Chapter 2

I woke the next morning to the ringing of my cell. I sleepily got up and answered it and it was Sarah. She was calling to tell me that Tommy was back safe with his mother, and that Children's Services was helping them find a new place to live.

"Sarah, if they need anything to get started, use the credit card to get them what they need. I will be heading out to Virginia in about a half hour. If you need anything else, call me."

"Ok Jon, and I do need to talk to you when you get back. I've had something come up I need to discuss with you."

"Whatever you need Sarah, you know I will help all I can."

"Ok Jon, and thanks."

She hung up the phone. I went into the shower to get woke up and then I headed out. I got my kit packed and went to the front desk to settle up. I grabbed a free cup of coffee and headed out of town. I stopped to fill the truck with gas and check the oil and other fluids. I figured I would stop again later at the little truck stop I had found on the way up and have breakfast. Then I would try to drive straight through, like I did coming up. As I drove I let my mind wander back to how I had gotten in to all of this.

When I first came here from Nigeria after depositing the money, my grandfather met me at the airport. He seemed to want to tell me my whole family history on the drive to his house in the country. As it turned out, my father had been a juvenile court judge and my mother was the Director of children's services for the State of Virginia. I had to admit that I wasn't impressed by what my parent's vocations had been because I never knew them. They had gone to Paris for their fifth anniversary. It was there that they had the accident that killed them both. My grandfather had made more than fourteen trips to France to try to find out what happened to me. He finally got his first lead when he talked to Interpol and they did some checking for him. They found some old records and he hired a detective at that point. That's how he was able to track me down.

I had worked for Interpol on several assignments as most Legionnaire members did between wars. We were used for undercover work, watching drug kingpins, and that type of thing. When I came here to the U.S., I still had my ID from them. My grandfather used it to get me sworn in as a Special U.S. Marshal. I only had to promise that if I was needed, I would be available. In return, I got this shiny round badge and an ID with my mug shot on it. As I had dual citizenship, I still had my Interpol identification. That caused quite a hassle with the Marshal's Service. Interpol wanted me to keep my ID from them so I could be called upon to help out in international cases if I was needed. Since I spoke three languages fluently, I would be very useful to Interpol if they needed someone interrogated in the U.S. It was finally decided I would use the Marshal's Badge for domestic arrests, and if I was called upon by Interpol, I could use that ID for international cases. Either way, I could carry a firearm anywhere I went.

My thoughts were interrupted when I came up on the exit where I remembered the truck stop was. I got off the highway and went in to eat. I had stopped here by accident the first time because I was low on gas and hungry. I discovered the food was outstanding and the portions were enough to feed two people. Once again, I left feeling like I was going to bust out of my pants. I topped off my tanks and hit the road with a large thermos of black coffee. I was determined I would keep going until I got home and then I could sleep for a couple of days. When I got settled into the monotony of driving, I went back to my thoughts about why I had gotten into this CASA position.

It was an incident that I got into the middle of in a little town near where I lived. I had gone to the little town to look at a horse I had heard about. It was supposed to be a registered quarter horse with all the papers. I finally found the farm, and to say it was a dump would be putting it mildly. As I pulled in, I wondered how someone who lived like this could afford an expensive horse like that.

When I slowly got out of the truck, a little girl I would guess to be about five years old came running out of the house. She had on a ripped and dirty dress and no shoes. She was bubbling over with enthusiasm and had a big smile on her face as she came up to the truck.

"Hello mister, what brings you out here?"

"I heard there was a horse for sale and I came to look at it."

Well her little dirty face fell and she looked at me with big eyes before she spoke again.

"That's Sparky, and he was mine until Daddy decided he wanted to sell him. I raised him from a little thing when his mama died while he was being born. I tried to talk Daddy out of selling him but he says he can't afford to feed us both. I would give what little bit I get if he could eat it. If you buy him, will I be able to come and see him if I can find a way to get there?"

I started to answer her when a man I took to be her dad came out of the house walking toward us. He was filthy looking and had dried tobacco juice on the side of his face. I could smell him even before he got to me. He walked up and without saying a word, slapped the little girl so hard along side of her head that she flew about five feet, hitting the dirt on her face. I just stared at him in shock, not believing what I had seen with my own eyes. I was heading toward the little girl who was struggling to get to her feet, when he grabbed me to stop me from going to her.

"Just let the little bitch be. She needs to learn some manners. She knows not to talk to strangers unless I give her permission. Her mama was a whore and she is turning out the same way. If she was mine, I would sell her to the highest bidder so I wouldn't have to feed her."

I hit him so hard I broke off four of his teeth at the gum line, I found out later. Then I proceeded to kick the hell out of him. If it hadn't been for the bleeding little girl, I might have kicked him to death right there. She grabbed my arm, begging me not to hit him again. Seeing her skinned and bleeding face brought me back to my senses. I backed off and called the law to come out and bring an ambulance.

I got my first aid kit out of the truck and was doctoring the little girl's face when the sheriff pulled up.

"Mister, I don't know who you are, but you just got yourself into a lot of trouble. Now I'm gonna have to arrest you and make you pay all the hospital bills for this man. You don't come into my county and beat up my friends."

"Sheriff, you need to pick your friends a little more wisely. As for arresting me, I was defending myself against this child abuser."

"She may not be his kid, but as long as he feeds her he can treat her how he wants. Now you can come along peacefully, or I will give you a little bit of what you gave him before I take you in."

"Sheriff, if you ever try something like that with me, you'll be in the hospital next to him. Now if you pull that gun you're reaching for, I will break your arm before you get it out of the holster."

He didn't stop, so I kicked his wrist, pinning it against the handle of the pistol and distinctly heard it crack. To my surprise, he pissed himself as he screamed that I had broke his arm. I stepped back and pulled my gun to make sure he didn't do anything foolish while I waited for the ambulance I could hear coming. He was jabbering into his radio so I just waited to see what was going to happen next. The little girl had moved over by my side and was crying. I knew her face hurt her, the way it was all skinned up, but I didn't have anything in the first aid kit to help her. We were both at a standstill until the ambulance arrived. It finally slid to a stop in a cloud of dust and two people piled out. One was a woman and she immediately came over to the little girl while the sheriff corralled the man, begging him to do something about his broken arm. The woman went down on her knees opening her medical case and started treating the little girl.

"What happened, Sally? Did he get drunk and beat you up again?"

"I don't know why Daddy hit me this time, Miss Mertie. I was only telling this fella about Sparky, and Daddy just up and walloped me. Then this fella stomped him when Daddy grabbed him. He was only trying to help me get up out of the dirt. God, I hate it here, but I ain't got nowhere else to go since mama ran off. He is so mean to me all the time, and now he is selling Sparky off. Miss Mertie, ain't there someplace I can go where I don't get beat on all the time?"

"Child, there isn't anyone here that has room to take in another mouth to feed. Besides your step pappy won't let you leave, you know that. Mister, I don't know who you are, but I can tell you they will beat the hell out of you once they get you inside the jail. I suggest you call a lawyer right now if you have one. The sheriff ain't knowed for being nice to strangers, let alone one who hit him. He called for help, so I suggest you better make some quick calls before his men get here."

That's when I realized the significance of what I had done because I let my temper get away from me. I made a couple of calls and reached into my pocket and got out my badge. I hung it from my pocket in plain sight. If I remembered correctly from the classes I had taken, he couldn't arrest me without first calling a Federal prosecutor and going through the paperwork involved. But, I had the power to arrest him and his men if they wanted to push it. I hadn't identified myself to him, but I had never had the chance to either. Well, he would know now, and so would his men when they got here. I heard the sirens coming and it was two cars this time with two men in each of them. They all skidded to a halt, raising a cloud of dust. They ran over to where the sheriff was being treated. He was pointing at me and yelling at them and all four headed my way. They were all mean looking, but the one in front I knew was going to be trouble, just by the way he swaggered as he walked. I had seen his type all over the world. He was big and a bully who thought muscle and meanness would make him king of his domain.