Their faces were blank, unbelieving, as they watched
Senator Gray Talbot pushed into the back of a police car, which then pulled away.
I stood there in the waning daylight, looked up at the sky and took a long, sweet breath. There was one more task to be done. One more terrible question that needed to be answered.
44
The money trail was there. A spot-check of Gray Talbot's campaign finance reports showed a yearly influx of
$50,000 dollars from a company called Shepherd Incorporated. Shepherd was owned by Reggie Powers, a shell company set up separately from Powers Construction.
Yearly withdrawals from Shepherd, Inc. were being matched to Gray Talbot. And everyone knew what they would tell us.
Finally the story came together. Several of the players,
I knew, had to believe the bullshit Gray Talbot was spewing. Several of them had to feel that what they were doing was right. That to destroy evil, you had to commit evil. That getting your cause noticed was justification for it all.
It was easy to be cynical. Both Amanda and I came from broken homes, where we could never believe a parent would go to such lengths to allegedly protect us.
Gray Talbot hired Raymond Benjamin to be his eyes, his ears, his gun. All orders went through Benjamin, nothing went to Gray. Benjamin was his wall of protection.
Benjamin, a Hobbs County native, approached Dmitri Petrovsky in order to obtain hospital records of infants born with childhood diabetes. They screened children who would be most susceptible to Korsakoff syndrome.
Once Petrovsky came back with a name, a plan was put in motion.
The child would be kidnapped. Petrovsky would develop a nutritional plan that would keep the child's thiamine levels at a level dangerous enough to cause minor brain damage, enough to bring an onset of Korsakoff, but not so severe that it would endanger the child's life.
When the child was gone, when the police search turned up fruitless, that's when Gray Talbot stepped in. He would trumpet his concern for the welfare of the community. Talk about how crime rates were unacceptable. That children were being snatched from their families.
Millions of dollars would be pumped into the communities through donations, federal and state funding. Police forces would be bolstered. Neighborhood watches on patrol. Broken streetlights fixed. Homes made safe again.
And real estate would slowly creep up.
That's when Talbot would enlist the help of Powers
Construction. Reggie would come in with his trucks and his men, level the homes consumed by crack, rebuild houses that would attract more money than the neighborhood had ever seen.
Talbot would gain a wealthier, more affluent constituency. Powers would make millions from the sweetheart deals. And the communities would be better off.
Everybody won.
Except the children.
Amanda sat in the seat next to me, the radio turned to a soft rock station. The music they played was unthreatening, wouldn't offend any sensibilities, lyrics that couldn't harm a fly. That's all we wanted at that moment. Serenity.
Emotionlessness.
The next few hours would be difficult. We didn't want it to start until it absolutely had to.
After I'd gone on record with the police, handed over my cell phone and explained everything that had happened, I called Amanda immediately. I told her what we had to do. I wasn't sure how the night was going to end, but if we didn't ask that one final question, I didn't know if I'd ever sleep again.
I steered the car, unable to help but think about Danny
Linwood, how in some ways we both had lost years from our childhood. The difference was I had a choice. My memories and experiences helped mold me into what I was now. Danny would need time, years perhaps, to even know who he was.
We arrived at the house shortly past ten o'clock. The porch lights were out. The street was dim save a few lampposts. Turning the engine off, I walked up to one, felt the metal, inspected it. It was well cared for. No graffiti. No damage. It was doing its duty without any interference.
Illuminating a world that was, for better or worse, now a safer place.
'You think they're asleep?' Amanda asked.
'No way. At that age I fought tooth and nail for every extra minute. I'd sneak an AM/FM radio into bed so I could listen to ball games, maybe a book and a flashlight.
I hope kids haven't outgrown that.'
'Not outgrown it,' she said. 'They just have more options now. Portable video games, iPods, televisions the size of a quarter. It's a miracle they don't spend half their time choosing which one to watch.'
We stepped up to the porch. I saw the wind chimes again. In a moment they'd be ringing their tune.
I pressed the doorbell, heard a chime go off inside the house. There were footsteps, a woman's voice shouting something. Then the screen door opened, and Shelly
Linwood was standing right in front of us.
She was wearing a terry-cloth bathrobe, her hair done up in rollers. I saw a child run past behind her. Tasha, if I remembered correctly.
'Henry? Henry Parker?' she said, unsure of what to make of this late-night visit.
'Mrs. Linwood,' I said. 'I need a minute of your time.'
'I was just doing my hair,' she said. She looked eager to get back to that, but the look on my face told her we weren't leaving anytime soon. Resignedly, she said, 'Come on in.'
She held the door open for us, and we walked inside.
'Mrs. Linwood, this is Amanda Davies. She works for the New York Legal Aid Society. She's a good friend of mine, and I just thought it would be good for her to meet
Danny. Danny might have some questions she can answer.
And if not, he'll make a new friend.'
I saw a mop of hair peek from behind a doorway.
Shelley turned around, said, 'Danny, come in here. You remember Henry, right?'
Daniel Linwood tentatively stepped into the room. He'd gained a few pounds since I last saw him, his hair a little longer. His eyes seemed more frightened, his gait more awkward.
'Danny,' I said. 'This is Amanda.'
She stepped forward, knelt down slightly so she was at his level.
'Hey there,' she said. 'I'm Amanda. Mind if we chat for a bit? I'd love to see your room.'
'Show her your Xbox,' Shelly said. Danny nodded reluctantly, led Amanda past us and up the stairs.
'Can we sit?' I said. Shelly nodded.
We went into the living room, sat on the same couch where I'd interviewed Danny not too long ago.
'How is he?' I asked.
Shelly sighed, scratched her neck.
'I get a call from his school almost every day. Kids picking on him. Giving him wedgies. Stealing his lunch money. It wasn't like this before.'
'He's a different person now,' I said. 'It's going to take a long time for him to find himself.'
'I know,' she said. 'God, I know.'
'Mrs. Linwood,' I said. 'I want you to hear this from me. And only from me. I want you to know what I know.'
She looked up, her eyes big and brown and watery. 'Yes?'
