Ditch Rider Read Online Free PDF

she spells it C-H-E-Y-A-N-N-E. She always did have a lot of imagination.”
    â€œ What’s her real name?”
    â€œCharlene.”
    Charlene/Cheyanne was following Danny down the street looking rumpled and tired. She cradled the fat orange and white cat in her arms.
    â€œNeil here wants to talk to you alone,” Sonia said.
    â€œCan I bring Tabatoe in?”
    â€œNo, you cannot! Put that damn cat down.”
    Cheyanne put Tabatoe on the ground, and the cat made a dash for the catnip patch.
    â€œYou tell Neil everything. You hear me?” Sonia said.
    â€œI hear you,” Cheyanne mumbled to her running shoe.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI HEAR YOU!” Like many conversations between mothers and daughters, this one was full of capital letters and exclamation points.
    â€œAll right.” Sonia turned around and walked home with her high heels tapping the street. Danny rode his bike toward school. I led Cheyanne into the house, called my office and told Anna I’d be late. Cheyanne would be late for school herself, but under the circumstances that didn’t seem critical. In fact, it seemed wiser not to go. The best thing for Cheyanne at this point would be to stay home and barricade the door or to get out of town if she had a father or anybody else to go to.
    First I asked her why she went out last night. “Nobody was home. Danny was with his father. I was lonely,” she said.
    â€œWhere did you go?”
    â€œTo Patricia’s house.”
    â€œThat was Ron Cade you were with when I saw you beside the ditch, wasn’t it?”
    She nodded.
    â€œWill you tell me what happened with him?”
    â€œNothing. He tried to rough me up is all, but I curled up in a ball and pretended I was a little animal, see. He didn’t hurt me. It was no big deal.”
    â€œDid you see him again last night? Did he convince you to confess to Juan Padilla’s killing in order to cover for him? They can’t do much to you, but they could put him away for life.”
    â€œIt wasn’t like that.”
    â€œWhy did you tell your mother about Juan this morning?”
    â€œI couldn’t keep it a secret no more. You’re not going to tell my mom about Ron Cade, are you?”
    â€œIt would be better if she knew.”
    â€œDon’t tell her, please. She’ll kill me.”
    â€œ I can’t represent you, Cheyanne, if you’re not honest with me.”
    â€œI’m honest.” Not exactly. If nothing else, there were lies of omission.
    â€œWere you with Ron the night Juan was killed?”
    â€œAnybody I was with is as guilty as me, right?”
    â€œProbably.”
    â€œThen don’t make me tell you that.” She squirmed in her chair.
    â€œI’m your lawyer, not your judge. Whatever you say stops here.”
    â€œI can’t,” she mumbled.
    Who were you with? was a question you might not want to ask an adult client. And there was a real good chance you’d never ask my next question; sometimes it’s better not to know. But this client was only thirteen years old. I tried to get her to look me in the eye, but her eyes were fixed on her big toe. “Did you shoot Juan Padilla?” I asked her.
    â€œI didn’t mean to,” she mumbled.
    â€œI didn’t ask whether you meant to. I asked if you did.”
    She nodded.
    â€œDon’t nod. We’re talking about murder here. Maybe Juan wasn’t an altar boy, but he was a person. He had a family, he had a life, he had dreams just like you.”
    â€œI know,” she said. Tears were running down her face.
    â€œI want an answer and I want you to look at me when you give it. Did you shoot Juan Padilla?”
    She raised her eyes, and although she looked harder at the wall than she did at me, she gave me an answer. “Yes. I shot Juan Padilla. All right?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “It’s not all right, but I’ll do what I can to help