Black (Clashing Colors Book 1) (2 page)

CHAPTER 2

Uncle Gabriel

I don’t like formalities. I never did.

Sure, I can dress up in my fine black uniform, keep an excellent posture, and do a perfect salute like any good soldier, but that whole ceremonial thing that comes with receiving a medal of honor is not my favorite thing.

My family, however, is going overboard with their pride, and every one of them wants pictures with me in my uniform, now nicely decorated with the Silver Star medal. My mom has even arranged for family and friends to come and celebrate – even though I told her not to.

I don’t think she’ll ever understand how unworthy I feel to receive recognition for my actions and valor in war, when so many of my friends and colleagues didn’t even make it home alive. They gave their lives, and in comparison my sacrifices seem insignificant.

Thinking about it suffocates me with sadness, so I try not to dwell on it. I have to move on – it’s the way of a combat engineer.

My job is to pave the road for others by building bridges, blowing up things, and coming up with creative solutions in the field. I love my job, and I know I’ve made a difference and saved lives during my three deployments in Afghanistan. And ultimately,
that
is why I became a soldier. To make a difference!

It would be an understatement to say that I’m excited to be home, and this time – I’m staying!

Not that I’ll be in Seattle for long, but at least my next job won’t be in a war zone. It’ll be in Missouri, as an instructor on the Sapper Leader Course. 

But first, I’m going to chill and enjoy four months of doing as little as possible – except, of course, catch up with family and friends, which is exactly what I was doing when Brent, my stepbrother, got a call that made me pay attention.

I wasn’t supposed to overhear Brent’s phone conversation but it’s hard to turn off the alert sensors after being constantly on edge for years, and something about his facial expression when he took that call made me instantly alert. That’s why, when Brent pulled away from the crowd and went inside the house, I discreetly followed him. If my stepbrother is in some sort of trouble, I’m not just going to look the other way. Not that we’re close but we are family, and family stick together.

The way he hissed “How did you get this number? I told you to leave me alone,” confirmed that whoever was on the line was no friend of his.

Brent’s next sentence – “You were arrested?” – told me the person was bad news. And hearing him mutter “Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time” revealed that he was harshly refusing to help the person calling for help.

But it was his next sentence that blew my mind: “You know I don’t think of you as my daughter.”

Thirty seconds later my stepbrother put down the phone and took a deep breath while I took a step forward asking the obvious: “You have a daughter?”

Brent stiffened and shot me a dirty look. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“How old is she?” I asked in astonishment. How the hell had he managed to keep this hidden from me?

He banged his phone rhythmically against his palm. “I’m not sure… nineteen or twenty, perhaps.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Brent’s eyes were zigzagging between me and the glass door leading out to the patio and the pool area. Our entire family was barbecuing, and he raised a hand and waved to Janice, his wife, before he made a subtle signal for me to follow him.

We ended up in the mud room behind the kitchen, with him leaning against the dryer, looking just as annoyed as the time I found his collection of porn magazines and threatened to tell Mom if he didn’t let me borrow his Nintendo for a week.

“Listen, G,” he said. “It was a stupid mistake. I was just a big high school kid when I accidently knocked up a girl.”

“Who?”

“Some white trash chick, you don’t know her and it doesn’t matter.”

“But you had a daughter with this woman?”

“Yes.”

“And your daughter got arrested?”

“Yes.”

“What for?”

Brent looked at his nails. “Theft… some medicine, I think.”

“And she called you to get your help?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you know her?”

“Of course I don’t know her. I already told you she was just a stupid mistake from my past, and I don’t want Janice or the kids to find out about it.”

“Why not?”

“Listen, I appreciate your concern, but the kid had it coming,” he said. “I mean she literally admitted to being guilty.”

I used to look up to Brent. He’s ten years older than me, and when my mom married his dad he was already seventeen and practically a grown man in my eyes. Right now, I wanted to strangle him for being such an ass.

“You have to help her, Brent. She’s your daughter; you can’t just turn your back on her.”

He laughed. “That ship sailed a long time ago. The minute Tina told me she was pregnant I let her know that I didn’t want a kid.”

“That’s not the girl’s fault. How can you be so cold to your own child?”

Brent stopped laughing. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t want anything to do with her and that’s that!”

He tried to push past me, but I’m a head taller and have forty pounds more muscle than him. If I don’t want to move, I ain’t moving.

“Move, G,” he said with a scowl.

“Not until you tell me that you’re helping her.”

He rolled his eyes. “If you want so badly to help the kid, then why don’t you go down to the police station and get her out? You’re the hero in the family, aren’t you?”

When I spoke it came out through gritted teeth. “What’s her name?”

“Darcia Nilsson.”

“You have to tell the others about her,” I said.

“No.” His answer was quick and firm. “And don’t you dare reveal my secret, either! I’ve kept her away for all these years and protected our family from the shame. I can’t stop you from going there to help her, but I refuse to let you bring her back here.”

I moved enough for him to open the door and leave the small room – mostly because I was afraid I might actually hurt my brother if he said one more selfish thing.

He left me no choice.

If he wasn’t going to do the right thing, I would have to do it for him.

⦓∞
⦔

When I walked into the police station I was still wearing my black uniform with my Silver Star.

I don’t know if I thought I would be able to just sneak away from the party for a short while and return without anyone noticing, but I had left the minute Brent and I were done talking, and on the twenty-minute drive to downtown Seattle I had gone over the few details he had told me and arrived at one clear conclusion: I had a niece, or at least a stepniece, and she was in trouble. If I could, I would help her, like any uncle would.

“I’m here for Darcia Nilsson,” I told the officer at the counter.

He informed me that until she had been in front of the judge and the bond had been settled, she couldn’t leave.

“She’s already been taken to the holding cell behind the courtroom, but you can speak to her lawyer.”

“She has a lawyer?” I asked and he gave a sharp nod.

“Yes, she asked to have a defense lawyer appointed for her.”

“All right, sure, I’ll talk to the lawyer then,” I said and was taken to meet a young man who looked like he was straight out of law school.

“Michael Young,” he said and shook my hand.

I tried not to smile at the irony of his looks and his last name. This was no laughing matter.

“Ehhh…” I cleared my throat. “I’m Darcia’s uncle, or rather stepuncle, but I only just found out about her today.”

“Oh.” Michael wrinkled his forehead. “That explains why she didn’t mention you when I spoke to her a few minutes ago. According to her, she doesn’t have any family at all.”

“What about her mother?” I asked.

“She doesn’t have any contact with her mother.”

“As I said, I only heard about her today, but I’m here to help.”

Michael looked through a few papers. “That’s good; according to her this isn’t her first time being arrested. There was another incident three years ago when she was eighteen.”

“Did you say eighteen? How old is she now?”

Michael let his finger slide to her info. “Her birthday is May fourth and she’s twenty-one.”

“May fourth. That’s today.”

Michael arched a brow. “Not the best way to celebrate a twenty-first birthday… but anyhow, she was arrested for civil disobedience at a demonstration in the Queen Ann district, three years ago, but luckily she got off with a warning.”

“Does it say what they were protesting against?” I asked.

Michael read the papers and nodded. “Yes, it was in relation to some budget costs that resulted in the closure of a homeless shelter.”

“Do you know why she was arrested today?”

“She’s been charged with theft in the third degree. Also called shoplifting.”

I crossed my arms. “Is she going to jail?” I had been in my share of gloomy places as a soldier, but the atmosphere of this place wasn’t nice and the protective side of me wanted to take her far away from here.

“It’s too early to say… it really depends on the judge. It’s what we call a gross misdemeanor, and that can mean up to 364 days in jail and up to a five-thousand-dollar fine.

I whistled. “All right, so what do you want me to do?”

“The best thing you can do is let me do all the talking and be present in case the judge has questions for you.”

Thirty-five minutes later I sat in the courtroom, ready to watch my first arraignment.

The judge entered and asked everyone to take a seat and for Miss Darcia Nilsson to be brought in.

I was curious to see how much my niece looked like Brent, but it was impossible to say from the way her head was bowed, making her long raven-dark hair cover her face completely. She looked small compared to the two armed police officers behind her, and she was wearing handcuffs and an orange prison uniform.

“Miss Nilsson, I’m going to have you stand up there next to your attorney,” Judge Kent said and pointed.

Darcia walked over and now had her back to me.

“Please state your name and address for the court record,” the judge said.

Darcia lifted her head up and listed an address in Kirkland.

“Miss Nilsson, I want to advise you that you are charged with theft in the third degree. That is a gross demeanor punishable by imprisonment for up to 364 days and a fine of up to five thousand dollars. Do you understand the nature of the charge?”

Darcia looked at Michael Young, who nodded.

“Yes,” she said.

“You have the right to be represented by an attorney    and in the event you can’t afford one, and you economically qualify, the court will appoint an attorney for you to act on your behalf.”

The judge kept on educating Darcia about her constitutional rights in a speedy, monotone manner before he said, “Mr. Young, how does Miss Nilsson plead?”

“She is pleading not guilty, Your Honor,” Michael said.

A date was set for the first court hearing and Judge Kent set bail at three hundred dollars.

“A last piece of advice, Miss Nilsson,” the judge said. “Since the alleged crime involved theft of drugs, no sentence will be imposed in the state of Washington until a
chemical dependency evaluation has been made.
I would strongly advise that you start and complete any needed treatment, as it can help you
avoid being placed on active probation by the court.”

It all went extremely fast, and then Darcia was taken out again.

I stood there a bit confused about my next move, until Michael signaled for me to meet him outside.

“She doesn’t have money to pay the bail. Do you?” he asked.

I nodded.

Michael turned out to be a really nice guy; he was twenty-nine like me and had an older brother in the military who had been in both Iraq and Afghanistan.

I don’t think it was really his job, but Michael stayed until Darcia was released and made our first meeting a bit less awkward.

“Darcia, this is your uncle, Gabriel Thomas.”

She looked at me with a puzzled expression.

“Nobody calls me Darcia except when I’m in trouble,” she said. “People call me Black.”

“Hello, Black.” I offered her my hand and she hesitated for a few seconds before she shook it. “Nobody calls me Gabriel except my mom; feel free to call me G or Thomas.”

“Nice uniform, G,” she said dryly.

I didn’t comment on that.

“Do any of you have any last questions for me?” Michael asked.

Darcia, who reminded me of a Goth chick I used to know in high school, put her hands in the pockets of her black military pants. “What did the judge mean when he talked about the chemical evaluation thingy?” she asked.