A Time for Mercy

32

Jake worked late on Monday and left the office after dark. Preoccupied, he was almost home when he remembered Carla wanted milk, eggs, two cans of tomato sauce, and coffee from the grocery store. He turned around and went to a Kroger east of town. He parked his red Saab in the lot that was almost empty, went in, filled his basket, checked out, sacked his own items, and was almost to his car when things took a sudden turn for the worse. An unfriendly voice behind him said, “Hey Brigance.” Jake turned and for a split second saw a face that was vaguely familiar. Holding the grocery bag, he couldn’t duck in time to miss the sucker punch. It landed flush on his nose, cracked it, and knocked him to the asphalt beside his car. For a second he could see nothing. A heavy boot landed on his right ear as he scrambled around. He felt a can of tomato sauce and quickly hurled it at the man, hitting him in the face. The man yelled, “You son of a bitch!” and kicked him again. Jake was almost to his feet when a second man tackled him from behind. He landed hard on the asphalt again and managed to grab the hair of his tackler. The same heavy boot landed again on his forehead, and Jake was too stunned to fight back. He released his grip on the hair and tried to get up, but he was pinned on his back. The second assailant, a thick heavy guy, pounded away at his face, cursing and growling, while the first one kicked his ribs and gut and anywhere else he could land a boot. When he kicked him in the testicles Jake screamed and blacked out.

Two loud gunshots cracked through the air and someone yelled, “Stop it!”

The two thugs were startled and bolted from the scene. They were last seen sprinting around the corner of the store. Mr. William Bradley ran over with his pistol and said, “Oh my God.”

Jake was unconscious and his face was a bloody mess.

When Carla arrived at the ER, Jake was being X-rayed. A nurse told her, “He’s breathing on his own and somewhat alert. That’s all I know right now.” His parents arrived half an hour later and she met them in the waiting room. Mr. William Bradley was in a corner talking to a Clanton city policeman, giving his story.

A doctor, Mays McKee, a friend from church, stopped by for the second time and gave them the latest. “It’s a pretty nasty beating,” he said gravely. “But Jake is awake and stable and in no danger. Some cuts and bruises, a broken nose. We’re still doing X-rays and giving him morphine. A lot of pain. I’ll be back in a minute.” He eased away and Carla sat with Jake’s parents.

A county deputy, Parnell Johnson, arrived and spent a moment with them. He huddled with Mr. Bradley and the city policeman, then sat on a coffee table in front of Carla and said, “Looks like there were two of them. They jumped Jake as he was about to get into his car outside Kroger. Mr. Bradley over there had just parked and saw the beating and grabbed his .38. He fired twice, ran them off. He saw a green GMC pickup race away on a side street behind the store. No idea of who it was, not now anyway.”

“Thank you,” Carla said.

A long hour passed before Dr. McKee returned. He told them Jake had been moved to a private room and wanted to see Carla. His parents would not be allowed in at the moment but could visit tomorrow. Dr. McKee and Carla went to the third floor and stopped outside a closed door. The doctor whispered, “He looks terrible and he’s pretty groggy. Broken nose, two broken ribs, two missing teeth, three cuts on his face that required forty-one stitches, but I got Dr. Pendergrast to sew him up. He’s the best and he doesn’t expect significant scarring.”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. At least he was alive. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Sure. They’ll send in a foldaway bed.”

He pushed the door open and they eased inside. Carla almost fainted when she saw her husband. From his eyebrows up, everything was wrapped in heavy gauze. Another bandage covered most of his chin. A line of small black stitches ran across his nose. His eyes were hideous, swollen shut with bulging masses as large as boiled eggs. His lips were thick, puffy, and red. A tube snaked its way into his mouth while two IVs hung from above. She swallowed hard and took his hand. “Jake, honey, I’m here.” She kissed him softly on the cheek, on a small patch of open skin.

He grunted and tried to smile. “Hey, babe. You okay?”

She had to smile too, although he could see nothing. “Let’s not worry about me right now. I’m here and you’re going to be okay.”

He mumbled something incomprehensible, then moved a leg and groaned.

Dr. McKee said, “He took a nasty shot to the crotch and his testicles are quite swollen. And the swelling will continue.”

Jake heard them and said, with remarkable clarity, “Hey, babe, you wanna fool around?”

“No I don’t. We’ll have to wait a couple of days.”

“Dammit.”

A long moment passed as she squeezed his hand and stared at his bandages. The tears began and were soon running down her cheeks. Jake appeared to doze off, and Dr. McKee nodded at the door. In the hallway he said, “He has a concussion I want to monitor, so he’ll be here for a couple of days. I don’t think it’s serious but we need to watch it. Stay if you like, but there’s really no need. There’s nothing you can do and I think he’ll soon drift off and go to sleep.”

“I’m staying. His parents will keep Hanna.”

“As you wish. I’m really sorry about this, Carla.”

“Thank you, Dr. McKee.”

“He’s gonna be okay. Really sore for the next week or so, but he’s in one piece.”

“Thank you.”

Harry Rex showed up and cursed a nurse when she turned him away. On the way out the door he threatened to sue her.

By midnight, Jake had not made a sound in over an hour. Carla, barefoot and still in jeans, sat propped up on pillows in her flimsy foldaway and flipped through magazines under a dim table lamp. She tried not to think about who the thugs were, but she knew the beating was related to Kofer. Five years earlier, the Klan had burned their home and taken a shot at Jake outside the courthouse during the Hailey affair. For three years they had lived with guns and extra security because the threats continued. She could not believe the violence was back.

What kind of life were they living? No other lawyer faced such intimidation. Why them? Why did her husband get involved with dangerous cases that paid nothing? For twelve years they had worked hard and tried to save and dreamed of building something for the future. Jake had an enormous capacity for work and was determined to succeed as a noted trial lawyer. He was ambitious to a fault and dreamed of wowing juries and winning big verdicts. The money would come by the truckload, one day, he was certain of it.

And look at them now. Her husband beaten to a pulp. His law practice drying up, their debts mounting by the week.

At the beach last month, her father had once again, quietly and when Jake wasn’t around, mentioned that he could find a place for Jake in money management. He had several friends who were investors, most of them semiretired, but they were contemplating putting together a fund to invest in hospitals and medical device startups. She wasn’t sure what that meant and she had not said a word to Jake about it. But it meant a move to the Wilmington area and a complete change of his career. Her father even mentioned a loan to make things easier. If he only knew how deep their debts were.

Things would certainly be safer at the beach.

At times they had talked about the drudgery of small-town living. The same routines, same friends, the lack of a meaningful social life. For arts and athletics they had to drive an hour to either Tupelo or Oxford. She enjoyed her friends but there was the constant game of who had the bigger house, the nicer cars, the sexier vacations. In a small town everyone was eager to help, but then everyone also knew your business. Two years ago they had paid too much for the Hocutt House, and she had noticed a definite coolness from a couple of her girlfriends. It was as if the Brigances were moving up too quickly and leaving the others behind. If they only knew.

The nurses came and went, making sleep impossible. The monitors glowed and blinked. The opioids seemed to be working fine.

Could this be the pivotal moment in their lives? The final straw that freed Jake from the grind of a ham-and-eggs lawyer struggling to pay the bills each month? They were not yet forty. There was plenty of time and it was the perfect moment to change course and move on to something better, to get out of Mississippi and find an easier place. She could always get a job as a schoolteacher.

She put down the magazines and closed her eyes. Why not get through the Gamble mess in August, adopt Kiera’s baby in September, and leave Clanton? Drew’s future, as uncertain as it was, would be dumped on another lawyer, but there were always plenty of them. Wouldn’t it be safer and wiser to move a thousand miles away? They would be near her parents, who would be eager to help with the babysitting. Jake could start a new career, one that included a guaranteed paycheck each month, and they would live at the beach year-round.

She was wide-eyed when a nurse eased in at 1:30 and gave her a sleeping pill.

For breakfast, Jake sipped apple juice from a carton through a straw. His entire body ached and he complained of pain everywhere. A nurse cranked up the morphine and he slipped away.

At seven, Dr. McKee appeared and told Carla that he wanted to do a brain scan and more X-rays. He suggested that she leave for a few hours, check on the house and Hanna, and take care of herself.

At home, she called Jake’s parents with an update and asked them to bring Hanna home. She called Harry Rex and told him what little she knew. No, she had not asked Jake if he knew who beat him. She called Portia, Lucien, Stan Atcavage, and Judge Noose, all of whom had questions but she kept the conversations brief. She would call again later. She fed the dog, cleaned the kitchen, washed a load of clothes, and sat on the patio with a cup of coffee and tried to collect herself. One concern was what to tell Hanna. They couldn’t hide Jake from his daughter and he would look awful for days to come. The child would be horrified when she saw her father and there was no way she could begin to understand. She would be terrified to learn that there were bad people out there who wanted to hurt her dad.

The coffee didn’t help her nerves and she finally called her mother and told her what was going on.

At eleven, Mr. and Mrs. Brigance arrived with Hanna, who ran to her mother in tears and asked her how Daddy was doing. Carla hugged her, said he was at the hospital but doing fine, and that she would spend the day at Becky’s house. She needed to get a quick bath and change clothes. She reluctantly left the kitchen, and Carla asked Mrs. Brigance, “What did you tell her?”

“Not much, just that her dad had been injured, was at the hospital, but would be home soon and everything was okay.”

Mr. Brigance said, “We weren’t sure what to say but she knows something is up.”

Carla said, “She can’t see him for a few days. It would be too much of a shock.”

“When can we see him?” Mrs. Brigance asked.

“Today. We’ll go in a minute.”

The waiting room was getting crowded. When they arrived, they met Portia, Harry Rex, Stan and his wife, and their minister, Dr. Eli Proctor. Carla hugged them all and said she would see Jake and report back. Dr. McKee appeared and motioned for her to join him. They went to Jake’s room and found him sitting up and arguing with a nurse who wanted to treat his face with cold packs. Carla spoke to him, took his hand, and he said, “Let’s get outta here.”

Dr. McKee said, “Not so fast, Jake. The scans and X-rays look good, but you’re not going anywhere for a few days.”

“Days? Are you kidding me?” He moved a leg and flinched sharply in pain.

“Does it hurt?” Carla asked.

“Only when I breathe.”

“Where is the pain?”

“Pick a spot. My nuts feel like grapefruits.”

“Don’t be crude, Jake. Your mother will be here in a minute.”

“Aw come on. Keep them away for now, okay? I can’t even see them. I can’t see anything.”

Carla smiled and looked at Dr. McKee. “I think he’s doing better already.”

“He’ll be fine. The concussion is mild. Everything else will mend, but it will take some time.”

“So no additional brain damage?” she asked.

“None whatsoever.”

“Thanks, dear,” Jake said. “Where’s Hanna?”

“At the Palmers’, playing with Becky.”

“Good. Keep her there. I don’t want her spooked by a zombie.”

“I’ll get your parents, okay?”

“I don’t want to see anybody.”

“Relax, Jake. They’re worried sick and they’ll just stay a minute or so.”

“Whatever.”

Carla and Dr. McKee left the room as the nurse eased forward with the cold packs. “Let’s try this again,” she said sweetly.

“Touch me and I’ll sue you.”

Late in the afternoon, Jake was napping when Dr. McKee gently shook his arm and said, “Jake, you have some visitors.”

He tried to sit up, flinched again, and mumbled, “I’m tired of visitors.”

“It’s Sheriff Walls. I’ll step outside.” He left them and closed the door.

Ozzie and Moss Junior stepped to his bedside and tried to ignore the shock of his face. Ozzie said, “Hello, Jake.”

Jake grunted and said, “Ozzie. What brings you here?”

“Hello, Jake,” Moss Junior said.

“Howdy. I can’t see anything but I’m sure you guys look as stupid as always.”

Ozzie said, “Well, probably so, but we won’t comment on your looks right now.”

“Pretty good ass-kicking, wouldn’t you say?”

“One of the best I’ve seen in a long time,” Ozzie said with a laugh. “So, the obvious question is: Who did it? Did you get a look?”

“There were at least two of them. I never saw the second guy, but the first was one of the Kofer boys. Either Cecil or Barry. I’m not sure which one because I don’t know them. Just saw them in court last week.”

Ozzie glanced at Moss Junior, who was nodding. No surprise.

“And you’re sure?” Ozzie asked.

“Why would I lie?”

“Okay. We’ll pay ’em a visit.”

“Sooner rather than later. I nailed the Kofer guy in the face with a fourteen-ounce can of tomato sauce. Square in the face, probably left a mark, but it’ll heal in a few days.”

“Attaboy.”

“They jumped me, Ozzie. I didn’t have much of a chance.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“They would’ve killed me if somebody hadn’t started shooting.”

“Mr. William Bradley pulled up, saw it, and whipped out his pistol.”

Jake shook his head as a moment passed. “He saved my life. Tell him I’ll say thanks when I can.”

“I’ll do that.”

“And ask him why he didn’t take a few shots at them.”

“We’ll go see the Kofers.”