Ronnie moved back to let her in. Shelly extended her arms and Ronnie handed her Angela. She took after her mother, Mary Ellen, whom Shelly hadn’t met but had seen in photos. A tiny, soft face with enlarged brown eyes, flyaway dark hair standing on end in some spots. She was wearing a tiny pair of beige overalls.
Shelly lowered her head and nudged her nose against Angela’s. The toddler was at the grabbing stage, and she took temporary hold of Shelly’s nose. “Hello, little Angela.” She looked at Ronnie.
Ronnie gave her some space. He had called her to discuss the case, but he could see she wanted a good long look at the newest member of her family.
She held the baby close. Angela, with those faraway eyes, seemed content to be held by her. Shelly spent all of her time with children and teens, but little with infants. Still, it felt right. Better, certainly, than she had felt with Alex after he dropped the bomb on her. She’d been speechless. With an infant, there was little need for the intelligible word.
She sat on the couch with Angela and rocked her, made noises with her lips, tickled her. When she wanted down, Shelly watched her stumble around the living room like a drunken sailor, grabbing things at random, throwing them or handing them to Shelly. What an amazing thing a child was. It unleashed such an outpouring in Shelly that all of the emotions canceled each other out, and she was left with utter astonishment. This girl was her blood. This one, no matter what else happened, would have a future.
Ronnie wandered back into the living room after a while. He walked over to the table by the couch. For the first time, Shelly noticed the open scrapbook. Photographs of Ronnie and Alex at various times throughout their lives. Ronnie had been going through it. That was the sort of thing you did when you lost a loved one, cling to the memories. She felt a pang of remorse for both of the boys.
Ronnie slid the scrapbook under the couch and looked at Shelly. “I’m going nuts here,” he said. “I gotta do something. I gotta help. You need any help? Organizing or making phone calls or-something?”
Shelly bounced the baby on her lap. For starters, she could use a salary and an office. She’d said her abrupt goodbyes to the people at CAP only two hours ago. Two boxes of items from the office sat in her car.
“I’m sure I will need that kind of help,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to work this all out? With the feds and all?”
“That’s kind of complicated, Ron.”
“Too complicated for a kid.” He clenched his jaw. He seemed to share some of Alex’s attitude. She had certainly heard that Ronnie was a smart one, academically accomplished. A scholarship, Alex had said, and Ronnie was only a junior.
“Well, all right,” she conceded. “I think the federal government is reluctant to discuss the matter with the county prosecutors. Why, I’m not entirely sure.”
“Probably think they’re in on it with the cops.”
She cocked her head. That was a rather astute observation, she had to concede. “In any event, they are very worried about this. I imagine I can secure something favorable with the federal government, on their end. But frankly, a few years in a federal penitentiary is small potatoes compared to murder.”
Ronnie nodded. He watched Angela, who was getting antsy. Ronnie lifted her off the floor and walked her around the room. “Take care of the federal problem,” he said quietly as he kissed Angela’s cheek and hummed to her. He seemed to be accustomed to caring for her. “I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Tell me what you mean by that,” she said.
“I’m going to put her down.” Ronnie walked out of the room with Angela in tow.
I’ll take care of the rest. What did Ronnie mean by that?
He returned to the room, wiping his hands with the towel. “Never washed my hands so many times in my life as I have since she was born.”
“Where’s your mother?” Shelly asked.
He pursed his lips, indicating he didn’t know. “She’s usually out at night. Some bar or another. She’s more a social drunk. Likes to go out and get bombed, sometimes meets a guy. She doesn’t drink during the day. She has a job and the two-it hasn’t interfered.”
“Is she around Angela much?”
“Nah. If she’s had even one drink, I keep her away. So what do you think of my idea?”
“I want to know what you mean.”
“The drug thing,” he said. “The stuff with the feds. I can’t help him there. Get him off that, and I’ll get him off the murder charge.”
Shelly felt a charge, as much physically as emotionally; she was on the verge of collapse. “Explain yourself,” she demanded.
He sat down next to her. “I’ll say whatever I have to say.”
Shelly looked at this boy, the earnest expression, and believed him. “Alex says you have a scholarship.”
Ronnie seemed thrown by the change of topics. “Yeah. Legislative scholarship.”
“I didn’t know that,” she said. “From who?” Each member of the state legislature was given a few scholarships a year that they could award to constituents. As she understood it, there were no fixed criteria, and she knew that several of the representatives and senators in the city gave them out based on need.
“Sandoval,” he answered. Shelly had met State Representative Santiago Sandoval. A good man. She had discussed legislation with him to reform the state’s school code, the disciplinary section. The bill had passed the Democratic-controlled senate, which was run by a city boy, Senate President Grant Tully-the guy Daddy beat in the governor’s race. But the House was still Republican-most of its members were not elected from the city and had little use for it-and the legislation never even got out of committee.
“Going to Mansbury,” Ronnie said. Mansbury College was a liberal arts school at the western boundary of the county. “Keeps me close to home. I can commute.”
She liked this kid. She liked all children, she supposed, always tried to find the brightness in their soul. It was always there, somewhere, but with Ronnie, you didn’t have to look too hard. He was doing it the way everyone told him. He wasn’t bemoaning his fate, growing up in a single-parent house where the single parent was a drunk, attending a school where he was a minority. He was studying hard, working a job at the grocery store, planning a life. And planning, no doubt, to take the ones he loved with him.
“Well, Ronnie, I imagine you had to work pretty hard to get where you are. You are a year away from college with a bright future. About the only way you can blow it now is to start playing games with the legal system. And with me. Perjury is a crime, pal-”
“Oh, don’t give me that shit.” Ronnie left the couch. He pointed to the adjoining room. “That little girl’s daddy is sitting in jail right now because he was trying to support her. You got that? You think I’m gonna let that little girl lose her dad?”
“He broke the law,” she said, immediately regretting the comment.
“At least he tried,” he answered, his voice rising. “At least he was there for her.”
She sat back in the couch as if a spear had pierced her heart. Apparently Ronnie had been in on the secret as well all along. Or maybe Alex had talked to him today.
Ronnie, for all his frustration, seemed to immediately sense the impact of his words. He raised his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No, I-it’s all right.” She shifted in her seat, composed herself. “You’re right, actually.”
Ronnie returned to his seat. “Really, I didn’t-”
“The point I wanted to make, Ronnie, is that if you think you can lie to protect Alex, you’re wrong. All that will happen is that both of you will go to jail. Then where’s Angela? Without a father or an uncle.” She exhaled slowly. Better to focus on the case.
“Got it.” His missteps had quieted him.