Junk Love, page 32
“Amen. Thank you.”
Holly wanted to say something but couldn’t open her eyes yet. Her heart was knocking, and she tried to listen. A ringtone jolted her eyes open, shooting her hand to her phone right as Cora picked up hers.
“Hi, Mom.” She glanced at Naomi, asleep in her car seat on the red upholstered bench by the wall. While the happy birthday song broke out at a nearby table, she adjusted the baby blanket.
Holly made sure her ringer was on. It was.
“Let me see.” Cora tucked her phone to her chest. “Do you need my parents for anything?”
Renata held her fingers over her full mouth and shook her head, so she went back to her mom.
“1:30’s fine.” The singing got louder, so she covered her ear, squinting. “No, I’m fine. Holly’s here, too. Wait a minute. Mom? Julie didn’t run from rescue helicopters, did she?” Her eyes grew wide and rose from the table, meeting Holly’s. “Okay. Thanks. Love you, too.” Cora set down her phone. “She did.”
Holly couldn’t say his name without tears. “Did a big, beautiful man rescue you and your sister?”
“Jacob! Your Jacob?”
CORA
Saturday, July 11, 2015
Her heels throbbed on the folded blanket on Jacob’s dashboard. Peanut butter from the granola bar stuck to the roof of Cora’s mouth, but her arms felt like lead, so she only picked up the crinkly plastic bottle for a drink when her throat threatened to cramp against the goo, tripping a memory from almost three days ago.
The water bottle warps in a crunchy burble in my hand. Julie turns the rental car away from the ratty convenience store, and the bag with Julie’s water smacks my leg. The sun coming up blinds me for a second as she pulls onto the road.
Looking out the window feels like being in a plane, which would be fun if I didn’t think my pilot was losing it. At least we’re back in Utah, heading in the general direction of home.
There’s nothing around but desert until a brown Forest Service sign comes up: HELLFIRE CANYON TRAIL, it reads in yellow letters. She turns onto it.
“Shouldn’t we stay on the road?”
She says, “The road’s too dangerous.”
No, this is too dangerous. But there are tire tracks, so cars have gone here. Maybe she wants to pull off and wait. Maybe she’ll sleep. She maneuvers into the ruts, then straddles them. Potholes pop up like obstacles in a video game. The dodging and weaving goes on for miles.
“Shouldn’t we turn around?”
She stares forward like a soldier in a tank. The trail turns, but she doesn’t. I’m holding on, bouncing. The car’s lurching up and down.
“Julie?” Brush screeches against the car. “Julie?”
A drop-off looms ahead, right in our path.
“Look out! Stop!”
My head flies forward, and the shoulder seatbelt digs into my chest. Then it’s quiet except for the motor, running high as the engine revs. Julie has the gas pedal floored.
Jacob’s ominous black bag invaded her thoughts. Why carry extra weight? She was safe with him, right? He was a police officer.
He said he was a police officer.
A stack of business cards in a binder clip faced down beside the Betadine water. Touching his stuff was an invasion of privacy, but she peeked.
Dutch Bros. Coffee
Buy 10 cups get your 11th one FREE!
After Cora dropped the clipped cards back in the console’s cup holder, her peanut buttery fingerprint remained. She always got caught when she did something she shouldn’t. The glove compartment under her elevated legs had a silver keyhole and a rectangular Tuffy emblem. What was in there, a gun? Fear triumphed over manners, so she leaned forward and reached just as a muffled metal clunk came from the back and the rear window whirred up.
“You still here?” Thump. The SUV trembled. Thump. Clack. Thunk. “Doin’ okay, Champ?”
“Mm-hm.”
Jacob took the driver’s seat, and his bulky arm almost touched her across the console. Cora shifted away and tucked the blanket tighter as he slammed the door, startling her. When he clicked the door lock, she stared down and inched her hand toward the door handle. Reclining with her feet on the dash was not a good defensive position.
He reached into the cup holder, pulled out the bound cards, and inserted his water bottle. When his ginormous hand appeared above her lap, she flinched.
“Here.” The white card displayed a familiar tricolor logo: a forest-green peak, a purple plateau, and a lime-green bottom layer. The block letters read:
Mountaindale Police Department
Officer Jacob Davis
“Don’t talk to strangers.” He winked.
“Thanks.” Thank God. Breathing deeper, she pocketed the card.
“Hand me a couple of napkins?” he asked, pointing to the glove compartment. “Sweating like a pig. No cop jokes, please.”
The compartment door dropped open, revealing a stack of brown paper napkins on a Land Rover manual. She handed over a few.
“Thanks.” He flung his hat in the backseat like a Frisbee and patted his bald head. Jacob had her dad’s hairline but dark stubble instead of red hair. “How about those feet?”
The Betadine rinse sent shockwaves through her body as the disinfectant lit up every cut. Cora tried not to twitch too much or cry when he sprayed them, standing outside her door while she held out one foot at a time. After it was finally over, the gauze caught and pulled on her torn skin, even though she could tell he was trying to be careful.
“That’ll have to do for now.”
Her bandaged feet returned to the folded blanket on the dash, and he went back to the driver’s seat.
“Buckle up, Buttercup.”
The Land Rover climbed, jostling over rocks beside the drop-off. He drove slower than Julie had, but Cora could still picture them careening off the cliff.
“If my sister’s there, she won’t trust you.”
“Figured.” They lurched over the bigger rocks.
“If she acts fine and says she’ll follow you out, can I still ride with you?”
“You got it.”
“What if she won’t come?”
“If my Jedi mind tricks don’t work? That’s a big part of police training.” Smiling, he studied her. “Will you be okay if I have to put the hooks on her? Handcuffs. Got my battle rattle in the back. SWAT officers are always on-call. At least in Franklin County. Small crew. I wouldn’t hurt her.”
“Was that the black bag you took with you?”
“Good situational awareness. It was either that or make you sit in the dirt. Leaving unsecured weapons with a minor…”
“I’m nineteen.”
“No offense. You seem like a good kid.”
The navy Ford sedan came into sight before the giant gray outcrop, offering a clear view through its dusty windows. Julie could be sleeping—or hiding.
Jacob stopped the Land Rover. “Stay here.” Rocks crunched under his hiking boots. He circled the sedan, peering in and pulling the door handles. “Nobody’s home.”
Her stomach sank, threatening to empty in solidarity with the vacant car.
“You okay?” he asked, standing at his open door.
She nodded, shivering.
“Cold?”
How is Hertz going to get their rental back?
“Hey. You were right. She’s not here. We’ll get help to find her. Okay?”
Cora nodded.
“Do you have the keys?”
She shook her head.
“Any water or food in there?”
“No.”
“Okay. Sit tight.” He tromped away, calling, “Julie!” His echoes returned, then the replies of chirping insects.
Could she hear him? Would it scare her?
“Here,” he said, holding out a blank notepad and a pen. “Write her a note.”
While he tramped to the rental car with water bottles and granola bars, she tried to grip the pen in her sausage fingers.
Dear Julie,
I’m okay.
Cora hoped she cared.
A photographer is giving me a ride out.
No way was she going to tell her he was a police officer.
Please stay here at the car. I’ll send help.
She tried to see it from Julie’s perspective, but Julie’s mind was a terrifying place. Maybe she should have made up a fantasy that she might buy into. Maybe her sister would never see the note.
When Jacob crunched back, she offered the pad. “I don’t know what else to write. She might not even think it’s from me. My hands are just…”
“It’ll do.” Walking away, he wrote something and tucked the note under the rental car’s windshield wiper.
Cora took a mental picture of the vehicle as he returned to his place behind the wheel.
“She has food and water now if she comes back. Even if critters take the food, they shouldn’t mess with the water.”
The engine revved. The gearstick stuck and then jerked into reverse. He braced one hand on the back of the passenger seat and turned, driving backward. She closed her eyes and took slow breaths, counting against her carsickness and fear of heights. After spinning around at an open space at the foot of the hill, they finally faced forward and rattled over the ATV trail, leaving the ravine behind.
In the rearview mirror was only dust. The orange cloud cast a fog over her eerie reality. Instead of pure relief, a sick gravity tugged her back. Her lungs cramped like she was drowning, making Jacob her lifeguard, pulling her toward a sunlit surface. But she was reaching back, searching the dark water below for Julie, anchored.
“Pronghorn antelope.” Jacob’s arm stretched in front of her, pointing out the passenger window.
Graceful silhouettes leaped through the sagebrush-peppered landscape. The sky behind the dancing deer-like creatures radiated pink. The beauty, the movement, and the twilight clouds eased hope into her soul. There was life in this harsh place.
She’s alive.
“We should have service soon.” He swiped the screen of his phone, mounted on the dash. “Then Search and Rescue can get a jump on finding your sister.”
Holly
Monday, December 12, 2016
The salad, the broccoli, and the burger sat untouched. A commercial on the restaurant’s TV showed two teddy bears walking hand in hand in an airport.
“What did he tell you about Cora?” Renata’s dark eyes sparkled behind her tortoiseshell glasses.
“He said he found a barefoot girl in a desert when he was out taking pictures.” Holly tried to focus on Cora. “He said your sister was having a bad mental health day, and she ran from the rescue helicopters.”
“Can he come to court at 1:30?” Renata’s voice rose like a kid’s ready for Santa.
“Holly!” Cora’s hand flew to her heart. “He’s in that standoff, isn’t he?”
Nodding, she hoped the empathy and fear in Cora’s eyes wouldn’t make her lose it.
“I’m so sorry.” Cora reached over the table and held her hand while she told Renata, “He’s on the county SWAT team.”
Did I tell her that?
Renata winced. “Shoot.”
He’d better not get shot. Or blown up. Gripping her lifeline, she said, “I’ll call him. At least leave a voicemail.” With each ring, stupid hope rose and crashed. Of course he couldn’t pick up. He was busy. The news would say if anyone were hurt.
“You’ve reached Jacob Davis.”
No, she hadn’t—but it was heaven to hear his voice.
“Leave a message, and I’ll call you back.” Beep.
“Hi. It’s me. I’m at the salon to cover up all the gray hair you’ve given me today. I wondered if you’d like me as a brunette. Or a redhead?”
Cora’s eyebrows scrunched.
“Sorry. First standoff jitters. When you’re done saving that world, I need you back in mine. Remember your desert nymph? The girl you picked up last July? Not this July, that was me.” She sighed. “Your barefoot redhead is my premed friend with the baby. Her sister is spouting lies that Cora is the problem child. We need you. At 1:30. At the juvenile courthouse. Please. I love you. And if you dare get yourself killed, I’ll murder you. If you have plans tonight, cancel them because you owe me a huge hug. Huge. Okay, bye.”
CORA
Monday, December 12, 2016
Renata and Aiden’s attorney stood from their table on the left as the front courtroom door opened for the judge. Cora stood, too, like a lagging member of a cuckoo clock with doors opening and people popping out.
“All rise.” The same assistant who had helped the substitute judge waited at the open door; her cardigan was turquoise today. “Franklin County Juvenile Court is now in session, the Honorable Maureen Bronski presiding.”
If the courtroom was a cuckoo clock, the teeny tiny woman with short salt-and-pepper hair and a sliver of green shirt peeking out of her ginormous black robe could have been the elf who made it. A grumpy elf perhaps, but a smile flickered behind her glasses.
“Please be seated.”
They did.
“Ms. Schmidt, are we still having a contested shelter hearing?”
At the table on the right, Lindsay sat beside Frances instead of Vanessa. Frances scrutinized her cell phone and reached out to her attorney but missed her arm as she stood.
“Yes, Your Honor. However, as discussed in chambers, parties have stipulated to entry of the exhibits tendered before the noon hour for judicial efficiency.”
“Judicial efficiency.” She smirked. Her voice wasn’t particularly deep, but it carried authority. She multitasked, clicking her mouse and reading something on her monitor. Maybe she hadn’t read all the documents yet?
Cora hoped she didn’t think poorly of her from her psychological evaluation. Renata said it was good, but it was awfully personal. Also, she didn’t like that she had lied to Dr. Williams—and gotten away with it—telling her the parent-friendly version of Naomi’s conception instead of the whole truth.
“Yes, Your Honor.” Lindsay smoothed her lilac skirt.
“I appreciate the early Christmas present. No argument or witnesses, then?”
“We believe the concerns outlined in our Protective Custody Report are sufficient for a finding that a community foster placement is necessary, Your Honor. However, Ms. Ochoa notified me over the noon hour that Mother may have a surprise witness.”
Renata stood. “Officer Jacob Davis would be a rebuttal witness to refute some of Julie Martin’s statements in the agency’s report.”
“He’s at my client’s office dealing with that mentally ill mother with the bomb,” Lindsay said.
Cora turned back to Holly, who looked awful; she was pacing in the back of the courtroom, holding Naomi close.
“We have time,” Judge Bronski said. “I’ve read the documents.”
Aiden’s attorney stood. “Father is aligned with Mother, Your Honor. No additional witnesses or exhibits.”
“After receiving the late notice of Mother’s witness,” Lindsay said, “my client was able to secure telephone testimony of Julie Martin, if the court will allow.”
Julie? On the phone?
The diminutive judge pivoted her cropped head from Lindsay to Renata as if it were a lovely day for a tennis match. No longer like a wise, friendly elf, she was like a Roman emperor in a gladiator stadium, watching while Cora was dismembered below.
Renata stood. “We object to telephonic testimony. Her credibility and mental health are at issue. The Court would need to assess her demeanor, which is virtually impossible over the phone.”
“Your Honor,” Lindsay lobbed back. “Counsel opened this door. If Officer Davis weren’t being called to impeach her, we would have relied on her statements in the report. Any relevant evidence is admissible in shelter hearings, and the Court can discern, to some extent, the witness’s credibility by phone. Ms. Martin, Julie Martin, should have an opportunity to defend herself.”
“Father joins Mother’s objection, Your Honor.”
“I’ll allow it. You have the number?”
Nodding, Lindsay handed a slip of paper to the assistant as she spoke. “The State calls Julie Martin, maternal aunt.”
The judge read something on her computer monitor.
Ring.
Cora startled at the phone amplified through the courtroom’s speakers. Holly continued pacing with Naomi in the back, looking waifish. Her parents hadn’t arrived.
What would she sound like? The raspy alien voice in the desert? Or the weirdly normal voice on the phone months ago when she had said goodbye like they would never speak again, just because Cora had dared to tell their parents that she had called, and Julie didn’t even sound sad about it? Which voice would claim that Cora was the crazy one, that she had gotten them stuck in the wilderness and was so obsessed with imaginary dangers that the real ones almost killed them?
Cora moved the yellow pad to her lap and stared down. She hoped it might look like she was reading. She wanted to pray, but tears threatened when she tried to find words and she did not want to cry.
In the dark, her mind filled with desert, planting her under the scraggly tree where hope had found her. Instead of a protective invisible hand on her back guiding her, something like a calming hand pressed her shoulder. Maybe God wanted her in this chair.
On the other side of Lindsay, Frances studied her phone, then reached out to her attorney, holding the screen toward her.
Ring.
“It’s over,” the judge smiled, nodding at her monitor. “The standoff.” She kept reading. “The bomb squad is going in to clear the building now. The suspect is in custody.”
