Empty Shell

by Ashley Fontainne

  No, Philip waited, occupying himself with keeping his beloved wife from sliding into insanity and handling each painful detail of the funeral for his darling daughter. When the arrest of Jack Dickinson happened Monday morning, Philip’s plan was completed. He wouldn’t dare rely on the corrupt legal system to dole out justice for his precious princess. Hell, he knew from personal experience how much it would cost to make sure a case went his way. He knew which official could be bought, how much cash or blackmail it would take to make evidence disappear. How memories could be blurred, stories changed, witnesses vanish to never take the stand. Bam, case closed and reputation intact.

  The painful impact of a shoe against his head stirred Philip from his thoughts. Miriam was beyond angry. She was livid, her makeup no longer on the parts of her face it was supposed to be. Her eyes were rimmed with black and her hair a sweaty mess, the neat bun from earlier gone. His wife was screaming obscenities that rivaled Philip’s own filthy mouth when he was at work. Hearing the composed, dainty southern belle he’d married over thirty years ago spout such vulgarities made his cheeks flame with embarrassment.

  In five long strides, Philip was across the room and gathering his wife into his arms, her feeble attempts to pull away rendered moot. He held her close and stroked her hair, murmuring comforting words as he eased them both to the floor of the closet. His back steady against the wall, Philip pulled Miriam’s small body against his chest as tears replaced Miriam’s anger.

  The gut wrenching wails of his wife washed away any doubts he had over implementing the plan. A plan that had been set in stone earlier when Philip took the call from the coroner’s office with the news he had yet to share with Miriam. He couldn’t find the words to tell her Serena’s body wasn’t the only one they were burying.

  The fate of Jack Dickinson was sealed with the coroner’s phone call and salty tears of Miriam.

  And, to Philip’s surprise, his own.

  The long service ended, and Philip was glad he took a mental hiatus rather than listen to the prattling of the priest. He led his wife into the meeting hall, which was packed full of bodies and food. The tables were draped in pink silk, topped off with glittering crystal vases stuffed with pink lilies, hydrangeas and roses. Pink candies, pink napkins and pink punch topped the room off. Philip realized as soon as he walked into the room that he’d gone overboard. The room looked like someone blew up a Pepto-Bismol factory inside of it. Miriam, who had stopped crying near the end of the service, burst into fresh tears when she walked in.

  “My baby, oh, my baby. She would love this! It’s perfect.”

  Philip leaned down and kissed the top of Miriam’s head in response and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. He didn’t have time to speak as they were surrounded by hordes of people. Some faces he recognized, others he didn’t. Each one seemed insistent upon offering a warm hug, handshake and words of encouragement to the distraught parents. It was as if they hoped the souls of the grieving parents would be soothed by their displays of sympathy.

  For thirty minutes, Philip played the game. He shook the germy, sweaty hands of men he didn’t know. His grip was more forceful on those he did, making them immediately pull their hand free and move over to converse with Miriam. He endured the hugs of women from all ages, the concoction of offensive perfumes threatening to make him puke. He played the stoic, silent father lost in grief to perfection while he nonchalantly searched the crowd every few minutes for the one face he was waiting for.

  Frustrated and in fear the volcano inside of him was close to exploding, Philip’s painful wait was rewarded.

  “Mr. Rowland, my sincerest condolences sir. And to you, Mrs. Rowland.”

  The monster who towered three inches over Philip’s own six foot two frame was Serena’s high school sweetheart, Bill Witham. Philip shook the hand of the man whose life he destroyed, memories of the past flooding his vision.

  Philip and Miriam tolerated Serena’s infatuation with the boy during her senior year, even succumbing to her pleadings to attend the prom with him. Their hope was once graduation passed and the two lovebirds went their separate ways, the puppy love would be over. Countless sleepless nights were spent with Philip and Miriam lamenting their only child’s choices in men. Bill Witham was a star athlete, a basketball player extraordinaire, but that was his only redeeming quality. His family consisted of an absent father and a drug-whore of a mother. Basic white trash—someone who might be able to skate through life on his athletic prowess but would never, ever fit into the social arena the Rowland family dominated.

  In short, Bill Witham wasn’t good enough for their daughter.

  Miriam came to Philip in a panic one night after she overheard a conversation on the back porch between the two of them. She insisted Philip just had to do something. Somehow, Serena had been swayed by the dark hair, brown eyes and physique that men would kill for, to move to Alabama with him while he played for the Crimson Tide.

  Philip did what he had to do to ensure his baby girl wouldn’t end up being the mother to Bill’s children. He knew Serena was flighty by nature, her concentration easily broken and led astray when something new or shiny caught her eye. Her graduation present was a three-month-long trip through Europe with her mother. The shopping, dining and site-seeing would be enough to turn her attention away from Bill. The minute their flight left the tarmac, Philip put his next phase of the plan in motion: he made sure that Bill Witham never played another sport again.

  The car accident happened on Highway 65 South near Lake Village. Bill was traveling to the sunny beaches on the Redneck Rivera, courtesy of Philip and Miriam. A graduation present and congratulatory gift from the Rowlands for signing with the Crimson Tide. All it took was one dinner date. The two “bachelors” shared dinner and cigars until almost midnight. Philip insisted Bill stay and rest before he started his ten-hour drive to Pensacola. Once Bill was sawing logs on the couch, Philip opened his suitcase and replaced Bill’s antihistamines with the Xanax bars from Miriam’s stash.

  The next morning, Philip watched Bill down two pills while he slurped his coffee and breakfast, then waved goodbye from his porch as Bill drove away. Less than four hours later, the news broke about the accident.

  Philip’s scheme almost backfired because Bill came close to dying. Idiot wasn’t wearing his seat belt, so when his car left the road and wrapped around two trees, Bill’s head went through the driver’s side window. The jarring blow left him in a coma for two weeks. When it was determined Bill had fallen asleep behind the wheel due to the drugs in his system, his reputation took a nosedive. Though he vehemently protested his innocence, it didn’t matter. The damage was done.

  His left leg was ruined after the four fractures that required numerous surgeries to correct. Serena heard the news and begged her mother to cut the trip short and return to the states. Upon arriving at Bill’s bedside, Serena tried to be strong, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t in Philip’s daughter’s nature to be nurturing. Serena couldn’t stand to look at the cuts and bruises on Bill’s face, or his shaved head that sported an eight inch gash and tons of staples.

  When it broke about the Xanax, Serena was out. Serena may have been a lot of things, but she was against drug abuse. She left Bill’s side the minute the reports hit the airwaves and never looked back.

  “Good to see you, Bill. Thank you for coming,” Philip said. The cool, firm handshake from Bill brought Philip out of the dark memories of how he had ruined the boy’s life.

  “Yes Mr. Witham, how very kind of you to pay your last respects to our darling Serena,” Miriam Rowland said, her swollen eyes holding their gaze on Bill’s myriad of scars.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss. I…I can’t believe she is…” Bill began, his words trailing off as he fought for control over his emotions.

  Philip leaned in close to Bill and whispered, “I can’t take another minute of this. I’m going outside for a smoke. Care to join me?”

  Miriam glared at h
er husband but didn’t speak, turning her attention to the next person in line. Bill nodded in agreement and lumbered toward the exit.

  Philip bent down and placed a light kiss on Miriam’s head. “Time to right the wrong.”

  Miriam Rowland never said a word to her husband. She didn’t have to. Her blue eyes, full of grief and sorrow, also held understanding behind them. Philip squeezed her shoulder and turned to walk outside.

  It was time to avenge his daughter’s murder.

  And the avenger, unknowingly, awaited him outside.

  Bill Witham’s frame dwarfed the iron chair sitting under the large magnolia tree behind the church. Philip produced a crooked grin, handing Bill a cigar. Once both men were puffing away, the fragrant smoke lingering above their heads in the heavy humidity, Philip broke the silence.

  “Nice tie. I see you remembered her signature color.”

  Bill glanced down at the hot pink silk tie around his neck and tried to smile. “Serena loved that movie line. Quoted it almost every time she wore pink. I never could keep a straight face when she tried to mimic Julia Robert’s accent. She adored that movie.”

  “Yes, she surely did. God, we watched it so many times I believe even I could quote the entire movie verbatim.”

  Bill took a huge drag off the cigar, his hands shaking while he stared at his feet. A sense of excitement and anticipation momentarily replaced Philip’s crushing grief as he began to steer the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go.

  “Thanks, Bill, for giving me an out. I couldn’t breathe in there. It was like the walls were closing in. The next stranger who walked up to me and tried to express fake condolences was going to get a fist in their face.”

  “That certainly is understandable, sir. I admire your strength at holding back. I’m sure I would be straight jacket bound if she were my daughter. Hell, I’m barely keeping it together and I haven’t seen her in years.”

  “Bill, it doesn’t matter how long it’s been. Serena was just one of those people. Once you met her, you never forgot her. She…she stayed with you.”

  A single tear slid down Bill’s face. Philip watched the young man struggle for words.

  “I never forgot her, Mr. Rowland. Never stopped loving her, even after what went down between the two of us. It took me four years to get back on my feet and clean up my life. Pulled my head out of the bottle and manned up, as they say. For Serena. Going on two years at my job now. I just got a promotion, too. I…oh, God…I…”

  “It’s okay, son. I know. You did it for our Serena, didn’t you? Wanted to show her the man you could be—how strong you are. What you would do to win back her affection. Isn’t that right?”

  The tears fell faster down Bill’s face at the kind, understanding words. Philip had known they would do the trick. He knew how Bill felt about him. On more than one occasion, Bill had mentioned he hoped someday Philip would be his father-in-law.

  “Yes, I did. You don’t know how hard it was to be patient. To wait until I got my career going before I asked her out again. I’ve loved Serena since the first time I saw her at her locker in eighth grade. Now, it’s too late…too late to tell her how much I loved her.”

  Philip leaned over and gave Bill a fatherly pat on the back. It was time to dig the hole and drop the seed of revenge into the fertile soil. “I know son, I know. It’s all so overwhelming. It’s hard enough to lose your only child. Miriam is close to a nervous breakdown. I’m not too far behind her. We could possibly learn to cope with her death had it been natural, normal. But it’s damned near impossible to grapple with the manner in which she was taken from us. God, she was so young. So innocent. No one will remember Serena’s sweet smile or her kind heart. All they’ll remember is that she was murdered, her life stripped away by a vile monster. Her remains left sprawled naked across a bed, eyes frozen in terror. In a hotel I own. God, it just isn’t fair.”

  “No, it ain’t fair at all, sir. I…I shouldn’t have waited. I should’ve been there for her. Oh, God, why was I so stubborn? It’s my fault…I let my pride get in the way. Felt like a failure, like I was less of a man after the accident. I mean, what did I have to offer her then, after losing my scholarship? I was nothing but a washed out high school hoopster who couldn’t play ball anymore.”

  “Life is all about choices, Bill, and learning to live with the consequences from them. Good or bad, whatever they may be. Sometimes, we are afforded the opportunity to right a wrong. Sometimes we aren’t. It’s just the way of the world. You lost that chance through no fault of your own. The choice was yanked away from you by Jack Dickinson.”

  At the mention of Jack’s name, Bill shot out of his chair. His entire body shook as he stared toward the cemetery where Serena’s body would be laid to rest in less than an hour. “I…I…could just kill him. Almost did when they booked him Monday night,” he whispered.

  Philip’s chest tightened at the words he’d been waiting to hear, spoken by the man who worked at the jail where his new nemesis, Jack Dickinson, was being held. He pretended to not hear Bill’s comment and let some of his own pain free.

  “Miriam can’t handle a trial. Quite frankly, neither can I. Miriam’s heart problems aren’t going to withstand weeks of sitting inside a courtroom. That scaly bastard LaFont will trot out his dog and pony show for his client. His guilty client. Heaven forbid he finds some legal loophole and Jack walks free. And if somehow, by some miracle from above, the justice system actually works and he is found guilty, it still isn’t fair. It isn’t justice. That evil vermin will get to spend the rest of his life in prison. Three meals fed to him each day. Free medical care for the remainder of his life. Watch television. Talk on the phone. Have visitors. Live. Live while my daughter rots in the grave.”

  Philip stopped himself to catch his breath and fight for control of his tormented heart. “Where is the justice in that? He takes my baby’s life but gets to keep his? Oh, if these old hands could only find their way around that bastard’s neck, I’d make sure he’d pay for what he did to her. For what he did to my sweet Miriam. Eye for an eye, isn’t that what the Good Book says? I failed you, Serena,” Philip moaned, tears streaming down his face as the volcano of grief inside him was released through salty lava. “I wasn’t there to protect you and now, I’m too old to avenge you! Oh, Jesus, how are we ever going to get through this?” Philip broke down into a slobbering mess and let his tears soak into Bill’s heart. He didn’t have to wait long.

  “It may be too late to tell Serena, but it certainly isn’t too late to show her how much I loved her. And you and Mrs. Rowland. I’ll right this wrong, I promise you Mr. Rowland. I’ll right this wrong,” Bill declared.

  Philip’s troubled heart grabbed onto the sprig of hope. His plan had been executed perfectly, the evil seed he’d planted had sprouted up and taken root inside Bill’s soul. He did his best to fake confusion. “What…what are you saying, Bill?”

  Philip watched as Bill’s face flushed with anger, his hands clenched at his sides, knuckles white. His jaw flexed as he ground his teeth. Philip sensed the internal struggle and watched Bill grapple with the decision he had hoped he would make. Sure enough, Bill’s jaw relaxed a bit and he took a deep breath.

  “I’m saying there’s a reason I work at the jail. And my choice is to―"

  Philip held up his hand to stop another word from leaving Bill’s mouth. Now that the poisonous plant had thoroughly taken hold of Bill, Philip dried his tears and allowed his own fury to fertilize the vine. “Don’t say another word. Just promise me one thing.”

  Bill motioned with a slight nod of his head for Philip to continue.

  “Don’t let Miriam or me be forced to attend another hearing.”

  The pain behind the young man’s eyes lessened as they filled with the spark of redeeming revenge. “Consider it done.”

  Bill stretched out his hand and Philip met him halfway. They solidified their pact with a hearty handshake under the cloudle
ss sky. The only sound was the chirps of the birds perched in the magnolia tree above them. Not another word was exchanged as they made their way back inside the sanctuary. Philip knew their mutual festering wounds of grief at the loss of Serena had been coated with the salve of revenge.

  As Philip walked through the door and over to his wife, he thought, Let the healing begin.

  CHAPTER SIX - THURSDAY MORNING

  “It’s good to see you eat something. Your aversion to food was beginning to scare me. More coffee?”

  I nodded yes, my mouth full of dry toast. Regina filled my mug and sat down across from me, waiting to see if I would continue the conversation. During the last three days, I had spoken about two full sentences, most of them incoherent blather. After seventy-two hours of constant crying, bouts of violent retching and no food, I’d fallen asleep around six the night before and slept all night.

  Each moment of the last three days had been filled with intolerable anguish. I didn’t just walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I crawled. Felt each sharp rock of fear rip through my skin, every thorn of betrayal puncture my flesh. Each breath sent fresh pain flooding through my soul, the realization that I was still alive cemented in the oxygen.

  I prayed for death to end the misery. Cursed the day I met Jack and the day the firm hired Serena. Thanked God for keeping me barren so our children wouldn’t be beside me, suffering the same torment.

  Then I prayed for forgiveness for thinking such things. Curled up in the fetal position on the floor, I tried reaching out to God. To find solace in the scriptures I knew by heart. I even recited some of the Psalms over and over, chanting the ancient words so many times in my head I nearly screamed. The more I begged for understanding, peace, strength, or to feel His presence, the angrier I became at the mind-numbing silence.