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“I care if Joyce said anything about her life there, about her parents—about what kind of relationship she had with them or what kind of people they were.”
“Why?”
“Because it could be important to our case. Right now, we only have what their friends and people in their community have said about them.”
His head snaps up. “What did they say?”
“That the Franklins are kind and generous, and were loving and devoted parents.”
A flush of anger burns along his light mocha cheeks and his voice raises. “Those are lies!”
I startle at his outburst. “What makes them lies?”
As if catching himself, he shakes his head fast, from side to side.
“Did they ever hurt you, Dwayde?”
No answer.
“Did they hurt Joyce?”
More silence.
“Dwayde,” Victor implores, “if there’s something you know about the Franklins, you need to tell us. We will protect you, keep you safe, but we need to know.”
“I keep telling you the same thing over and over again. I don’t remember them…I don’t know nuthing about them!” He wails, his eyes bright with tears. “So, stop asking me and just make them go away!”
Dwayde lurches from his chair with such force it topples over. He runs from the kitchen with Rufus on his heels, thumping footsteps and skittering paws sounding on the hardwood, up the stairs, then the slam of a door.
“Well, shit.” Victor exhales.
“We’re wasting time.” Mick’s voice is a low throb. “We have to find her.”
“Who?” It takes Victor a moment to process. “Joyce?”
“Yes.” Mick doesn’t waver.
“Are you out of your mind? You want to bring the woman who beat the hell out of my son back into his life?”
“I’m not suggesting that. But…” Mick leans in, keeping his volume to a harsh whisper. “She has the answers, Victor. We have a month before the judge hears the custody case, never mind visitation. You saw how Dwayde was, do you really think he’s going to give it up by then?”
The vein in Victor’s neck bulges. “Even if I agreed with you, which I don’t, what makes you think we can find her when Franklin couldn’t?”
“We don’t know jack shit about what Franklin did. You’ve said so yourself that it’s suspicious that they never reported their daughter and grandson missing. No calls to the police. If they had, the Franklins would have been notified when Dwayde went into the system. But for some reason, they didn’t do that. So, for all we know they didn’t hire private investigators either. Joyce was in Chicago when Dwayde ran. She could still be here.”
“I’m aware that their behavior raises a number of red flags, but…” Victor challenges, “on the long shot that we could even find her, why would she want to help us or Dwayde?”
“For money.”
“Mick!” Isabelle says aghast. “You’re not really suggesting that we should pay her.”
“She’s not going to do it out of the goodness of her heart, Bells. I’d make the arrangements through Stiles. He’ll broker the deal in exchange for useful information. And your names, the custody case, and anything to do with Dwayde and his whereabouts will be kept out of it.”
This isn’t the first time Mick has mentioned something similar. He had initially proposed that I offer the Franklins money to drop the case. His penchant to buy away problems doesn’t sit well with me.
“It’s not that simple.” I meet his foreboding stare. “Assuming Joyce can even be found, we can’t just pay her for any relevant information and present it as evidence to the courts. It wouldn’t stand without her testimony. For that, she’d not only have to be credible and agree to be a witness, she’d have to know where Dwayde is. All that to say, trying to find Joyce is a bad idea.”
“Sure, when you put it that way.” He clenches and unclenches his hand. “But I’m not talking about rules and procedures. If we get something damaging on them, we’ll take it directly to the Franklins. Fuck the courts. We’ll settle this ourselves.”
