Empty Shell

by Ashley Fontainne

  “I am the one who put her up to it. Jack had been tutoring her, and I knew from the way she looked at him that she had the hots for him. So, I gave her a hundred bucks and told her to come over at precisely seven-thirty, which is when I knew you two had a date. Jack had no idea she even knew where he lived. He’d been meeting her in the library for sessions. Anyway, I told her that when he opened the door, she was to lay one on him. I…I overheard a conversation the two of you had a few weeks prior about how cheating was a deal breaker, in your opinion…so I set him up.”

  Dear Lord…this can’t be happening.

  Kendal was staring at me, waiting for a response. I couldn’t seem to remember how to speak. Or breathe. I stared at him in disbelief as tears shimmered down his face, too stunned to even form a tear of my own. He looked terrified as he waited for me to say something about his revelation. Time seemed to stop, almost as if my mind shot out of my body and found itself back inside that night. Memories of that evening flooded my vision as I listened to Jack beg me to believe him when he swore nothing was going on.

  Meemaw’s voice rang inside my head. Just like he begged you to believe him that he didn’t kill Serena. See, my darlin’, all of this started with you. Your sins have come home to roost. If you’d have just listened to me and your Ma’s advice and not fornicated, your Jack wouldn’t be with me now.

  I had accused Jack of being a liar, given him a loud, tear-filled piece of my mind, and stormed out of his apartment. I screamed at him, saying I could never be with someone who cheated on me. I ran through the streets, tears splashing down my face at my stupidity for losing my virginity to a man who didn’t value our love. Hurt, humiliation and shame kept my legs pumping as I ran through the quad.

  I found myself sitting alone on a park bench a few blocks from campus, my tears of betrayal piercing the cold night air. Kendal appeared, sitting next to me, trying to comfort my broken heart as he offered me a drink from the bottle hidden inside a brown paper bag. His warm arm encircled my shoulder and he whispered in my ear what a fool Jack was for not seeing what he had in front of him. There was warmth in my belly as the alcohol hit it for the very first time. Our heated lips brushing together, Kendal’s words of comfort lulled me into a drunken trance. The evening ended with us both under the warm covers of my bed, the sensation of spinning making me feel like I was dreaming.

  The panic and shame slammed into my head the next day when I awoke and looked around with sober eyes.

  It took me several minutes to compose myself.

  “I…wow. I never knew that. Not exactly sure how to feel about it, either.”

  Kendal’s voice was low and pleading. “Oh, Mel, please forgive me. I was young, stupid and vain. Hated myself ever since. It got worse a few weeks later, after you got so sick and were in the hospital. I…I never realized how much Jack really loved you until then. At the time, I sort of thought the relationship was another short-lived college romance. He didn’t know it, but I heard him prayin’ in the chapel, beggin’ God to heal you and spare your life, and thanking Him for you decidin’ to stay with him. Never seen a man so broken nor watched one cry like that before. But I did that day, and the shame I felt for what we’d done has stayed with me ever since.”

  The hospital. Oh, God, I have to tell him. Everything ties back to that one horrid night. A moment of weakness snowballed and created this avalanche.

  For a split second, the thought hit me square in the face—and if Kendal wasn’t so much taller and broader than Jack—I would have given serious consideration that Kendal was the man in the video. He just proved he was capable of meddling in our lives, and he had wanted me. I dismissed the thought as soon as it crossed my mind. Though their features were near identical, Jack and Kendal looked nothing alike in the body structure department.

  I was bombarded with mixed emotions. Fury at Kendal’s actions pulsed in my temples, yet shame at my own slammed inside my chest. Just because Kendal made some stupid play for me over twenty years ago using a twisted game he concocted didn’t negate my own responses. Had I been stronger in my faith, I wouldn’t have wandered down the path that destroyed my world. And Jack’s. And Serena’s.

  And soon, Kendal’s.

  “Sin’s ripples spread across the pond, my dear. Nothing is left untouched.”

  I ignored the warped voice of my Meemaw inside my head, though her words were dead on. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. It was time to exorcise the cancer.

  Holding back my tears, I kept my voice steady as I revealed the secret that no one knew except me, God, and my attending doctor. The secret, it seemed, had twisted around inside of us all, intertwining our lives without mercy. Like barb wire wound tight around an ancient fence post, time had embedded the barbs deep.

  “Kendal, we all make choices in life. Sometimes they are the right ones, sometimes they aren’t. Interfering in mine and Jack’s relationship—wrong one. Our um, night together, oh so wrong. I assumed Jack was guilty, not only that night so long ago but when he was arrested, and those two decisions were definitely wrong. Jack’s choice to have an affair wasn’t the greatest decision he ever made. That choice, and mine to freak out and not believe him and do everything in my power to get him out on bond, resulted in Jack’s death,” I said, my voice wavering. I took a fresh swig of cold tea before I continued.

  “It’s called being an imperfect human being. Let me share with you a piece of wisdom that my mother told me a long time ago. If you believe that God has the ability to forgive us for our mistakes, yet you don’t forgive yourself, then you are putting yourself higher than the Almighty. That’s called pride, plain and simple. Just as we are to forgive those who sin against us, we are to forgive ourselves as well. If you don’t, as you well know, the seeds of guilt and regret take up residence inside us, sometimes growing to monstrous proportions. And believe me, you aren’t the only person who holds secrets in their hearts. I…I have one too that I need to confess to you right now. You know, the Bible says to ‘confess your sins one to another’ and now, I really understand why. Keeping them just tacks on extra guilt that compounds over the years, and in this case, resulted in tragedy.”

  Confused, Kendal stared at me, his lips crushed together in concentration while he contemplated my words. I let out a heavy sigh and felt the weight of my words bog down my tongue. I motioned for a smoke from Kendal and waited until the tip of it glowed red before I began.

  “The reason I was in the hospital and almost died from massive blood loss was not because of a stomach ailment. I had a miscarriage. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was pregnant with twins—what the doctor called ‘ectopic’ pregnancies—one in each tube. They ruptured while I was in class and I almost didn’t make it to the hospital in time. I was in a lot of pain but just assumed it was a really painful case of cramps. But, when I saw how much blood I was losing, I realized it wasn’t just a rough period. How I remained conscious while I drove myself to the emergency room can only be attributed to the Lord. My tubes were shredded. The doctor told me I would never be able to have children after the damage was assessed. And he was right.”

  I paused and watched as Kendal digested what I’d just said. It took a few minutes but at last, the entire picture became clear for him.

  “Pregnant? With twins? That was about a month after—”

  “Six weeks to be exact. I didn’t know I was pregnant until I went to the hospital. But when I awoke in the bed after surgery and the doctor told me he was sorry, but I’d lost the babies, I sort of flipped out. A hysterical crying jag is a better description. I only calmed down when the doctor assured me that he was bound by my wishes, since I was an adult, not to say anything about the situation to anyone who asked. Since I didn’t have insurance, there would be no probing questions asked. So, he kept his promise and played along with my story about a bleeding ulcer when my family and Jack came to visit. I couldn’t tell anyone because I didn’t know which one of you might be the father. Conside
ring I was pregnant with two babies, it could have been you both.”

  I felt it coming and knew I was helpless to stop it. A tidal wave of emotions, bottled up right next to the secret in the farthest recesses of my soul, overcame me. It was like I poked a hole in a pent-up dam.

  “My fault…all of it…my fault Jack’s dead…should’ve told the truth…might have lost him but he’d still be alive…spent all our money on fertility treatments…knew I couldn’t conceive…pushed him away…into the arms of another…abandoned him…left him in jail…now, he’s gone. Oh, God…”

  No more words erupted as great sobs heaved out of my chest.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN - MONDAY EVENING

  Craig Knowles couldn’t sleep. Again. He wondered how many hours of life he’d given up by denying his body rest. He slammed the case file shut and cursed inside his empty kitchen. A glance at his watch caused him to close his burning eyes. Two forty-five in the morning. Six plus hours he’d spent sorting through the stacks of evidence for the umpteenth time.

  Every case he’d been lead on during the last five years would overtake his world until concluded. All the late nights, days away from home and no sleep would turn him into a short-tempered bear. His compulsion to solve mysteries had ruined his last two marriages. At forty, Craig realized he’d made his choice in life. His sense of justice, his never-ending quest to solve the seemingly insolvable, would be his mate for life.

  Craig’s hand grazed over the stubble on his chin. He wondered if this case would be the one that pushed him over the edge. The Delilah to his Samson.

  The murder of Serena Rowland wasn’t just any case. It had all the elements that screamed headliner. A beautiful, high society victim. The daughter of one of the richest men, if not the richest man, in Arkansas. The only child of a man whose personality was gruff on a good day, detestable on the bad ones. An illicit affair with a married, much older man. A pregnancy the result and the catalyst that ended her life. The man accused and arrested for her murder dead as well, a victim of ironic fate.

  When he was first assigned the case, he attacked it as he had every other one he’d ever worked—with tenacity. Like a pit bull, he sunk his teeth into the meaty flesh of the mystery and didn’t let go. When the captain of his division yanked him behind a closed door and insisted that the case be given top priority, it didn’t matter. The captain’s relentless hounding didn’t add much to Craig’s determination to find the killer. There wasn’t much room for more pressure from others.

  The mounds of evidence pointed to Jack Dickinson. In the hotel room, he had scrolled through the text messages in Serena’s smartphone first. There were numerous messages that included racy pictures between her and a number she had labeled “Jackie-Boy”. The most recent had been sent right before her death. He hit the jackpot when he checked her emails next. Hundreds of emails between her and Jack’s work email address, most of them pathetic, lovey-dovey mush from Serena. A ten-year-old would have been able to deduce that Jack and Serena were involved in an affair, and that Serena had very strong feelings for Jack. Craig also noted that Jack’s responses were less affection-laden than Serena’s. He sensed that Jack wasn’t looking for love, only a fun diversion from the boring life of a college history professor.

  In other words, solving the case had been as simple as connecting the virtual dots. And it happened in less than twenty-four hours. When he showed up on Jack Dickinson’s doorstep early Monday morning, the man caved, admitting to the affair in the space of mere minutes. He recalled feeling a sense of satisfaction when he cuffed the man, his anticipation of marking the case closed in such a short time almost making him smile.

  When the news broke about Jack Dickinson’s death, he found himself a tad disappointed. Not that he wasn’t glad the murdering jerk was dead, but now he wouldn’t be able to watch him squirm in court. He knew he was hated by almost every defense attorney in the state. He had impeccable case files and on-target investigation techniques to thank for that. However, the universe had taken the matter up and dealt out swift justice, so he closed the case and began working on the others that had piled up.

  That all changed after the meeting at Roger Stanek’s office earlier. He felt his blood pressure rise at the memory. He went to the fridge and refilled his water, his gut in knots. He was angry at himself for bending under the pressure to solve the case, moving faster through the evidence than normal. Had he taken more time, been more precise, he would have noticed the inconsistency of the pictures, or had a chance to interview the neighbor—the one who, if she was telling the truth, blew a huge hole in his case.

  He was also irritated that his obvious mistake was caught by the perp’s wife and lawyer. When they presented their findings, he’d felt like someone had just punched him in the solar plexus. He was used to having his work dissected by defense attorneys while he sat by smiling, knowing his case was impenetrable. This one was different. He felt it. That small voice in his mind told him they were right.

  Craig hated that voice. Because it meant that he’d arrested an innocent man. One who was now dead, which meant Jack Dickinson’s blood was on his hands.

  His cell buzzed with an incoming text. Maybe it was Liz, the sexy blonde from Grains and Beans who seemed to be content with “booty calls”, as she liked to call them, about twice a month. He hoped so, because a romp with her would ease his tensions for sure.

  He felt a twinge of disappointment when he saw the message was from Lee German, his buddy who worked at the medical examiner’s office. Like Craig, Lee worked odd hours and once immersed inside a case, lost track of all time.

  Lee: You around?

  Craig: Yep. What’s up?

  Lee: Hittin gym. Need a sparring partner

  His fingers tightened around the phone. The text was a secret code they’d worked out years ago when one of them had something of great importance to tell the other. Lee and Craig had been friends since their Marine Corps days and worked the same odd hours, so no one would think it out of the ordinary. Just two friends catching up while they worked to retain their youth and sanity with exercise.

  The truth was that the gym late at night was the perfect place to discuss cases without worrying about anyone overhearing their conversations. The tension in his shoulders increased and the hair stood up on his arms. He knew the only time a visit to the gym was requested by either of them was when something major was going on. The last time Lee requested one, the information he provided ended up costing a seasoned detective his job for tampering with evidence.

  Craig: On my way

  He moved into action, the adrenaline overriding his fatigue. He gulped down a protein shake, hoping it would not only give him such much needed energy, but also help quell the burning in his gut. He slung his sports bag over his shoulder and secured his copy of the Rowland case file he kept in his small safe. Another habit he’d developed years ago, after seeing other, more seasoned detectives, misplace files and crucial evidence. His way of circumventing that was to always keep a full copy at home. During his brief second marriage, he’d thought that if he was home more often, the boat wouldn’t rock so hard. He’d later discovered that his wife wanted his body and mind at home, which wasn’t an option when his nose was buried in piles of evidence.

  He navigated the quiet streets of Little Rock, his Jeep the lone vehicle on the road for most of his drive. The air conditioner was on full blast, yet didn’t seem to make a dent in the heat. He felt the sweat pool under his arms and soak the back of his shirt. He couldn’t recall a hotter summer. The weather was always strange in Arkansas. Extreme highs and frigid lows. Normally, by this time of year, everything would turn ugly yellow from lack of rain. Not this year. The amount of torrential rain had kept the foliage green and the humidity so dense it was hard to catch his breath.

  He couldn’t wait to unleash his frustration with this case on the bag. By the time he was finished, the gym would probably need a new one. It had taken all of his intestinal fort
itude to not smash his fist in his captain’s face earlier. Craig felt his blood pressure soar as he recalled the unpleasant conversation.

  “Knowles, the case is closed. Jack Dickinson is dead. You did a fine job on the evidence, which all points back to him. Doesn’t matter what his wife, his lawyer, his preacher or God himself says. You’ve got plenty others that need your attention.”

  “Sir, I realize this is a very sensitive case—”

  “You bet your ass it is. Philip Rowland and his wife have gone through enough. I should be dressing you down for even considering attending such a farce of a meeting, and for not alerting me ahead of time about it. I thought I made myself crystal clear from the beginning that this case was to be handled with the utmost delicacy. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, though. I will assume that you were unaware of the intentions of that slime ball LaFont when you decided to show up at Stanek’s office.”

  “Reasons aside for my attendance, it doesn’t negate the information presented—”

  “Doesn’t negate? Knowles, are you outta your mind? I’m surprised I have anything left to sit on after the ass-chewing Philip Rowland gave me today. So, before I lose any more flesh on my rump, let me make things perfectly clear to you. Are you listening?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “The Serena Rowland case is solved. Jack Dickinson killed her. And since Jack is now also dead, there is nothing left for you to work on. No getting ready for trial, nothing. Over. Put. To. Bed. Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth, Knowles?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “I’m not sure you do. You look tired, worn out. Obviously, this case got to you. So, consider yourself on paid vacation for the next week.”

  “But sir—”

  “Knowles, if you want your vacation to be unpaid, then by all means, say another word.”

  Craig tightened his grip around the steering wheel. He nudged his tongue around the sore spot inside his cheek. A dime-sized chunk was missing from after he’d clamped his jaws down to keep his mouth shut. He’d left the captain’s office in silence, never even stopping by his desk. He went straight home and pulled out his copy of the case file, then began comparing the evidence he collected with the new information provided by Mrs. Dickinson.