So he climbed into the car and steered itdown to the police station.He didn’t look at the shape slumped onthe bench in front of the station, not until he’d parked the carand taken a deep breath to prepare himself.And then another deepbreath, because he really had no idea what he was supposed to say,or what on earth he was doing there.
“Thanks for coming, Father,” a female voicesaid from somewhere near the building.Mark looked over to see ayoung blonde woman in the dark uniform of a police officer.“I’mConstable Brady.We spoke on the phone.”
She eased closer, but kept most of herattention on the bench.“He seems to be getting a bit agitated.Ithink he’s wondering why we haven’t arrested him.”
“So am I,” Mark said wryly, then held up hishands in defense against her raised eyebrow.“I’m not complaining,I’m just confused.Is it standard procedure to be thisunderstanding of someone who blatantly stole a bottle of liquor andis now violating his parole by drinking it?In public, and comingup on his curfew time?”
Constable Brady didn’t lower her eyebrow.“When cops do something too rough, like the other night with thatmess on Main Street, people just shrug and say, damn, cops areassholes.But when we stretch in the opposite direction, you’resurprised and confused?”She waited for Mark’s reaction, then lether face relax.“My sister went to school with Luke Cain.She saidhe was a quiet kid, never caused any trouble except for whateverSean dragged him into.And Darren Samms seemed willing to beflexible on it.If the parole officer doesn’t want someone’s paroleviolated, I’m not going to get bent too far out of shape about it.”She looked over toward Cain’s bench.“But he can’t stay there allnight, drinking and waiting.If you can’t get him home, I’ll haveto arrest him, and then, like I said—once he’s in the system, it’sout of my hands.”
“I’ll try,” Mark said.Apparently that wasenough to satisfy her because she stepped back into the shadows ofthe building and watched as he took one more deep breath, squaredhis shoulders, and started across the concrete.
He was a step away from the end of the benchbefore Cain noticed him and jerked to his feet.The half-emptybottle of vodka slid from his fingers and shattered on the paving,and Cain stared at it as if unable to understand what had happened.He grimaced at the shards of glass, then at Mark.“You’re notsupposed to be here,” he said.
“I thinkyou’rethe one who isn’tsupposed to be here,” Mark said pointedly, looking at his watch.“At least, as I understand the terms of your parole.It’s almostnine o’clock.”
Cain squinted at him as if trying to judgehis sincerity, then looked down at the broken bottle.He lookedback at Mark, and took a few deliberate steps away from the mess.“And I’m littering.Or something worse, maybe, because someonecould get hurt.What’s it called when you litter with somethingdangerous?”
“I have no idea.But if they haven’t bustedyou for the rest of your transgressions, I’m not sure high-risklittering is going to be what pushes them over the edge.”
Cain seemed to think about that, then leanedin closer.He swayed a little, but stayed upright.“Why haven’tthey busted me?”he whispered, and again Mark was reminded of aconfused little boy.
“They seem to want to give you anotherchance.They seem to think that you’retryingto get sentback to prison.”Mark nodded toward the bench and tried to act asif this was just one more counseling session.“Why don’t we sitdown?I think we’re okay going a little late on your curfew, allthings considered.”
“Why are you here?”Cain didn’t move towardthe bench.“I mean, why areyouhere?Is this…” He shook hishead as if trying to clear it, then stopped and held his arms out alittle to the sides as he tried to regain his balance.“Shit,” hesaid mostly to himself.Then he looked back up at Mark.“Youshouldn’t be here.For you, I mean.That’s the whole point of this.You shouldn’t have to be around me.”
Mark had always prided himself on hisprofessionalism, so he was just as surprised as Cain at the loud,“Bullshit,” that came out of his mouth.
“What?”
Mark wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he’dstarted down the path and seemed inclined to keep going.At leastTerry wasn’t around to hear him.“Bullshit,” he repeated, this timemore quietly.“You’re scared.You’re feeling sorry for yourself.It’s understandable, and it’s not at all uncommon.You’re used tobeing told what to do and how to do it, and now you’re back outhere where you have to make your own decisions and takeresponsibility for your own mistakes, and you’re freaking out.Youthink maybe it’d be easier to go back inside.”Mark waited to seeCain’s reaction, but there was none, just the familiar blank stare.He tried to sound nonchalant as he continued.“But that’s just toobad.Because that’s not what jail’s for.It’s not your littlehiding place so you don’t have to be an adult.It cost a lot ofmoney to keep you in there for the last few years, and thetaxpayers are done with it.You’re a free man.Live with it.”
“But—”
“Do not start on that ‘you shouldn’t have tobe around me’ nonsense.If you want to avoid me, that’s fine, butthere are responsible ways to do that, and irresponsible ways.Running back to jail is not one of the responsible ways.”
Cain didn’t say anything for quite a while,long enough for Mark to wonder whether he was slipping back intohis near-catatonic state of withdrawal.But finally he whispered,“How can you stand to even look at me?I…I killed him.Yourbrother.I did it.He’s gone, because of me.”
Ah.Not just self-pity, but a healthy dose ofguilt as well.A day or two ago Mark would have been more thanhappy to see Cain suffering, but now, he just sighed.“You did.Andhe’s gone.Partly because of you, partly because of…” Because ofall the other things that Mark and his family had been working sohard to ignore since Jimmy’s death.“Partly because he liked tostart fights, especially when he’d been drinking.Partly because hewas quite a bit bigger than you, and it sounds like he took a cheapshot.Partly because you’d seen too many movies, seen too many guyson the screen take a hit from a bottle with no serious damage.Andpartly just bad luck.Or the will of God, I suppose.”He could feela headache building and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying todelay the pain until he was finished with this little speech.“Oneman died in that fight.One life wasted.But you’re still alive,Lucas.For whatever reason, God took Jimmy and left you here.Nowyou need to find a way to make your life worth something.Andyou’re sure not going to do that by crawling back to jail foranother three years.”
Another long wait while Cain’s green eyesstared at Mark, and then finally a blink and the trace of a nod.“Okay,” he said in a small voice.“Okay.But…I don’t know what todo.”
Mark nodded.“That’s why we have theCommunity Living house.It’s a place for you to figure things out,half-way between your old life and your new one.”He smiled, and itdidn’t feel like he was forcing it.“We can help.It’s what we’rethere for.”
Cain nodded jerkily.“Okay.I can…I cantry.”
“That’s all anyone’s asking for,” Mark saidcomfortingly.He wasn’t sure if it was true or not, but Cain seemedto appreciate hearing it.“We should get out of here before theychange their minds about the parole violation,” he said, but Cainwas crouching down on the concrete, shuffling around in a strangelittle dance.He was picking up the broken glass, Markrealized.
“I can’t see it all,” Cain mumbled.“It’s toodark.I should come back tomorrow.Maybe I could borrow a broomfrom the house?”
High-risk littering.The guy was serious.“Okay,” Mark agreed easily.“Or we can mention it to the constableon the way out.Maybe they have a night custodian who could takecare of it.”
“I don’t want to leave a mess for someoneelse to clean up.”
Mark couldn’t argue with that.“Let’s talk tothe constable and see what she suggests.”He started walking andafter a moment’s hesitation Cain followed.
They got the glass cleaned up and Cainreluctantly accepted a ride back to the halfway house.They drovethrough the night in silence, Cain slumped in his seat as ifexhausted.
Mark had no idea what he was doing.No singleaction seemed wrong—well, not in the last day or two.But how couldthis be right?He hadn’t been lying when he’d supplied Cain withthe other factors that had led to Jimmy’s death.Cain hadn’t meantfor any of this to happen.Mark believed that now.But ithadhappened.The hand beside him, its fingers curled aroundthe door handle as if ready for a quick escape, had held the bottlethat had fractured Jimmy’s skull.The muscles in the lean arm andthe weight of the body had given strength to the blow that hadkilled Mark’s baby brother.The mind that had controlled these bodyparts?That was what had Mark confused.
