Geneva
“I’d like to report a crime.”
The young officer, Rodrigo Cruz, sat with his pen poised to take Geneva’s statement. “What’s the nature of the crime?”
“Assault.” The ringing of several phones distracted her before she added, “One which caused grievous bodily harm.”
He scanned her from head to feet, as if to determine where she’d been hurt.
“My daughter is the person who was attacked.”
The light glinted off Officer Cruz’s glasses as his focus shifted to an officer going past the desk. “Where is she, and where did the attack take place?”
Geneva didn’t bat an eyelid when she said, “She’s currently at the Coral Gables Hospital but she was hurt in Jamaica.”
The policeman ran one hand over his close-cropped hair and frowned. “Jamaica, New York City, or Jamaica, the island?”
Geneva ignored the buzzing of her phone to answer, “The country.”
Cruz laid his pen down and looked her in the eyes. “Why would you report the incident here, and if I may ask, when did it happen?”
Leaning forward and resting one elbow on the desk, she said, “Because the people who did it live in this city. My daughter was hurt during spring break in Montego Bay.”
The confusion on his face cleared, which gave Geneva a spark of hope. When she’d walked into the building that functioned as the headquarters for the police and fire department, as well as the emergency operations center, she was prepared.
An internet search revealed that only a minute percentage of the officers looked anything like her. Cruz had come closest to any of the qualities she wished to see in law enforcement. He was polite and had a face that hadn’t been hardened by the things he’d seen on the job. Experience had taught her that the eyes were indeed direct windows into the soul of a person. Rodrigo Cruz’s were kind and open.
In terms of expectations, if she had to bet, she’d say she had a 2 percent chance of receiving any help, which was fine by her. Knowing what she was up against gave her the advantage. Her visit today was meant to plant a seed. When it germinated into something bigger, the department would be aware of her name and the fact that she’d asked for help.
Cruz rubbed his jaw, as he said, “I don’t believe we can do anything about it since the incident took place outside this jurisdiction …” He glanced at the form in front of him. “Why haven’t you reported it before today?”
“Based on how badly my daughter was beaten by this group of students, I believed the Jamaican police would have made contact by now …” She shrugged. “But clearly …”
He held up one finger. “If you’d give me a moment, please.”
“Sure.”
She waited while he squinted at a computer screen and tapped the keyboard.
While he did, her cellular pinged, and she removed it from her bag and looked at the screen.
Spence had texted her. Any update? Call me when you can.
She sucked her teeth quietly, then sighed. His timing was off, which always seemed to be the case these days. But there was a point in their relationship when she wouldn’t have hesitated to answer. Despite his flaws, Spence was trying and had been faithful with staying in touch each day when he was traveling. She needed to show him some grace.
Yesterday, after Alexia woke again later in the evening, Geneva had video called him in Suriname. She had explained that their daughter had temporary memory loss, but he was still disappointed when she didn’t recognize him. The pain in his eyes had aroused her own anguish, and she’d had to pretend they weren’t dealing with what was in front of them to get through that phone call.
Geneva looked up to find Officer Cruz watching her. She typed a message. Talk in half-hour. At a meeting.
She saw that he’d received the message and looked up the moment the policeman folded his hands on the desk pad. He waited until a group of uniformed officers were several feet away before he spoke. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Leighton.”
Cruz’s regretful tone told Geneva everything. The police department had received nothing from Jamaican law enforcement. If he’d given her good news, she would have had difficulty believing him. That’s where she was with those bungling island policemen who had no sense of urgency.
“Thank you for your time.” She dropped the phone in her bag, then handed Cruz a business card. “If anything changes, here’s my contact information.”
He slipped it under the side of the desk pad and nodded. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
“I appreciate that.” As she rose, the message app sounded.
Thinking it was Spence, she waited until she was sitting in her car in the parking garage before looking at the cellular.
Jaden had sent her a screenshot of an article. Businessman Charles Jackman Questioned as Investigation into Admissions Scandal at University of Miami Deepens.
She scrolled up and read the short article.
After recent allegations that the Jackman family was involved in securing places for their children at the University of Miami by bribery, the board of directors has launched an investigation into the claim, even as they deny any knowledge of wrongdoing. In the meantime, the police have detained Jackman for questioning.
Before she could read further, Jaden sent another text. Remember, the daughter was at the villa.
She sent him an emoji with clasped hands to convey her thanks. This time she had it right, which made her smile. According to Jaden, she was clueless when it came to using a fitting emoji most of the time. Her cluelessness tickled him because he claimed it was ironic that someone with so much knowledge of all facets of the internet and the technology surrounding it had no idea about the social media side of things.
Geneva put aside the phone and started the engine of her Honda-CRV. Jackman’s detention, no matter how fleeting, would keep him safe in the meantime. His daughter, not so much.