by S. K. Grice
“I’ll take a look at the pictures you sent to me as soon as my phone is charged,” I said. “I can’t wait to see your pictures.”
After ten minutes of the twins swapping the phone and telling me about their adventures, Eric said, “Mom? Dad wants to talk to you again. I love you.”
My body slumped as Eric’s voice faded away.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Aaron said, “but it’s getting close to midnight here, and the kids really need to get some sleep. We have another early day tomorrow.”
“I’m glad the kids are having a good time,” I said, my voice cracking.
“It’s been great.” He sighed. “Only two more days, and then it’s back to reality.”
The ground shifted beneath my feet. Reality was worse than he knew.
Let them enjoy their good time. They’d find out soon enough that Mommy had done a bad thing.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rain pelted against the tinted windows of Riley’s office as I sat numbly and registered what he’d just said. He’d spoken with the prosecutor, Madeline Cannon, and she’d assured him I’d be cleared of any wrongdoing in the death of Mike Morton.
“Mike had a record dating back to when he was eight years old and smashed a cat’s head to a pulp,” Riley said. “He was a thug in middle school—well-known for starting fights and breaking into houses and stealing. Then, he graduated to assault and was arrested a couple of times. Somehow, he slipped through the cracks and made it back into society. Then, of course, he raped Annette.” He sighed. “You can forgive yourself, Jolene. You killed in self-defense.”
I clasped my hands together like a sinner praying for redemption. Remorse still flowed through my veins, though, and I doubted the feeling would disappear. Even if I forgave myself for killing Mike, my act had forever changed my DNA. I tightened my core and prepared for the blow. “What about my lying to the police?”
“You’ll be charged with obstruction of justice, that’s certain.”
Nerves rolled through my empty stomach. “But I’ll avoid jail, right?”
“I’m sorry, Jolene.” Riley’s expression turned sympathetic. “The prosecutor feels your actions have caused the Morton family eighteen years of anguish which they can never reclaim, and they want, and deserve, justice for that.”
My heart thumped hard against my chest. I looked to the ground and focused on my breathing. I’d caused the Morton family too much unnecessary pain. Although Mike had been a despicable loser, his family shouldn’t have had to suffer for so many years. That was all my fault. “They probably want to see me hang from the gallows.”
“This is about the law, Jolene. Not vigilante justice. And it helps that you’ve been a model citizen and will have character references from the school staff at Bayview Middle School.”
“What happens to a model citizens like me who get arrested for obstruction of justice?”
“First, you’ll plead guilty to the charges. The prosecutor will recommend a reasonable plea bargain sentence to the judge: three months in the low security county jail.”
I pressed my clasped hands against my pounding chest. I’d known this was coming, but it suddenly felt unexpected. “Three months? Are you fucking serious? What about community service?”
“It’s not an option. The prosecutor wants justice for the family. This is a good deal, Jolene. Take it.”
A painful lump formed in my throat. I was guilty and had to take my licks. “I’ll take the offer. What happens now?”
“Tomorrow morning we’ll go to the police station. Madeline will meet us there and you’ll tell your story to the investigators.”
My senses dulled, and I slipped into a suspended moment. Rain popped against the window and I looked outside. A woman with a red umbrella jogged through the parking lot to her car, free as a bird. I envied her. Envied a woman I’d never met. I thought I might laugh. I turned to Riley. “When do I go to jail?”
“That’ll be up to the judge, but I expect it will be immediate. The prosecutor is working on expediting the hearing and the sentencing. The court wants this matter dealt with immediately.” Riley went silent for a moment. “Go home and rest, Jolene. We’ll know more tomorrow, and soon, this will all be over.”
I bolted out of the offices of Baxter and Simpson and into the elevator along with a Fed-Ex delivery man and an old couple wearing clear plastic rain ponchos. Panic pounded in my chest. How the hell am I going to cope with being imprisoned?
The doors closed, and the elevator slowly rolled downward.
The air grew heavy and hot. I took in short breaths as sweat beaded along my hairline. If I thought this elevator was cramped, how would I cope with being in a crowded jail? I was used to seeing the sky and breathing fresh air.
No fresh air. No fresh air. Just a box.
Stop thinking. Heat spread across my back and my heart drummed faster. I looked to the ceiling for signs of ventilation. Where the hell is the vent? A stream of thoughts ran through my mind. What if it’s hot in jail? Or cold? Will I have a blanket or a fan?
I just wanted fresh air.
Ping. The elevator stopped on the tenth floor, and two chatty young women stepped inside, followed by a rush of cool air. The doors closed, and the women’s backs pushed me against the old couple in plastic. Someone coughed and the temperature in the claustrophobic space increased to oven-roasting mode.
The elevator stopped with a bump, and a man with a suit and briefcase walked in.
“Pardon me,” I whispered as I pushed closer to the crammed couple behind me. With nowhere to move, I closed my eyes.
Chatter. Hushed voices.
Ping.
The doors opened again, and I rushed out to the cool air of the glass atrium lobby. The rain thrashed against the glass roof and the sound echoed through the open space. The lobby was set up like a garden with tall palms and exotic plants and welcoming tables comfortably spaced about for relaxing or having a casual meeting. A coffee shop and a bank. People milled around talking and texting on cell phones while others waited at the entrance doors for the rain to slow.
I’d left my umbrella in the car and wasn’t in any hurry to get drenched. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee gave me an excuse to just sit still for a moment.
I grabbed a hot chia latte and had just sat down on a comfortable sofa when my cell phone rang. Aaron. Damn it. I cleared my throat and answered with an all-is-cool voice. “Hey.”
“Jolene. Listen. We’re at Heathrow getting ready to board our flight back.” His tone was rushed, sharp. “My mom just called and said she saw on the news that a man’s body was dug up. Under the oak tree in your yard. What the hell is going on over there?”
My vision blurred. “It’s true. I wanted to tell you the other day… I want to tell you everything, but I-I can’t talk about it right now.”
“So, you’ve known this… about this body buried in Patsy’s backyard?”
I turned away from the Goth couple sitting in the module next to me. “Yes. But—” I lowered my voice, “I’m in a public place and can’t talk about it right now.”
“Did Patsy kill the man?”
“Aaron, honestly—”
“Holy shit. Are you involved?”
“I’ll tell you everything when you get back.”
“What am I supposed to tell the twins?” He lowered his voice again. “Mom said it’s all over the news, so they’re going to hear about it from the kids at school.”
“Tell them I’ll explain everything when I see them.” I had no idea how.
Aaron’s breaths deepened, like he was cupping his mouth over the phone. “Just answer one question. It’s a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question.”
“Okay.”
“Are you involved in what happened?”
I hesitated, but only because I wanted to savor this moment where Aaron knew nothing about what I’d done. “Yes.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The temperature in the meeting room at the police
station dropped a few degrees when Madeline Cannon marched in. She looked around fifty, with a slender figure, long nose, and joyless face. She was all business.
Riley introduced us, and she looked at her watch. “Where the hell are the detectives?”
Nerves carved a pit in my stomach, and I shivered in the cool room. Madeline took the empty seat next to Riley.
Noah walked into the room with Detective Larson trailing behind him. Noah offered his hand to Madeline. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Detective Baker and this is Detective Larson.”
After introductions, all eyes were on me as I once again told my story by rote. Home invasion. Self-defense. Burying the body. Lying to police. During my confession, I watched Noah’s expression shift from hurt to confusion, and then to anger. “Why didn’t you report this sooner?” he asked. “Why wait all this time?”
I fell into a numb state of guilt and remorse. Because I was insane? Because I’d made a promise to forget it ever happened? What was my crazy reason? If I had reported this sooner, I’d have damaged the loyalty Annette and I had shared. Our sisterly bond had been far too much to risk.
Another reason was that, for so long, I’d believed Annette was right—the police would have thought we’d killed Mike in revenge for the rape. And Patsy. Sweet, loving Patsy. The truth would have dimmed the light of her bright spirit. We’d never have done that on purpose. We hadn’t wanted our idyllic lives changed. Living with the secret had seemed easier, and I’d found no reason to change the status quo. But it was too late for what-ifs.
I exhaled. “Because I was traumatized…and misguided. Annette kept repeating the lie—that we’d never killed Mike. Never buried him under the tree. Over time, it became believable.”
Noah’s face paled. “You’re telling me Patsy never knew Mike was buried under the tree?”
“She would’ve had a heart attack long ago if she’d known the truth. She definitely would have convinced us to call the police. It was Annette who was adamant about keeping this a secret. I was just naïve and afraid.”
“Tell us, Jolene,” Detective Larson said. “Who do you think made the anonymous calls leading us to the tree?”
I looked at Detective Larson and Noah. “I really don’t know. I hoped you could tell me.”
Detective Larson’s eyes zeroed in on me. “Do you have any idea how much time and resources we’ve put into this case? All wasted because of your lies?”
My cheeks burned. I had no excuses left. “I’m sorry—”
Madeline slid her thin leather briefcase on the table. “Gentlemen,” she said, “the state is charging Miss Parker with obstruction of justice, to which she already pleads guilty. She is set to appear before a judge in two days for a sentence hearing.”
I looked to the ground. This is really happening. Muffled words flowed between Madeline and the investigators but all I could hear was the pounding of my heart.
I was going to jail.
After the meeting, Noah came to my side and spoke quietly into my ear. “Too bad it went on for this long.”
An emotion marked his face—something I couldn’t define. Not shock, not disgust, but… empathy. No, that made no sense. “I agree.”
Noah left the room with Larson, and the rest of us followed.
The confession at the police station had left me drained, and I was glad to finally get back home. The house was quiet, and I roamed from room to room. Melissa had been sleeping in Patsy’s old room. The door was closed, as it had stayed since she’d gone to Nancy’s house three days ago. I knew she wasn’t home because her car wasn’t in the garage.
I didn’t like intruding in her space but wondered if she’d come back to the house when I was at the police station. I opened the door and gulped. Melissa’s things were gone. Her bedding. Her clothes. Her shoes. I checked the bathroom—all drawers were emptied, cleared of toiletries. She’d left completely without a goodbye.
I sat on the mattress and looked out the window, to the bare spot where the family tree had once stood. The emptiness in my chest pushed against my ribs. I’d lost so much, and now Melissa was gone. The damaged friendship was all my fault. The stress of holding my secret had made it impossible for anyone to really know me. Only my mother, Annette, and Patsy had really ever understood me, and loved me regardless of my flaws.
My ringtone on my cell tinkled. Aaron. I couldn’t put off this conversation. Inhaling deep, I answered the call. “Hey.”
“What the fuck, Jolene? Why the hell didn’t you ever tell me you killed a man?”
My stomach turned. I’d told the story so many times now that I’d become desensitized to the shock. But Aaron deserved to know everything. “It was in self-defense… and so long ago… so traumatic. I blocked it from my memory. It’s hard to explain—”
“I’m coming to your house right now—”
“No.” I kept my tone firm. “Not today. I have some other obligations.” The meeting with Riley had left me drained.
“I need to know what’s going on.” A growl edged his voice. “What do I tell the twins?”
“I’m going to explain everything to you. Then, we can figure that out.”
“I sort of prepared them, based on what I know.” He sighed. “We got in late last night, but they were both still wound up this morning and insisted on going to school to see their friends. If I was going to send them to school, I had to tell them something. They needed to be prepared for what kids might say.”
“What did you say to them?”
“I told them you were on the news because of something you did a long time ago, and that you’d explain it all to them later.”
“And they didn’t ask questions?”
“Honestly, I don’t think it fully registered. They were still tired from the trip and excited about seeing friends.”
“I want to see them.”
“They looked tired when I dropped them off at school. No doubt they’ll crash after they come home. Maybe it’s best if you come over here to see them this afternoon.”
“Will India be there?”
“Of course.”
No. No. No. I didn’t want to have this conversation around his live-in girlfriend. “Let the kids rest tonight. I’ll tell you the whole story right now, and we can discuss how to explain everything to the children without causing any more trauma.”
“Okay. So, tell me everything.”
He’d already heard the recent news, so I caught him up on what Annette and I had done all those years ago. “The sentence for obstructing justice is three months in jail. My hearing is in two days, and my attorney said I can expect the judge to approve the sentence.”
“Whew. That’s a lot to take in.” He paused for a beat. “Maybe it’s best if I break the situation to the twins slowly. You know, let them rest tonight. Play it by ear tomorrow.”
I agreed. Learning that their mother was also a killer would take some time to comprehend. “Call me after they come home from school. I want to know if you find out if anything was said to them during the day.”
“I’ll do that.”
“And I’ll set everything right when I see them.”
Two weeks later, I sat with Riley and Madeline in a pin-drop quiet courtroom, waiting for the judge. Shame and remorse kept me from making eye-contact with anyone in the gallery, so I stared straight ahead. The bronze seal of the court hung on the wall behind the judge’s bench, flanked by the American flag and the Commonwealth of Virginia flag.
My eyes focused on the scale of justice symbol on the state flag. Sic semper tyrannis—thus always to tyrants. Here I was, the tyrant on the ground with the foot of justice pressed firmly on my chest. I exhaled a tired breath, resigned to the loss.
The shuffling of feet and whispers of people gathering in the seats behind us let me know the courtroom was filling fast. I dared a quick glance backward at Aaron who gave me a reassuring smile. Turned out, a couple of the kids at school had teased the twins about their mom killing a man and
going to jail. That had broken my heart, so Aaron had brought them by the house so I could tell them the truth. “I killed the man in self-defense. He was a violent criminal who was trying to kill me and Annette. If I hadn’t killed him, he would have killed us.”
When I’d explained that I was going to jail for lying to the police, and not for killing the man, the twins had understood. The details hadn’t mattered to them. They loved me just the same.
A few others were seated in the courtroom. Noah. Detective Larson. A younger man and woman who I didn’t recognize and assumed were reporters. Then, my heart stopped. Solemn-faced Mr. and Mrs. Morton sat at a table next to us, whispering and holding hands. Guilt squeezed my windpipe, and I choked on strangled breath.
Riley leaned close. “You okay there?”
I nodded, dabbing the corner of my eyes with my finger.
The bailiff stepped in front of the bench. “All rise.”
Judge Freemantle came out from her chamber wearing a black robe, small round glasses, and more wrinkles on her face than a grumpy Shar-pei. She sat behind the judge’s bench and started the hearing.
After proceedings, Judge Freemantle turned her attention to me. “Jolene Parker,” she said, “you are charged with obstruction of justice for knowingly lying to police investigators about the whereabouts of Mike Morton during an ongoing investigation. Your lack of cooperation has caused enormous grief to the Morton family, not to mention lost police resources. You are fined $10,000 dollars and sentenced to three months in the county jail. You are to report to jail one week from today to begin your sentence.”
This was no surprise to me. Riley had explained exactly how the hearing would unfold, but it was almost November, and if I was going away in two weeks, I’d be in jail over Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s.
At the pound of the gavel, the court adjourned.
