Chapter 39
Another day passedwhen nothing happened. Beckett asked every guard who walked by, “When will I get a lawyer?”
He was either cursed at or ignored. He was in a holding cell, but holding for what?
Finally, on the third day, during visiting hours, it wasn’t Dan sitting at the table, it was Aunt Chickadee and her lawyer Roscoe. A wave of relief washed over Beckett.
Chickadee jumped from her chair, and rushed Beckett, hugging, rocking, and holding him tight in her soft fluffiness, as if she’d never let him go. Her green Mohawk was combed down, her shirt printed with big bright flowers, her ears sported five rings each, and her arms were sleeved with tattoos.
Chickadee put her hands up on his cheeks. “Beckie, your face, did they do that to your face?”
He nodded.
“You have blood all over your shirt, poor boy.”
Roscoe stuck out his hand to shake Beckett’s, he asked, “Were you resisting?”
“They beat me before they were arresting me.”
Roscoe said, “Now see, that there is where they lose their high ground.”
Chickadee asked, “Are they feeding you?”
Beckett said, “Enough.”
“Well, we aren’t allowed to be here for long, so Roscoe better get to it.” She plopped down to her chair, chins wiggling. Beckett was psyched that Roscoe was there. He hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up, had resigned himself to whoever the city would offer him as a lawyer, but now — Roscoe was crazy smart. Never-lost-a-case smart.
The kind of smart that could get Beckett out of here. He hoped.
Plus Roscoe grew up with Chickadee and was one of her biggest fans, so she called him “My Lawyer” because he would do whatever she wanted, whenever she asked. Everything except put on a suit. He was a jeans guy. Often saying, “That way when I argue my case brilliantly they never see me coming.”
Roscoe sat down slowly, leaned back in his chair, and leveled his gaze, “Chickadee didn’t relay a lot of the details. You’ve deserted your post?”
Beckett’s jaw clenched. “Yes, I guess that’s what it looks like — I was allowed a weekend to go home, instead I went to search for a lost friend. I was supposed to report back on the twenty-third. But I was still on board a ship, so um, I had extenuating circumstances.”
Roscoe nodded slowly, peering at Beckett long after Beckett stopped speaking. He pulled a stack of papers up and flipped through them. “It looks like you’ll be serving five more years, in the East.”
“I can’t do five years. I was so close to done.” Beckett rubbed up and down on his face and up and around and through his now longer and scruffier hair. “Aargh.” He leaned back, then leaned forward again. “I volunteered to go to the Outpost, that was supposed to get me a choice of wherever I wanted to go. That was the deal. Also, I planned to report, as soon as I came into Heighton Port. Those fucking jerks arrested me before I had a chance.”
Roscoe nodded slowly again and blinked a few times.
Chickadee looked from Roscoe to Beckett and back to Roscoe. “You can handle this right? I mean, he didn’t hurt anyone, you’ve got this, right?”
Roscoe took a moment to arrange his face into deeply confident sneer. “Oh, yes, we’ve got this.”
Beckett asked, “We do?”
Roscoe deposited the papers back into his briefcase and clicked his briefcase closed. “I don’t want to make it sound too easy. You’ll have some more time added, but I’m sure your battalion needs you. It will simply take some negotiating.”
He rose. “You’ll have to be careful though, no more screwing up. This one is going to be on your permanent record.” He glanced around to see if he left anything on the table and added, “Yep. It will.”
Beckett was so surprised at Roscoe’s assurances, that he hadn’t noticed their meeting was over. He had forgotten to mention Luna. “I also need your help for my friend — an, um, Nomad.
Roscoe’s eyes narrowed. He sucked in his lips and made a popping noise and sat back down.
Chickadee clapped her hands merrily, “Is this the girl you told me about? The one you went searching for?”
Beckett nodded. “I found her — in the whole ocean — I found her.”
