Chapter 20 Once back at the police station, the desk sergeant met Crocket. "Crocket. The captain wants to speak with you." "Thanks, Phil," Crocket replied over his shoulder as he walked down the hallway that lead to his captain's office. Crocket stopped outside the office and took a deep breath before proceeding. He didn't know what to expect on the other side of the door, but knowing his captain like he did, he knew it wasn't going to be something he liked. Crocket knocked. "Enter," came the voice on the other side. Crocket opened the door and walked inside the room. "You wanted to see me, Cap?" "Yes, Detective. Please come in and take a seat." Crocket was a bit skeptical about his captain's good nature, especially when he noticed that his captain wasn't alone. Next to the far wall of the office stood two men, whom Crocket couldn't identify. "Yes, sir?" Crocket replied. "I want you to meet Agent Munro and Agent Reid. They're with the FBI." He nodded his acknowledgement to the men as he continued to listen to his captain. "These men are here about the Baby Mitchell kidnapping. I've already told them that we have a man in custody, and at this moment he is at Rampart undergoing treatment..." Captain Walker paused, glancing at a paper, "for a fractured ulna in his right wrist, two fractured ribs, and a multitude of bruising, something you and I will discuss when we're finished here." "Lieutenant Crocket, we've been informed that the prime suspect is a friend of yours...a John Roderick Gage?" Agent Munro asked. Crocket nodded. He wasn't sure what this conversation was going to lead to, or what they wanted, considering the child had already been found. Crocket made up his mind at that moment to keep a clear head, especially if he was going to do Johnny any good. "Please, Detective Crocket, relax. We only want to get to get some questions answered." "Relax...I guess that will depend on what it is you're looking for. Don't get me wrong, Agent Munro, I am first and foremost an officer of the law. But I won't sit idly by and watch a man, a good man, guilty or not, be destroyed by the system." "Crocket. Please," implored his captain, "let the man talk." "Lieutenant Crocket. We know that John Gage is a friend of yours, and that he is a respected member of the fire department, with seven years under his belt, three of which he has served as a paramedic." "I've known him myself since his first year as a paramedic. I just want you to know that while what he did may be wrong, and may be found illegal, you can damn well better bet he had a good reason." Agent Reid smirked in the corner and his partner shot him a look. "We were told the police already confiscated property from the apartment where the child was kept. A camera with some exposed film was on the list. We need the film." "For what?" Crocket asked, surprised and becoming angry. "To see what's on it," Agent Reid answered as if talking to a child. "That film was confiscated by the city, and as I understand it, it will probably be used in court as evidence." "So you know what's on it?" Munro asked frowning. "His partner told me." "Partner," Reid sneered suggestively. "In the fire department!" "And..." Munro prompted. "What?" "What's supposed to be on it?" "I don't know what all, but apparently Johnny took some pictures in the Mitchell's house." Reid looked directly at Munro and gave him a heavy nod. "We need that film," Munro demanded. "Now hold on," Crocket's captain interrupted. "What exactly is it you're looking for?" Crocket asked. "We don't know exac--" "We can't divulge any information in an ongoing investigation," Agent Reid cut in. Captain Walker let out a frustrated sigh. "Crocket, take these gentlemen down to the evidence lock up and see if you can't help them find the film." "Yes, sir," Crocket agreed. "Here," the captain said to Crocket, as he handed him a scrap of paper, "you'll need the log in number." "Thank you, sir." With that, the two agents and Crocket left the captain's office, and walked down to the secured area of the basement. Chapter 21 Dixie walked into Johnny's room, and gave him a smile as she made her way over to the bed. Johnny's eyes, however, never left the door. He continued to stare at it, as if he could still see the armed police officer he had gotten barely a glimpse of, that stood posted just outside of it. "Johnny?" Dixie asked, trying to get his attention. When he didn't look at her, she teased, "Well what did I do to deserve the silent treatment?" "Huh?" "How are you feeling?" Johnny stared at his blanket-covered lap for a few moments. "I don't know." "Have you been able to sleep anymore at all?" Johnny shook his head, rubbing back and forth at one side of his forehead. "Would you like me to see if I can get you something to help you relax?" Johnny showed no signs of having heard the question. Instead he looked to be a million miles away. A mixture of sadness and worry was sketched across his face. Dixie didn't know if at that moment, the worry was for himself, or for the child. She decided to go look for Dr. Brackett, and started to leave the room. "Dixie?" "Yes, Johnny." "Is the baby...he's still here, right?" "Yes, he's up in pediatrics," she answered, hurrying toward the door before another question could be asked. She didn't make it. "Dixie?" "Yes, Johnny," she sighed. "Is he...he's all right, isn't he?" "I..." she started, considering telling him she didn't know. "I think so," she ended up saying instead. "Think?" "He was very shaken up." "Yeah." "I don't know why they do that." "What?" "Bust in on people, screaming like that. It's no wonder--" "They want to catch people off guard, not give them time to think." "I know, but...when they know there's a child...well, it just seems to me there could be a better way." Johnny couldn't answer her. "Well, try to get some rest, okay?" She opened the door as he began to verbalize his agreement, but his mouth snapped shut, and his head dropped to his chest as he saw the officer on the other side. "Just take it easy, Johnny. Everything will work out somehow. I just know it," she told him before she closed the door. Chapter 22 Crocket and the two FBI Agents descended the stairs to the dimly lit basement of the police station. As they approached the property clerk, the balding man looked up at the men. A friendly expression appeared on his face when he recognized one of them. "Hi, Crocket! What can I do for ya?" "Hello, Brian. The captain sent me down to see about getting a piece of evidence from the property room." "Oh. Do you have a log number?" "Yeah," Crocket replied, passing the scrap of paper to the property clerk. Brian took the offered piece of paper, then disappeared into the back of the room to locate the sought item. Crocket and the agents waited for his return. After fifteen minutes, Brian returned, with Johnny's camera in hand. Placing the camera on the desk, he opened the property book and located the corresponding number, so Crocket could sign for the evidence. Once the signature was obtained, Crocket scooped up the camera, bid the officer a good day, then left for the stairs, with the agents trailing behind him. Once topside, on the main level of the police station, Agent Munro took camera, and carefully removed the film. "Is there anyplace in here we can get this developed?" he asked. "The photo lab is down the hall, and to your left," Crocket informed them. "After you," Munro said, gesturing for him to lead the way. Crocket tried not to growl out loud. The last thing he had time for, was to play tour guide to a couple of arrogant FBI Agents. "Val!" Crocket said to a perky young technician, grabbing the young lady's attention. Valerie smiled. "Hi, Crocket. What can I do for ya?" "I have a film here, and I need it developed, ASAP." "No problem, Crocket. Let me have it." "Be careful with it," Reid ordered as she took the roll. "Careful is my middle name when it comes to police evidence," she informed the stranger. "It will be about an hour. Help yourselves to some coffee out in the hallway, if you like." "Thanks, Val," Crocket smiled, leading the way. Agent Reid lingered as Crocket held the door open for him. "Anything you see on that film is classified, understand?" "FBI right?" "How did--" She batted her eyes suggestively. "Come on now, do you really think you're my first?" The man blushed deep red, and hurried out of the room. Crocket and the two agents patiently waited for the technician to do her thing. Once handed the envelope with the prints inside, Crocket immediately opened it. Agent Munro held out his hand for the prints, forcing the detective to reluctantly hand them over. He stood by impatiently, watching Munro's face for an indication of what he was looking at. When Munro shook his head, looked disapprovingly at Crocket, then showed a particular print to his partner, Crocket felt his stomach knot. "Respected Firefighter," Reid hissed, "I knew there was more to it than that." "More to what?" Crocket demanded. "I'm going back downstairs to go through the list of everything they took from the apartment," Reid told his partner. "I'll catch up with you later." "Yeah," Munro muttered as he continued to page through the photos at a rather quick pace, finally pausing at one, and turning back to another. Crocket kicked at the wall, wishing he knew what the Agent was looking at, and for. "Is there a room with better light in this place?" Munro asked, the hallway's lights being rather dim. "Yeah," Crocket answered, trying to keep from sounding hostile toward the man, "my office, this way." Once in his office, Crocket closed the door behind them. Munro again began to go through the pictures, gazing very closely at a few in particular. Crocket tapped his finger on his desk, finally drawing the attention of his guest. "Oh...here," Munro said, handing him some of the photos. A knock at his door caused him to have to wait a little while longer to look at them. He opened his door and admitted Agent Reid, then sat behind his desk and started to go through the pictures Munro had finished with. "Don't believe it," Reid smirked to his partner, "didn't even see a Playboy logged on the list. Guess he only likes kids." "What?" Crocket snapped surprised. "No adult magazines," Reid explained, with a tone that suggested such a thing was abnormal, "and those..." he added gesturing toward the pictures. "Now wait just a minute!" Crocket shouted. "I know John Gage! He doesn't go for those sorts of magazines. He respects women, and for as much as he dates, it isn't kids he's interested in! Just because he might not think it's right to ogle at women he's never even met--" Munro held up his hand to silence Crocket's tirade. "Look again," he told Reid as he handed him some of the pictures. In the light, they could now see the point of them. The naked baby had bruising that any doctor with eyes would want a very good explanation for. As he went through them, he placed them down on Crocket's desk, and Crocket finally managed to get a look at the supposedly inappropriate ones. After Reid had seen all of the pictures, he looked Crocket in the eye. "I apologize," Reid told him. "You wouldn't believe some of the things we've seen, and at first glance...you have to admit, it didn't look very good." "This guy's a firefighter?" Munro asked. "He takes pretty good pictures." "They prove the kid was being abused," Crocket told them. "Yes, probably." "What to you mean, probably? Are you blind?" Munro frowned at him in response. "Your city's Children's Welfare Office would be the one to talk to about that," Reid informed him. "Then, what exactly are you looking for?" Neither man would answer. "All right, but, considering his motive...where does this leave Johnny?" Crocket asked them. "Not our call," Reid informed him, "that's up to your DA." "Then what are you after John Gage for?" "We're not. We're after...someone else." "Who? Mitchell?" Again, neither man would answer. "Look, whatever you're after Mitchell for, if John could help you in some way--" "Not going to happen. It's not our job to interfere in any case the state may want to bring." "What about Mitchell? Are you gonna do something about him?" "All in due time, Detective Crocket. All in due time." Chapter 23 Once the agents left, Crocket decided to pay Station 51 a visit. He wanted to let Johnny's friends know what was happening with the case and he wanted to impress on them that Johnny was still in need of a lawyer. When Crocket entered the station, everyone, except for Stanley, gave the police officer the cold shoulder. "Gentlemen," Crocket greeted them all, trying to smile despite the way they were looking at him. Roy slammed his cup of coffee down on the table. "What do you want?" "Roooy," Cap appealed. "I felt you would all want to know--" "All I want to know is why you hung Gage out to dry?" Chet accused. "I thought you were his friend?" "I didn't have a choice in--" "You told Roy you'd come talk to him. What happened to that?" "I --" "If you had to arrest him, you could have taken him in yourself!" "Yeah, no kidding," Marco added. "Johnny was only trying to help that little kid. He didn't deserve to be treated like that!" "I agree. I --" "He should get a medal," Mike added, "not a jail sentence. Took 'em two days to report the kid was gone? What would have happened if Johnny hadn't taken the kid with--" "I agree with you!" Crocket shouted. "I don't like what happened any more than you all do! But it wasn't my call!" "Then why did you tell Roy, it was?" Chet shouted back. "If you couldn't come get him like a civilized human being, Roy could have driven him in himself!" "After I hung up the phone, I had to inform my captain of what I was doing. He's the one that made the call. I--" "Guys, guys," Cap said trying to gain control of the situation. "What's done is done. We can't change that. If we could...I should've never listened to Mitchell in the first place. I should've listened to Johnny." Cap dropped his head, his eyes averted to the floor. "I never even asked him what he thought about it all; I only told him what he should think. I think if we're going to start pointing fingers at who should have done what; there are a lot of people that would have to start lining up." "And not just here in LA," Crocket told them. "What?" Roy asked. "The FBI is now involved in this case." "Oh my God," Chet responded, dropping into a chair. "No, Chet, they're not after Johnny. They're after Mitchell. From what I can tell, they aren't interested in Johnny at all...unless it's as a witness or something, but I guess that might depend." "On what?" "On whether Johnny is convicted of kidnapping, and whether or not they would still want his testimony, after he got such a conviction. I came over here to let you know he's gonna need a good lawyer." "But...huh?" Chet asked. "If they're not going after him for kidnapping, then who's gonna--" "The local district attorney, Chet," Roy tried to explain to him. "They will still probably prosecute." "The local," Chet started to repeat to himself, "...but...that's a whole lot better than the FBI...right?" "Jail is jail, Chet," Marco told him, "I don't think it's going to matter much to Johnny who puts him there." "Maybe they'll plead him down," Mike suggested. "He should plead innocent!" Marco demanded. "Marco! He did it!" Mike told him. "But--" "I think Mike's right," Cap unhappily agreed. "Maybe his best bet is to see if he can plead it down." "But if he does that," Chet asked, "will they still let him be a firefighter?" "I don't know Chet," Cap told him "I'm ah," Roy cut in, "I'm going to call that lawyer Johnny and I talked to last year when we were accused of taking that money." "Good, Roy, good thinkin," Cap nodded. "Use my office." Chapter 24 Two police officers walked down the hospital corridor, and stopped in front of Johnny's room. A nurse opened the door to come out, and walked right into them as they were starting to enter. "I'm sorry," one of them apologized, smiling at her and wondering if she was single. "I...can I help you?" "Yes you can," the other officer answered, "we're here to take the prisoner back into custody." "I'm sorry, Officer...Stevens," the nurse spoke, reading his name tag. "I don't know anything about that. You'll have to talk to one of the doctors." "We don't have time to sit around waiting for one to show up," Stevens answered in an annoyed tone. "We have our copy of the release right here." He showed her a pink piece of paper, but didn't bother to hand it to her so she could read it. "I think there's been a mistake," she tried to explain to them. The less than polite officer pushed his way into the room. After glancing at the patient in the bed, he turned back to the nurse. "Get his clothes, would ya?" "I need to talk to one of the--" "I just told you I have the orders right here! Look, if you can't find his clothes, we'll just take him as he is." "He still has an IV in his arm!" "Then take it out!" "I'm going to get a doctor! And if you take him out of here with that IV still in his arm, you're gonna be in big trouble!" the nurse snapped. Steven's partner for the day, smiled at her backside as she left the room. "Cute when she's angry, isn't she?" he cracked. "Shut up, MacAlister." "Man, Stevens, what is with you?" "I've got better things to do than baby-sit some crybaby prisoner with no stamina. How on earth this guy became a firefighter, I'll never know. A little bit of cold, and they haul him off to the hospital," he snapped, glaring at Johnny. Johnny pressed his head back into his pillow and shut his eyes tightly. Stevens walked over to the IV. "What're you doing?" MacAlister asked. "I'm just looking." "At what?" "Nothing...I mean, how hard could it be to take it out?" "The IV?" "No, this chair over here. I want to steal it, and I'm wondering if I'll be able to sneak it past the nurses." "You better not, Stevens." "Steal the chair?" "Take out the IV. Those things go into veins you know. If you don't do it right, they can start bleeding all over the place. I know. I accidentally pulled one out once." "On a prisoner?" "No. On myself, when I was eight. I had my appendix out." "What are you doing in here?" Dr. Brackett demanded as he burst into the room. "Our job, Doc," Stevens answered, handing over the pink piece of paper. "This guy's been released." "I didn't..." Brackett stammered, reading quickly through the form. "His clothes would be nice, if you can find them, but if not..." "Dr. Malcolm," Brackett said to himself aloud. "When did he get back?" "Pardon me, Doc?" Stevens asked. "Carol, find Dr. Malcolm, now!" he said to the nurse that had followed him in. "Yes, Doctor," she answered, racing out the door. "Doc, we have our orders. He's in our custody now. You have no--" "He's gone till Wednesday," Carol informed Dr. Brackett as she hurried back into the room. "He got off an hour ago, and isn't scheduled again until--" "All right, mister," Stevens started, prodding at Johnny, "up and at 'em." Johnny started to get out of the bed. "Sit back down, Johnny," Brackett ordered him. "Look, I admitted him, and I haven't released him." "Doesn't matter. We have a release." "The doctor that released him didn't have the full story! He's been on vacation for three weeks!" "I'm sure he examined him though, didn't he? Or are you trying to accuse one of your peers of being incompetent? Either way, I have to do my job. If there's a problem, I suggest you file a complaint somewhere." Dr. Brackett wracked his brain for a way of keeping Johnny there, but came up empty. "I uh...give us a minute to prepare him to leave." "Five minutes, Doc," Stevens shrugged, "then he's going." "Would you mind waiting outside," Dr. Brackett requested, trying to sound polite despite his anger. "What for?" "A little privacy in getting him dressed and ready." "Fine. Just don't try anything." "What do you think we're gonna do?" "Damned if I know," Stevens mouthed back before leaving the room. His partner followed him out. "Carol, get his clothes." "Doctor--" "Carol...get his clothes." Carol got some clothes Joanne had purchased for Johnny, and dropped by earlier that day. The woman had talked to Roy on the phone, and figuring Johnny would be leaving the hospital eventually, she decided he would want more than sweatpants and Roy's shirt to wear. She had even washed them once before bringing them, to make sure they were soft and didn't smell funny. She also remembered to buy him a pair of sneakers. Carol set the clothes on the bed and the shoes on the floor. "What should I do with the shirt and the sweats?" she asked Dr. Brackett. "Should I give them to the--" "No. I wouldn't trust them to take care of anything. Just leave 'em here. I'll give them to Roy and see if he thinks he should take them over there later." "Okay." Dr. Brackett removed the IV himself, and gently place a bandage over the site. Looking at his friend's face, he found him struggling to slow his breathing and to stay calm. "You okay, Johnny?" "Same guy," Johnny wheezed. "Same..." "The tall one. Same guy as before." "The one that hit you?" "It was my fault. I--" "No, Johnny, it wasn't." Johnny got out of the bed, then turned to sit down on it again, sideways. Dr. Brackett helped him remove his nightgown. Carol averted her eyes away from the man, now clad only in a pair of boxers, knowing he could be shy about such things at times. However, he didn't seem to notice his near nudity, or even her presence. Dr. Brackett checked the tape on Johnny's ribs then helped him on with his shirt. He started to help him on with his jeans, but Johnny pushed his hands away, preferring to do it himself. After fastening them, he began to sway, his breathing still too fast. "Sit down, Johnny," Dr. Brackett told him, grabbing him by the arm. "I'm fine," Johnny insisted, but sat down anyway. "Johnny--" "Shoes," Johnny said pointing. Carol started to put his socks on for him, and considering the soreness of his ribs, he didn't protest. Instead he closed his eyes, and focused on taking deep breaths. After a couple minutes, a distressed catch came into his breathing instead. "Johnny," Dr. Brackett said quietly, "it's gonna be okay. There will be a bailment hearing. As soon as they set bail, I'll get you out. Do you understand?" "Doctor Brackett, you don't know how much it might--" "I'm getting you out of there. There's no sense in arguing." "Doc, it's a felony. You don't even know if they'll set a bail." "Even murder suspects get bail, Johnny." "Yeah, and they get shorter sentences than kidnappers do too." "What--" "I saw on the news where the father of a divorced couple took his kid. There was nothing wrong. The mother just moved away with her new husband, making it next to impossible for the guy to see his kid. He got fifteen years! The very same day they let a convicted murderer out after five years." "You see a lot of things on the news, don't you?" "Huh?" "Look, Johnny. Do whatever they tell you to do. That's the way to stay out of trouble in there. Don't give them a reason to bother you." "Times up," Stevens said kicking open the door with his foot, and casually resting his hand on the handle of his gun. "Deep breaths, Johnny. Deep breathes. Just keep telling yourself we're going to get you out. As soon as the bail is set, Roy and I are getting you out." Stevens pulled Johnny up off of the bed by his arm, his handcuffs at ready. "Exactly how do you plan to use those," Dr. Brackett asked him, gesturing toward the cast on Johnny's right wrist. Steven looked at Johnny's wrists for a moment, seemingly at a loss. Then he snapped one cuff on Johnny's left wrist, and attempted to place the other cuff on his arm, just above the cast, pulling his left arm uncomfortably far up, to make it reach. With a little difficulty, he managed to get it to fasten to the first click. "Don't be ridiculous," Dr. Brackett told him. "Not only are you probably cutting off the circulation in his left arm, with it bent like that, you're more than likely cutting off the circulation in his right arm as well." "He's fine," Stevens said hotly. "Move it." Johnny allowed himself to be walked out into the hall. Upon seeing several people had gathered around the area in curiosity, Johnny dropped his head in humiliation. "Move!" Stevens shouted, prodding him forward. With a face redder than the ripest tomato, Johnny complied. "Remember what I said, Johnny," Dr. Brackett called after them. As soon as they entered the elevator, he got on the phone and called the police station. Chapter 25 Stevens and MacAllister were very surprised when their captain, along with two men in suits, were standing in the parking area. "Get out," Stevens hissed in a barely audible tone as he opened the rear door. This time, Johnny got out immediately. Stevens hurried him toward the entrance. "Stevens!" his captain shouted after him. "Yes, sir!" Captain Walker walked over to where Stevens stood with his prisoner, Agent Reid and Munro right behind him. As Walker got closer, he saw the man in custody take a deep shaky breath, and close his eyes for a second. Walker opened his mouth to speak to him, but stopped before any words came out. Instead, he stepped behind Johnny to check out what had just been reported. Sure enough, despite the rather short ride, the fingers in both of Johnny's hands were turning blue. "Key," Captain Walker ordered, holding out his hand. Stevens scrambled nervously to comply, and ended up dropping it on the ground. The large man quickly scooped it up, and removed the cuffs off of the prisoner. Johnny glanced up at him for a second, but quickly diverted his eyes. "This way, Mr. Gage," the captain told him as he opened the door to the station, and continued to hold it, to allow him to pass through. Johnny hesitated. "Right in here, if you will," he added, without the slightest sound of malice. Johnny took another quick glimpse at the man as he did as he was requested. Instead of taking him to the interrogation room, the man led Johnny to his office. "Please sit," he told him gesturing toward a chair. Johnny sat, and then took a quick look at the two suited men that had followed them in. "We'd like to ask you a few questions if you don't mind." Johnny raised his head, looking at the man squarely for the first time, weariness etched across his face. Captain Walker looked up at the two agents, then back at Johnny. "Maybe this should wait a while. Are you doing okay? Are you warm enough?" Before Johnny could answer, Walker left the room and returned with a blanket. "Tell you what," he told Johnny gesturing toward a large sofa in one corner of the room, "why don't you make yourself comfortable over there and rest for a bit. I'll get you something to drink. Do you want coffee or something cold? We have soft drinks, milk, orange--" "Milk." "Milk?" The agents smiled at each other in disbelief, then looked away to keep from laughing. Johnny blushed at their looks, but didn't care. His throat felt hot and dry, and milk was exactly what he wanted. Captain Walker soon returned with two large cartons of milk and a sandwich, trying hard to cover his own grin. "The couch...please," he prompted as he set the food and drinks down on a coffee table, and moved over the blanket he'd set down a few minutes earlier. Johnny moved over to the couch, and found it to be very comfortable. "Eat up and rest, we'll come back in a while." Johnny was dumbfounded as he watched the door close behind the men, leaving him alone in the room. He flexed his fingers a few times, and looked at the food. He looked back at the door, a small voice in his head asking him if this was some sort of a trick, or maybe some weird sort of a test. Dr. Brackett words, 'Do whatever they tell you to do. That is the way to stay out of trouble in there.' floated through his head. He looked at the sandwich, and realized he really was hungry, despite his nerves. He ate the sandwich, and easily downed both of the milks. Then he waited for the door to open. He waited...and waited...and waited. He looked around the room for something of interest, and found nothing. Finally fatigue took over. After catching his head falling over a few times, he gave in, made himself comfortable on the couch, and allowed himself to fall asleep, snuggling under the blanket that had been given to him. Chapter 26 She was looking right at him. Surely this time... It was too obvious. A large handprint adorned his face. If they looked beneath his shirt... His eyes met hers, and she looked away. His eyes burned with tears as she simply went back to sweeping her porch. He hit her pretty white fence with a stick, making a loud noise. She paused for a moment, then again returned to her sweeping without so much as looking up. "It's not her fault," he cursed himself. He stuck his finger in his mouth, and then carefully wiped off a black mark the stick had left on the fence. "Why can't I just die too? Then it wouldn't matter anyhow." "There...there's some cookies on the table. Help...help yourself," the woman stuttered as he started to walk away. She hurried inside and closed the door as soon as she'd finished. Being hungry most of the time now, he ignored his embarrassment, ran up on to the porch, and grabbed two cookies. As he turned, he saw her through a window. She gestured at him to take them all, and quickly disappeared from sight. He dumped the plate of cookies into his shirt, and ran, and kept running until he could stand it no more. Plopping down under a tree, he scarfed down all of the cookies, except the first two. He'd save them for later, since he figured he probably wouldn't be getting anything else. He walked to a nearby pump, and drank the water by cupping it into his hand, as he had done thousands of times before. "Boy!" came the loud voice he come to dreaded. He laid down flat on the ground. "I heard you scurrying around over there, you little rat. You better have those chores done or I'll really let you have it." ~/~/~/~/~ "Mr. Gage?" a voice said. When no answer was received, a hand reached out and touched Johnny on the arm, giving him a little shake to wake him. Johnny nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt the hand on his arm. With a startled shout, he jerked his arm back, and pulled himself up into the corner of the couch. Johnny quickly darted his eyes around the room, looking for him, but all he saw was a kindly man, whom he vaguely recognized. "Mr. Gage! I didn't mean to scare you, but I need for you to wake up now. I need to talk with you," the man said. Johnny tried to focus on his face, "Who…I mean, I know you…you're--" "I'm Barney Olson. You asked me if I would take your case last year, when you were accused of stealing money from a victim." Johnny let out a breath and a slight laugh. "Yeah, I remember now. Why… I mean who…I never had a chance to--" "Your partner, Roy DeSoto, called me." "Oh!" Johnny replied sounding dejected. He averted his eyes to the floor. He didn't know what Roy had told the man, and he wasn't sure why Barney had even agreed to see him. After all, he was guilty of kidnapping. No one could change that fact. "Would it be okay if I called you John?" Keeping his head down and his eyes averted, Johnny nodded. "Okay then, John. We have a few things to discuss. Then, some men want to talk with you. Okay?" Again Johnny nodded that he agreed. He didn't want to cause any trouble. Barney stepped closer to his client, only to see Johnny flinch away, in reaction. "John. Please relax. No one in this establishment, including me, is going to hurt you again. Okay?" Johnny frowned in confusion. Nobody in this establishment was going to...then he got it. The guy was talking about the cops. He glanced up at his lawyer and gave Barney another nod. "Yeah, okay," he agreed. "Good," Barney replied, pulling a chair over toward the couch. Sitting down, Barney picked up his briefcase, opened it, and pulled out a writing tablet and pen. "Now let's get to work, so we can see about getting you out of here as soon as possible." When Barney saw Johnny nod, he continued, "Okay, Mr. DeSoto has informed me of your situation regarding the kidnapping of Johnny Mitchell. He's told me everything, starting with the night of the fire at the Mitchell's' home, your suspicions about the baby being abused, the examination on the baby at the hospital, bringing your concerns up with Dr. Brackett, to your own captain, Captain Stanley, Captain Waters at 89's, and even to Roy DeSoto himself. Am I correct so far?" Johnny nodded, "Yeah, I guess." "Social Services found no reason to remove the child from his home, and Mr. Mitchell managed to satisfy concerns you stirred up among your colleagues, with a story that shifted the blame toward someone else. Is that correct?" "Yeah." "But you...felt something was still wrong, and decided to investigate it yourself, is that it?" "I guess." "You guess?" "I just wanted to find a way of...I don't know." "Helping him?" "Yes." "Okay. Now, Mr. DeSoto also told me that you saw Mitchell hit the child." "Yes, once." "Once?" "...cross...crost the face...he just..." Johnny paused shaking his head, trying to get the image and the sound out of his mind. "Okay... uh…Mr. DeSoto said that you gained entrance into the Mitchell's home and took the baby. Mr. DeSoto also said that you had the baby for almost three days before he was reported missing." "Yes." "Okay. John, I want you to tell me in your own words everything that's happened. Starting with the your arrival at the fire at the Mitchell home, right up to now with me coming here to speak to you. I don't want you to leave anything out, and I want details. You never know what might be of help." It took Johnny over three hours to recite everything to Barney. Occasionally Barney would inquire further about something Johnny had told him. By the time the two men were finished, Johnny was exhausted and Barney had over fifty pages of notes in his tablet. "Okay, John. I think I have all that I need for now. If I think of anything else while I'm going over this, I'll ask. Now, do you feel up to some more questions? These questions are kind of important, and they may even help your case." Johnny wasn't sure what Barney was talking about, as far as more questions and their importance was concerned, but he figured that if someone as respected as Barney was still with him, working on his behalf after all he'd just admitted to doing that night, that he would trust him and do as he was asked. "I guess so. What do I have to lose?" "John. Please have some faith. I'm goin' to see that you are treated fairly and I will negotiate on your behalf to the fullest extent. I'll do my best to keep you out of jail." Johnny nodded. Jail, this was one place that Johnny really didn't want to end up. He had heard the stories about life in prison and what happens to some of the prisoners. Johnny was certain the stories weren't exaggerated and he really didn't want to end up becoming another statistic, another victim. "Would you like to take a break before we continue? Maybe you'd like something more to eat...some more milk maybe?" Johnny was happy the last question was asked without a smirk. At first, he felt he should decline, but when his stomach picked that moment to rumble at him, he agreed with a nod. He felt less embarrassed about it when he realized he'd eaten the sandwich over seven hours earlier. His nap had been longer than he'd thought. After twenty-five minutes of waiting, Johnny started to wonder if Barney, and everyone else, had forgotten him. Finally, the door opened to reveal the last person in the world he would have expected to come in. "Roy!" "Hey, Johnny, how are you doin?" "Fine! I mean...not as bad as... I can't figure any of this out. I mean...why is everyone being so nice to me?" "Why not? You're a nice guy!" Johnny sighed in frustration, but became distracted as he noticed a bag Roy carried. It drew his attention not by sight, but by smell. Johnny looked at it, then at his friend. "Oh! Here," Roy said handing it over. "Barney said he thought you should eat again, and I was kinda hanging out, so I offered to run and get you something hot." "You were here already?" "Yeah, I asked Barney to meet me here. It saved me a trip up town. I talked to him in his car, and then he came in here to get your story. It's all right isn't it...that I called him? I thought you'd need--" "Its fine, Roy," Johnny said, hungrily starting on the burger and fries his friend had brought him, while they were still hot. "Don't know what he thinks he's gonna do though. I did it. I'll have to plead guilty, right? Do...does there have to be a lawyer for that?" "Just listen to what he has to say, all right?" "Oh...he's gonna try to plead it down, huh? What could it be pleaded down to?" "I don't know. Right now, he's just gathering information, and then he'll figure out what he can do." "Whatever," Johnny said without the slightest sign of hope in his voice. "Do you...I mean if it's allowed...could you bring me some of this sort of stuff sometimes? I don't want to put you out, and I'll find a way of paying you for it, but...I'm sure prison food is gonna be pretty bad." "Would you cut it out?" "What?" "You! You've got yourself tried and convicted already!" "Roy! I did it!" This time it was Roy's turn to sigh. "You took him, yes...but...could you at least try to have a more positive attitude? At least until Barney tells you that it's a lost cause." "No." "What?" "No! Look, you can delude yourself if you want to, but I'm not gonna set myself up for a fall! You can forget it! I'm sorry...but you can forget it!" "Okay, okay...I'll...I'm here no matter what happens. Tell yourself whatever you want. Just promise me you'll listen to him." "I already said I would." "Good. All right. That's all I ask." Johnny threw the burger wrapper back into the bag then rolled the whole thing up into a ball. "Did you ah...no milk, huh?" "Huh? Oh, Barney's bringing that," Roy said sullenly. "Roy...I didn't mean to--" "Oh, you still here?" Barney asked as he walked into the room, the promised milks in hand. Johnny reached for them immediately. "Yeah," Roy answered. "They said it would be all right. Though I think I'm supposed to be taking his blood pressure or something," he added smiling. "How ah...how're you feeling really?" he asked, switching back to his friend. Johnny looked into his concerned face. "A whole lot better than I was," he answered, doing his best to sound more positive for the blond haired man who looked back. "Okay, John, you're looking better. You ready to get started again?" Barney asked. "I guess so." "Good...Roy?" Roy stood up to leave. "What...why does he have to go?" "Would you like him to stay?" "If he can...I mean..." "I can stay if you want me to." "Um...yeah...I mean," Johnny stuttered feeling embarrassed, "I mean...it it's okay." "It's fine John," Mr. Olson reassured him, "let's get started." Roy sat himself down in a far corner of the room, so as not to be distracting. "I'd like to confirm some things about your past history." "My past..." "Your childhood." Johnny's eyes grew wide. He looked uneasily toward Roy, then immediately pulled his eyes away. "I don't see what my childhood could have to do with any of this," Johnny said evenly. "It could have a lot to do with it, depending on our defense." "Defense...There is no defense! I did it! Why won't anyone just accept that?" "There were extenuating circumstances. Some of those circumstances have to do with the fact your --" "How can you even know about that?" Johnny snapped. "It's my job to know, John. I investigate all of my clients. Sometimes they don't always tell me the truth. Sometimes--" "I've never told you a lie!" "John, I didn't say you did. Sometimes I find out things about them that I can use. Whatever I need to give them the best defense I know how." "But how could--" "You and Roy hired me a year ago. As soon as you did I--" "You what? Went to the reservation?" "I didn't go personally, no. I hired--" "What gave you the right to do that?" "You did...as soon as you hired me. Look, John, I won't use anymore than I have to. If I can keep from bringing it up at all, I will. But you have to understand--" "What...what are you guys talking about?" Roy asked from the corner when he could stand it no more. "No! Absolutely not! Do you hear me Barney?" Johnny demanded. "Now wait a minute!" "No, you wait a minute! I said, no!" "I'm your lawyer. As your lawyer, it's my job to give you the best defense possible. If I feel it's necessary to keep you out of prison, I will have to bring it up, and you will have to testify." "You can't--" "I wouldn't be doing my job otherwise. If you don't want me to do the job the best I can then don't hire me! It's your decision." Johnny glared at the man defiantly, but didn't answer. "Only if necessary," the lawyer said, trying to appease him Johnny's gaze dropped to the floor as he hissed as quietly as he could, "You don't understand." "I do. But if it's prison or airing dirty laundry..." "That's a hell of a thing to call it!" "I'm sorry. You can think about it for a while," Barney said as he gathered up his belongings and stuffed them into his briefcase. "My number, day and night," he told him, writing a second number on the back of a business card, and setting it down on the coffee table. With that, he started to leave. He paused at the door, then walked back to stand only a few inches from Johnny. "If I'm hired, I'm taking this case pro bono...because I for one think you did the right thing. Not technically, but morally. It's justice that we'll be fighting for, not just for you, but for that child." Barney left quietly, leaving the room silent. Johnny stared at the floor, while Roy glared at his partner. "What are you doing?" Roy finally screamed at him. "You don't know, Roy." "Know what?" "That's just it! I don't want you to know! I don't want anyone to know! It's none of their business!" Roy stared at him. Johnny looked up then turned away. "Oh man...why is this happening! I'm gonna lose everything!" "Johnny, you need Barney so that maybe you won't loose everything!" "You're wrong...you are so wrong. Either way...either way...it'll all be gone." "I wish you'd talk to me." "I don't want it to change! I have a little respect now! Do you know how long I waited for that? Do you know how hard it is to get? If I...it will all be different. Every look...everyone's eyes...all they'll end up seeing is this...pathetic... I'm not gonna do it...I can't do it." "Johnny..." "I don't even want to remember! It's a million years ago anyway! Can't you understand? Ever since this whole thing started...I used to have nice dreams. I could remember my moth..." he stopped, his eyes filling with tears. "I could still see her. There aren't any pictures now, but I could still see her in my mind...up...up until that damn fire, and I saw how that man was about that kid, and how nobody was going to do anything to change it. Every night since my mother and my brothers were... I wouldn't go to sleep right away. I'd lie down, and put my arm over my eyes. In the dark, I could picture her. Every night since I was nine...I could still see her. I could! And, I'd dream about her...and I could see her in my dreams. Now it's all gone. It's all bad. Now I can only see... I just want it to stop. I was just trying to help that kid...I swear! There wasn't anything else I could do! I wasn't supposed to be there! And, I couldn't just leave him there, Roy! I couldn't just leave him!" "I know, Johnny. I know." "You don't know what it's like. You can't move. You can't breath. And no one does anything to help. It's like you're invisible," Johnny said softly to the ground, his gaze a million miles away. "..and...you know." Johnny's head popped up, realizing how much he had just revealed in his rambling. "No! I didn't say--" "Johnny, it's okay. I'm not--" "Yes you are! I can see it already!" Johnny broke away from the arm Roy was trying to put around him. "Man! Big stinking mouth! My big stinking..." he shouted, kicking a table leg and causing it to break. The rest of the table came crashing to the floor. Johnny and Roy stared at it, stunned. "Oh man..." Captain Walker burst into the room, wondering if he'd made a huge mistake, and his prisoner had gone mad and attacked his friend. Seeing the table, he smiled. "Oh, that's what it was. Don't worry about it, happens all the time." Roy looked at the captain. Johnny fixed his gaze on a blank wall. "Captain," Roy asked, "could we have a couple more minutes?" "A couple more..." the man said, looking at someone on the other side of the door. "Sure, Roy, but--" "Just a couple." Captain Walker closed the door. "Sit down." "Roy, I don't--" "Sit down!" Johnny complied, but mostly because he felt exhausted. Roy pulled a chair over, moving the broken coffee table out of the way with his foot, so that he could sit directly facing Johnny. Johnny looked away. Roy could see the adrenaline of his recent tirade was wearing off, and that he was starting to shiver. He picked up the blanket from corner of the couch, and placed it over Johnny's lap. "Now listen. You need Barney. Whatever you're feeling, whatever you have to do, prison will be worse. Instead of worrying about how your friends might start looking at you, you should be worrying about how some of those inmates might look at you. You'll die in there, Johnny! You're not the kind of guy who can take being locked up. Some men just die inside. And I know you; you'll be one of them." Roy struggled to keep control of his voice. "I...Dr. Brackett and I talked about it. We're both... Johnny, you're my best friend. I don't mean just now...I mean ever...ever! I'm scared to death, can you understand? I--" "All right." "All--" "All right. I'll do whatever you want me to do. Go get him. Whatever. I just want to get it over with." Roy tried to wipe some tears from his eyes without being obvious. "Okay...okay...it's the best thing to do, Johnny. It really is." Johnny didn't answer. Roy walked to the door, and found Barney standing on the other side. "Good job, Roy," he whispered, patting him on the back, and admitting himself back into the room. Johnny looked up at him for a second, then back at the wall, a hint of anger in his face. "I waited," Barney said, stating the obvious. "I figured your friend would talk some sense into you." "Sense...if I had any sense, I wouldn't be in this mess!" "And a little boy might be dead...or worse." Johnny looked straight at the man. "I can give you news on him if you'd like." Johnny paused, "Just tell me he's all right." "He's all right...and not just because you asked me to tell you that." "Are they gonna give him back?" "Not if the FBI has anything to say about it." |