“I thought you said it was a pickup.”
“I did. It was a pickup. But at first I imagined it was Neal’s car. I panicked and tried to hide in the ditch. The black man coaxed me out of the ditch and into his truck. He drove me to the hospital.”
“He didn’t give you his name?”
“No.”
“And you can’t describe him?”
“It was dark. All I know is that he had on a hat and overalls.”
“That could be any man in the South. Wonder why, if he treated you so kindly, he didn’t come into the hospital with you? Why’d he just vanish into thin air?”
“If you were a black man from around here and you were bringing a white girl, who had obviously been raped, to the emergency room, would you have stuck around, Sheriff Jolly?”
He had the grace to look chagrined. Then he said, “Some white women would rather die than be raped by a black man.”
Jade came out of her chair, circled it, and gripped the top rung as she squared off with him across the table. “You think I got picked up by a black man, was raped by him, and want to make your son and his two friends the scapegoats? Is that your theory?”
“I have to cover all the angles, Jade. Especially when my own son is being accused of a felony.”
“Well, rather than badgering me, why aren’t you asking Hutch the questions?”
“I intend to.”
Shortly after that conversation, he had allowed her mother to join her. Velta was always well groomed, so it was a shock to Jade to see her looking harried and disheveled. She rushed into the interrogation room, almost knocking aside Sheriff Jolly in her haste.
“Jade! What’s happened? Nobody would tell me a thing. Where have you been?”
Right then, the last thing Jade needed was more questions. She needed to be held close and comforted. She needed unqualified acceptance. Instead, her mother demanded answers. In her place, Jade supposed she might have reacted the same way, but that didn’t make her feel any better.
Velta’s face didn’t register a single emotion when Jade told her what had happened. After several seconds of blank staring, she dumbly repeated, “Raped?”
“Yes, Mama.”
Awkwardly, she reached out to smooth back the strands of hair that had dried in unruly waves around Jade’s face. “Who did it?”
When Jade told her, Velta pulled back her hand as though Jade’s hair had given her an electric shock. “That’s… that’s crazy, Jade. You’ve known those boys all your life. They wouldn’t do something like that.”
“They did.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Don’t you believe me, Mama?”
“Of course, Jade. Of course I believe you.”
Jade didn’t think so, but lacked the energy and heart to try to make herself believed. At the sheriff’s request, she related her story again for her mother. When she concluded, he left, saying he would be back.
Since being left alone, she and her mother had said nothing of substance to each other. Velta asked her if she was all right, and Jade, because of the absurdity of the question, simply replied yes. Not since stroking her hair had Velta touched her again.
At daybreak, a deputy appeared and offered Velta a cup of fresh coffee. Jade asked for a soda to moisten her sore throat. Swallowing was painful, partially because of the unshed tears that were dammed up inside her throat.
Suddenly the door to the interrogation room swung open. Jade raised her head, realizing that she must have drifted to sleep from sheer exhaustion. She uttered a small, fearful cry when the first person through the door was Neal Patchett.
Her breath became shallow and choppy, as though she’d been running. “What’s he doing here?”
Ivan Patchett and Sheriff Jolly filed in behind Neal. “You’re tossing around some serious words, young lady,” Ivan said to her. “When Fritz called and told me what was going on, I demanded that you accuse my boy to his face. Hi, Velta.”
Jade’s mother reacted to Ivan’s appearance in much the same manner as Jade had reacted to Neal’s. “Hello, Ivan.”
“These two young ’uns have created quite a ruckus this morning, haven’t they?”