A Time for Mercy

33

As uncomfortable as they were, the cold packs were working and Jake eventually stopped complaining about them. By Wednesday morning, the swelling had gone down enough so that he could open his eyes and see blurred images. The first was the pretty face of his wife, who, though unclear, looked better than ever. Jake kissed her for the first time in forever and said, “I’m going home.”

“Oh no you’re not. You have appointments this morning. First the eye doctor, then a dentist, then some more doctors, then a rehab specialist.”

“I’m more concerned about my testicles.”

“So am I, but there’s little to do but ride it out. I took a peek last night when you were snoring and they’re quite impressive. Dr. McKee says there’s nothing to do down there but take pain pills and pray that you’ll one day walk like a man again.”

“Which specialist works on testicles?”

“That would be the urologist. He stopped by when you were out of it and took some pictures.”

“You’re lying.”

“No I’m not. I held the sheet up and he clicked away.”

“Why does he need photos?”

“Said he likes to enlarge them and hang ’em on the wall of his reception room.”

Jake managed a laugh, one that was cut short when a surge like a hot knife ripped through his ribs and he grimaced. The pain would be a way of life for days and he was determined not to show it, at least not in front of his wife. “How’s Hanna?”

“She’s fine. She’s with your parents and they’re having a big time.”

“That’s nice. What have you told her?”

“Well, not the whole truth. I told her you were involved in an accident, didn’t say what type, and that you were injured and need to spend a few days in the hospital. She’s very upset and wants to see you.”

“Not in here. I want to see her too but I don’t want to scare her to death. I’ll be home tomorrow and we’ll have a little family meeting.”

“Who said you’re going home tomorrow?”

“I did. I’ve had enough of this place. The bones are set and cuts are closed. I can convalesce at home with you as my full-time nurse.”

“Can’t wait. Look, Jake, there are a lot of people who are worried about you. Lucien wants to come by but I told him to wait. Harry Rex calls all the time.”

“I’ve seen Harry Rex and all he did was laugh at me for getting my ass kicked. Lucien can wait. I’ve talked to Portia and she’s stalling our clients. I think we have maybe three left.”

“Judge Noose has called.”

“He should. He got me into this mess.”

“He’s very concerned. Dell called. Judge Atlee. Dr. Proctor. Pastor McGarry. A lot of folks.”

“They can wait. I’m in no mood to see anyone if I can avoid them. Let’s get home and lock the doors and let me get on my feet. Some folks are just nosy, you know?”

“And some are very concerned.”

“I’m alive, Carla. I’ll mend quickly enough. I don’t need anyone stopping by to hold my hand.”

Cecil Kofer was the foreman of a dirt crew working on a channel near the lake. Late in the morning, Moss Junior and Mick Swayze parked next to his truck and walked into the construction trailer. Cecil was standing and talking on the phone, his hard hat on his desk. Nearby a secretary looked up said, “Good mornin’.”

Moss Junior glared at her and said, “Beat it.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“I said, ‘Beat it.’ We need to chat with your boss.”

“You don’t have to be so rude.”

“You got about five seconds to step outside.”

She stood and huffed out of the trailer. Cecil hung up the phone as the deputies confronted him. Moss Junior said, “Hello, Cecil. This is Mick Swayze. Ozzie sent us.”

“A real pleasure, gentlemen.”

Cecil was thirty-one, stocky, with at least fifty pounds he didn’t need. For some reason he’d stopped shaving and wore a scruffy red beard that did nothing to improve his looks.

Moss Junior stepped to within striking distance and asked, “You go to town Monday night?”

“I don’t remember.”

“It was a long time ago. That green GMC out there is yours, right?”

“Probably.”

“Tag number 442ECS. Someone saw it speed away from the Kroger at about nine Monday night. Someone else was probably drivin’ it, right?”

“Maybe I loaned it to a friend.”

“What’s his name?”

“Can’t remember.”

“That’s a nasty knot on your forehead. What’s under the band-aid? Some stitches?”

“That’s right.”

“How’d it happen?”

“I walked into a shelf in my garage.”

“Damned shelves, always in the way. Mick, that look like another shelf injury?”

Swayze took a step closer and stared at Cecil’s forehead. “No, I’d say that looks like one of those knots from a fourteen-ounce can of tomato sauce. We see it all the time.”

Moss Junior said, “No doubt about it.” Slowly, he unsnapped a pair of handcuffs from his belt and rattled them, making as much noise as possible. Cecil took a deep breath and stared at the cuffs.

Moss Junior said, “There’s a fine line between simple assault and aggravated. Simple gets up to two years in the slammer, aggravated carries twenty years.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Write it down ’cause your memory sucks. Two-on-one with the intent to do serious body damage qualifies as aggravated. At Parchman. Who’ll take care of your wife and three kids while you’re away?”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“That, son, is now out of your control. Jake identified you, and the man with the gun saw your truck flee the scene.”

His shoulders sagged a bit and he looked around for something. “He don’t even know me.”

“He saw you in court, said it was the Kofer boy with the mangy red beard. We talked to Barry and his mangy beard is black, not red. Why don’t you guys buy some razor blades?”

“I’ll write that down.”

Moss Junior hammered away. “The sentencin’ judge will be Omar Noose. He’s quite fond of Jake and he’s very upset that one of his lawyers got the shit beat out of him because of a case pending in his court. He’ll throw the book at you.”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“We’ll report back to Ozzie and he’ll send us out tomorrow to make the arrest. You want to do it here or at your house, in front of your kids?”

“I’ll get a lawyer.”

“Not in this county you won’t. You can’t find one who’ll risk pissin’ off Judge Noose. Here or at home?”

His shoulders dropped even further and the tough guy act was over. “For what now?”

“For your arrest. We’ll take you to jail, book you, put you in a cell, bail will be somethin’ like ten grand so round up a thousand in cash and you can bond out. Here or at home?”

“Here, I guess.”

“See you tomorrow.”

The physical therapist was a strong bossy woman named Marlene who first wanted to take a peek at Jake’s balls. He flatly refused. She found it funny and Jake wondered if the entire hospital staff was snickering at his expense. Was anything private in a hospital?

With Carla gently tugging on one side, he managed to delicately pivot and hang his feet off the bed.

“You ain’t leavin’ here until you can walk to that door and back,” Marlene said, challenging him. She cupped her hand under one armpit and Carla took the other. Jake slid down until his bare feet touched the cold linoleum floor, and grimaced as spears of pain shot through his groin, ribs, and all the way up through his neck and skull. He felt dizzy and hesitated for a second as he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He took a small step, then another, then said, “Let go.” They released him and he began to shuffle. His enormous testicles ached and prevented anything resembling a normal gait or even normal posture, and he waddled like a bowlegged duck to the door and slapped the handle. He proudly turned around and took eight steps back to his bed. “There. Now check me out of here.”

“Not so fast, cowboy. Do it again.”

His legs were weak and unsteady, but he walked to the door and back. As painful as walking was, he was invigorated to be off his back and doing something that was close to normal. After the fourth little trip, Marlene asked, “Why don’t you take a pee?”

“I don’t need to pee.”

“Do it anyway. Let’s see if you can go to the toilet by yourself.”

“You wanna come watch?”

“Not really.”

Jake waddled to the bathroom door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. He pulled up his gown and tucked the hem under his chin. Slowly, he looked down at his monstrous privates and laughed in sheer disbelief. A painful, gleeful howl that caused Carla to knock on the door.

Late Wednesday afternoon, Jake was sitting up in his hospital bed with Carla at his feet. They were watching cable news when there was a tap on the door. It was opening when Jake said, “Come in.” Ozzie and Moss Junior were back. Carla muted the television.

“Doc says you’re leavin’ in the mornin’,” Ozzie said.

“Not soon enough,” Jake said.

“That’s good to hear. You feelin’ better?”

“A hundred percent.”

“You still look like hell,” Moss Junior said.

“Thanks. It’ll take some time.”

“Come on, guys,” Carla said. She moved to the other side of the bed and faced the men. Ozzie nodded at Moss Junior who said, “We paid a visit to Cecil Kofer this mornin’, found him at work. He’s got a real knot and cut on his forehead. Of course he denies everything but he’s the man. We’ll pick him up tomorrow.”

“I’m not pressing charges,” Jake said.

Ozzie looked at Carla and she was nodding her head. They had obviously discussed this and made their decision.

“Come on, Jake,” Ozzie said. “We can’t let this go unpunished. They could’ve killed you.”

“But they didn’t. I’m not pressing charges.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want the hassle, Ozzie. I have plenty on my mind right now as it is. Plus, that family has been through enough. I’ll heal just fine and forget about this.”

“I doubt that. I got jumped once in Memphis, got knocked around pretty good by some bad dudes. I still remember every punch.”

“I’ve made my decision, Ozzie. No charges.”

“I can arrest him anyway, you know?”

“Don’t do that. Besides, you can’t convict if I don’t testify. Just tell the Kofers to leave me alone. No more phone calls, no more threats, no more intimidation. If they as much as frown at me, then I’ll file an affidavit for this and press charges. Let’s keep it hanging over their heads. Okay?”

Ozzie shrugged. No sense arguing with Jake. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is. And tell the family that I carry guns and have permits. They won’t catch me out again like that, but if they get too close they’ll pay.”

“Come on, Jake,” Carla mumbled.

For his third and final night, he slept alone. Carla was tired of the backbreaking foldaway, and Jake convinced her to go fetch their daughter and have a quiet night at home. They called at nine and said goodnight.

But the sleeping pills didn’t work, nor did the pain relievers. He asked a nurse for something stronger but she said he’d had enough. The second sleeping pill backfired and at 2:00 a.m. he was wide awake. The physical shock was wearing off and the swelling was decreasing, but he would be stiff, fragile, and racked with pain for a long time. His bones and muscles, though, would heal. He wasn’t so sure about the fear, the horror of being so violated. One moment he was his usual self, fit and busy with his mind on pressing matters; the next moment he was on his back, stunned, bleeding, and taking blow after blow to the face while getting mauled. Forty-eight hours later, it still seemed surreal. He’d had the same nightmare twice, a horrific recall of seeing the hate-filled face of the man on top of him pounding away. He could still feel the hard asphalt under his head, blow after blow.

He thought of Josie again and wondered how any human could tolerate the reality of constant physical danger. Jake was six feet tall, weighed 180, and if he’d had the chance he could have traded a few punches before going down. Josie weighed all of 120 and didn’t stand a chance against a brute like Kofer. And imagine the horror the kids endured hearing their mother getting knocked around, again.