by Sharon Sala
When the Jakes brothers came back in, he could tell by the looks on their faces that something had happened. Instinct told him it was not in his favor. And when they walked over to Sheriff Osmond and showed him what looked like a photo, he tried not to worry.
“Sorry for that interruption,” Trey said.
“Have you no mercy?” Marcus mumbled. “I need a bath and fresh clothing.”
Trey ignored him. “So tell me again how you and Donny Collins got along.”
Marcus slapped the flat of his hand on the table. “He was a nobody. I did not hang out with people like him. Ever! I want my lawyer!”
The thought went through Sam’s head that he was so going to love Lainey into exhaustion. It wasn’t just the fact that her mother had kept track of her childhood like an IRS CPA, but that Lainey had been thoughtful enough to search through a lifetime of mementos to help them solve this case. Especially when she’d started out hating his guts.
Trey laid the photo down in front of Marcus.
Marcus glanced down and then froze. He felt a blood rush of panic as his life began flashing before his eyes. Then he put both hands on the table and looked up.
“I want my lawyer.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Sam drawled.
* * *
T.J. entered the precinct in a rush, bringing cold wind and blowing rain with him.
“Where’s my father?” he shouted.
Avery held up one finger while he finished a dispatch. When he was through, he turned to meet T.J’s eyes. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
T.J. leaned over the counter and screamed in the dispatcher’s face. “Where the hell is my father?”
Footsteps sounded in the hall, and then Chief Jakes walked into the lobby. “Hello, T.J. What the hell is wrong with you? Do you want to be arrested for disturbing the peace?”
T.J. took a deep breath. “No.”
“Then, stop yelling at my dispatcher.”
“I’m sorry, Avery. I was upset about my father and took it out on you,” T.J. said.
Avery shrugged.
Trey glared.
T.J. started over.
“Our maid said you came and got Dad this morning.”
“And she was correct,” Trey said.
“May I speak to you in private?” T.J. asked.
“Follow me,” Trey said and led the way back to his office.
Sam was on the phone when they walked in. He saw who it was and hung up just as T.J. lost his cool again.
“I meant in private!” he shrieked.
Sam stood up.
Trey pointed at his brother. “You stay.”
Sam sat back down.
T.J. opened his mouth, and then shut it again.
“Have a seat, T.J.,” Trey said.
It sounded more like an order than an invitation, which made T.J. nervous. “Where is my father?” he asked.
“In jail,” Trey said.
T.J. leaned forward, the expression on his face one of disbelief. “He can’t be. Why? Have you booked him already? Where was our lawyer in all this?”
“He is, and his lawyer came when he requested one,” Trey said.
T.J. groaned beneath his breath and leaned back in the chair.
Sam had been silent, but the questions T.J. asked seemed curious to him, especially the one about being booked. “Why does it matter to you if he’s already been booked?”
“The senate seat. Dad is going to announce his candidacy for a vacant senate seat,” T.J. said. “Whatever is wrong, surely it can be cleared up without all this.”
“And now we have the motive for the rest,” Sam said softly and looked up at his brother.
T.J. frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Is there anything else we can do for you?” Trey asked.
“I’m calling our lawyer!”
“He’s already been here and gone,” Sam said. “Maybe you should call him for your answers.”
T.J. pushed himself upright and stumbled toward the door. He paused once and looked back. “It’s all ruined,” he mumbled, then shook his head and walked out.
“You need me for anything else?” Sam asked.
Trey grinned. “Nope. Go find Lainey and give her a kiss from me—and one from Mom.”
Sam felt his brother’s pain. “I will be happy to do that,” he said, and left the room.
Trey sat down, and then stared across the room at the picture of his father in his highway patrol uniform. He could almost imagine that stern expression on Justin’s face morphing into a smile. Within an instant the feeling was gone, but it felt like a sign—a brief acknowledgment of a job well done.
* * *
The news was spreading all over Mystic.
Marcus Silver was in jail, under arrest for murdering Donny Collins in 1980, and charges were pending for the murders of Dick Phillips, Paul Jackson and Betsy Jakes, and for the attempted murder of Trina Jakes.
Word was that Marcus adamantly denied all of it, of course.
Beth Powell heard the news from one of her friends and wondered how long it would take for the news of her involvement in the cheating scandal to surface, and then she shrugged it off. In the grand scheme of things, being stupid as a teenager was a given. Look at Jack. He’d gotten shit-faced drunk and burned himself up in his daddy’s old car. His daddy’s heart was broken, and his mama was in the process of having a nervous breakdown. As far as Beth was concerned, nothing worse could happen to their family than what they were going through now.
She stared off into space for a few moments, and then picked up her phone and called her son.
He answered on the third ring and sounded breathless, as if he’d been running. “Hello?”
“It’s me, honey. How’s Clarice?”
“Her mother and sisters are here. I think it’s helping.”
“I need to talk to you,” she said.
“Okay, shoot.”
“No, honey. I need to talk to you face-to-face.”
“Are you okay? Are you ill? What’s wrong, Mom?”
“I’m not sick. You’ll find out the rest when you get here.”
“I’ll be right there,” Randy said.
She disconnected, then got up and went to her bedroom, where she began digging through her cedar chest. She dug all the way to the bottom before she found the picture she was looking for, then pulled it out and hugged it to her breasts.
About fifteen minutes later she heard Randy coming in the back door.
“Mom?” he called.
“I’m in the living room,” she said.
His stride was quick as he entered the room, and he had a look of concern on his face. It wasn’t the first time Beth had seen the resemblance between him and Donny, but it was the first time she was proud it was there.
“Hi, honey. Come sit by me,” she said.
Randy dropped down beside her, and then reached for her hand. “What’s wrong?”
She handed him the picture.
He frowned as he looked at it, then handed it back. “Who’s he?”
“Your father.”
Randy gasped, and then slowly reached for the picture again, this time studying every facet of the young boy’s face.
“Why now, Mom? After all of these years, why are you showing me this now?”
She started to cry.
“Because this is who they pulled out of the Colquitt Mine. All these years I thought he’d abandoned us, but he didn’t, Randy. He didn’t. Your father was murdered the night he graduated high school.”
Randy looked past the tears on his mother’s face to the light in her eyes, and he got it. She was happy—happy to know that she’d still been loved.
> He put the picture down and hugged her.
“I don’t even know what to say,” he said. “Do they know why he was killed?”
“Part of it is my fault, but I had no idea when it was happening how it would turn out.”
Then she began to explain the panic she’d felt when she’d learned she was pregnant and the downward spiral her life had taken from there.
* * *
Lainey looked up as Lee walked into Trina’s room, carrying two bottles of Coke. He handed one to her and set his to the side.
“I already broke the seal on that for you,” he said.
She smiled. “Thank you, Lee.” She popped an over-the-counter pain pill she’d found in the bottom of her purse, and chased it with a drink of the Coke.
“Do you hurt much?” he asked.
She thought of her real pain pills in the console of her car and sighed.
“It’s not bad. More of a dull ache, you know?”
They both glanced at Trina, making sure their talking wasn’t disturbing her before they continued.
“Sorry about your horse,” he said, “but I’m glad you’re okay.”
“So am I,” Lainey said, and then took another quick sip of the pop. “What did the doctor say about Trina’s condition this morning?”
“That her vital signs were much stronger, the wound is healing well, fever is minimal.”
“When do you think she’ll wake up?”
He shrugged. “I don’t care how long it takes, as long as it happens. I just want my girl back.”
Lainey patted his arm. “I know. This has been such a scary time for all of you.”
Just then her phone signaled a text. She glanced down, saw it was from Sam and read it.
Silver under arrest. Your picture sealed it. Your help and your mother’s diaries put a killer behind bars. I love you so much.
Lainey gasped.
“Lee, look at this!” she said and handed him the phone.
“Oh, my God! He’s the killer?”
“I guess so,” Lainey said.
“But why?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll bet the authorities do. I am so relieved this nightmare is over,” she said.
Lee stood up and leaned down near Trina’s ear. “Hey, baby,” he said. “They caught the man who did this to you. Marcus Silver will never hurt anyone else again.”
Trina turned toward his voice and exhaled.
Lee gasped. “Trina? Honey?”
She took a deep breath.
Lainey stood up. “Is she waking up?”
“I don’t know, but this is the most movement I’ve seen from her since they put her in ICU, and it happened after I told her they caught the killer.”
Trina’s eyelids began to flutter, then a finger moved.
“Thank You, God,” Lee said as he clasped her hand. “Trina? You heard me, didn’t you? They caught the man who shot you. Marcus Silver is behind bars.”
Trina’s lips parted.
“Look!” Lainey said.
Lee was holding his breath.
Lainey leaned forward.
“Hey, Tink. It’s me, Lainey. You’re safe. Lee is here. Everyone loves you. The man who hurt you is in jail.”
Trina sighed, and when she did, they heard her breathe a single word.
“What?” Lee said. “What did she say?”
Lainey frowned, then said in disbelief, “It sounded like she said no.”
Trina’s eyelids fluttered again.
Lainey leaned closer. “Honey, did Marcus Silver shoot you and your mama?”
Trina sighed, and again the single word emerged with her breath. “No.”
“Oh, my God!” Lainey said.
“What does this mean? Do they have the wrong man?” Lee asked.
“I don’t know, but I need to let Sam know what she said.”
Her ankle was throbbing as she stumbled back to her chair and quickly sent Sam a reply.
Trina is waking up. When Lee told her Marcus Silver was in jail for shooting her, she said no.
* * *
Sam was just getting ready to leave the police station when he got Lainey’s text. Even as he read it, he couldn’t believe what it said. He turned around and yelled at Trey, who was on his way back to the jail.
“Trey! You need to see this!”
Trey stopped as Sam came running.
“What’s wrong?” Trey asked.
Sam handed him the phone.
Trey read the text twice, and then groaned.
“What the hell does this mean? You and I both know Marcus Silver killed Donny Collins.”
“I don’t know what it means. Maybe Trina was just reliving the shooting when she said no. You know...like she was telling the shooter ‘no, don’t shoot,’ or something like that, but suddenly I don’t feel as relieved as I did before,” Sam said.
Trey sighed. “Nothing is ever easy, is it? So for now we leave the guards in place and continue limiting visitors until she explains what she meant.”
Sam stood there for a moment, and then pointed toward the cells. “I want to ask Silver a question.”
Trey shrugged. “Let’s go.”
Marcus Silver was in the first cell, sporting an orange jumpsuit and a horrified expression to go with it. When he saw the Jakes brothers come in, he stood up.
“I need to call my son,” Marcus said.
“Oh, he’s already been and gone,” Trey said.
Marcus paled. “But I have to explain... I need to talk to him.” He reeled as if he was going to faint, and grabbed on to the bars to steady himself. “Please. I have to make him understand I—”
That was the opening Sam needed. “What’s so hard to understand about murdering four people in cold blood?”
Marcus groaned. “No, no, you don’t understand. I didn’t shoot your mother. I didn’t kill Paul Jackson and Dick Phillips. I swear to God, I didn’t do it.”
The skin crawled on the back of Trey’s neck. “So you’re admitting you did kill Donny Collins, then?”
Marcus sank to his knees. “It was an accident.”
“How did you two wind up in your car together?” Sam asked.
“He needed to get to the bus station and asked me for a ride. I had a car, so I did it. As soon as he got in he accused me of cheating. I denied it, but he kept saying he knew the truth. I thought Beth must have told him. He got out at the back lot of the bus station. I followed him. He was still mouthing off at me, and when he turned his back on me, I hit him in the head with a rock. I didn’t mean to kill him. I was afraid, and it was just a knee-jerk reaction. I tried to rouse him, but he didn’t have a pulse, so I panicked. I threw him in the back of my car and just took off out of town, and the first place I thought of where I could get rid of the body was the old mine. I didn’t know anyone was there when I drove up. I got him out of my trunk and dragged him into the mine. I dumped him down that hole, and when I turned around the four of them were standing there staring at me in disbelief. They told me they were going to tell and started to leave. I screamed that I would kill them, too, so Paul turned around and knocked me down, and then they ran. You know the rest of it. Get my lawyer. I’ll give a statement about Donny. But I didn’t kill the others. I’ll take a lie-detector test or any other kind of test you want.”
Sam walked away.
Trey caught up with him in the hall. “What do you make of this shit?” he asked.
“I don’t know what to think,” Sam said. “But my gut feeling is he’s telling the truth.”
Trey groaned. “Then, who the hell killed the others?”
Sam turned on his heel and went back into the jail. “Marcus!”
Marcus was sitting on the bed s
taring down at the floor. He jerked at the sound of Sam’s voice. “What?”
“Who else knew what went down between you and Donny?”
“No one,” Marcus said. “I never told anyone. I never said the words aloud, not even to myself.”
“Not even your father?”
“No! He would have turned me in himself.”
Sam let the door to the cells swing shut as he headed for Trey’s office to get his coat.
“Where are you going?” Trey asked.
“To the hospital.”
Trey shoved a hand through his hair. “I’ll stay here. I’m going to call that lawyer and tell him Marcus is ready to give a statement admitting guilt. Don’t want to give him time to back away from what he said. I want it in writing.”
* * *
T. J. Silver hadn’t cried since the day his mother left them, but he was crying now. He’d gone home and locked himself in his bedroom, then lost it.
He cried because of the shame his father had brought to the family. He cried because of the hopes and dreams he’d had of going into public service with his father were over. There would be no announcement party. No need for the campaign manager he’d just hired. No need to hire the caterers he’d picked out.
He cried because the one thing he’d had to be proud of—the Silver name—was now tainted. Now everyone knew what his father had done. He couldn’t decide whether to leave Mystic and settle somewhere else, where no one knew of his disgrace, or stand his ground and try to find a way out of this unholy mess. He wanted to talk to his father, but he wasn’t sure what to say.
It took a long while before he got himself together, and then he washed his face and changed clothes. There were so many things left to do, he felt like throwing up.
One of his grandfathers had been fond of saying “Onward and upward,” but he would be damned if he could remember which one.
* * *
Greg Standish learned of Marcus’s arrest while he was having a burger at Charlie’s. He’d made it through church with a surprising number of people commiserating with him about his wife’s abandonment. They even had a special prayer service just for him during Sunday school, and when the preacher ended his service, it was with a prayer about faithfulness—something at which Gloria had obviously failed.
He was actually feeling pretty good about himself when he heard them talking about Marcus, at which point he went into shock. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Marcus had killed Donny. And then it occurred to him that meant Marcus would undoubtedly be arrested for killing Dick, Paul and Betsy, too.