When Smiles Fade

by Paige Dearth

  “Calm down, Syd,” Emma told her. “Just do what I say. I’ll be in touch, but for now, just make sure that Isabella is taken care of. Don’t let her out of your sight for even a minute. I swear I’ll call you again as soon as they let me and we can figure things out. Will you do that for me? Please?” she ended on a pleading note.

  “Yes, I’ll keep Iz with me,” her friend promised. “But call me as soon as you can.” Then she couldn’t help asking, “What did you do to end up in jail?”

  “I didn’t do anything, Syd,” Emma lied. “I’ve been accused of killing Ethan’s friend, Pete. I have to go now. Tell Izzy I love her.”

  As the line went dead and Sydney’s gaze traveled around the room, the enormity of what had transpired within those few moments came crashing down on her. She looked over at Isabella who was sleeping soundly in her bed. What the fuck was she going to tell her? She lay down on her own bed, curled into a ball, and cried silent tears of fear and sheer helplessness. She was desperately afraid of what would become of Emma and more so of what would become of Izzy. She loved the child, but at the end of the day, she belonged to Emma. Sydney lay awake all night, terror of the unknown seeping into her body until she felt ill.

  At the police station, Emma sat locked in her cell. It was utterly silent but for the distant sound of barred metal doors being occasionally opened and shut. She had no regrets at all for what she had done. She would do it again in a minute if the situation arose. She considered Pete’s death a matter of righting a wrong that had been done to Gracie and her.

  The next morning, a woman officer Emma hadn’t seen the night before unlocked her cell door and informed her that she needed to go for her informal arraignment. The proceedings were simple. Emma was informed that she was being charged with murder and apprised of her right to counsel. Since she was being held as a murder suspect, the judge decided to hold her without bail after reviewing the statements given by those present at the bar that night.

  Emma asked for a court-appointed attorney and, eight days later, went for her preliminary hearing. Based on Emma’s point-blank answer when questioned—“I didn’t kill anyone”—her attorney, Alexis Fairburn, stated that her client was pleading not guilty to the crime.

  The prosecutor, Elliot Lawes, produced a dozen eyewitnesses from the bar who claimed they had seen the accused leaving the bar with the murder victim. From the facts available, it was decided that her case would go to trial. Elliot intended to go for first-degree murder and did his utmost to establish a watertight case against Emma. Once the police had discovered the victim’s connection with Ethan, Emma’s late ex-boyfriend, the motive for the murder was thought to be some kind of psycho-vendetta. Alexis, a young female lawyer only two years out of law school, approached the trial with caution. She knew she would have to proceed carefully if she intended to gain the respect of her more senior colleagues and be taken seriously.

  Emma called Sydney to check on Isabella and inform her friend about the latest developments.

  “How is Iz? Everything okay?” she gushed, desperately wanting to hold Isabella in her arms.

  “She’s fine, Em,” Sydney assured her. “We’re both fine. But Izzy’s been crying a lot. Keeps asking me when you’re coming home.

  Emma sighed, knowing she was about to drop a bomb on her young friend. “They’ve set my pre-trial conference thirty days from now, Syd. They’re going to take the case to trial. This could take a really long time.”

  “Fuck, Emma! Izzy’s lost and confused and I need to tell her something. Another thirty days is like a fucking eternity!”

  Emma recognized Sydney’s familiar whine. “Okay, Syd,” she said briskly. “Just put Iz on the phone.”

  A moment later, the small voice penetrated the silence. “Aunt Em?”

  “Yes, sweetie, it’s me. How are you?”

  “I miss you!” Isabella sniffled. “When are you coming home?”

  “I don’t know, Isabella,” Emma told her honestly. “I need to stay where I am for a little bit. But while I’m gone, Sydney is going to take care of you and make sure you have everything you need. What have you two been doing?”

  “Begging during the day and reading or playing games at night,” Izzy told her aunt sadly.

  Emma felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. It hadn’t occurred to her how Sydney would earn money to take care of Isabella while she was locked away behind bars. To hear that they were begging on the streets of Kensington again gave her pause.

  “Okay, Iz,” she sighed. “Put Syd back on the phone, will you? I’ll call you again soon. I love you, baby.”

  “I love you too, Aunt Em,” the child said yearningly. “Please come back soon.”

  The moment her friend came back on the line, Emma told her, “Syd, you need to be careful. I’m truly sorry I didn’t think about the money you might need. You can sell my stuff, okay? I don’t want you guys out there on Kensington Avenue, begging for money. Maybe you can get a job until I know what’s going to happen. You know, at a local restaurant or something? Or how about a job at a daycare? You love kids.”

  Sydney’s irritation flared and she made no attempt to hide it as she snapped, “What the fuck do you want me to do? I didn’t ask for this. I’ve begged for money all my life and now you want me to go out and get a job. You know what? How about trusting someone else with taking care of Izzy? I love her and all, Em, but I never signed up to be mother of the fucking year! I’ve been totally stressed out trying to keep her belly full for the last eight days. Now you’re asking me to figure out how to take care of her for thirty more days!”

  There was a moment of strained silence between them.

  Then Emma said quietly, “You’re right, Syd. I just want you to be careful. In the meantime, I’ll try and think of some way to get you some money.”

  By the time Emma hung up the phone, she knew that Salvatore was the only person who could help them. She hoped that if asked, he would give Syd the money she needed to take care of Izzy. After several hours, she asked the guard if she could make another phone call.

  “Not tonight, hon,” she told her. “We’ll see if you can make a call tomorrow, though. Now settle down and try to sleep.”

  But Emma had a difficult time quieting the thoughts that cluttered her brain. The prosecutor was determined to bring her down. He had already established her former relationship with Ethan. What if someone had seen her getting out of Pete’s car after she had killed him? She had thrown caution to the wind and was annoyed with herself for being so reckless. She lay sleepless now, tossing and turning, obsessing over what more the prosecution could unearth that might incriminate her. There had been so many people at the bar when she’d left it with Pete that night. Acknowledging the possibility of a long prison sentence ahead of her, she knew her first priority would be to ensure that one of the people in her life would take care of Izzy.

  Utterly frustrated, Emma sat up and swung her legs over the edge of her cot, blaming herself for creating a situation that might jeopardize Isabella’s life. Now, she couldn’t forgive herself for failing to plan Pete’s death to the last detail, instead of killing him so rashly, for allowing her desire for revenge to override her common sense.

  She knew she needed to make long-term plans for her niece. She would call Brianna and Katie first to see if either of them could help her. If that didn’t work out, she would get in touch with Salvatore. Exhausted by her nightlong bout of self-recrimination, Emma drifted off to sleep, feeling hopeful that in the end, one of her friends would come through for Isabella. She knew that all three of the people she had thought of loved Isabella very much and told herself that the answer would be waiting for her in the morning, or so she hoped.

  The next morning, feeling tense and wound up, Emma set out to make her calls. The first call she made was to Brianna, who was still living in Germany, as it turned out, with a guy who was no less abusive than Ethan had been. She herself needed an escape plan from a desperate situation and wa
s in no position to help anyone else. Emma wished her luck and urged her to run as fast as she could to get away.

  When she contacted Katie, her friend explained with deep regret that Bryce would never allow her to take in another child. Things were working out better for them in Nevada than they had in Ambler and she didn’t want to rock the boat. She felt terrible about having to refuse Emma, but she really had no choice.

  Both of the girls were, of course, shocked and concerned to hear that Emma was in prison. Katie was surprised that she was a suspect in Pete’s murder. She had always believed that Salvatore had something to do with Ethan’s murder, but now she wondered if Emma hadn’t instigated him after the rape. Brianna found it less shocking that Emma was accused of killing Pete. She had known, although never confirmed, that Emma was connected to the deaths of Pepper and Jake. She was also aware of what Emma had done to Valerie before they fled their respective homes. But both were loyal friends and understood that Emma would never hurt those that she loved.

  Emma’s despair deepened at the discovery that neither of her friends could help her, but in all fairness to them, she acknowledged that what she had asked for was beyond reasonable.

  The last call she made was to Salvatore. Emma quickly filled him in on her situation and asked him if there was anything he could do to help them out. He offered to send five hundred dollars to Sydney so that she could buy the things Izzy needed to live for a while. He told Emma solemnly that he would have loved to take in Isabella, but knew his wife would never give her consent to such an arrangement. He refrained from disclosing that it was, in fact, his father who would forbid him from giving refuge to a child who didn’t belong to the family.

  True to his word, Salvatore sent five hundred dollars to Sydney that very day and planned on sending her money regularly. It was something he had in plenty, and using it was the only way he could help Emma now. And she did need help very badly. He feared that she would be handed a long prison sentence for the crime she had committed.

  Chapter One Hundred and One

  The first day of the trial began with the prosecutor calling Ethan’s family in as witnesses. His mother and sister both testified that Emma had been a bad influence on their son and brother. In fact, Elliot Lawes suggested slyly, she might even have been responsible for Ethan’s violent death.

  Emma sat at the table next to Alexis listening quietly as her character was ripped to shreds. Much was made of the fact that she was a stripper by profession, the insinuation being that it automatically made her a person of inferior moral character. Not flinching even once, Emma watched the circus unfold before her. She couldn’t believe that Elliot Lawes, a supposedly educated person, could pass such harsh judgment on working at a strip bar. After all, the money she made at the bar was what had helped her to survive.

  She didn’t see the point in stirring up the bullshit that was irrelevant to her case. She had killed that bastard, Pete, for hurting Gracie and her. End of story. Who the fuck cared if she was a stripper or not? But it quickly became apparent that the stupid little jurors cared. She observed the women among them cringe as this fresh bit of information about her profession was tossed around and did not miss the second once-over the men gave her, probably fantasizing about her in costume, she mused.

  The next day, the defense brought in witnesses from Doubles. They needed to face the stripper accusation head on and prove to the jury that women in the business were no different from those who sat in the courtroom. Shiver and Jay both testified in Emma’s favor. They answered questions about her character and personality. They spoke briefly of her personal life, of which they knew little, since Emma rarely shared those details. Shiver gave the court an emotional performance when she talked about Emma losing Gracie in a car accident and the impact it had had on her friend.

  When Elliot’s turn came to question Shiver, he asked only one question: “Did anyone die during the time that Miss Murphy worked at Doubles Go-Go Bar?”

  Stunned by a question for which she was not prepared, Shiver paused. “Well,” she finally said, “yes, one of our dancers died.”

  “That’s very interesting,” Elliot observed, rubbing his chin with his fingers. “Do you know how she died?”

  “She was found dead in her car,” Shiver told him. “It was parked in her garage and it was still running when they found her.”

  “In fact,” Elliot stated, turning to the jury with a dramatic gesture, “the deceased, whose stage name was Jade, died of carbon monoxide poisoning. The coroner’s report shows that she was very, very drunk at the time of her death. Allegedly she pulled into her garage, shut the door, and passed out at the wheel. Now we’ve heard of this happening before to other people. But we followed up Jade’s case and talked to her two orphaned children,” here he paused and looked directly at Emma, “who informed us that their mother had gone out with Miss Murphy that night. You see, no one suspected foul play until now. The children were never asked if their mother went out with anyone that night and if she had, to identify that person—until just a couple of days ago. That, ladies and gentlemen,” he directed his words at the jury now, “is just another person Miss Murphy knew who died of unnatural circumstances. Is it a coincidence? I think maybe it isn’t a coincidence at all.”

  Alexis Fairburn kept objecting to the kind of conjectures being made, but the judge wouldn’t give her a break and continued to overrule her. Shiver’s face had gone deathly pale on the witness stand. She kept looking over at Emma for reassurance that the lawyer was nuts and just making it all up. Emma remained stoic as they tore her character down, bit by bit. She knew there was no way they could prove beyond reasonable doubt that she had anything to do with Jade’s death. It just wasn’t possible. When Shiver stepped down from the witness stand, she looked at Emma, who nodded to acknowledge her appreciation for her help.

  By the end of the second day, Emma’s attorney was secretly beginning to suspect that her client might be more sinister than she had imagined. It wasn’t until the third day of the trial that she began to see her defense strategy as hopeless. For the prosecutor had called Emma’s mother, Valerie Murphy, to the witness stand.

  Chapter One Hundred and Two

  Once she was seated, Valerie removed her sunglasses, scarf, and hat and turned to face the jurors. This was a deliberate dramatic action that Elliot Lawes had instructed Valerie to do once she was seated in the witness chair. The entire courtroom gasped at the appearance of the woman who now sat before them. Even with her facial injuries healed, she looked like a character from a horror film. Without the means to afford cosmetic surgery, Valerie was doomed to live the way her daughter had intended her to. The scars from the slashes on her face, both vertical and horizontal, now made the corners of Emma’s lips turn up in a barely perceptible smile of malicious pleasure. She stared at Valerie with contempt, waiting for the imbecile who had given birth to her to tell the whole world how her daughter had sliced up her face with a kitchen knife and ruined her life forever. She wondered, though, if her mother would be as truthful about her own savage behavior to her younger child.

  Emma leaned over and whispered to Alexis, “We need to talk. There’s a reason why my mother looks that way.”

  Alexis nodded. “After the prosecutor is done questioning her, I’ll ask the judge for a break,” she whispered back. But her eyes were intent on Emma’s mother, anxious to hear the story she was about to tell them.

  “Mrs. Murphy,” the prosecutor began, “could you explain to the court how you got those scars on your face?”

  Valerie was visibly uneasy as she tried not to meet her daughter’s scorching stare. “Emma was mad at me,” she said without wavering. “So she knocked me unconscious and cut my face up with a knife.”

  “Why would your daughter do such a horrible thing to her own mother?” the prosecutor went on. “Surely you must have done something to provoke her?”

  “She…she was angry because her little sister had been punished and she decided
to take it out on me,” she stammered.

  Valerie now looked at Emma, her resentful eyes taking in all of her beauty, the kind of beauty she herself had been robbed of. Something in her daughter’s character reminded her so much of Pepper. But she knew she need no longer be afraid of her daughter. The prosecutor had promised her that Emma was going to prison for a very, very long time.

  “Mrs. Murphy,” Elliot began again, “you told me that Emma ran away from home as a teenager. And before she left, she butchered your face.” The man now turned to the jury, holding up a photograph of Valerie taken shortly after Pepper’s death. “This,” he said with a flourish, “is what Mrs. Murphy looked like before her daughter mutilated her face.”

  The jurors shook their heads sadly, appreciating the irony of how beautiful this physical wreck of a woman had once been.

  “Mrs. Murphy,” the prosecutor persisted, “did anyone in your home die while Emma was living with you?”

  “Yes,” she said, leaning forward into the microphone, “her father died. One day he was healthy, and in less than two months, he became really ill and died.”

  “Died of what?” the prosecutor pushed.

  “I don’t know. We just thought it was natural causes,” Valerie said.

  “Did anyone else die during the time Emma was living with you?” he asked.

  “Yes. After Pepper’s death, I met a man named Jake. He moved in with us, but he died too.”

  “And what was the cause of his death?” Elliot persisted.

  “The police told me he had too much to drink and fell into an empty pool at a hotel in the area. He died from the fall,” she sniffled.

  Valerie now glanced in Emma’s direction, knowing that if her daughter could, she would get out of her chair at that moment and beat her to death.