Chapter 13
Mitch’s Wednesday morning began with a visit to Child Protective Services to talk to a caseworker about one of his ongoing investigations. Three young children, living with their mother and her boyfriend, had gone to neighbors asking for help after being beaten black and blue and bloody. One of them was still in the hospital recovering from a head injury.
Now at his desk in the CAP unit, Mitch finished writing his report on the status of the case for the assistant DA who would be prosecuting the two offenders. His own report left him depressed and feeling pessimistic about the redemption of humankind.
The only tonic for this particular type of despair was to talk to Andrew, whose laughter was like a reboot, a refresher. He called Mary, and she put Andrew on.
Mitch chatted with his son for about ten minutes before Mary came back on the line. He remarked on Andrew’s crankiness. “Don’t take it personally,” she said. “He’s had a busy morning and needs a nap.”
“He told me something about a bunny rabbit, but the details escaped me.”
“They had one at the preschool roundup. Andrew was fixated on it. We had trouble moving him along to other—”
“Hey, back up a minute. What preschool?”
“We can talk about it when you’re not busy.”
“I’m not busy now.”
He could visualize her straightening her shoulders and taking a breath in preparation to tell him something she had procrastinated about. “We’ve enrolled him in the fall semester of the parish’s preschool. Today was the first of three roundups. They’re like orientations for first-timers to become familiar with the school environment and get to know their teacher before the start of the semester, which is the week after Labor Day.”
Mitch had listened in stunned silence while, with every word, his fury had increased exponentially. By the time she’d finished what had sounded like a scripted explanation, he was seeing red. He also doubted that Hank had played any part in this. There was nowe.Shehad enrolled Andrew.
“Let me get this straight,” he said. “You—”
“Don’t take that tone with me, Mitch.”
“You enrolled my son in preschool before consulting me?”
“I had to grab a spot. They were filling up quickly.”
“Too quickly for you to make a phone call?”
She didn’t respond to that. “It’ll be good for him, Mitch. He’ll learn social skills, how to interact with other children. It’s only two mornings a week. I know the teacher of his age group. She’s a very nice lady and great with the kids. You have no reason to get angry over this.”
“Too late. I’m already angry, Mary, and I have every reason to be.”
“The school has a wonderful program.”
“I’m sure it does. I’m not against the school, or the idea of it. I’m angry atyoufor taking it upon yourself to do this without one single mention of it to me. I’m his father, goddamn it!”
“Anabsentfather.” The harshness with which she’d fired back seemed to surprise even her. It was a moment before she continued. “Andrew is now at an age where your absence could affect his development. Socially, emotionally, the way he perceives and forms relationships, every way.”
This was the first time she’d ever said anything like that to him, and it made him irate. It also made his blood run cold.
“Mitch?”
He swiveled his head around. John was beckoning him from the door of his office. Mitch pointed to his phone and held up his index finger, asking to be given a minute.
“Mary, I have to go, but we’re not done talking about this. Not by a long shot.”
“Mitch,” she sighed. “I know you love Andrew.”
He wasn’t about to gush confirmations of that. To do so would sound either defensive or penitent. “I want to visit the school and talk to the teacher myself.”
“Of course. I’ll set it up.”
“Mitch?”
