Leah looked at Nora, not sure what was holding her back. “Maybe I’ll go with you this Sunday.”
When the cell doors opened for rec time, Nora left to hit the snack bar and replenish her supply, so Leah had some time to herself. She sat back and thought about her mother. I used to love the sound of her voice when she sang. In a couple of seconds, she was humming the only two songs she remembered because they were her mother’s favorites: “In the Garden” and “Trust and Obey.”
Sadness enveloped her when she tried to pinpoint why she walked away from church. She’d never been baptized. Her mother asked her one day if she wanted to, and she’d said no.
“One day you’ll have to proclaim your own faith,” Mom said. “God doesn’t have grandchildren, only his much-loved children.”
Truth was, Leah was always drawn more to life outside the church. For some reason she thought all the excitement was somewhere else.
Then the what-ifs invaded: What if her mother hadn’t died in that car crash? What if Leah had never met Brad? What if she’d never followed him that night?
Tears flowed and Leah got angry. I’m so tired of always falling apart. The chaplain is right. I can’t stay in the past. It will just keep dragging me down. But can I really let go of Brad?
That question drew her back to the Bible and the promises she’d read of forgiveness and peace. She stepped up to the little sink, looking at herself in the faux metal mirror. She barely recognized her face, and not just because the mirror distorted her features. She was looking at a prison inmate.
“No, no.” Her mind wouldn’t let her stop there. “I’m not only an inmate. I’m a survivor. Brad didn’t kill me; being sentenced to prison didn’t either. Tracy tried and failed.”
Breathing in deeply, Leah stood up straighter. “I may be in jail for twenty-five years, but I will survive.” Twenty-five years still stung deep in her soul like acid. “I can’t keep looking down the road. Only what is in front of me matters.” That thought lessened the sting.
With new resolve, Leah rinsed her face off and vowed to stop the crying.
A thought crept into her mind, tiptoeing on stockinged feet. Maybe, just maybe, God isn’t responsible for what happened to me. Maybe I just made a series of poor choices.
She wrote her thoughts down in the notebook her father had given her.
I can’t change anything that’s already happened.
Blame is irrelevant. It will change nothing.
I have to move forward and make better choices.
I need to remember what it felt like to walk with God, not away from him.
Then she sat down on her bed, Bible in her lap. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she prayed.
She prayed for forgiveness, she prayed for peace, and she prayed to be able to move forward, even if every step for the next twenty-five years was going to be in prison. She also prayed to be able to let Brad go, to stop tormenting herself because she’d had to shoot him. Even as she whispered the words, she knew she couldn’t, not completely. There was still a spark inside, a flashing neon WHY? Yes, Darrel had said that a lot of whys would never be answered, but there were two questions Leah had to ask and one she’d have to find some way to get the answer to.
What was Brad doing the night I followed him, and why did my knowing make him so angry he wanted to kill me?
CHAPTER 23
“You’re getting good at that.”
Leah looked up from her drawing, surprised to see Donna during free time. She should be at her drug rehab class or running on the track. Nora was off to the rec yard, but Leah still felt a little weak, so she’d opted to stay in the dayroom and draw.
“Don’t you have a training run today?”
Donna laughed. “Door’s been open for nearly forty minutes. You been drawing all that time?”
Leah nodded and had to stretch, realizing she was stiff from bending over her drawing.
Donna peered down at the sketchbook Leah’s father had given her. “That’s great.”
“Thanks.” Leah rubbed her neck. “This is the most relaxing hobby I’ve ever had. I learned to draw in junior high. I stopped for a while. I just picked it back up again.”
“Who is that?” Donna pointed to the top sketch.
“My dad.” She flipped through the pages. “This is my mom and—”
“Chaplain Darrel.” Donna laughed. “That’s a great likeness. You did that with just a pencil?”
“Yeah. I’d like to work with color, and my dad is going to get me some colored pencils.”
“Who’s the last one?”
Leah flipped to the last page and held the drawing in the light. “This is the guy I saw my husband threaten with a gun. It was dark, and I was far away, so right now this is the best I can do.” Leah knew that an insurance salesman named Holloway claimed he was the man there that night. But her instincts screamed he was lying. Sketching helped her remember every detail about the man she’d seen.
“He looks evil.”
“I don’t know if he’s evil or not. All I know is I’d like to talk to him.”
“That will be tough.”
Leah chuckled mirthlessly. “Don’t I know it.”
“Think you can draw me?”
Leah arched an eyebrow and regarded her only other friend besides Nora. “Probably. You want me to?”
Donna shrugged. “You do good work. Maybe I can send it to my kids. They might get a kick out of it.”
“I’ll give it a try.”
“Great.”
Free time over, it was time to go back to their respective cells. Leah studied the tall, bearded figure she’d been trying to draw. After the second meeting with the chaplain, Leah felt better emotionally than she had in a long while. And when she looked back over the drawings of the last couple of months, she could see improvement. But the details of the bearded man’s face eluded her.
“Radcliff.”
Leah looked up. She’d been so engrossed she’d not heard the footsteps. There at the door to her cell stood Hastings, the officer she’d shoved.
“Yes?” Leah closed her sketch pad, got up, and stepped to the door.
“My first day back to work after the altercation.” She’d sprained her wrist in the struggle with Tracy.
Leah nodded, not sure where this was going. They’d never had a conversation before; it had always been officer and inmate orders and acknowledgments.
Hastings held up the package in her hand. “Your father left these, and they’ve just been approved for you to have.”
Leah reached out and took the package. Colored pencils. “Thank you.” Leah knew these would help her sketch more clearly. She expected Hastings would move on, but the woman made no move to leave.
“I want to ask you a question,” the officer said, face blank.
“Sure.”
“Why’d you shove me the other day? If you hadn’t, you might not have been stabbed.”
Leah frowned. “Why wouldn’t I? She was after me, not you. I saw her coming—you would have gotten it in the back.”
“Because I’m a corrections officer.”
“So? You’re not my enemy.”
Hastings seemed to consider this. The woman held her gaze, and Leah was puzzled.
Finally she took a step away but turned back. “Your husband was really trying to kill you?”
That question jolted Leah. In nearly a year in prison, no corrections officer had asked that question; they all assumed she’d shot Brad in his sleep, which had been the cry of the prosecutor at trial.
“Yes, he really was.”
Hastings’s expression softened a bit. “Thank you. I might have gotten that shank instead of you.”
Leah was at a loss for words. But she didn’t have to speak; Hasting went on. “You have a visitor.”
Surprised because it wasn’t Saturday, the day her father always came, Leah hesitated before she moved.
“Name’s Becky Blanchard,” Hastings sai
d. “She’s a friend?”
“Yeah, she is.” Surprised and suddenly anxious, Leah followed Hastings to the visiting area, wondering what Becky had to say. She hadn’t heard a word from her since Brad’s death.
She also realized that Hastings’s whole demeanor had changed. It was less stiff, more friendly. Maybe she doesn’t think of me as a cold-blooded killer anymore, Leah thought. She realized there would be many people who would always only see her as a killer. The evidence presented at trial had convinced twelve people that she was. Despair started to creep into her soul like the fog over the San Francisco Bay.
Leah stopped it. I will not return to the pit. I changed Hastings’s mind; I will change other people’s as well.
She entered the visiting area and saw Becky Blanchard waiting.
Becky smiled tentatively. “Leah, I . . .”
Leah stepped forward, also unsure, a flash of shame rippling through her. Then Becky lurched forward and gave her a hug. Leah flinched when she squeezed a bit too hard.
“Oh! I’m sorry. You’re hurt?”
“That’s okay. It’s better today and I should be fully recovered in no time.”
“So sorry this happened to you,” she whispered in Leah’s ear.
Leah fought tears and hugged her friend. When Becky let go, they both stepped back and wiped tears from their eyes.
“I don’t know what to say,” Leah started. “I never expected anyone but my dad to visit.”
“Sorry it took so long, but with Grady and the baby, it’s hard to get away. It also took me a month to be approved to visit. We’re friends, Leah. I knew Brad, remember? I never thought it was anything but self-defense.”
Leah felt the tight ball within her loosen. First Hastings, now Becky. It felt good to know that others besides her dad believed the truth.
“Thanks, Becky. That means more to me than I can say.”
They sat at one of the tables, and Leah let Becky prattle on about life with an almost three-year-old and what was going on at home. Larry Ripley was considering running for state senator.
“He was always interested in politics and higher office,” Leah said.
“That’s true. That’s why I’m pushing Grady to run for sheriff when the current sheriff retires.”
“No kidding? He’d be good,” Leah said and meant it. Becky was always pushing Grady for something.
“I agree. Duke’s even thinking of running for county commissioner.”
“Really?” Leah listened while Becky went on about her brother and her husband. Her world revolved around the two men. Leah remembered Becky telling her how it was love at first sight when she met Grady.
“I didn’t think I’d ever get married—I was happy single—but Grady walked into my life and made me laugh, and I knew my life wouldn’t be complete without him.”
Leah made no comment about Larry Ripley or Duke. Becky didn’t seem to notice.
“Any news on your appeal?” Becky asked.
The statement caught Leah off guard. She and her father had only briefly talked about the appeal, which she knew could take over a year to be heard. Filed about a month after she began her sentence, it hadn’t even been eight months yet. Could the new lawyer he’d found speed up the process?
“I’m told it will take time.”
“Well, I hope it changes things. One brain-dead jury shouldn’t be the end of it. Grady is pulling for you. So is Duke.”
Leah nodded, but the thought of the appeal scared her. What if it wasn’t just a brain-dead jury? What if no one would believe she shot Brad in self-defense?
In that same instant, one of the verses Chaplain Darrel had recommended invaded her thoughts. “When you walk through the waters, they will not overflow. When you walk through the fire, I will be with you . . .” Losing every appeal would be like drowning, being overflowed.
But I’m not alone anymore, am I? She remembered Nora saying that going to jail was the best thing that ever happened to her.
Could I ever say that?
CHAPTER 24
Two days after Becky’s visit, after making certain she was on the road to recovery, Leah’s dad told Leah a little more about the new attorney.
“She’ll be coming to see you; I think you’ll like her.”
Leah listened as he talked about Gretchen Gaffney. Since Tanner had found the lawyer, she hoped that meant he wasn’t mad she’d told him to stay out of her life.
“Dad, I’ll talk to her, but don’t get your hopes up.”
“What do you mean?” He frowned. “You’re innocent.”
“I know, but—”
“No buts about it. For some reason the first jury was blinded. A new trial will fix that.”
Leah wanted to ask if he was certain about that but couldn’t. Her father was hardly objective. A lawyer would be objective. When she got a chance, she’d ask the lawyer.
A chance to do just that came sooner than she thought. The lawyer her father had so much faith in came to see her the next visiting day. Gretchen Gaffney had a sharp, penetrating gaze. Leah felt like there was nothing she could hide from this woman.
“You’re going to be my new lawyer?” Leah asked.
“Maybe,” Gaffney said. “First, convince me.” She pointed at her chest. “Convince me you didn’t murder your husband in cold blood, that you truly were defending yourself.”
Leah studied the redheaded lawyer and wondered where to begin. She decided to start at the beginning. “We had a couple of good months. Then I made a mistake. Brad had a man cave. I was not to enter it without being invited. He’d warned me, but I didn’t take him seriously. One day I did go in because he had a phone call. He was furious. He used a police takedown and pinned me, warning me to never do that again. It was terrifying. And it progressed from there.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Leah sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I’ve had a lot of sleepless nights to think about that question. I don’t know if I can convey the shame I felt.”
“Try. If we are granted a new trial, you’ll have to convince a second jury.”
“You want me to testify?”
“I think you have to. If you truly were in fear for your life, then you have to convince the jury. No one else can do that.”
Leah thought hard about the question before answering. “I couldn’t admit to myself that it was truly abuse. He was careful not to leave marks anyone would see. He’d apologize, and we’d be fine for a time . . .”
Leah sighed, thinking back. “My dad never liked him. . . . I guess the bottom line is, I thought I could get a handle on it. Women who were true victims of domestic violence were just too weak to get a handle on things, so I had to tell them to leave their abusers.”
She paused while Gretchen scribbled notes on a yellow pad. “Every time I responded to a domestic violence call, it was like walking on razor blades. I always told women what the literature and my training said: He won’t stop, and it will get worse. I could never apply that to myself.”
“How about now?”
The question gave Leah a start. A lump formed in her throat. “I was a victim of domestic violence. I hate that. It still hurts.” Fists clenched. “How could I have been so stupid?”
Gretchen shook her head. “I don’t come here to condemn you or to make you condemn yourself. I just want you to be able to articulate the issue clearly and believably with the jury.”
“You’re sure I should testify?”
“You don’t want to?”
“It’s not that. In the first trial the lawyer recommended against it, said Birch would destroy me.”
“Like I said, and I firmly believe, you are the one who has to do the convincing. Your life was in danger; the jury needs to believe that.”
“Do you really think I have a chance at a new trial?”
“I do. And you have to be all in.”
Leah nodded.
“Now go on. What else can you tell me about your life with Brad?”
“In retrospect, it was all about him. I stopped seeing my father because Brad didn’t like him. We spent a lot of time with his folks, which was always rough.”
“How so?”
“I never cared for my father-in-law, but I tried because Brad and Harden were close. Harden treated Blanche, his wife, like a servant. I remember feeling sorry for her but never having the courage to speak up. Usually when we had dinner together, Blanche would drink herself into a stupor and Ivy, Brad’s sister, would put her to bed.”
Leah paused, remembering something Blanche often said. “After dinner Brad and his father would retire to Harden’s den. Women weren’t allowed. One time early on I objected. She took my arm and led me to the bar. ‘Let the men do their men things,’ she said. It was a phrase she repeated often.”
“Do you think she was abused?”
Leah took a deep breath. “She had to be. That’s what the literature says: Abuse is a learned behavior. Brad probably learned it from Harden.” Tears started and Leah swallowed them back. “Maybe if I’d said something, I could have helped her as well.”
“Hindsight is twenty-twenty. Let’s go back to you and Brad. How was he about money?”
Leah tensed, fighting the wave of recrimination and regret that threatened to engulf her. “He kept his finances private. His money was his money, my money was mine, and he didn’t want the two to mix. And my friends, he was prickly about that, only wanted me having certain friends. At one point, I did think about telling a woman I played basketball with what was going on. Even though we’d stopped playing, we’d get together from time to time. I think Brad thought we were too close because he told me to cut her out of my life. After that I almost went to talk to the department shrink, but I knew Brad would find out.”
“Why? Isn’t that confidential?”
“It’s impossible to keep a secret like that at the PD. And I didn’t know who to talk to outside the PD.”
“You referred women to outside agencies all the time.”
“You’re right—I did—but that was for victims. Like I said, I refused to see myself as a victim. Somehow, calling myself a victim made me weak.”
Breach of Honor Page 12
