[2016] Rubbing Stones Read online

  “She didn’t know, Uncle Moyo. My mother didn’t know.”

  Moyo stared at his sister.

  Aunt Maiba dropped her gaze.

  “She knew.” Her father turned back to Thabani. “Now let’s start telling the truth. My son is in police custody and I want some answers.”

  “Uncle, I told him to stay at the house, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He doesn’t understand the ways of Zimbabwe, but you can’t tell him anything.”

  “You left him alone?”

  “I had to find work, the tourist business is…” Thabani looked around the room as he struggled to find a word, avoiding his mother’s eyes. “Complicated.”

  “Complicated?” her father yelled. “Complicated?” His eyes were wide and his hands were shaking. “Nephew, I am an educated man, tell me your complicated story and I will try very hard to follow along.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  Aunt Maiba tried to rise, but her arthritis sent her back down into her chair. “My son is a good boy, Moyo. We are all suffering today, not just you.”

  Katura’s mother let out a whimper, then caught herself. She reached over and patted Aunt Maiba’s frail arm. Moyo turned away from the women, sat on a stool across from Thabani, and rubbed his forehead with both hands.

  “Where did you see him last?”

  “He was at the house. I had to go meet with an operator and told him I’d be right back, I’d only be an hour or two. But then some guys showed up. They knew Tafadzwa from before and wanted him to go to the rally. I told him not to go, but I had to leave. They were all still there when I left.”

  “How did they know Tafadzwa? He was a child when we left.”

  “He was ten, uncle. He used to brag that he still had friends back home.”

  Moyo stiffened. He rose and started to pace again.

  “I mean in Zimbabwe,” Thabani said. “He told us he still had friends there.”

  Katura watched her father closely. Thabani had misread him. His agitation was due to the reference to Tafadzwa’s boastful character. Moyo breathed slowly. His anger could easily get him off track.

  “Who were these…friends?”

  “Mothudi, Kopano, Zuka…” Thabani paused, then said, “I don’t know the others, there were two others that day.”

  Moyo turned to his wife. “You know these names, Lerato? Are they MDC?”

  Katura blinked at the reference and glanced at Japera, who kept his eyes locked on their father. She tried to get her brother’s attention but could see that she was being intentionally ignored. As the only Masaku born in Botswana, Katura had always been interested in her family’s home country. But discussions of politics were avoided in her household and any mention of Zimbabwe’s opposition party, the Movement for Democratic Change, resulted in an impenetrable silence from her father. This state of affairs was a chronic frustration to her. It didn’t seem right that her knowledge came from her school studies and not from her family, who had first-hand experience.

  “They were children when we left, they had no political affiliation.” Lerato paused, then looked at Thabani. “Was it Zuka Sibanda?”

  “Yes,” Thabani said. “He’s the one who was also taken, the others were released.”

  “You know this boy?” Moyo asked.

  Lerato nodded. “He and Tafadzwa were friends when they were little.” She looked down. “His father was a teacher too.”

  Katura’s face lit up. “You know him, father? A fellow teacher?”

  “No,” he spoke slowly, still watching his wife. “I don’t remember the name. What is it, Lerato?”

  She was still staring at the floor when she spoke. “He was dismissed for refusing to join Mugabe’s ZANU party.”

  They sat in silence, taking in the implications. Finally, Moyo said, “You went to the police?”

  “Of course,” Thabani said. “They wouldn’t tell me a thing. They said I had to prove I was family—the names, you know. They wouldn’t believe we were cousins. They just looked at the papers and said I didn’t qualify to know anything. They said if I kept asking I’d be arrested too.”

  “So, you’ve come to get me?”

  Thabani nodded. “No one would help me. Not even the MDC. They don’t have him listed.”

  “Of course they don’t have him listed!” Moyo was shouting again. “He’s not—”

  “I’ll go, father.” Japera stood. Moyo swung around and stared at him as if recognizing him for the first time. Japera stared back, unblinking. He stood with his legs spread apart and hands behind his back. He reminded Katura of a soldier taking orders from a general. She always thought of him as handsome and strong—not the kind of muscular build or classic face of Tafadzwa, something more interesting, more solid, but less respected by their father.

  “No.” Katura sprang to her feet. “Not now, you can’t leave now when you’re going—” Japera shook his head to silence her.

  She stopped. She felt a tear roll down her face.

  Moyo looked back and forth between his son and his wife. Lerato’s head was in her hands and her eyes were closed. She was shaking.

  “I’ll bring Tafadzwa back, mother.” Japera turned to Katura. “We’ll both be back soon enough.” Not waiting for a reply, he faced Thabani. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Jane stared at the LCD screen of her cell phone. Five missed calls. Three from Jake, two from Rick. Jake? Urgent? Not hurt badly?

  She hit the speed dial to Jake’s cell phone as she headed down the row of parked cars. She hung up when his outgoing voice mail message picked up. Maybe he didn’t have it with him—he was always leaving his phone somewhere. Or maybe he’d just laid it down and got to it just as it transferred to voice mail. She tried again. Still no answer. She climbed into her Acura and hit Rick’s number.

  “I’m sorry I had to have Teresa interrupt you,” he said. “Where are you?”

  She could hear noise in the background but couldn’t place it. “Rick, what’s going on? Are the kids okay?”

  “They’ll be fine. But you need to meet me at the police station. How soon can you get here?”

  “The police station?”

  “It’s a long story—”

  “Are they okay?”

  “Michael’s not hurt. Jake’s pretty scraped up, nothing major, but I think it happened before the accident.”

  “What accident?” Jane started the car and backed out quickly. Her hands were shaking at the wheel. “Are you okay?”

  Rick paused for a moment, then spoke softly. “I wasn’t in the accident. Michael was driving.”

  “Michael? But he doesn’t have his—”

  “Michael ended up in a ditch with the Mustang—he must have found my keys in the drawer—Jake was in the back seat.” He now raised his voice but she noted that the reception had been perfectly clear. The volume must not be for her benefit. “I don’t think he was really running from the cops, just got startled by their lights and swerved off the road.”

  She took a deep breath and tried to gather her thoughts. Michael had been sneaking out a lot lately, probably more times than she knew. But to take the car and bring Jake along for whatever he was doing? She sped through a yellow light just as it was about to turn.

  “Anyone else in the car?”

  “Dylan, of course, and some other boy that I don’t know.”

  “Not—”

  “No, Caitlin wasn’t in the car.” He had lowered his voice again. “But, you know...”

  She waited. Nothing. He must suspect her involvement but couldn’t talk freely.

  “Did anyone call Glenn?” she asked.

  “Unfortunately, we can’t leave him out of this one. The police call both parents.”

  She glanced over her left shoulder and merged onto the freeway. “I need to figure out what I want to do before he enters the scene and complicates things.”

  “You’ve probably got twenty minutes.”

  She pulled into the left lane. “I�
�ll be there in fifteen.”

  “Drive safe. It’s going to be a long night.”

  When she turned in to the police parking lot, Jane quickly scanned for Glenn’s SUV. She breathed a sigh of relief and hurried into the lobby.

  “Jane, I’m so glad you’re here.” It was Amy Johansen at the front counter. She was talking with Rick and an officer but waved for Jane to join them. “This is Michael’s mother, Dr. Jane O’Neill.”

  Jane cringed. She knew Amy had referenced her profession deliberately, but she didn’t like other people playing cards for her. The officer glanced at her and returned to the paperwork he was filling out.

  “So, Mrs. Johansen.” He didn’t look up. “You need to sign here to take your son. Since he’s a minor, you’ll be notified when he’s to appear in juvenile court.”

  “But Dylan was just a passenger, right? It shouldn’t be too bad for him.”

  “The beer complicates things, ma’am. I’m not sure how the judge—”

  “Beer?” Jane looked at Rick. “They had beer? How’d they get that?”

  Just then, the doors swung wide open and a large, muscular man wearing a sports coat that was years away from having fit him comfortably entered the lobby. He stood just inside the entrance and scanned the occupants before sauntering in slowly with a wide-based gait, his short arms swinging in tandem as he walked. Directly behind him came a middle-aged woman in high heels and a short red skirt. Amy nodded at the two of them and rolled her eyes.

  “Who are they?” Jane whispered. Before Amy could respond, the man reached the counter just a few feet away. He rested his elbow halfway across the ledge.

  “Where you got my Joey…sir?” He winked at his wife with the last word.

  The woman elbowed him, mouthing “Don’t.” She watched the officer out of the corner of her eye as she took her husband’s arm and nuzzled up next to him. When the officer looked over, she smiled.

  “Tony, what a surprise,” he said. He laughed to himself, then focused again on his paperwork.

  “Look, Hank, I don’t want no trouble from you—just here to get my boy, that’s all. He done nothing wrong and you know it. Now let me sign your papers and take ’im.”

  “That’s right, I forgot. You’re very familiar with how things work around here.”

  “That’s got nothing to do with nothing. Now let me see my boy.” Tony’s voice was loud, and his body started swaying back and forth.

  “Actually, Tony, looks like your boy didn’t do most of the damage this time, at least not directly. That kid’s face was smashed up by one of the other boys.”

  Jane thought she saw a look of disappointment cross the man’s face. Then it suddenly struck her. Michael in a fight? Not likely, it wasn’t his style.

  “But there’s this little matter of the beer, now, Tony.” The officer scribbled on a small piece of scratch paper until the ink showed up from his pen again. He finished filling out the form he was working on.

  “Joey didn’t take no beer.”

  “Tony, Tony.” The officer shook his head. He got up and walked into the back room but returned immediately with more forms in his hand. He set them down at his desk and continued to write. “You’re slipping. You must’ve forgot to tell this one about the cameras at the grocery stores?” He stood, placed another paper in front of Amy, and showed her where to sign. He then signaled for one of the younger officers in the back room to usher her through a door at the side of the lobby.

  Jane realized she wasn’t going to be next. Officer Hank was enjoying his conversation with this newcomer too much to follow any order of arrival.

  “So, I’m guessing you’re just going to pick the boy up. Is that right, Tony?” He looked up from his paperwork with eyebrows raised high. The twitch at the side of his mouth gave away his opinion.

  “You got no rights to keep ’im. I’ll get my lawyer in here and close this place, you try that crap on me.” Tony reached over the counter and grabbed the form Hank was just finishing. He scribbled his signature at the bottom and initialed two other places.

  “Course you can take him, Tony. You’ll show up in court with one of your sleazy lawyers and get the boy off because a fly walked across the camera or some such nonsense. I just thought you might want to walk out that door and let him spend a night in juvie, just to know that this kind of stuff has consequences.”

  Tony tore off his copy of the forms and threw them at his wife. She stuffed them in her purse.

  “Excuse me, ma’am.” The officer turned to face Jane. “I’m going to accompany this gentleman in myself. It’s best to get his business out of the way. I’ll be right back.” He nodded for the younger cop to go back inside. “I got it,” he said. “Me and Tony are old friends.”

  Rick turned to Jane as they were left alone at the counter. “I don’t think I’ve heard of that boy. Maybe he’s Dylan’s friend?”

  “But Michael took the car,” she said slowly. “Michael was the one driving without a license, with minors and stolen alcohol in the vehicle. And someone got their face smashed.”

  “I know, Jane.” He put his arm around her and pulled her close.

  She relaxed in his arms. There was something about his style, the way she fit up against his chest that she found comforting, even in the most agitating moments.

  “I know you’re feeling somehow responsible, but you’re not. Our only responsibility now is to be there for Michael. The law will do its thing and we need to help him through it. He’s probably scared to death.” He looked sideways at her with an emerging smile. He whispered, “Of course, if you say I’m soft on crime you wouldn’t be the first.” It was a reference to his opponent’s accusation in his first run for office—a predictable attack on anyone entering politics out of the public defender’s office. It hadn’t worked against Rick.

  She swung around and faced him directly. “What happened to your speech?”

  “I said I had an emergency. They assumed it’s about George, and I…didn’t have time to correct them.” George Kettering, Rick’s long-time colleague and co-author of a recent high-profile energy bill, had been hospitalized two days before for chest pain. The papers had run the article with an old picture of the two of them racing in the lap pool at their club.

  “This might be one of those times it’s good you and the kids don’t share a last name.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I just want time to sort this out before I get questioned about it.” He looked directly into her eyes. “I’m proud to be part of your family.”

  The officer emerged from the back room. “Now, you know your older son’s been taken care of—” he said.

  “Taken care of?” Jane asked.

  He looked briefly at Rick, then back at Jane. “His father called before you got here. He decided to let the boy spend a night in Juvenile Hall after I explained the options to him. We sent him over about an hour ago. But the younger boy’s real anxious to see you.” He looked over his shoulder and called out, “John, bring Jake Sanders out. His mom’s here to get him.”

  It was well after midnight before she climbed the stairs. Her legs moved slowly, as if each step had to be carefully maneuvered. Rick was already in bed, sitting up with the reading light on.

  “How’s his leg look?” Rick continued to thumb through the legal papers he was reviewing.

  “The cops actually did a pretty good job dressing it.” Jane entered the walk-in closet and kicked off her shoes. “I probably should have just left their bandage on and not put him through the misery of taking off the tape.”

  “He needed you to see it.” Rick put his papers down and watched her undress. “He probably couldn’t have slept without having his mom comment on the damages.”

  “I’m not sure how well he’ll sleep anyway. He’s pretty upset about Michael.”

  “He’s not the only one. How are you doing?”

  “I just wish I could have spoken to him, found out how all this happened.”

  “Jake have
any answers?”

  “Not really, I’m not sure how much he knows, or if he just didn’t want to tell his brother’s story.”

  “So we’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” Rick ran his hand over the covers next to him, smoothed the wrinkles on her side. “You know, he’s basically a good kid and I’m sure…”

  “I’m not sure I did the right thing.”

  “You?” He put his papers down on the nightstand and closed the folder.

  “Whatever’s going on with Michael, jail and the other young inmates are not going to help.” Jane slipped her arms into her robe and stepped back into their bedroom. “Glenn made the decision and didn’t consult me. He forced me into going along with him whether I agreed or not.”

  “We could have gone over to juvie ourselves and insisted they release him to us.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You worried about how Glenn would react if you undermined him?”

  “For me?” She stepped into her slippers. “No, I’m used to Glenn. But Michael would then be embroiled in the conflicts between his parents and it would distract him from his own problems.”

  “No good choices, then.”

  “That’s what I keep coming to.”

  “Jane, it’s not going to kill him and maybe it’ll do him some good, who knows?” He reached over and turned off the reading lamp. She could still see him through the moonlight that sent a soft glow from the east window.

  “You don’t believe that.” She smiled at his attempt to reassure her.

  “I believe it won’t kill him. Coming to bed?”

  “I can’t sleep.” She reached over and stroked his face. He’d had a long week with George’s illness and now with this, it wasn’t going to get better quickly. He needed his sleep.

  “Can I help?” He touched her fingers.

  “Nah, just need to pace a little.” She kissed him gently and got up.

  “If you want company, wake me up.” He rolled over to his edge of the bed and pulled the covers up. She watched him a moment before leaving the room.

  It was 2:00 a.m. when she reached over and shook his shoulder.

  “Rick? Rick, are you awake?”