Читать книгу Family Ties - Ernest Hill - Страница 14

At the church, we found Reverend Jacobs sitting behind his desk, reading over some papers. When he saw us, he rose to his feet.

“You made it,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” Peaches said. Then she paused and looked at me. “This is the young man I spoke to you about.”

I stepped forward and extended my hand. “I’m D’Ray,” I said. “D’Ray Reid.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Reid,” Reverend Jacobs said; then he shook my hand and motioned to two chairs that had been positioned before his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

We sat, and as we did, I studied the man. He was a little younger than I had anticipated. I guessed he was in his late thirties or early forties. He was a well-groomed man with a cleanly shaven head. He was wearing a nylon jogging suit, and from his build, it appeared that at one time or another, he could have been a serious athlete. Once we were settled, Reverend Jacobs sat in his chair again, leaned back, and looked directly at me.

“Miss Lewis tells me you want to talk about Curtis.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “I don’t know if you know it, but he escaped last night.”

“Actually, it was early this morning,” the reverend corrected me.

“So you heard?”

“The police called me around three a.m. They wanted to know if I had talked to him or if I had any idea where he might be.”

“Do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“That’s too bad,” I said, sighing deeply. “I was hoping you did.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I don’t have a clue.”

“Do you think he’s still in town?” Peaches asked softly.

“I don’t know,” Reverend Jacobs said. “But if he hasn’t made it out of the city by now, chances are he won’t.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked.

“From my understanding, most of the roads are blocked and the chief has called in the state police.”

“The state police!” she exclaimed.

“That’s what I heard.”

“My God!” she said.

“I also received a phone call from the mayor about an hour or so ago. According to him, the town has been cordoned off, and the police have been ordered to search every dwelling in Brownsville.”

“Do you think someone is hiding him?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Reverend Jacobs said. “It’s possible.”

“Maybe he’s held up in the woods?” Peaches said.

“I doubt it,” Reverend Jacobs said. “This is May. The mosquitoes would eat him alive.”

“Do you think someone is helping him?” I asked.

“Maybe,” Reverend Jacobs said.

“Who?” Peaches asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, and then he was quiet.

“The chief has a vendetta against him,” I said. “It’s imperative that I find him before they do.”

Reverend Jacobs had been looking off, but now he turned directly to me. “If you find him,” he said, “what do you plan to do?”

“Help him,” I said.

“Help him how?”

“Any way I can,” I said.

Reverend Jacobs hesitated, then began again. “I spoke to Sister Reid earlier this morning,” he said. “She seems to believe that Curtis did the right thing. She seems to believe that his only chance is to get away from here and never come back. I don’t agree with that,” Reverend Jacobs said. “Do you?”

“No, sir,” I said. “I don’t.”

Reverend Jacobs let out a deep sigh, then leaned back in his chair. “I know he’s frightened, but running is not the answer. If I could talk to him, I would tell him that.”

“What is the answer, Reverend?” I asked.

“Jesus,” he said.

His answer caught me off guard. I frowned but remained silent. I saw the reverend studying my face.

“You believe that, don’t you, son?”

I hesitated. Yes, I knew what was going on. He was seeking to know me. He was trying to determine whether he could trust me or not.

“Well, Reverend,” I said. “Right now it doesn’t really matter what I believe. It only matters what Little Man believes. And when it comes to faith, I have to defer to you.”

“His faith is strong,” Peaches said. “I can vouch for that.”

“Yes,” Reverend Jacobs said, nodding as he spoke. “The Curtis I know is a good and faithful servant.”

“I just want to find him,” I said, attempting to drive home my concern. “I just want to find him before they do.”

“You will,” the reverend said. “God willing.”

I decided to change the subject. I did not want to talk about God, nor did I want to talk about myself. I wanted to talk about Little Man. I looked at the reverend. He was still looking at me.

“Did you visit him much while he was incarcerated?” I asked, hoping that Little Man might have said something to him that might give me some indication where he might be.

“At least once a week,” he said, “sometimes more. Why?”

“How was he handling jail?”

“Not very well,” Reverend Jacobs said. “He was having trouble sleeping, and he had all but stopped eating.”

“Did he ever talk to you about prison?”

“He talked about it constantly.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he would rather die than be locked up for the rest of his life for a crime he didn’t commit.”

“He said that?”

“On more than one occasion.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“I told him he couldn’t think like that. And I promised him that I would do everything I could to help him get to the truth. I would always end our conversation by giving him some Scriptures to read, Scriptures that I thought would keep him encouraged.”

“So, you believe he’s innocent?”

“With all of my heart,” the reverend said.

“So do I,” Peaches said.

“Really?” I said, looking at her.

“Really,” she said

I looked at the reverend. He leaned back in his chair and stared into the distance.

“I’ve stood by him,” he said. “I’ve stood by him every step of the way. And I will continue to stand by him.”

“If he comes back, does he have a chance to beat this thing?” I asked.

“Yes,” Reverend Jacobs said. “He does.”

“You really believe that.”

“Son, I’ve hired one of the best appeals attorneys in the state. And he’s been working on Curtis’s case for the last five months. And he assures me that in time, he believes Curtis’s conviction will be overturned.”

“Does Curtis know that?” Peaches asked. “I mean, have you told him?”

“He knows,” the reverend said. “But for some reason or another, I guess he panicked.” The reverend shook his head. “I never figured he would run.”

“Why not?” I asked him.

“I just didn’t,” the reverend said.

“Reverend, when a man’s facing twenty-five years to life, he might do anything—especially if he’s doing somebody else’s time.”

“He should have been patient,” Reverend Jacobs said.

“You ever been locked up, Reverend?”

“D’Ray!” Peaches said in a tone indicating she felt the question to be inappropriate.

“It’s okay,” Reverend Jacobs said. “I’ll answer the question.” He looked up at me again. “No, I haven’t.”

“Then you don’t know what it’s like,” I said. “Do you?”

“No,” he said. “I don’t.”

I saw Peaches open her mouth as if she was going to say something else, but before she could, I interrupted her.

“Well, Reverend,” I said. “Let me tell you what it’s like. You sit in a tiny cell day after day, night after night, watching those cement walls close in on you while hoping against hope that time will hurry up and pass. But time don’t hurry up and pass. So you just sit there trying to talk your mind into maintaining its sanity. And you keep telling yourself that you’re a man. And as a man, you’ll do the time because you did the crime. But what if you didn’t do the crime, Reverend? What do you tell yourself then? Do you know what that must be like, Reverend—facing twenty-five years to life for a crime you didn’t commit?”

“No,” he said. “I don’t. But I do know Curtis. Something spooked him. I don’t know what. But I do know it’s not in his character to run.”

“I don’t know his character,” I said. “I’ve been away too long.”

“Well I do,” Reverend Jacobs said. “It’s impeccable.”

“He’s a good person,” Peaches said. “Everybody says so.”

“Is he violent?” I asked, looking at her.

“No,” Reverend Jacobs said, answering for her, “absolutely not.” I looked at the reverend.

“Do you think he’s still using drugs?”

“No,” he said. “I’m certain he’s not.”

“Did he hang out with people who were doing drugs?”

“He didn’t hang out,” the reverend said. “He went to work during the week, and he ran his substance-abuse program on the weekend.”

“Where did he work?”

“He worked for the utility company.”

“Doing what?”

“He drove one of the utility trucks. I believe he repaired power lines, but I’m not sure. But whatever he did, he was usually alone. I believe he liked it that way.”

“Reverend, I know you don’t know where he is, but if you had to guess based on what you know about him, where would you think he might go?”

The reverend paused. “I just don’t know,” he said.

“But if you had to guess,” Peaches said, pressing him.

He paused again. “Well.” He sighed, then looked at me. “If I just had to guess, I would guess that he would probably try to find you.”

“Me!” I said, shocked.

“It’s just a hunch,” the reverend said.

“But that doesn’t make sense.”

“Perhaps it doesn’t, but that’s what I believe.”

“Why?”

“He idolizes you,” the reverend said.

“He told you that.”

“He didn’t have to.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m his spiritual advisor.”

“And?” I said.

“And over the years, whenever he was in the midst of a problem, he would often tell me he wished he could talk to you.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he said, “really.”

There was silence for a moment.

“You seem surprised,” the reverend said.

“I am.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know he still felt that way.”

“You’re his brother and he loves you,” Reverend Jacobs said. “Time and distance haven’t changed that.”

I was quiet.

“Put yourself in his shoes,” Reverend Jacobs said, offering his advice. “Where would you go if you were him?”

“As far away from here as I could get,” I said.

The reverend looked far into the distance. Suddenly, he thought of something. He leaned forward and gazed at me. “What about your mother’s sister?” he said. “The one they call Peggy. Where does she live?”

“Chicago,” I said.

“Perhaps he would go to her.”

I hesitated before answering. That was a possibility, but would it be wise to admit that to the reverend? After all, the police had come to him once, and who was to say they would not come again? And if they did, would he share with them that which I had shared with him? No, I did not know him and because I did not, it would be crazy to trust him.

“No,” I said. “Not in a million years.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Aunt Peggy is a straight arrow,” I said, making up the story as I went along. “She would turn him in, in a heartbeat. Curtis knows that. He would never go to her. Besides, she’s here—I just spoke to her a few minutes ago.”

“Would he go to your father’s people?”

“I doubt it.”

“Why not?”

“He never met Daddy,” I said. “And Mama kept him away from Daddy’s people. So he doesn’t know them and they don’t know him.”

Reverend Jacobs leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin with his fingers. “Then it’s a crapshoot,” he said. “And your guess is just as good as mine—he could be anywhere.”

I looked at my watch, then at Peaches. “Well, we better go,” I said.

We rose to our feet. So did Reverend Jacobs.

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

We all walked to the door.

“What are you going to do now?” Reverend Jacobs asked me.

“Keep looking,” I said.

“Where?”

“Any place I think he might be.”

Reverend took a deep breath. “I wish I could have been of more assistance,” he said again. “But this thing has me baffled.”

“Well, if you think of anything, please let me know.”

“I’ll do that,” he said.

I turned to leave, but he stopped me.

“Wait a minute!” he said.

I turned back to face him.

“What is it?”

“There is somebody he may have turned to.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Reggie Wayne.”

“Excuse me?”

“If he didn’t come to me, and he didn’t go to your mother, he probably went to Reggie.”

“Who is he?” I asked, confused.

“One of the kids he counseled,” Peaches said.

“Where can I find him?”

“In the Quarters,” Reverend Jacobs said. “He lives with Junior Miller in a house near the cemetery.”

“Which house?”

“I know where it is,” Peaches said.

“Good,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Outside, I paused and looked toward the dense forest just behind the church, and then I turned and looked down the long, narrow road winding its way deep into the countryside. Little Man was out there somewhere. If only I knew where. In the distance, I heard the sound of a siren blaring. My frazzled nerves flared. Yes, this was a manhunt, a full-fledged manhunt. One in which the chief did not want to take Little Man alive. No, he wanted him dead. Oh, but that would not happen. I would get a gun and kill him dead before I allowed him to kill the little brother I long ago vowed to protect.