Holt knew why Buckley Security had suddenly changed its policies. It had nothing to do with doing the right thing. The public wanted to know what happened at Emily’s Place, and they were asking questions as to why Buckley Security didn’t provide the authorities with security footage of the crime.
They could not do that because they did not have it.
Emily Riley had chosen to turn off all the cameras the moment she entered the center. It was a decision she felt was necessary.
She did not want the women who showed up at the center to feel like they were under scrutiny. These women were scared. Many of them were fleeing an abusive situation. They came to the center to see what options were available to them. They did not want their husbands or boyfriends finding out what they were doing.
Emily Riley wanted the women to feel safe and comfortable, and the only way to do that was to guarantee total and complete anonymity.
“We did advise her against keeping the cameras off,” Buckley said, “but Ms. Riley would not budge.”
“Why did she even get a security system if she had no interest in using it?” Fisher asked.
“I think it had something to do with insuring the property. The premiums would be astronomical without it. Also, I do think Ms. Riley wanted security as a deterrence.”
“Deterrence?” Holt asked.
“Yes. In case someone tried to vandalize the property.”
“Which has happened before,” Fisher said, referring to incidents of graffiti that was spray-painted outside the center, and the bricks thrown through the center’s windows.
“In all those situations, we had footage of the incidents. They occurred during the night when the cameras were on, and we provided them to the police when requested.”
Holt then said, “We would like footage from last night.”
“Sure, but I doubt you’ll find anything useful.”
“Let us be the judge of that.”
Buckley nodded. “I’ll have our technicians pull them up and send them to you.”
“Thank you.”
FORTY-NINE
After returning Hope Parsons’s case file, Callaway needed to clear his head. Normally, he would head straight over to a bar. Instead of clearing his head, it would have the opposite effect. His head would be muddled, and he would need an extra day to lift the fog from all the drinking.
He decided to continue working in order to keep his mind occupied. The phrase “An idle mind is a devil’s playground” best described Callaway. The moment he had some time on his hands, he would do anything to get himself in trouble. He would go to a casino and lose whatever money he had on him. He would go to a bar and drink until he blacked out. And if he saw a pretty face in the bar, he would not be able to help himself.
His focus was now on Patti and Nina. They should have been his focus all along, but his immaturity and his selfish tendencies almost destroyed any opportunity for reconciliation.
It was a miracle he was back in their lives once again, and he was not about to mess it up.
He headed straight for Joely’s house.
It was a tiny bungalow in the suburbs of Milton. The exterior was painted white, and it even had a white picket fence. Callaway knew how hard Joely had worked to save up the down payment, and she was proud to purchase it for herself and her son.
He parked on the other side of the street from it. He wasn’t sure what he hoped to find here. Maybe he would finally see the infamous Dean, the man who had ended his marriage via a phone call from some faraway town he was visiting while on the road with a rock band.
Callaway did not have to wait long. A few minutes later, he came out.
Dean Paterson had shoulder-length hair, stubble on his cheeks, and heavily tattooed arms. He was wearing a T-shirt with a quote across the front. Callaway couldn’t read it from a distance.
He thought Dean would stop on the porch, but instead he headed straight for Callaway’s Dodge Charger.
Once he got closer, Callaway saw that the quote read, Born to be Wild.
“You must be Lee Callaway,” Dean said with a hand extended. He saw the look of shock on Callaway’s face. “Brian told me someone came by Velmont asking about me,” he said.
“Brian?” Callaway said, confused.
“Brian Dunbar.”
Brian Dunbar was the manager of Angels of Addicts. Callaway had spoken to him about Dean. “But how did you know my name?” he asked.
“I checked, and there is no band called House of Jam. Although, there is a club in Toronto that goes by the name. I then asked Brian to describe the person who visited him. Also, Josh told me Joely is friends with a private investigator. It didn’t take long to put two and two together.”
“Right,” Callaway replied.
Dean then said, “Listen, I know you and Joely are friends, and I can tell you, I’m not here to cause any trouble for her.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I’m here for Josh. The kid’s got talent. I want to help him harness it.”
Callaway’s eyes narrowed. “You’re here to piggyback on your kid’s abilities to play baseball?”
“No, that’s not it.” He then paused and looked away into the distance. He then said, “As I get older, I realize I made a big mistake walking away from Joely and Josh. My chance with Joely is gone. I know that. But I still got a chance with Josh. I just wanna spend time with the kid. I wanna get to know him better. I want him to get to know me better, too.”
Callaway stared at him. Instead of feeling anger and resentment toward him for what he did to Joely, Callaway found himself sympathizing with him.
If he looked carefully, he saw a lot of himself in Dean.
They both abandoned their young families for a life of excitement and adventure, and they were both now desperately trying to make amends for their ill-conceived decisions.
Dean said, “I appreciate your loyalty to Joely, but you got nothing to worry about from me.”
“That’s good to hear,” Callaway finally said.
“You wanna come in for a drink?” Dean offered. “There’s cold beer in the fridge.”
Callaway exhaled and shook his head. “I would love to, but I can’t.”
“It’s only one beer.”
I just talked myself out of going to a bar, Callaway thought. “Thanks, but no.”
“All right,” Dean said. “Maybe next time.”
FIFTY
There were close to a thousand people at the vigil outside Emily’s Place. Holt and Fisher were there too. Like others, they wanted to pay their respects to the deceased. At the same time, they wanted to gauge the sentiment of the crowd.
James Riley spoke first. His voice broke whenever he spoke of his dead wife. She was a wonderful wife and loving mother.
Fisher spotted a large group of women holding signs on one side of the crowd.
Victims No More!
It’s Time for Action!
Violence Against Women is Still Happening Right Now!
The mayor spoke next. She vowed to do whatever was necessary to find who committed this atrocious crime.
Fisher knew the spotlight was aimed directly at them. If they did not find the responsible person fast, their careers could be on the line. The public wanted answers, and the politicians were eager to give it to them. They were not concerned with the complexities of a homicide investigation. All they cared about was that the public believed they—the politicians—were doing everything they could to solve this terrible crime.
While the mayor gave platitudes that the city was strong enough to overcome this tragedy, Fisher decided to speak to the head of the group of women with the signs.
Her name was Alice, and she had short, cropped hair and fierce, intelligent eyes.
“Do you think it’s appropriate to be holding a rally at a vigil?” Fisher asked.
“Why not?” Alice said. “Three of our sisters were brutally murdered by a man.”
“We don’t know that f
or sure,” Fisher countered.
Alice stared at her. “No woman would do what happened in there.” She pointed to Emily’s Place.
She was right, Fisher knew. Mass murders by women were unheard of. It was predominately men who committed such crimes.
“We want to make a point,” Alice added. “We want to shine a light on what is still going on, even today.”
“And what is that?”
“Women are still being oppressed—culturally, economically, societally, and even physically.”
“We’ve made great strides over the years, though,” Fisher said. “Things are better than they once were.”
“Sure, but men still hold positions of power. Almost all the CEOs of Fortune 500 companies are men. In politics, a vast majority of them are men. We are still not ready for a female president, even though we say we are more enlightened than our predecessors.” Fisher found Alice to be smart and articulate. She could feel her devotion to achieving gender equality.
“I’m sure one day we’ll have a female president,” Fisher said. “Women have become leaders in other countries, so why not in the United States?”
“Men won’t allow it,” Alice said, shaking her head. “In fact, they feel like they have already lost enough control. If they had their way, women would be back at home, cooking and cleaning for them. They want to go back to a patriarchal society. I still think we never left being a patriarchal society.”
Fisher did not know what to say. She never spent time fighting for women’s rights. She was too busy fighting for hers. It was not easy moving up the corporate ladder in a police department. The old boys’ mentality was heavily engrained in the structure. If a woman did reach a high level, she was either not feminine enough or she must have gotten help from a man.
Fisher knew women faced far more obstacles then men. They were constantly under scrutiny. If not for their looks, it was for their qualification for the job. It took women double the effort to achieve what men took for granted.
The mayor had ended her speech, and a pastor from the local church was now speaking about healing and forgiving.
Fisher could see from the group holding the signs that the healing would take time, but there would be no forgiveness. They wanted someone punished for this crime, and they would not stop shining a spotlight on what happened at Emily’s Place until the perpetrator was found.
Fisher knew she and Holt had their work cut out for them.
She walked back to Holt, and he said, “Everything okay?” He was referring to her talk with Alice.
“Everything’s fine,” she replied.
He stared at her but said nothing.
At the end of the vigil, candles were lit, and a moment of silence was held for the three dead women.
FIFTY-ONE
Dinner consisted of chicken casserole, garlic bread, and steamed vegetables, which was followed by a dessert of homemade cupcakes.
Callaway was at Patti’s house. Patti had prepared dinner, but Nina helped with the dessert, especially with the icing.
He was at the kitchen sink washing the dirty dishes. They were now having weekly family dinners, which alternated between his apartment and Patti’s house. In the beginning, whenever his turn came up, he would order in. But after a while, even he got sick of takeout. He had started preparing smaller meals. Patti was appreciative of the effort. On a few occasions, she would bring along a side dish. Sometimes, they gorged on the side dish more than what he had prepared.
He was not offended that his cooking was not up to par. He was just grateful to be able to spend time with the two most important people in his life.
As he rinsed the utensils, Patti came up next to him.
“Make sure they are spotless,” she said.
“Aye, aye, captain,” he said, imitating a sailor.
She smiled.
His heart fluttered. The first time he had laid eyes on her, he thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. After all these years, his opinion of her had not changed.
“So what case are you working on now?” she asked.
He went silent.
She saw the hesitation on his face and said, “If you’re not comfortable telling me, I understand.”
He sighed. “My client is… Hope Parsons.”
It took a moment for Patti to recognize the name when she said, “Did she…?”
“Yes, she was charged with drowning her son.”
Patti’s face darkened. “What does she want from you?”
“She wants me to help her understand what happened on the day her son died.”
“But she was found guilty.”
“I know.”
Patti paused and then said, “Are you sure you should be helping someone like her?”
Callaway stopped washing the dishes. “As a nurse, I thought you’d be more understanding regarding people with mental illness.”
Patti looked away, ashamed. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that… she killed her only child. I think about Nina. I can’t imagine doing…”
He put his hands on her cheeks and pulled her closer. “You will never hurt Nina. I know it from the bottom of my heart.” He then kissed her.
“Ewww gross,” Nina said, coming into the kitchen. “You guys should get a room.”
They had broken the news to her. She was naturally ecstatic. She wanted desperately to have a mother and father again. She was even talking about Callaway moving back into the house. But Patti and he wanted to take the relationship slow. They knew the stakes were high. If this did not work out, they may never get another chance to be a family again.
Nina hurried out of the room. She did not want to see her parents get “kissy-feely,” as she called it, in front of her.
When they were alone again, Callaway said to Patti, “If you tell me to drop the case, I’ll do it.”
Patti stared at him as if searching for a reason to tell him so. Instead, she said, “What if she didn’t kill her son?”
Callaway exhaled. “Everything I’ve read so far points to her being responsible.”
“But what if?”
“That’s what I want to find out.”
“Then you do what you have to, Lee,” she said.
He smiled and kissed her again.
FIFTY-TWO
The next day, Callaway was back at Camden Mental Health Facility. He did not have to wait long. Hope Parsons came out through the front doors.
She came up and sat down next to him on the bench. She looked tired and disheveled. She gave him a weak smile. “I’m sorry, but the medications are wearing me down today.”
“That’s all right,” he said. “We can do this some other time.”
“No, no, no,” she replied. “I’m extremely grateful that you’ve decided to take on my case, and I will do whatever I can to help you.”
He nodded. “I’ve started looking into it, and I have some questions for you.”
“You can ask me anything.”
He paused but then jumped right in. “You tried to commit suicide while incarcerated.”
“I did,” she replied matter-of-factly.
He was silent.
“Why is it important?” she then asked.
“There is a theory out there that you were suicidal, and that’s why you did what you did.” Because of her mental condition, he had to tread carefully when speaking of her son. He feared anything he said could trigger a negative reaction from her. The last thing he wanted was to push someone with a history of suicide over the edge.
“What does my attempting to hurt myself have to do with Noah?” she asked, confused.
“Maybe you were depressed and in pain,” he said gently, “and what happened at Erie Lake was because you wanted to end your life as well.”
She then understood. “You think I went to Erie Lake to hurt Noah because I was contemplating hurting myself?”
He was silent again.
She shook her head. “No, that’s not how it was.”
“Then how was it?”
“I only decided to hurt myself after I found out that Noah was gone.”
He waited for her to say more.
“Noah was my reason to keep going. Whenever my illness led me down a dark hole, just seeing his face, hearing his little voice, and holding his tiny body close to me, reminded me that I had so much to live for. He gave me the strength to move on.” Her eyes welled up, and she wiped them with the back of her sleeve. “My fear with Noah was not that I would hurt him. My fear with him was what if he grows up and has my disease.”
It was a genuine concern, Callaway knew. Every parent worried about passing their negative qualities on to their children.
Callaway was fortunate that whatever he was, it was never hereditary. His father rarely drank, never set foot inside a casino, and was married to his mother until his death. Callaway turned out to be the black sheep of the family. That was on him, not something he inherited.
However, Callaway was smart enough to know his reckless behavior was not conducive to raising a healthy child. It was another reason why he stayed in the background while Nina was growing up.
Some would say that was a cop-out. He neglected his duties as a father, and Patti had to raise Nina on her own. He could not completely argue against that. He was now trying hard to mend his ways so that he could be a better role model for his little girl.
Hope’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “My life has been a living hell,” she said. “You have no idea what it feels like to think you had harmed your child. I replay the events from that day repeatedly in my head, and I don’t know what the truth is anymore.”
The Broken Mother Page 12
