was astounding. “Okay,” he called over and then looked at his sister. “C’mon, I have a small roller.”
Her breath caught, and she bolted across the room to where her brother was standing on a drop cloth. We all watched as he squatted down beside the pan of paint, had her take hold of the roller, put his hand over hers, and showed her how to coat the whole thing.
“Oh my God,” Mrs. Robinson gasped under her breath. “Ted, are you seeing this?”
All her husband could manage was a hum of affirmation. No words were forthcoming.
“Mr. Wolfe,” ADA McCauley called, which turned my attention to him. “As you know, we have enough evidence to put Edison Barnum away for the rest of his life solely on aggravated kidnapping charges of both Creese and his friend Kurt Adams, but to get a sentence of life without possibility of parole, I need Creese’s testimony. We believe we have enough evidence to submit that Barnum was not only a serial kidnapper but a killer as well. We’ve tied him to at least one similar case involving two boys back in 2019. Neither of them survived to testify. Creese was an eye witness to Edison murdering Kurt by pushing him off the roof of the warehouse on Sherman. That’s invaluable to our case.”
I waited.
“Mr. Wolfe?”
“Yeah, I’m familiar with the case. And I also know that Kurt’s folks don’t speak to Creese anymore because he hasn’t agreed to testify, and that it hurt him when they yelled at him at the funeral.”
“I––”
“Just recently, they’ve asked to see Creese, and I think if it was to talk and spend time together remembering Kurt, he’d be up for it. But we’ve discussed it, and he’s pretty sure they just want to pressure him about testifying again, so he’s declined to meet them. I’m supporting him in that decision.”
Mr. Robinson reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “Mrs. Robinson and I agree with you, and so we’ve asked them not to contact our son.”
“It’s very important that Creese have as much control of his life as possible, so him deciding when, and even if, he testifies”—I shot McCauley a pointed look—“is vital for his continued growth.”
“Mr. Wolfe––”
“Three months ago, that kid didn’t make eye contact, let alone speak,” I reminded the ADA. “And just now he spoke to his sister after a year of silence.”
“Creese is like a ghost haunting our house. He’s there, but he isn’t present. We can see him, but we can’t reach him,” Mr. Robinson chimed in. “We’ve seen every psychologist, psychiatrist, therapist, and counselor in Sacramento, and none of them helped him.”
“I can appreciate––”
“No,” Mrs. Robinson reproached him, her tone icy. “Unless you’ve had a child taken from you and brutalized, you can’t appreciate shit.”
Several moments ticked by, and then I looked at her and grinned, arching an eyebrow for good measure.
She gasped and slapped her hand over her mouth.
I snorted. She snickered behind her fingers.
Sometimes the horror was so great that all there was left to do was laugh.
Mr. Robinson leaned sideways and kissed his wife’s temple, then turned to the ADA. “Yeah. What she said.”
I chuckled as we heard laughter behind us. Fiona had somehow spattered paint down the right leg of her jeans, and her brother found that hysterical. Fiona stood there staring at him in mute worship.
Mrs. Robinson dissolved into laughter and tears, and Mr. Robinson smiled and nodded. They were absolutely undone, and that was okay. The two of them had been rocks for an entire year, and any relief of pressure, wherever it could be found, was welcome. I noticed Detective Turner pivot on the heel of her boot and turn away from us for a moment as she flicked tears off her cheeks before turning to face us again, her unflappable façade restored.
“Hey,” Creese called over to me, “is Mom okay?”
“Yeah, buddy, she’s great,” I assured him.
He nodded and went back to talking to his sister.
Betty pulled a packet of tissues from the pocket of her hoodie and passed it to Mrs. Robinson, patting her shoulder as Creese’s mom blew her nose. Betty took a breath too, and pulled herself together.
“As I was saying,” Mrs. Robinson began tiredly, sounding stuffy now, “we went everywhere. Finally, on the advice of friends, we brought Creese here. I thought when Mrs. Chow told us she wanted him to speak to Jeremiah, a man only a few years younger than Barnum, that she was out of her damn mind,” she explained, turning