The Eight Year Ledger novel · Chapter 23 of 32

Chapter 23: Second Night

Todd turned his head when the detective said his name.

He found me in the gym doorway, over the roof of the rental car.

He didn't smile.

For once he didn't have one ready.

"Kristen," he said. "Call my lawyer."

"No," I said.

The officer put a hand on top of his head and folded him into the back seat.

Phones followed the car all the way to the end of the lot.

Todd's mother stood beside me with her purse on her arm.

She watched the taillights turn onto the street.

Then she buttoned her coat.

"I'll need a ride home," she said. "I came with the room parent, and she's crying."

Beau kept the kids inside on the folded bleachers until the lot was empty.

When Gabe came out, he looked at the place where the police cars had been.

"Was that Dad?"

"Yes."

"Is he in jail?"

"Tonight he is."

He didn't ask anything else on the way home.

Dottie held his hand in the back seat of the truck and didn't say a word, which I'd never seen her do.

Todd posted his own bond at ten the next morning.

By lunch he was back above the agency on State Street with the blinds down.

His lawyer put out a statement calling the charges "a political stunt."

The room parent printed it and pinned it to her fridge, for luck.

At school, the kids talked.

On Monday Gabe came home and told me a boy in 3C said his dad was in prison forever.

"He isn't," I said.

"Where is he, then?"

"At his apartment. Waiting for a judge."

He nodded and didn't believe it either.

Todd didn't come for Wednesday dinner.

His lawyer emailed mine: "on advice of counsel."

That Saturday was Valentine's Day.

Todd's mother called on Thursday.

"I'm taking the children Saturday night," she said. "Both of them."

"Both?"

"Gabe says the Doyle girl has never slept over at a grandmother's. I intend to fix that. I have a Monopoly board and no mercy."

"You don't have to do that."

"Kristen. It's Valentine's Day. Go somewhere that isn't a gym."

On Saturday at five, she stood on Beau's porch in her church coat while two kids with sleeping bags fought over the front seat of the Buick.

She looked Beau up and down.

"Big Doyle boy," she said.

"Mrs. Whitford."

"My mailbox is leaning again."

"I'll be by Monday."

"See that you are."

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