Second Spirit -11- by Melanie Brown

Second Spirit

By

Melanie Brown

Advisor: Lisa Charlene
Copyright © 2024

Part 11

“I’ve got to talk to my dad! He’ll get me out of this mess,” I exclaimed.

Carol frowned. “I really don’t think talking to Mr. McDowell will help you. He’s lost hope that his son will be found alive, if at all.”

Pointing at myself, I said, “I am still alive! I’m right here!”

Shaking her head, Carol said, “I’m sorry Linda, but nobody is buying your fantasy.”

I started to tear up. “I really am Jack. Why won’t you believe me?”

Carol folded her arms. “Nobody just magically changes into little girls. The latest theory the police have is you came with the people who kidnapped Jack. They abandoned you when the cops arrived. And you came up with this story from being traumatized.”

I rubbed my eyes. “Are you going to let me talk to my dad?”

Shaking her head, Carol said, “I advise against it. Mr. McDowell is very upset about losing his son.”

There was a rap on the entrance to my room. “Knock knock. May I come in?” I looked up and saw an officer standing in the doorway. He was holding a large manila folder.

Carol turned from me. “Yes officer? You have something for me?”

“Yes ma’am,” said the officer. “Here is our complete report including the little girl’s testimony.”

Nodding to the officer, Carol said, “Thank you.” She turned towards me. “That’s all we need here. Time to head for home.”

“Not my home.”

                    *

As we got into the car which was a step up from an everyday police car, I discovered there was someone else with Carol from the Justice department.  This dude had a permanent scowl and didn’t look none too happy to be playing nursemaid to a little girl. He was also armed. Carol called him “Max”.

I was given an option. If I behaved and didn’t try to run away again, I could ride in the back seat with no restraints. Otherwise, I’d get the full treatment, leg irons and all. And Max patted his Glock. Carol informed me everyone was tired of my shenanigans. Hey, it’s not like it was my idea to be trafficked.

As we walked to the car, Carol asked, “Are you hungry? Do you want lunch?”

“Can we go to Whataburger?”

Looking at me as if I was from Mars, Carol said, “What do you know about Whataburger? I think I remember seeing a sign in Albuquerque, but that’s over a hundred miles away.”

I sighed. “I can wait.” This will probably be the last time in my life I’ll get to eat at the national restaurant of Texas.

Carol opened the back door of the car while Max stood close by. “Okay. We’ll go there. What do they have there?”

I paused as I put one foot in the door. “Take a wild guess.”

Carol shook her head. “You’re a little brat.”

I got into the car and sat by the door opposite of where Carol would be sitting. She was going to keep me company in the back seat while Max sat alone up front. Well, I guess someone had to drive.

I tried the door and sure enough I found it locked. Max looked at me suspiciously. What was I going to do? There isn’t a doubt in my mind that Max wouldn’t hesitate to shoot a little girl.

As he reached across the back seat to secure my seat belt, I said, “Since you scowl all the time, I’m going to call you ‘Mad’ Max.”

Max laughed, which is actually horrifying to behold. He said, “Yeah. Like I’ve never heard that before. Just don’t try anything stupid.” He patted his Glock.

Carol grinned. “If you’re done trying to intimidate a little girl, Max, I think it’s tune we headed back. Be on the lookout for a Whataburger.”

Max nodded. “I always get their number three.” I shook my head. That’s the triple meat burger.

Carol climbed into the backseat of the car. She set her case on the seat between us and opened it.

“The nurse thought you might like this.” From the case, she removed a small cloth doll and handed it to me.

I took the doll and just looked at it for a minute. “Thank you.” I’ve never had a doll before.  Hey, there’s not a boy on this planet that would call his G.I. Joe action figure a doll.

I clutched the doll as I looked out the car window. Despite my efforts, after a few minutes of highway driving, I fell asleep.

                    *

I sat on an uncomfortable hardwood chair in Carol’s office. I was fidgeting with my doll as I kept unsticking my legs from the chair seat. Carol had insisted I change into a dress. I have to say, I don’t see the point in dresses.

Carol hung up the phone. She looked across her desk at me. “Okay, Linda. Now listen. Against my better judgment, I’m going to let you speak with Mr. McDowell. He should be here in half an hour. I think it’s a bad idea, but I’m guessing you’ll never drop this fantasy unless we do.  You will be on your best behavior. Understand?” Smiling she added, “I just got off the phone with a woman whose family would love to have a little girl come live with them.  I know you’re disappointed, but you can’t stay with me.”

I said, “It’s all a moot point when my dad takes me home.” She looked at me with a very sad expression.

About forty minutes later, I was dozing and playing with my doll when I heard a familiar voice.

“Ma’am? The police said I needed to see you before I could take delivery of my car. Is there a problem? The police waved the impound fee.”

Carol stood up and offered her hand to Dad.  Dad!

“Nice to meet you, Mr. McDowell. I’m Carol Todacheene, Chief Justice of the Navajo Supreme Court. There’s someone here who would like a word with you.” She pointed at me.

I slid from the chair and slowly approached Dad. There were no words to describe how I felt seeing Dad. Clutching my doll to my chest, I said, “Dad? It’s me. Jack. I… I’ve changed.”

Dad stared at me with a stupefied expression. He turned angrily to Carol and growled, “What the hell is this? Some kind of cruel joke?”

“Dad! It’s me, Jack.  If we can just talk a few minutes, I can prove it.”

Looking at Carol, Dad shouted, “How dare you! How dare you try to pass off this filthy little heathen as my son! Do you take me for a fool?”

Frowning, Carol said, “Sir, I must ask you to not call her those names. She just wants to talk to you.”

Tears welling up, I touched Dad’s arm. “Dad! Please. Take me home! Please Dad!”

Dad jerked his arm away. “Don’t touch me, you diseased little shit.”

Dropping my doll to the floor, I grabbed Dad’s shirt and fell to my knees, my tears flowing. “Dad! Please take me home. Don’t leave me here! I want to go home!” I wailed.

Dad actually kicked me, though not hard, to get me away from him. To Carol, he shouted, his voice starting to crack from his own grief, “We’re done here, ma’am. I can’t believe you’d treat a grieving father this way. I have to declare my son dead and I have nothing to bury and you do this!” He pointed an angry finger at me. He spun on his heel and stormed from Carol’s office.

I collapsed to the floor in a fit of bawling. I found my discarded doll and hugged it desperately. I cried, “Dad don’t leave me. Please take me with you.” But he was already gone.

Carol knelt beside me and held me close to her.  Softly, she said, “It’s okay, Linda. You’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

I laid my head against her chest and cried harder than I ever had.

End of Part 11