooled down." "Yes, sir." Johnny raised his eyes to take another look at Crocket, but dropped them as soon as he saw the man watching him. "Doc?" Crocket asked, "Can I talk to him?" "I don't know." "It'll only take a couple minutes." Brackett hesitated, "If I say cut it off, cut it off." "No problem." "Hey there, Johnny," Crocket smiled broadly approaching the bed.  "Can I talk to you for a minute?" Johnny made a face that Crocket could not read, but he could tell it wasn't good.  He couldn't tell if he was mad or scared.  If it was fear he saw, he couldn't figure why.  Despite what had occurred, surely he had to feel safe where he was at the moment. "Can you uh..." Crocket began but ended in a deep sigh.  "Can you tell me why, Johnny?  I know about the suspicions but...Johnny...to take a kid like that...you got to tell me why." Johnny looked angry and shook his head. "I won't understand?  Try me." "You didn't...you don't.......forget it." "Johnny, I wanna help you.  Now if you could tell me...Roy said you took the kid three days ago.  Is that true?" Johnny took a ragged breath as if getting ready to speak, but closed his mouth again. "Johnny, I can't do a thing if you don't talk to me." "I already tried that!" "Johnny--" "Leave me alone!" "Just--" "That's it," Dr. Brackett interrupted. "But--" "I said that's it.  You'll have to leave." Crocket looked sympathetically at the man he considered a friend.  With a regretful nod, he turned and left the room. "Try to drink a little water, John," Brackett said walking to the bed table and pouring him a glass. Johnny shot him a nasty look but took the cup and tried a sip. "Try to get some rest.  I'll check on you later." As he left, Brackett took one last look.  Johnny's eyes were closed, but his arms folded across his chest showed he was far from going back to sleep. continue