“Dad told me I’d burn in hell if I didn’t change my ‘sinful ways’,” he said with a snort.
“Kiddo,” I sighed at the young boy. He looked so lost and alone. The only answer I could give him was to reach out and wrap my arms around him in a hug.
“You are absolutely not to blame.” I said. “Your parents and the rest are responsible for their own actions.”
He stayed stiff in my arms for a minute, then I felt him relax. The sobs started a moment later and I just held him until he quieted.
“It’s just so hard, you know? Always being beat down for who and what you are,” he said, swiping at his tears with the back of his hand. “My parents didn’t use to be this bad. They were religious, sure, but it was when they joined this church that they changed.”
“Let’s get out of here,” I said, looking around the empty parking lot. “You can tell me more in the car.” The last thing we needed was for one of these zealots to show up and cause even more problems.
We got into the Jeep and I started the car to get it warm. I saw Mason huddled against the far corner of the front seat. My hand moved out to stroke a piece of hair that had fallen in front of his closed eyes. I saw the tracks of tears on his face, but his eyes remained squeezed shut.
“You’re safe now, Mason. I’ve got you, baby,” I whispered, laying my hand on his head for a moment. I would kill the sons of bitches that did this to him.
The back door closed softly. and I saw Tobi seated in the back.
“Seat belt,” I said tersely as I put the car into gear. His face took on the automatic defiance most teenage kids learned at some point, but he put his seat belt on anyway.
“Tobi,” I spoke quietly, trying not to disturb Mason. I hoped he’dfall asleep on the ride home. “Is there a family member you can stay with tonight?”
“Yeah, I have an aunt, Aunt Charlotte. She’s pretty awesome,” he said. “Not your typical aunt, I guess. She and Mom don’t really get along, but I can stay there for a few days.”
I had Tobi call his aunt, then he gave me directions to her house.
“You mentioned a new preacher?” I prompted as we drove to her house.
“Yeah, he’s new. Dowling. John Dowling,” Tobi said. The name was familiar to me, but I couldn’t place from where. I filed the information away, determined to investigate him later.
I dropped Tobi off at his aunt’s house. She seemed to be a pretty sweet young lady. Tobi was right, she didn’t really look like what you’d expect someone’s aunt to look like, but the way she hugged Tobi close to her, I could tell she cared for him.
“He can stay here with you tonight?” I asked. I was worried about the boy, but was torn with my need to take care of Mason.
“Thank you for bringing him home,” she said to me as Tobi went inside. Charlotte came outside, and pulled the front door mostly closed behind her.
“This is the last straw,” she said. “I’m calling Child Protective Services and going to see if I can get custody of Tobi,” she said, anger glittering in her eyes.
“Tobi’s what, sixteen?” I asked.
She nodded at me. “He just turned sixteen in March.”
“You’ve got a good chance then, because he gets to have a say in who he lives with,” I told her. We’d gone through a lot of custody stuff with both Bishop and Kaine. “If… if you need anything, testimony or whatever, please let me know. You might want to check his arms—I think someone hurt him,” I said softly.
Her eyes, which had glittered angrily before, positively glowed with rage as she stood in the evening air.
“That boy deserves to be loved for who he is, not who they want him to be,” she said. “I’m going to make sure that happens.”
I nodded and said my goodbyes, feeling better about Tobi’s situation than I had for a while.
I got back in the Jeep, then pulled out of her driveway. Mason remained frozen in his seat, not moving or saying anything. It was only when we were about fifteen minutes into the drive home that I dared to try talking to him again.
“Mason, baby,” I said, glancing at him then back to the road. “What happened?”
He didn’t reply at first and I wasn’t going to press him for answers while I was driving, but after a few minutes he sighed, part sob, part hiccup. Then a minute later he began to speak, his voice thready and weak.
“I really don’t want to talk about it tonight, Lee. It… wasn’t a rally. At least…” he sighed, “…no rally I’d ever want to go to.” He half-laughed, half-sobbed as he sniffed and struggled to pull himself together.
“It was some church thing or something,” he said, refusing to look at me. My throat tightened and I swallowed as he struggled to talk.
