‘Get down here right away,’ Brazil said. ‘Don’t ask why, just come.’
“Where’s here?’ she asked groggily.
‘HQ. We need to get as many cops as we can at Godwin tomorrow to make sure Smoke doesn’t show up, and we need to get that going now.’
West tried to wake up. Brazil could hear her moving around.
‘I’ll meet you in the detective division in maybe two hours,’ Brazil said.
‘Yeah,’ she said.
Weed was getting increasingly frightened. He picked at his jersey and kept sighing as if he was having a hard time breathing.
‘He made me do things. He put a gun to my head and said he’d shoot me if I didn’t. Then a couple weeks ago he stopped showing up at school.’
‘So he didn’t give you rides anymore.’ Brazil was taking copious notes.
‘He’d drop me off and leave. Then he started making me late, started dragging me around, making me miss band practice. And I was supposed to play in the Azalea Parade on Saturday.’ The light went out of his eyes. ‘I been practicing all year. And now I guess I can’t.’
The phone rang, startling both of them. Brazil answered it. He was wired and somewhat impatient as he explained Weed’s transgressions to Intake Officer Charlie Yates.
Brazil charged Weed with violating Code 18.2-125, Trespass at night upon any cemetery, a class 4 misdemeanor, and 18.2-127, Injuries to churches, church property, cemeteries, burial grounds, etc., class 1 misdemeanor, and 182.2-138.1, Willful and malicious damage to or defacement of public or private facilities, a class 1 misdemeanor or a felony, depending on how much damage was done.
‘So which is it?’ Yates wanted to know.
‘Misdemeanor, class one,’ Brazil said. ‘We don’t know how much cleaning up the statue’s going to cost. If it’s more than a thousand dollars, we’ll deal with it at the trial.’
Weed was staring wide-eyed at Brazil. It was obvious Weed did not understand. He was terrified.
‘Hearing’s set for Friday,’ Yates went on. ‘He got someone… ?’
‘I want the hearing in the morning,’ Brazil interrupted. ‘It’s really important, Charlie.’
‘Hey, no big deal.’ It made no difference to Yates.
It did to Brazil. He knew from this month’s court calendar that Judge Maggie Davis was on the bench. She had a policy that her courtroom was not open to the public unless the juvenile had committed a felony, and the last thing Brazil wanted was Weed’s hearing open to the public. He didn’t want some reporter making the rounds and walking in. He didn’t want anyone except the attorneys and judge to hear what he and Weed might have to say.
‘He got someone to pick him up tonight and take him home?’ Yates was asking.
‘We haven’t been able to locate his mother.’
She was in the operating room and could not be disturbed, not that Brazil had tried very hard. Weed didn’t want to go home and Brazil didn’t want him to, either.
There’s no beds in detention. I just checked,’ Yates said.
‘Never are,’ Brazil replied.
‘So if he can’t go home, he’s going to end up in a holding cell until the morning.’
That’s fine,’ Brazil said, not taking his eyes off Weed. ‘As soon as you can get here, I’ll sign the petition and take him on over. And try to make it fast, Charlie. There’s a lot going on.’
Weed had an intake room without much of a view, a cell no bigger than a closet, everything stainless steel, including the bed. He could not sleep. He stared out a small grate and watched other kids brought in who reminded him of Sick, Beeper, Divinity and Dog. No one reminded him of Smoke. Smoke didn’t look like what he was.
It was dark when Officer Brazil had transported Weed to this place. They called it the Juvenile Detention Home, but it wasn’t like any home Weed had ever been in. He couldn’t see what the outside of it was like but he knew it was in a bad part of town, because right before he’d gotten here they’d driven past the jail. It was all lit up, rolls of razor wire shining like knife blades waiting to cut someone. Weed’s stomach got hollow and he had a cold feeling in his heart.