More Than We Remember

by Christina Suzann Nelson

  Lilly’s mouth tightened, and her forehead wrinkled. She pointed to a deep purple ice cream with chunks of chocolate. “I’d like to try that one, and the lemon kind.”

  He scooped a small helping of each onto tiny pink spoons and handed them across the counter to Lilly once Brianne set her down.

  Holding one in each hand, she scrutinized her take, then looked up at Brianne with questioning eyes.

  “It’s just a taste. Try them and let this nice guy know which ones you’d like.”

  Lilly slurped the purple sample first. Her eyes brightened. Then she tried the lemon, which wrinkled her nose. “I’d like one scoop of chocolate and the other one strawberry.”

  Brianne rested her hand on Lilly’s shoulder. “I thought you liked the—” she searched the display until she found the purple ice cream—“Purple Storm.”

  “I did.”

  “Then why didn’t you order that kind?”

  Lilly’s eyebrows scrunched. “I was just trying something new. Daddy says that’s always a good idea. But I like chocolate and strawberry. I always get chocolate and strawberry.”

  They joined the other girls at a table in the corner.

  “Do you have a cell?” Tally pulled hers out from her soccer bag. “We can text.”

  Hannah’s face flushed bright red. “I don’t have one.”

  “That’s okay. I just got mine this year, and the only reason my mom got it for me is so she can track me. She’s a stalker that way. Maybe we can hang out after practice tomorrow.” Tally looked to Brianne. “Would that be all right?”

  “I wish she could answer.” Hannah smiled at Brianne. “I’ll have to ask my mom. She’ll be driving me tomorrow.”

  “This is so good!” Lilly swished around the brown and pink ice cream until the colors swirled into each other, forming a putrid puddle in her paper bowl.

  29

  Maybe defiance would have made the arrest more satisfying.

  Emilia led Caleb Kilbourn from the back of her car through the maze of cement and metal that was the county jail, his walking boot clumping with each step of his right foot. Mr. Kilbourn hadn’t even asked for an explanation when she’d cuffed him and read him his rights at the house. It was like he’d given up. Maybe the victim’s family wouldn’t even need to go through the heartbreak of a trial. Kilbourn looked like he was ready to fold.

  He needed to fold.

  Emilia ground her teeth together. The DA was essentially doing this because she’d made a good argument about the merits of charging someone in leadership—and there was evidence, though not overwhelming. She’d sold the woman who’d campaigned on a platform of ridding the county of drug crimes on the importance of making this a public stand. Whatever it takes.

  Yet Emilia found herself avoiding Kilbourn’s eyes, which looked defeated rather than dangerous.

  They ran through the procedure with little conversation, only an occasional order from Emilia. When they’d finished, she sat him down on the other side of a table in a room with nothing to distract from the issue at hand.

  “This conversation will be recorded.”

  Kilbourn nodded, his expression still numb.

  Emilia clicked the button to start the digital audio/visual recorder. “I want to remind you of your rights.” She ran through Miranda again, not taking a chance of losing due to a technicality.

  He nodded once more, his shoulders slumped, his eyes moist.

  “Please state your agreement verbally.”

  “I understand my rights.”

  “Mr. Kilbourn, where were you the night of June 12, 2018?”

  “I was in an accident on the Darlington-West Crow Highway.”

  “Prior to that collision, where were you?”

  He scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I don’t know.”

  “Can you elaborate on that?”

  “I have no memory of where I was. I don’t remember getting up that morning. I don’t even remember the accident.”

  “So you’re saying you don’t remember drinking and taking prescription medications?”

  He shook his head.

  “That’s awfully convenient, isn’t it?” Emilia’s heart rate sped up. She checked herself to ensure she wasn’t emanating her discomfort.

  “No. It’s not at all convenient.” With his right hand, Caleb massaged the muscles at the back of his neck. “As much as you’d like to know what I was doing that night, I’d like to know even more.”

  “Mr. Kilbourn, why should I believe you? What’s to stop you from just saying you don’t know? Let’s get serious here. You have something to hide, and I’m fully planning to find out what it is. When did you start taking oxycodone?”

  “I took it when I broke my leg in college. It made me feel horrible, so I stopped after a few doses. I’ve never taken it again since.”

  “Then please explain to me how it showed up in your blood work.” Emilia tapped her pen on the edge of the table. This guy was really something. Willing to lie right to her face about a proven fact. The possibility of a guilty verdict grew more certain with each statement that leaked out of his mouth.

  If only she could erase the image of his young son.

  Kilbourn crossed his arms on the table and leaned closer. “I have no idea. Trust me. This is more frustrating for me than anyone else. I know a woman is dead. I just can’t believe I did it. I don’t remember, but I can see the evidence.” He blew out a breath, perspiration beading on his forehead.

  This guy was about to make a statement he couldn’t take back, and Emilia was recording it. Her chest expanded with satisfaction.

  Someone pounded on the door; then it swung open.

  Emilia let her shoulders hang. She scowled at Deputy Seth Wallace, standing in the doorway with a lawyer pushing past him. Two more minutes was all she’d needed. Two more minutes, and Kilbourn would have admitted his fault in the death of Georgianna Bosch. Two more minutes, and guilt would have been established, locking away Caleb Kilbourn.

  ADDISON PACED BACK and forth in the tiny waiting area of the county jail. Molded plastic seats were bolted into place on the cement floor. The cinder block walls had been painted yellow at some point many years ago. The whole place looked like it could be hosed down for cleaning without doing any damage, but by the smell of stale cigarettes and body odor that clung to everything, no one had cleaned in here for a very long time.

  Camden Howell was just another name from someone she had no history with or knowledge about, but he was an attorney, and he had agreed to take Caleb’s case. Desperation made for quick decisions. Hopefully, Mr. Howell wouldn’t be a mistake.

  Addison’s body ached with the agony of being here, in this place meant for criminals and their families. They weren’t these people. They were the kind who followed the law, made good decisions. She’d escaped the life her mother tried to sentence her to. But here Addison was, as if all that work had meant nothing.

  A beep sounded, then a door clanked open, producing a deputy. Every inch of the man seemed to hang with weaponry.

  A chill ran over Addison, followed by the tingle of growing numbness. There was nowhere to run. No way out of this mess. They’d be looked down on by everyone in the community. They’d have to move away, start fresh. But how far would the story of the coach arrested for vehicular homicide carry?

  And her children—they would be labeled forever. Addison was supposed to be the one to defend them from any shame, but it had made it past her guard to attack her kids. They wouldn’t even see it coming. They didn’t have the skills she’d acquired from birth. They were innocent and sheltered, unprepared for silent stares and backward whispers.

  “We only do visits by appointment between five and seven today. If you’d like to schedule one, you’ll have to call it in.” The deputy hooked his thumbs above his belt.

  “I’m not here for that. Well, I would visit, but my husband was just brought in. His attorney is back there. I hoped maybe I could pay his bail.” She opened
the purse hanging over her shoulder.

  “Who is this for?”

  “Caleb Kilbourn.” She kept her gaze on the inside of her purse.

  “The coach. Yeah. I heard they were taking him over for arraignment.”

  She pressed her fingertips into the flesh above her right eyebrow, where pain had begun to throb.

  “You’ll have to wait until the judge sets the amount. All that’s taken care of in the courthouse.”

  “Should I be over there now?” Her pulse sped up, somehow beating directly under her collarbone.

  The man glanced at his watch. “You’ve got a bit of time. You should talk to the lawyer. He can help you out.” He nodded, punched in a code, and exited through another door.

  The slam and clank echoed throughout the room. Caleb might face this kind of restraint for years if the court found him guilty. It would strip the sanity from her husband, a man who thrived in the outdoors, who loved his children with a fierceness Addison had never seen from a father. Would she bring them to visit their dad in prison? Would they even want to see him after his choices destroyed their lives?

  Addison was always aware of the possibilities. Growing up, she’d never seen a marriage last longer than a few years. Charles and Caroline were the first long-term couple she’d known. But even though Caleb came from the kind of family that stuck it out, she didn’t. In many ways, she’d always known that Caleb could change his mind, replace her with someone better, younger, less demanding. But she’d neglected to imagine the scenario they were facing right now. Not only was there a chance her husband was possibly cheating on her, he was going to jail. Yet she still loved him. She definitely hadn’t expected to still love him.

  In the corner, a plexiglass window divided two facing counters. Old-style telephone receivers hung on the walls.

  She walked closer, taking a hard look at her future. Filthy comments were etched onto the surface, and this was on the visitors’ side. What must be on the prisoners’ side? She could never bring her kids here. Ten minutes, and her skin already crawled with invisible germs, as if a layer of something dirty had attached itself to her body.

  Addison hugged her arms around herself. She needed a shower, with bleach. Mostly, though, she needed to wake up and find out this was the worst dream of her life.

  Rolling her hands into tight fists, Addison looked up at the pockmarked ceiling tiles. Lord, why are you letting this happen to us? The words screamed though her mind so loudly, she wondered if she’d yelled them out loud. Tears she wouldn’t shed here in this waiting cage pounded behind her eyes. Pressure built inside, growing with each fear that wove into her thoughts, like a demon coming to take her down to the pits where she belonged.

  She’d gotten too comfortable.

  The punishment would be the loss of her family’s security.

  ADDISON DROVE DOWN the country road with Caleb in the passenger seat and tension filling the pickup like a pressure cooker.

  “I can’t believe you did that.” Caleb set his jaw, his face turned away from his wife as they traveled away from the courthouse and toward home.

  Anxiety was taking over her body, pulsing along to the rhythm of her increased blood pressure. “What did you expect? Should I have gone home and told our children that you were in jail? That you were just giving up on them? It’s not that easy. You will not drop this on me.”

  His eyes flashed her way, catching her attention in her peripheral vision. “I’m doing the best I can.”

  Addison slammed on the brakes and pulled the pickup to a stop along the country road. “Where were you? Where did you really go that night? And don’t you dare tell me that you don’t remember.” Her fingers curled tight around the steering wheel, making her joints ache. “Maybe you still don’t remember the accident, but the whole night and what you were doing in Darlington . . . I don’t buy that. Who were you really with? I want to know the truth.”

  The truck cab was silent aside from the tick-tick-ticking of the blinker she’d bumped somewhere along her rage. It clicked out an uneven beat punctuating the wait. Weeks of wondering . . . Addison couldn’t keep it up, couldn’t question her husband’s loyalty and remain a rock for her children. The edges were starting to crumble away. Something had to give.

  Caleb threw the door open so hard that it bounced back at him. With all the speed he could manage, his leg still held tight in the walking cast, he extricated himself from the truck and stumbled into the ditch. He yanked a stone from the ground and chucked it full force at the deer-crossing sign. It pinged off the metal, leaving a dent before crashing to the ground.

  Addison dropped her forehead onto the steering wheel. There was an urge inside her to pull the pickup back onto the road and leave her husband in that ditch to get his story straight. But for the sake of her children, she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t repeat any of the choices her own mother had made and take her kids down with her in order to preserve her pride.

  A red sedan passed by, slowing to check out the scene.

  Addison ducked her head, but the car came to a stop, then shifted into reverse. Another humiliation.

  A man, baseball cap shading his eyes, leaned across, waving his hand out his passenger side window. “Do you need any help?”

  Tears tried to use the distraction as a means of escape, but Addison held firm. She forced a smile into place. “No. But thank you. We’re fine.” Without waiting for his response, she pressed the button and the glass slid up, cutting a border between them.

  The guy shrugged and drove on. How long until the next Good Samaritan came their way? This was exactly how rumors got a footing.

  Addison stepped onto the pavement, heat radiating from the dark surface and soaking through the soles of her sandals.

  In the ditch, Caleb sat on the dirt, his hands cradling his face. Either he was a great actor or a man who really didn’t know what was happening. How could she trust it was the latter? Until Caleb came into her life, she’d never met a man she could trust. Her mother’s words still haunted her. “He may look like he’s going to take care of you, but don’t get comfortable. They all cheat eventually.” That voice was getting louder every day. It had started waking her in the middle of the night. Those words drew her back to the cab of the truck and held her to the seat, forming a wall between her and Caleb that she couldn’t climb over.

  She wouldn’t leave him, but she wasn’t going after him, either.

  30

  Brianne did her best to keep the mood light, but Connor had met them at the van and news of the scene they had avoided came tumbling out of his mouth. Brianne hadn’t even unlatched her seat belt before it was too late to buffer Hannah and Lilly from the story.

  Connor seemed oblivious to the shock on his older sister’s face and the panic of the younger one. When Lilly started to sob, he paused, looked her way, and told her it was no big deal. “Mom said she’d go get him and straighten everything out.”

  He still believed his parents could fix any wrong. Brianne prayed this wouldn’t be the time he found out he was mistaken.

  For hours, Brianne took the role of comforter while Caroline took out her fears on the kitchen. Fried chicken, fresh bread, and a variety of cookies filled the house with the scent of deception. Everything was not all right here. There was a giant problem, and until someone was willing to be straight with these kids, their fears were certain to grow.

  Lilly came out the front door, a plastic plate piled with untouched cookies stacked on a matching tray. She sat next to Brianne on the top step and leaned into her side.

  “How are you doing?” Brianne put her arm around Lilly’s slight shoulders.

  She shrugged. “Do you really think Daddy is going to be okay?”

  “Well.” Brianne pulled stray strands of golden hair away from Lilly’s eyes and tucked them behind her ear. “I think he will. This may be a tough time, but in the end, he’s a survivor like you.”

  “I’m afraid. I told Grammy that, but she said I need to
trust God. She said that to me when Grampy was sick too, and he died.” A tear glistened in the corner of her eye.

  Brianne nodded. “I can see why that would be a big worry for you. But your daddy isn’t sick. No matter what happens, you know that he loves you, and he’ll do whatever he can to be with you. I think what Grammy means is that, even though sometimes we go through hard times, we can trust that God loves us and will make it all work out in His time.”

  Lilly sighed, no doubt disappointed in Brianne’s assurance.

  There weren’t always words to fix a bruised heart. Sometimes, the hurt had to happen before the healing could begin. Lilly’s summer was bound to hold some tears.

  The advice Brianne had been given early in her job as a counselor rose to the surface of her memory. She’d been working with three siblings who’d been removed from their mother’s care. The state was hoping to place them with an aunt who lived on the coast. Even before the kids came in for their first meeting, her supervisor told her to beware of hope. She said hope could be a dangerous thing for children in the midst of trauma.

  But how could anyone survive without hope? It was what spurred people on toward the future. Maybe if Amanda had known there was always hope . . . maybe Amanda would still be there.

  LILLY HAD SPENT the entire drive to the soccer field catching Connor up on the procedure. Somehow, Brianne’s taking them to ice cream on Monday indicated they would do it again on Friday. It wasn’t a great idea to overindulge kids like this, but with all the Kilbourn children were going through, a bit of extra sugar and fat wouldn’t be the worst thing.

  Brianne pulled up to the curb, turned off the minivan’s ignition, and opened her door. Doing the mom thing wasn’t as awkward as she’d assumed it would be. Sure, she was tired by the time she gave the kids back to their parents, but it was nothing like the look of absolute exhaustion that hung on Addison’s drooping shoulders.

  This was a little thing Brianne could do to help. She used to tell clients that, sometimes, serving others was the best way to feel better about their lives and circumstances. Not that the other person had it worse—though many did—but the act of helping someone else simply lifted the spirit. Brianne’s heart was experiencing a bit of that healing.