clueless as the next.” I finished my beer and set it down hard.
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Enough that I don’t have patience to play intrepid reporter with some riot girl who just read Sylvia Plath for the first time.”
“You don’t have to be an asshole.”
“No. I don’t. But I don’t feel like being nice, either. It’s been a bad few days, and you’ve only made it worse—”
“I said I was sorry.”
“I know. I appreciate it.” I clapped my hands, sincere. “But besides two cops who would have no problem dumping my body in a ditch—”
“Roberts sent them to scare you off—”
“—my boss told me, in no uncertain terms, to drop the Oliskycase if I want any hopes of landing this promotion. Which I desperately do. If only to get away from this frozen hellhole. Now, if you don’t mind?” I pointed at her so-called evidence. “Take your homework assignment and go home.”
Nicki snatched her handbag but didn’t pick up the rest of her crap.
I pointed at the paperwork cluttering my messy table. “You forgot something.”
“Maybe when you sober up, you can be bothered to think about someone other than yourself. Innocent kids are languishing in prison for nothing.”
“When you walk out the door,” I said, “that shit goes in the trash.”
Nicki shook her head and split without another word.
At least she left the Chinese.
CHAPTER TEN
I DIDN ’ T THROW away the photocopies Nicki left behind. I abandoned them to the rest of the trash on the table and grabbed a container of pork lo mein, returning to my movie and beer, stewing. Nicki was young, but the girl knew how to push the right buttons. Must be an innate female trait. I was lousy at not thinking about pink elephants.
My default position was almost always no, automatic refusal triggered from days dealing with my brother, who always needed a favor, a ride, a place to crash, money. When someone is forever making demands on your limited resources, you better learn to say no or you’ll be run ragged to the poorhouse. But let a few minutes pass, wait for a cooler head to prevail, and some misguided angel would start chirping on my shoulder, the compulsion to do the right thing eventually getting the best of me. A quality both infuriating and redeeming.
Even though I kept telling myself Nicki’s discovery didn’t concern me, I had a tough time ignoring what I’d heard. Innocent kids doing time over victimless crimes. Maybe calling these kids “innocent” was a stretch; no crime is “victimless.” The police weren’t plucking random teens off the street without reason. Laws get broken, prices have to be paid. But punishment needs to fit the crime.
Despite technical classification to the contrary, North Riversure sounded like a prison. Then what was the play? Overzealous prosecutors? A constipated judge? More than likely, a bunch of well-meaning but out-of-touch adults were overreacting to bad decisions made by today’s youth. Which had been the same song and dance for generations.
I gave up and accepted my brain wasn’t letting this go. The kick in the pants to do the right thing giving me a pain in the ass. Back at the kitchen table, I scanned the copies Nicki made at the courthouse. Nothing in there she hadn’t already told me. Somehow reading the facts for myself made it worse, the horror more real.
There were serious crimes listed, like dealing and assault, but the majority of transgressions were misdemeanors—shoplifting, joyriding, vandalism, and underage drinking, which met with equally harsh penalties. I understood the need for law and order, but sending a fourteen-year-old up the river for snatching a sweater off the clearance rack at the Gap smacked of disproportionate.
The kicker was that in each case, the parents had signed off on the treatment. Box after box notarized. How bad could North River really be if Mom and Dad were on board?
I swept up the Xeroxes and headed to the computer. Under
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Enough that I don’t have patience to play intrepid reporter with some riot girl who just read Sylvia Plath for the first time.”
“You don’t have to be an asshole.”
“No. I don’t. But I don’t feel like being nice, either. It’s been a bad few days, and you’ve only made it worse—”
“I said I was sorry.”
“I know. I appreciate it.” I clapped my hands, sincere. “But besides two cops who would have no problem dumping my body in a ditch—”
“Roberts sent them to scare you off—”
“—my boss told me, in no uncertain terms, to drop the Oliskycase if I want any hopes of landing this promotion. Which I desperately do. If only to get away from this frozen hellhole. Now, if you don’t mind?” I pointed at her so-called evidence. “Take your homework assignment and go home.”
Nicki snatched her handbag but didn’t pick up the rest of her crap.
I pointed at the paperwork cluttering my messy table. “You forgot something.”
“Maybe when you sober up, you can be bothered to think about someone other than yourself. Innocent kids are languishing in prison for nothing.”
“When you walk out the door,” I said, “that shit goes in the trash.”
Nicki shook her head and split without another word.
At least she left the Chinese.
CHAPTER TEN
I DIDN ’ T THROW away the photocopies Nicki left behind. I abandoned them to the rest of the trash on the table and grabbed a container of pork lo mein, returning to my movie and beer, stewing. Nicki was young, but the girl knew how to push the right buttons. Must be an innate female trait. I was lousy at not thinking about pink elephants.
My default position was almost always no, automatic refusal triggered from days dealing with my brother, who always needed a favor, a ride, a place to crash, money. When someone is forever making demands on your limited resources, you better learn to say no or you’ll be run ragged to the poorhouse. But let a few minutes pass, wait for a cooler head to prevail, and some misguided angel would start chirping on my shoulder, the compulsion to do the right thing eventually getting the best of me. A quality both infuriating and redeeming.
Even though I kept telling myself Nicki’s discovery didn’t concern me, I had a tough time ignoring what I’d heard. Innocent kids doing time over victimless crimes. Maybe calling these kids “innocent” was a stretch; no crime is “victimless.” The police weren’t plucking random teens off the street without reason. Laws get broken, prices have to be paid. But punishment needs to fit the crime.
Despite technical classification to the contrary, North Riversure sounded like a prison. Then what was the play? Overzealous prosecutors? A constipated judge? More than likely, a bunch of well-meaning but out-of-touch adults were overreacting to bad decisions made by today’s youth. Which had been the same song and dance for generations.
I gave up and accepted my brain wasn’t letting this go. The kick in the pants to do the right thing giving me a pain in the ass. Back at the kitchen table, I scanned the copies Nicki made at the courthouse. Nothing in there she hadn’t already told me. Somehow reading the facts for myself made it worse, the horror more real.
There were serious crimes listed, like dealing and assault, but the majority of transgressions were misdemeanors—shoplifting, joyriding, vandalism, and underage drinking, which met with equally harsh penalties. I understood the need for law and order, but sending a fourteen-year-old up the river for snatching a sweater off the clearance rack at the Gap smacked of disproportionate.
The kicker was that in each case, the parents had signed off on the treatment. Box after box notarized. How bad could North River really be if Mom and Dad were on board?
I swept up the Xeroxes and headed to the computer. Under
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