Send Down the Rain(74)

I pushed back the fog. “Bobby in the courtroom.”

“As he was finishing, you had a heart attack. Or something like it. You died on the floor of the courtroom. These people brought you back.”

The knowledge and weight of the world I had been living in returned. Along with my manslaughter conviction and impending sentencing. I turned to Allie. “What’s my sentence?”

She shook her head. “We don’t know yet; Judge Werther hasn’t delivered one. Now that you’re awake . . .”

I searched the room. “Where’s Bobby?”

The doctor moved about two feet to the left. Bobby sat in a chair. Unshaven. A pillow next to him.

I lifted my head. “Hey, brother.”

He nodded. Smiled. I could tell he was tired. “Hey.”

The memory of his televised confession returned. “You okay?”

Another nod. “I’m good.”

“I imagine you’re sorta popular.”

He half smiled. “In an odd sort of way.”

“Folks want your head on a platter?”

“And they’re the kind ones.”

“You still got a job?”

“For the moment. I’ve been called to testify before a committee. Most think I should step down and let the governor appoint a replacement.”

I waved my hand across the room and all the people staring down at me and all the machines. “You do all this?”

Allie answered. “Yes. He did.”

I looked at the doctor. “So what now?”

He shrugged. “While you were sleeping, we ran a camera up your leg and into your heart. I was anticipating putting in several stents. After looking around, I did not. I can’t explain it, but your heart is quite strong. Given the amount of time you were out in the courtroom, we didn’t know how much brain damage you might have sustained. Based on the last five minutes, I’d say none.” He patted my shoulder. “Welcome back.” He then lifted a small sealed plastic bag from his shirt pocket and set it on the bedside table next to me. “We also found this in your stomach.”

I stared at the mangled bullet.

“But I have a feeling you knew that was in there.”

“I did.”

Allie leaned closer and looked from the bullet to me.

The doctor laughed. “You’re lucky they used copper. Lead would have eaten through you a long time ago.”

Allie held up the bag. Staring closely. “When you were carrying Suzy’s dad?”

A flash of searing heat appeared and disappeared in the side of my stomach. “Yes.”

The doctor continued. “We happened upon it by mistake while trying to revive you. It showed up in the pictures.” He crossed his arms. “Why didn’t you ever do anything about it?”

I opened the bag and spilled the smooth bullet into my palm. The years inside my stomach had worn off the rough edges. “Didn’t feel worthy.”





46

A week later they walked me into the courtroom. I shuffled, dragging my ankle chains. Walking like someone had tied my shoelaces together. Somehow the number of people in the courtroom had doubled. More cameras. More lights. More whispering. More eyes looking at me.

The bailiff walked in and raised his booming voice above the fray. “All rise. The Court of the Second Judicial Circuit, Criminal Division, is now in session. The Right Honorable Judge Jay Werther presiding.”

The judge walked in and took his seat, and everyone else did likewise. He was quiet a few seconds. Digital cameras clicked and sounded, suggesting the Internet would soon be filling with pictures and video of the proceedings. He looked at me. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better, sir. Although I’m real sorry for what I did to your carpet.”

Everyone laughed.

I continued, “Looks like somebody washed out the stain, though.”

This time the judge laughed. Along with everyone else.

He tapped his lip with a pencil. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes, sir.”

He pointed the pencil at Bobby. “Do you hate your brother?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“How is that?”

“What good would it do? Won’t change anything.”

Judge Werther nodded once.

“Sir, I’ve had the experience of being in a country where people were trying to kill me. Every day. That simplifies life a good bit. In matters of the heart, we have only two options. Hate them or love them. That’s it. That’s all we got. There’s no middle.”

He seemed surprised by this. The judge paused. Tapped the end of his pencil on his desk. “I’m curious.”

“About?”

“The one part of your story that’s not been told.”

“Sir?”

“The part only you can tell.”

“You talking about the conversation with my mom?”

He nodded.

“Sir, I can tell you, but the only other witness is dead. How do you know I’m telling the truth?”

“I don’t.”

I scratched my head. “And you’re okay with that?”

“This is no longer a trial.” He pointed at the cameras. “You’ve been out of commission for a few weeks, so let me spell it out for you. Joseph Brooks, you’ve captivated a nation. I’m told that several million people are currently watching these proceedings. There are more than a thousand men in black leather straddling enormous, eardrum-splitting motorcycles outside this courthouse right now. Schools across the country have canceled classes and are projecting these proceedings on giant screens in auditoriums. A record of living history.”