Taking Sides (Locked Out) Read online

  Text copyright © 2015 by Patrick Jones

  All rights reserved. International copyright secured. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc., except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.

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  The images in this book are used with the permission of: © Juice Images/Alamy (young man); © iStockphoto.com/DaydreamsGirl (stone); © Maxriesgo/Dreamstime.com (prison wall); © Clearviewstock/Dreamstime.com, (prison cell).

  Main body text set in Janson Text LT Std 12/17.5.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Jones, Patrick, 1961–

  Taking sides / by Patrick Jones.

  pages cm. — (Locked out)

  Summary: At odds with his sister, Tina, fourteen, who says their father murdered their mother, Todd, fifteen, who claims it was self-defense, begins to lose faith in their father when he pressures Todd to get Tina to change her story, and being in separate foster homes only makes things harder.

  ISBN 978–1–4677–5800–0 (lib. bdg. : alk. paper)

  ISBN 978–1–4677–6184–0 (eBook)

  [1. Brothers and sisters—Fiction. 2. Family violence—Fiction. 3. Fathers and sons—Fiction. 4. Foster home care—Fiction. 5. Minneapolis (Minn.)—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.J7242Tak 2015

  [Fic]—dc23

  2014018200

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  1 – SB – 12/31/14

  eISBN: 978-1-4677-6184-0 (pdf)

  eISBN: 978-1-4677-7703-2 (ePub)

  eISBN: 978-1-4677-7702-5 (mobi)

  To Renee Reed, who takes the right side and fights the good fight —P.J.

  1

  “It’s my mother. He killed her.”

  Todd resisted the urge to rip the phone from his sister’s hand. It was too late for that. He stayed where he was, kneeling on the blood-spattered kitchen floor, listening to Tina’s teary side of the conversation with the 911 operator.

  “Yes, my father,” she said. Todd’s hands tightened around the towel he held. He glared at his sister, but she was turned away from him, her ear pressed hard against the phone.

  Then: “We’re safe—he’s gone. Send help, please.”

  A pause. Tina’s breath, coming in rough half-sobs, was the only sound in the kitchen.

  “My brother’s here with me.”

  Another pause. What could they be asking her?

  “He’s—he’s cleaning up the blood.”

  Another pause—another question?

  “What about my dad?” Tina asked. Todd’s father was gone. The thought scared him. Even more than the lifeless body of their mother, sprawled on the floor beside him.

  “OK,” Tina said shakily into the phone. She ended the call and wrapped her arms around her raised knees. “They’re coming,” she told Todd. “The police.” She was shaking so hard she dropped her phone.

  “You didn’t have to make that call, Tina,” Todd said quietly.

  “She’s lying on the floor dead, Todd!”

  “The police can’t change that,” Todd shot back. No one could change what had just happened. The words that had sparked the fight. The knife in his mother’s hand, pointed at her husband and children. His father’s quick lunge and twist.

  Todd felt sick to his stomach: the smell of the blood. “Look, we just need to stay calm. It’s going to be OK.”

  Tina let out a wail. “Nothing is ever going to be OK again.”

  Todd didn’t argue. He couldn’t look at her, or at their mother’s body. He had to focus. Closing his eyes, he turned his thoughts to his father: an innocent man on the run. Dad, I’m with you. I’m on your side.

  2

  Todd finished cleaning the blood from around his mother’s prone body. His dad wouldn’t like anyone to visit his house, even the police, and have it be such a mess. Tina was still curled up in a tiny ball in the corner. And crying, so much crying. Todd knew Dad wouldn’t approve.

  Todd carried the blood-soaked towel to the washer in the basement. Dumped in detergent. Turned the temperature to hot. He had a vague memory of his mom doing that in the past. This certainly wasn’t the first time that his parents’ arguments had left someone bloody. Once the cycle started, he returned to the kitchen, where Tina rocked back and forth like a baby.

  Grabbing a garbage bag from the utility closet, he headed to the dining room. Started picking up the bits of broken china that littered the floor. It had been good china—his mom had been proud of it. She was proud of the whole house, of the airy rooms and the nice furniture and the carefully arranged knickknacks. Everything had always looked perfect, even on days when the cleaning lady didn’t come.

  Even on days when Todd’s parents fought.

  Many past fights had begun in this room, normally over something small. But this one had been something big.

  Todd, Tina, get your stuff. You’re moving in with me.

  You walk out on us for a month, and now you think you can just show up and take the kids—

  Well, you certainly can’t take care of them, Katya. You’ve never known how to take care of them.

  That’s for the courts to decide.

  Oh, you would know, after all the time you’ve been spending with those lady lawyers. Some corrupt judge doesn’t get to tell me what to do when it comes to my family. You won’t take my kids from me.

  If it had just ended there, thought Todd. If Todd’s mom had just let him and Tina pack some things and leave with their father. If she hadn’t argued and threatened him. If Tina hadn’t sided with their mom and refused to go. If their mom hadn’t gone for the knife. Then none of this would’ve happened. There would’ve been no broken pieces for Todd to pick up, no blood to scrub away.

  The police arrived before the ambulance. One of the cops checked Todd’s mom for a pulse, then shook his head. He spoke into the radio on his shoulder, without any urgency. Todd didn’t let himself look at the body. All he could think about was his father. Where was he? When would he be coming back?

  The other cop, a big bruiser of a guy, came over to Todd. “I know this is hard, son, but can you tell me what happened?”

  Todd paused. It had happened fast, but also in slow motion. Like football instant replay, which his dad hated. The call is the call, he’d say. Never question a man’s judgment.

  Todd took a deep breath and got himself organized, like he’d do before a big test at school or before his turn in track or wrestling. (Get yourself together, Junior, and you won’t come apart under pressure.) He glanced at his sister, still crying in the corner. She’d seen it too.

  Tina lifted her head and wiped her nose with the sleeves of her Green River Academy blazer.

  After one last deep breath, Todd spoke. “It was self-defense. My mother came—”

  “No! No!” His sister’s scream cut off his measured words.

  The cop’s eyes darted between Todd and Tina. “She had a knife,” Todd said calmly.

  Tina pulled herself from the floor, but stayed backed into the corner of the room. “Todd, that’s not true. He hit her, like always, and then he stabbed her. Todd, why are—”

  “My sister’s wrong,” Todd murmured. “It was self-defense.”

  The cop scratched his head like
he was unsure what to say or do. He’d probably faced down stone cold killers and gang bangers. But he seemed stumped by these two kids who seemed to have everything—except one version of how their mother ended up dead. “The detectives are on their way. They’ll sort this out.”

  “There’s nothing to sort out,” Todd said. “It was self-defense.”

  Tina shot to her feet and bolted across the room. Now she was standing in front of him, younger and shorter, but much louder. “Todd, why are you lying?”

  3

  Todd sat in the police interview room across from the detective: a forty-something guy, heavyset, freshly shaven. Pen in hand, notebook open on the table between them.

  “Detective Murphy. Call me Steve if you like.” Murphy flashed a smile, which Todd didn’t return. He looked at his new Jordans and the tiny spots of blood that were ruining them.

  Todd rarely watched crime shows on TV—his dad called it the idiot box—but he knew some things. “Do I need a lawyer?”

  “You tell me, Todd,” the detective said. “Did you do anything wrong?”

  Todd paused again, wondering if wrong and illegal were the same thing. “No, sir.”

  “That’s good to know. So can you tell me what happened?”

  “My parents were arguing,” Todd began as he replayed the scene in his head. “Mom pulled a knife on him. Dad tried to take it away. They struggled and she got stabbed. If he hadn’t done it, he’d have been the one dead, or one of us, instead of my mom.”

  As Murphy jotted down what Todd said, the door opened. Another officer, older, walked in and whispered something in Murphy’s ear. Murphy didn’t seem impressed. He turned back to Todd as the other officer left. “What were they fighting about?”

  “About where we would live if they split up.” He didn’t offer any more details. Not the fact that his dad had already moved out of the house a month ago. Not the story of what life had been like before that, the years of his parents’ fighting. (Todd, a man’s home is his castle. He’s the king of everything, and everyone, in it.)

  “So is there a reason that you and your sister have such different versions of what happened?” Murphy asked. He leaned across the table, notebook closed, palms open wide.

  “She was in the corner crying,” Todd said. “Her eyes were closed. I saw everything.”

  Detective Murphy asked more questions about the stabbing, Todd’s parents, his relationship with his sister. To Todd, it seemed like they were running in circles.

  “I need to get my things from my house,” he said finally.

  Murphy shot him an odd look: confused, hesitant. “Sorry, Todd, you can’t go there now,” he said. “It’s a crime scene.”

  “But, I have to—”

  “Todd, we really need to talk with your father. Where could we find him?”

  “I don’t know.” He’d never been to his dad’s new place. And even if he had, he wouldn’t tell this cop about it.

  “Do you know of any friends he might stay with?”

  He shrugged.

  “Family?”

  “Nobody close.”

  “Todd, does your father have a girlfriend or —”

  Todd kicked the table leg hard this time. “He’s not like that. How dare you—”

  “Calm down, Todd,” Murphy said. “I didn’t mean any offense. We just need to find him. Do you have your phone with you? Could you try calling him?”

  Todd pulled out his phone. The call to his dad went right to voice mail. “He’s not there.”

  Murphy motioned for the phone, but Todd buried it in his pocket as his dad’s voice echoed in his mind again: Todd, what happens in a man’s home stays in his home. It’s nobody’s business.

  4

  After another hour of questions, a bathroom break, and a fancy coffee they brought him, Detective Murphy finally told Todd he was done questioning him—“At this time.”

  “Can I go home now?” Todd asked. Murphy’s big head swiveled on his thick neck.

  “Wait here,” he said, and left the room. As soon as Murphy was gone, Todd tried his father again, but without luck. He thought of calling his sister, but didn’t. The police had taken them to the station in different cars, so he assumed she was talking to a detective too. I hope this time she tells the truth, he thought.

  Todd waited in silence as a clock on the wall ticked way too loudly. Another half hour went by. Then, finally, a sloppily dressed older man with uncombed grayish hair came into the room. He set a beat-up brown briefcase on the table and took a business card out of his pocket. “Todd, I’m Bob Hobson, a Hennepin County social worker.”

  Todd took the card Hobson held out, then crossed his arms. He didn’t want to shake this guy’s hand.

  Hobson clicked open the briefcase and pulled out a legal pad with yellow paper. “So, the first thing we need to do is get you someplace to stay. Do have any relatives in Minneapolis?”

  Todd shook his head. “My mom’s from Russia. She doesn’t have any family here. And my dad, well, he doesn’t get along with his family. They live in Iowa, close to Des Moines. I don’t remember where exactly. It doesn’t matter. When can I go home?”

  Hobson rubbed his eyes like they hurt. “Todd, how old are you?”

  “I’m fifteen. My sister’s fourteen.”

  “Well, that’s too young for you to live on your own. We’ll take you to an emergency shelter for the night. I’ll make some calls and see who has a free bed. Then tomorrow we’ll work on long-term options.”

  “I just want to go home!” But even as Todd said the word “home” he felt uneasy. With his parents separated, it didn’t feel like home anymore. His father coming and going, his mother hiding money and making whispering phone calls to lawyers. His home hadn’t felt like one for a long time.

  “I’m sorry Todd, that’s not possible,” Hobson said. “I know this is hard to process right now, but you need to look at the possibility that everything in your life is going to change very fast. You’re probably not going to be back at your house for a long while. I’m not trying to make this any harder for you than it has to be. You’ve got to take things one day at a time … ”

  “Where’s my sister?” Todd cut in. “Is she here? Is she coming with us to this shelter place?”

  “I don’t know what’s going on with her,” Hobson replied. “I was called about you. The police said since you’re telling different stories, there should be no contact between you right now. Let’s get going, OK?”

  Todd didn’t move. “I’d rather wait here until they find my father.”

  “Even if they do find him tonight, you won’t be able to talk with him,” Hobson explained. “He’ll need to be booked, processed, arraigned, bail set. It might be a long time.”

  “How long is a long time?” Todd asked.

  A sigh and another head shake was all he got in reply.

  5

  The lobby of the shelter was small, smelly, and dark. Todd imagined the entire place would be the same. He wanted to run.

  Instead he stood as still as possible in the front hall while Hobson talked to a middle-aged man with too much beard and belly. Hobson laughed at something the man said. The noise felt to Todd like a slap in the face. The two men shook hands like old friends. They’d probably done this together a thousand times, like garbage men cleaning up other people’s messes. After they spoke, Hobson left without saying good-bye to Todd.

  “Sit down, Todd,” the guy said as he locked the door behind Hobson. He had a huge jangly key ring like a dungeon master in a video game.

  Trained by his father to follow orders, Todd did as he was told.

  “I’m Brenden Jackson, night manager and … ” His mouth kept moving, but Todd wasn’t listening to a word of it. The rush of the evening had crashed down hard, and his thoughts were getting fuzzy with exhaustion. “Todd, are you listening?”

  Todd nodded as he fought to stay awake.

  “What school do you attend?” Jackson asked. Like Hobson, he
was writing everything down, which seemed stupid to Todd. He wouldn’t be here long enough for any of this to matter. His dad would clear up the confusion, his sister would tell the truth, and life would be normal again.

  “Todd? Your school?”

  “Green River Academy in Minnetonka.”

  Jackson frowned. “That’s a long way from here. It may be tough tomorrow to arrange transport—”

  Todd cut him off. “I don’t want to go to school tomorrow.”

  “You have to go to school.”

  Todd finally made eye contact. He pulled in his breath, pushed out his chest. “My mom’s dead. My dad’s missing. My sister’s someplace else. I’m not ready for school with all that.”

  Jackson started to disagree, but Todd wasn’t having any of it. If you let people bully you once, his father had said, they’ll bully you twice. Stand up for yourself. Be a man.

  Todd stood up and walked toward the door. “I’m going home—”

  “You can’t leave.” Todd pulled on the locked door. Jackson didn’t move. “Sit down, Todd.”

  Todd pulled harder on the door and then pounded on it until his hands bled.

  The evening had started with blood. It would end with it too.

  6

  “We’ll be in touch, Todd,” Detective Murphy said after another few hours of questioning at the station. Todd had stayed in bed at the shelter all day. He’d refused to go to school, eat, or do anything until Murphy picked him up. Deep down, Todd couldn’t say no to a police officer.

  “Where’s my sister?” Todd asked once again.

  “I’m sorry, Todd, but I can’t talk to you about that,” said Murphy. “Someone from the County will be by to pick you up in a few minutes. Then you’ll be able to run by your house and get a few things, but it’s still a crime scene until we … ” Murphy stopped in mid-sentence like he had a secret to keep. Todd wondered if Murphy was purposely making him feel like he was the criminal.

  “Well, anyway, I’ll walk you to the lobby.” Murphy led Todd from the small room with hard chairs to a larger room with harder chairs.