Chapter Three

“Wake-up, kid. Cops are commin’. Tony whispered as he shook me.  I opened my eyes and sat up yawning, rubbing them.

“Jeremiah, its time to Amy,” Detective Robertson smiled and unlocked the cell door.  The smell of coffee and donuts graced my nose. I was missing my morning classes, and so was Amy.

“So, its true that cops like donuts above other breakfast food?”

“Actually, I prefer Pop-Tarts myself.  The cookie dough ones that you can never find in the stores.  I pay off fellow workers to find them for me.” I laughed at the remark. “Can I have your hands Jeremiah?”

“All, right, Cuff me!” I joked.  My arms were pulled in front of me this time and the coldness of metal returned as it wrapped around my wrist.  She chuckled and led me through the hallway and out the double doors, grabbing a chocolate cake doughnut on the way. 

“I thought you were a Pop-Tart girl”

“This isn’t for me, its for you.”

“How did you know this is my favorite type of doughnut, ma’am?” I gladly took the cake doughnut from her and took a big bite.

“F.B.I. files. Just like how I found that you talk in your sleep, about toothbrushes”

“Dad!”

“Your father no doubt messed with your file.  Adding things that he knew would make some cop laugh.”  We arrived at the door of the car, I in a much better mood than before. 

“How was your night stay in Jail?  We put you with Tony ‘cause we figured that he would leave you alone,” I snickered, “Tony didn’t leave you alone.” We were in traffic, good ol’ California traffic.

“Let’s just say that the night was eventful.”

“How eventful?”

“I witnessed to Tony,” I looked into the rearview mirror and saw the look of surprise on her face, “What?”

“Its just that Tony is so…so bad.  He’s been in jail numerous times, at least once every year for something. How did you do it, I mean, without him pulling a knife on you?”

“I told him that to God, I am a swearing, lying, covetous, murderous, thieving, adulterer, and idolater, even though to others, he is much worse. And God sees us as “even” in that aspect.  The only thing I have on  Tony is that I am a Christian.”

“And you talked about this all night?”

“Yep”

“Why aren’t you in seminary?”

“History and Acting is my passion.  It has been since I was in 7th grade.  I think that as Christians we see the good that can come out of our history and Christian actors.  For me it would be easier to send God’s message than as a Pastor.”

“I understand that.”

“How did you decide to be a Cop?” Her eyes dulled over, and her face lost all emotion. “You don’t have to say, you can plead the 5th.” She laughed as tars ran soft against her cheeks. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hit a hard spot.  You really don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s okay Jeremiah.  I was raped when I was nineteen.  The cops found evidence against my boyfriend and arrested him.  He hadn’t done anything, I had told them that it was somebody else.  I even knew who the person was.  They just said I was in a fragil state and wouldn’t be able to remember.  They didn’t even test the DNA or anything. So, he went to jail without parole.  He called me in the first year and said that he had accepted Christ and that God taught him to be content.  That is when I became a Christian.  At the beginning of the second year he got sick and it turned out to be liver cancer, he died six months later at twenty years old.  I became a cop so that justice would be given to the right people.  That is also why I took your case.  Because it is so similar.”

“I’m really sorry, and I thank you.” She was still hurting. I saw pain through her eyes, remembrance.  Amy.

“Jeremiah, what are you going to tell Amy?” she asked as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“First I am going to tell her that I love her and that God loves her.   And second, I will do what I always do when she is sick.”

“And what is that?” Robertson said with a half-smile.

“Sing.  For as long as I can remember both of us have been in chorus.  This December we are singing in Handel’s Messiah at our collage. She loved my voice; at least she says she does.”

“What are you going to sing?”

“‘You raise me up’, it’s her favorite song.” Like before, when I was first introduced to Detective Robertson, she reached over into her glove box and pulled out a CD.  “You raise me up” could be heard over the speakers. “Do you own every single CD ever made?”

“No,” she chuckled, “Just the ones that you seem to like.”  Soon we were at the entrance at the hospital.  I looked through the glass doors to the nurses and doctors rushing around inside.  She looked at me and I nodded, it was time.