The Big Bad Wolf

Jannie asked in her usual no-nonsense, get-to-the-heart-of-the-matter way. “Do you?”
    I didn’t say anything. That part was between Jam and me.
    “Well—
do you?
” Nana joined in.
    I didn’t answer Nana either, so she shook her head, rolled her eyes.
    “What do the boys think?” I turned to Damon and Little Alex. The Big Boy was clapping his hands and smiling, so I knew where he stood.
    “She’s definitely all that,” said Damon, and he grinned. He always got a little goofy around Jamilla.
    I moved toward her, and they let me go alone. I snuck a glance back at them, and they were grinning like a Cheshire cat family. I had a lump in my throat. Don’t know why. I felt a little spacey, and my knees were weak. Don’t know why either.
    “I can’t believe everybody came,” Jamilla said as she slid into my arms. “That makes me happy. I can’t tell you how much, Alex. Wow. I think I’m going to cry. Even though I’m a tough-as-nails homicide detective. You all right? You
aren’t
all right. I can tell.”
    “Oh, I’m fine now.” I held her tight, then I actually picked Jam up, set her back down.
    We were quiet for a moment. “We’re going to fight for Little Alex,” she said.
    “Of course,” I told her. Then I said something that I’d never told Jamilla before, though it had been on the tip of my tongue many times. “I love you,” I whispered.
    “I love you too,” she said. “More than you can imagine. More than even I can imagine.”
    A single tear ran down Jamilla’s cheek. I kissed it away.
    Then I saw the photographer taking pictures of us.
    The same one who was at the house the day we were evacuated for personal safety.
    The one hired by Christine’s lawyer.
    Had he gotten Jamilla’s tear on film?

Chapter 117
    THEY CAME TO THE HOUSE on Fifth Street; they came about a week after Jamilla went back to California.
    Them
again.
    One of the saddest days of my life.
    Indescribable.
    Unthinkable.
    Christine was there with her lawyer and Alex Junior’s law guardian and a case manager from Children’s Protective Services. The case manager wore a plastic ID around her neck, and it was probably her presence that bothered me the most. My children had been raised with so much love and attention, never with abuse or neglect. There was no need for Children’s Services. Gilda Haranzo had gone to court and been granted a declaration of order giving Christine temporary guardianship of Little Alex. She had won custody based on the claim that I was “a lightning rod for danger,” putting the child in harm’s way.
    The irony of what was happening was so deep that I almost couldn’t stand it. I was trying to be the kind of policeman that most people wanted, and this was what I got?
A lightning rod for danger? Is that what I was now?
    And yet, I knew exactly how I had to act this morning on Fifth Street. For Little Alex’s sake. I would abandon all my anger and focus on what was best for him. I would be supportive during the handover. If it was possible, I wouldn’t let anything frighten the Boy or upset him. I even had a long printed list of Alex’s likes and dislikes ready for Christine.
    Unfortunately, Alex wasn’t buying any of this. He ran behind my legs and hid from Christine and the lawyer. I reached around and gently stroked his head. He was shaking all over, quivering with rage.
    Gilda Haranzo said, “Maybe you should help Christine take Little Alex to the car. Would you please do that?”
    I turned and tenderly wrapped my arms around the Big Boy. Then Nana, followed by Damon and Jannie, knelt beside him for a group hug. “We love you, Alex. We’ll visit you, Alex. You’ll come see us, Alex. Don’t be scared.”
    Nana handed Alex his favorite book, which was
Whistle for Willie.
Jannie gave him his love-worn plush cow, Moo. Damon hugged his brother and tears started down his cheeks.
    “I’ll be talking to you tonight. You and Moo,” I whispered, and kissed my son’s darling little face. I could feel his heart going fast. “Every night. Forever and a day, my sweet boy. Forever and a day.”
    And Little Alex said, “Forever, Daddy.”
    Then they took my son away.

Epilogue
    WOLVES
    PASHA SOROKIN WAS DUE at the courthouse in Miami at nine o’clock on Monday morning. The van he rode in was escorted from the federal prison by half a dozen cars; the route wasn’t known by any of the drivers until the last possible moment before departure.
    The attack took place at a stoplight