by Willow Rose
I rub my forehead. I feel awful. This entire thing makes me feel like the worst person on the planet. But what are my choices? Either I say no to testifying and Steven gets no closure and he’ll hate my guts, or I say yes and I am the reason my friend will be locked up for life. I know it’s the right thing to say yes, but I don’t feel good doing it.
“Alright,” I say. “I’ll testify.”
“Perfect. We’ll be in touch with the details.” He gets up and reaches out his hand. “Thank you.”
I shake my head and press back my tears. “Please don’t thank me.”
Chapter Seventy-Four
February 2007
On the morning of the verdict, they all hold their breaths in the courtroom as they wait for the jury to decide. Daniel can’t stop looking at Kristin, while she is sitting at the table with her attorney waiting for her fate to be decided. Peter is still there as well, sitting in his wheelchair next to Daniel, seemingly indifferent to what is going on around him.
Suddenly, the red light flickers in the courtroom, signaling a verdict has been reached. Daniel looks at Kristin, who lifts her head and looks at the light as well. He wonders what is going on inside of her right now. He can’t imagine how scared she must be.
Daniel sees her as she glances into the crowd and finds her mother’s eyes; Kristen’s mother is holding hands with Kristin’s father. They have been present for all the days of the trial, supporting their daughter through it all.
During the past many weeks, they heard testimonies from expert after expert witnessing about the keyboard treatment and whether it worked or not. They heard as many opinions as there were experts. It painted the clear picture that there still is a lot of controversy about the type of treatment, the judge concluded.
The jury enters the room, one after another in a long line. Daniel looks at their faces, wondering if he can somehow read their verdict from their facial expressions. But he can’t. They wear the same emotionless expression they have throughout the entire trial.
“Has the jury reached a verdict?” the judge asks.
“We have, Your Honor.”
Daniel’s heart is pounding loudly in his chest as they read it out loud. He can barely hear the words as they fall. The room starts to spin; his beating heart drowns the voices out.
Guilty? Did they say guilty? It can’t be!
A roar of chaos goes through the courtroom. Voices, some are clapping others disagreeing. Daniel stares at Kristin, who collapses onto the defense table in loud convulsive sobs.
Daniel feels the panic spread in his body as another loud roar fills the air. Daniel turns to look at Peter, who yells at the top of his lungs. The sounds are strange and make no sense; his arms are in severe spasms, hitting his face again and again, causing his nose to start bleeding.
Daniel and his siblings jump to help Peter and hold down his hands. “We have to get him out of here,” his older brother Jack says. “Before he hurts himself.”
Andrew jumps for help as well, and together, they get their younger brother out of the courtroom.
“What the heck happened in there?” Daniel asks, when they get outside. Peter is still groaning loudly and they have to strap his hands down when they put him in the minivan.
“What do you mean?” Andrew asks, and shuts the door on the screaming Peter. “We won.”
“Won? But…but the test. She passed the test. She got all the questions right,” he says. “Peter knew about the photo. Only he could have known.”
“That might be,” Jack says, as Shannon joins them outside. She lights up a cigarette. The only one in the family that smokes.
“I’d say she was lucky,” he continues. “She guessed it somehow.”
“Plus there was the one question she didn’t answer,” Shannon says, blowing out smoke. As usual, Daniel’s older brother by seven years, Steven, keeps his distance. He hasn’t talked much to them during the trial.
“But that was one Peter could easily not have known. The rest she passed,” Daniel continues. “The rest were correct. Even the one with the photo. How can they say she is guilty?”
Jack places a hand on Daniel’s shoulder.
“There is nothing we can do, Daniel. The jury has spoken. She got what she deserved. This is what we wanted, remember? Now, let it go.”
“What about the baby? What’s going to happen to the baby?” Daniel asks, while Jack and Andrew get in the car. Andrew stops halfway and looks at him.
“You take it, if you’re so eager to save it.”
Chapter Seventy-Five
February 2016
Steven and I go to Heidi’s Friday night and listens to some jazz singer from upstate. She is wonderful and I buy her CD afterwards, even though I don’t have a CD player. I just feel so bad for her, since she is so talented, and I know they don’t make any money in that business.
We walk home along A1A, holding hands, enjoying the nice evening air. I like February in Florida. Well, I guess I love every month here, since the weather is always so nice.
“That was a great performance tonight,” Steven says. “I’m beginning to see why you love this place so much.”
“It is my favorite,” I say. “What’s not to like? The food is great, the music awesome, and the company enjoyable.”
Steven chuckles. “So, how’s Dad doing?”
Steven has met my father twice and knows all about his story, but so far, my dad hasn’t been very welcoming to him. He seems to still be quite hung up on Joey and wants us to figure out our differences. I try to explain to him that it is definitely over, now that he showed up with that bimbo to my house. He kind of put the nails in that coffin himself. But my dad won’t accept it. I tell Steven he’ll come around in time.
“Better,” I say. “He’s regained the use of four fingers in total now, so that gives us some hope.”
“That’s amazing.”
“I know.”
We walk in silence the rest of the way and stop in front of my dad’s new house. We’ve reached that awkward point we always do when we have to either say goodbye or move to the next level. I know I want to, but I don’t know if it’s too early still. Will I ever be ready? Will he grow tired of me before I do get ready?
“So…this is me,” I say. I feel bad for not inviting him inside, since he has to go all the way back to Winter Park.
“I know it’s you,” he says, as he leans over and kisses me. He looks me in the eyes when our lips part. He has gorgeous eyes. Just looking him at me makes my heart race. I realize I really want to be with him. I really want to go all the way with him.
“So…” he says.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask. “Salter is at his dad’s.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
I laugh and kiss him back. His lips are tender. I like that about him. There really isn’t anything I don’t like about him.
“Then come.”
He follows me towards the front door, and I look for my keys, when suddenly I see something. A figure in the darkness, moving. My first thought is that it’s an animal, but as it approaches, I realize it’s not. It’s human. It’s a young boy.
It’s Mark.
I walk towards him. “Mark? What are you doing here?”
He looks awful. He has always been on the skinny side, but this is ridiculous. “Who is it, Mary?” Steven asks.
“It’s…it’s Mark.” I say, fearing his anger, knowing how much he hates Marcia right now. Mark doesn’t seem to notice Steven. He is staring only at me.
“Mary,” he says. “I need your help.”
Chapter Seventy-Six
February 2016
“What’s going on, Mark?”
I put a cup of hot chocolate on the table in front of him. I spray some whipped cream in both his cup and mine.
Mark smiles with caution as he looks at the cup. This was what he wanted when I asked him what I could make for him. I was thinking more in terms of a meal or something, but if this is what he needs ri
ght now, than that is what he is getting.
“Don’t think I’ve had hot chocolate since I was a kid,” he says, with longing in his voice.
“You’re still a kid,” I say.
“Been awhile since I felt like one.”
I sit next to him and sip my hot chocolate. I am glad that Steven decided to go back to Winter Park when I told him I had to help the boy. He seemed a little annoyed, but he’ll have to live with it, I think. Right now, Mark is more important.
I exhale and look at the boy. “I know. Things must have been really bad for you, huh?”
He shrugs and looks away. “I’m fine.”
“So, tell me, why aren’t you at your dad’s in Orlando like the rest of your brothers and your sister?”
“I ran away,” he says.
“I kind of figured that part out. But why? Is it that bad there?”
Mark looks into my eyes. He reminds me of a scared bird. He doesn’t answer my question. He doesn’t have to. I put my hand on top of his and we drink our chocolate in silence for a little while. I know he is eager to talk to me, but it seems like he needs a little more time to get the words right. I wait patiently, even though it’s getting late.
“I have to get her out of there,” he says.
“Who are we talking about now? Your sister?”
He shakes his head. “Mom.”
I take in a deep breath, thinking about Marcia. I know how he must feel. At least I think I do. “There really isn’t much we can do,” I say.
Mark slams his fist on the table. I jump.
“Yes, there is.”
“What do you mean? I saw her, Mark. She was there. She shot that poor man. She told me she killed those people back six years ago. She told me she remembered what they wore, what they looked like when they were killed. I am sorry, Mark, but she is ill, and if she is convicted, then hopefully she’ll get help.”
“No. They’ll just lock her away for life. I know how these things work,” he says intensely. “She’ll never get out of there again.”
“But, sweetie. Maybe that’s for the best. That way, she won’t hurt anyone else. Out here, she is a danger to people. I know it must be hard to understand and difficult to accept that your own mother…”
He slams his fist onto the table once again. “No!”
I lean over and place my hand on his shoulder. “Mark…”
He pulls away from me and stands to his feet. He points at me and looks into my eyes while he speaks. “My mother is no killer. She might have shot at me, but that was in self-defense. She is not a ruthless killer. I know she isn’t.”
I stare at the young man in front of me. He suddenly seems so adult, so grown; I can no longer see him as just a child.
“You know something, don’t you?” I ask.
He freezes, and then sits in his chair again. He looks down, then up at me before he finally nods.
I lean back, and then drink another sip of the chocolate, thinking I need to listen to what he has to say. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he is not just making this up. This is serious and it is eating at him.
“Tell me everything,” I say. “You can trust me. You know that, right?”
It takes a while before he answers.
“I know my mom trusted you. So, I guess I can as well.”
Chapter Seventy-Seven
February 2016
“I have never told this to anyone.”
I find some Oreos and marshmallows to go with the hot chocolate, while Mark finds the strength to tell me what he knows. I can tell it is very difficult for him.
“I won’t tell anyone either unless I have your permission,” I say. “That’s my promise to you. Cross my heart.”
Mark nods. His eyes hit the edge of the table. I am bracing myself for what is about to come.
“I saw something,” he says and looks at me again.
“What did you see?”
“On the night the woman was murdered, that teacher.”
“Shannon Ferguson?”
“Yes. I saw her. Down by the river.”
“You saw her?”
“Yes. I was actually looking for my sister.”
“Rose?”
He nods. “I had realized she had started sneaking out at night, so I wanted to follow her and see what she was up to. I spotted her walking down Minutemen Causeway wearing a miniskirt, and I followed her on my bike. I wanted to stop her and tell her to go back, tell her it was a school night and no twelve-year-old should be out on a school night. But before I could get to her, a car stopped and she was picked up. Terrified, I followed them to the other side of the river bank, where the car stopped.”
Mark stops and looks down. He shakes his head.
I grab the pack of Oreos and eat three in a row. “What did you see, Mark? Tell me.”
“I saw her get dropped from the bridge. It was a full moon, so it was easy to see. I spotted the truck stop on top of the bridge, then someone got out, pulled out the body, and let it fall from the bridge I still remember the plump sound when it landed in the water.”
“And you’re certain it was Shannon Ferguson’s body?” I ask.
“Yes. I was close to the bridge and it soon drifted towards me. I could see her face in the water. I know her.”
“How do you know her, Mark?”
He looks me in the eyes. “She used to be my teacher in third grade. Her hair was shorter now, but she still looks the same.”
I grab yet another Oreo, while digesting this news. “Oh, my God, Mark. Did you see who dropped her off the bridge then?”
He nods. “Yes. I didn’t see the face, but it wasn’t my mother. I would recognize my mother anywhere. Besides, this person drove away in a car, a dark pick-up truck. My mom doesn’t even have a car. She has no license, remember?”
“She could have stolen one,” I argue. “But you’re certain it wasn’t her?”
He nods again. “This person was tall. My mom isn’t tall.”
“But it was a woman?”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“Did you call the police?”
Mark looks into my eyes, then down at the table.
“I’m guessing you didn’t,” I say.
“How could I?” Mark is crying now. “My sister…Rose was in that awful car…with that awful man who was…doing things to her…and I was just standing there. If I told the police, they would take her away from me. They would ask me what I was doing there and they would know that she was selling herself to men like that. Her life would be ruined. They would know…they would know that things weren’t the way they’re supposed to be with my mother, with us.”
“But this information might have helped your mother?” I say. “I mean, when she was arrested? She is being charged with the murder of Shannon Ferguson.”
“I know she would rather go to jail herself than have her daughter taken away. Besides, who would ever believe me? She’s my mom. I am supposed to try and protect her.”
The kid was right. As an eyewitness, he wouldn’t stand in court. But it gave me a new perspective on things. This news forced me to re-think everything I thought I knew about Marcia’s case.
Chapter Seventy-Eight
February 2016
I make the bed in the guestroom and let Mark sleep there while I pace up and down the kitchen floor. I feel awful, confused, estranged even. What the heck is going on here? If Marcia didn’t dump the body of Shannon Ferguson, then who did? And did that person also kill her? Could Mark have seen wrong? Wouldn’t he be able to recognize his own mother? You’d think so.
Could he be lying?
While eating Oreos straight from the box, I sit by the computer and start researching whatever has been written about the case in the media. Scrolling through one story after another, I soon learn everything about this Shannon Ferguson that is known to the public. Nowhere does it say if she was thrown from a bridge or not. Only that she was found by someone fishing at the river one morning, a t
ourist hoping to catch some early fish before the sun came up. He had seen her floating towards him and wondered at first if it was a manatee.
How does Mark know the body was dumped from the bridge? Could he be speculating? Making things up? But why would he? To protect his mother? Wouldn’t he have gone to the police with his information then? And why add the story about his sister to it? It didn’t sound like something a fourteen-year-old would come up with.
What if he is right? What if Marcia didn’t do it?
I shake my head slowly and walk to the kitchen to find a bag of chips that I bring back to the computer. I wonder if I should call Steven and tell him this. I feel like I need to share this with someone, but I am not sure Steven will take this well. He is so convinced Marcia killed her and his other siblings. But no one ever managed to answer the question why? Why would she target his family and kill them like this? They haven’t even managed to establish any connection between them; they have no idea how she even knows them.
Who is that person on the bridge?
I keep imagining the figure standing up there, looking down, as the body plunges into the water beneath. It was a tall person, Mark said. It’s not much to go on.
I stare at the screen, where a picture of a younger Shannon Ferguson, taken from when she was hired at Roosevelt Elementary School, fills the screen. The article speculates about who would hold a grudge against a very loved teacher in our local community. It also tells that she was stabbed thirteen times in her chest before she was dumped in the water. Forensics reports show she was still alive. Water in her lungs proves she was still breathing, and the cause of death was, therefore, drowning.
A chill goes through my body and I lean back with a sigh when my phone suddenly rings. I look at the display and realize it can only be the only other person awake at this hour around here.
Chloe.
“There is something we need to talk about,” she says.
I chuckle, noticing that she brings no excuses for the late call. She never does. To her, this is the normal time to be awake.
