The Cost of Betrayal

by Dee Henderson

  Janelle blinked at that comment and gave another glimmer of a smile. “I get it. Seems like you’ve thought of everything.” She looked down at the photo under her hand. “You’re the people with a plan, and I get dizzy at the thought of making one of my own. What else do you have to tell me?”

  Paul got up and came to join them. He held out a business card with his private number on the back. “Believe it or not, Janelle, you’ve now heard the full wall of information you need immediately. Now we’ll simply answer any questions you wish to ask. We’ll let you enjoy the next few weeks in peace before we ask to have a conversation with you about what happened.”

  She studied the card, the embossed Paul Falcon, the FBI logo, then looked over at the drinks lined up. “Those sodas are all fair game?”

  “Help yourself.”

  She picked up another Pepsi, slid over one of the chairs, and sat. Paul rested his hand lightly against Ann’s back as she gathered together the island information for Janelle. He’d been studied before with the same thoroughness as Janelle was now doing, but rarely by someone who was not facing him across an interview table.

  “I want to know who killed Andrew—not today, but in a few days when I’m ready to ask the question. You’ll answer that, and others I have?”

  “Every one,” Paul agreed. “Maybe not me personally—it will probably be Ann who has the information you need, or someone else on my staff, but I’ll accept any question you ask on that matter.”

  “Do I need a lawyer involved in any of this?”

  “Not regarding the pardon. It’s a finished fact. Arrangements for the next six months are all a gift. You’ll never see a bill or be asked to sign anything. Accepting what’s being offered will not create an implied obligation to the FBI or anyone else.

  “I can recommend my personal attorney if you would like advice on who might best serve your personal needs. Or you may know of someone yourself. You’ll have legal avenues of redress for the past six years available to you. When you’re ready to explore those questions, we will provide the full case materials to the lawyer of your choice, so you can be advised on how best to proceed in your situation.”

  There was a tap on the door, and Ann answered it. She came back with a neatly folded light yellow sports shirt and black athletic pants. “These are definitely temporary. We’ll stop at the mall by the airport so you can pick out better travel clothes and a few essentials. We’ll seriously shop for summer clothes once we’re on the island. Your friends will be here shortly. If you’re comfortable with my doing so, I’ll pack your things here while you visit with them. Or you can ask one of them to do that for you.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Consider it one of the perks. We’ll leave after you talk with your friends. Why don’t you get changed? Makeup is in my bag; there’s a mirror with the cosmetics. They’ll have your medical paperwork and some documents for Paul to sign. He’ll get that done while I’m bringing your things.”

  Janelle hesitated, then opened Ann’s purse and took out the makeup. “Thanks for sharing this.”

  “I’m glad I’m able to do so.”

  Janelle headed to the restroom with the clothing. Paul watched her go, seeing a relaxed stride that hadn’t been there when she first entered the chapel. The physical strain seemed to be fading. He hoped the mental shift would grab hold as well, so she could walk out of here on her way to feeling free also. They could point the way, but it rested on Janelle’s ability to adjust and take that path herself. He turned back to Ann. “Ask the warden’s aide to escort you and carry the boxes.”

  “I will. I’ve been in this prison before. Give me an hour, though I’ll do my best to be back in forty-five. Anything else we need to do?”

  “Find her a non-prison-issue coat and some decent gloves. I’ll have a further conversation with the warden about the additional material Greg asked to see.”

  “That hanging bag you carried to the car is an extra coat of mine. I didn’t want to mention it until I saw if there was a chance we might share a coat size. It will be short for her, but short’s in style. There’s an extra pair of leather gloves in the pocket.”

  “Good, thanks.” Paul slipped into his jacket in preparation for a final conversation with the warden. They heard voices approaching—Janelle’s friends were being escorted over. The warden’s aide stepped in, and Ann went with him to pack Janelle’s belongings.

  Paul thought it had gone remarkably well thus far. Janelle was showing mostly controlled emotions, which didn’t surprise him. She’d break down soon—the uncontrolled tears, the relief overwhelming her, but probably in the privacy of her room tonight, once she was outside these walls, when the reality that she was free truly sank in.

  The reaction of her friends, those not walking out of jail today, was going to be a different matter and would likely range from envy to despair, all of it conveyed in high emotions. Janelle was crossing the chapel, looking neat and heading toward very attractive. “Getting hungry?” he asked. “For a late lunch, I saw Italian, Mexican, and a decent steak place by the airport, if you have a preference.”

  “A decent steak sounds very nice.”

  Paul nodded to the group of women arriving with two corrections officers and looked toward Janelle. “I’ll step out unless you would like me to stay.”

  She glanced toward the officers. “They’ll be staying, so come and go as you like. An hour okay?”

  “An hour is fine,” Paul replied. “I’ll make arrangements for us to go then.”

  “Go?” several of them said.

  “Janelle?” came from others.

  She looked to her friends. “I’ve got news.”

  six

  Ann Falcon

  THE CELL WAS SMALL—TWO BEDS with thin mattresses, two narrow writing surfaces and attached solid chairs, narrow shelves on opposite walls, a toilet and sink. Ann set two packing boxes on the side that was Janelle’s. The wall of photos on the other side of the cell displayed a woman with two daughters. Ann assumed the cellmate was one of the friends Janelle had requested join her in the chapel.

  Janelle had a single photo of her parents taped to the wall over the desk, plus a collection of twelve calendar images, large flowers, on her bedside wall. Her belongings on the shelf consisted of a gardening book from the prison library, toiletries, a worn Bible with her name on the cover, two notebooks, and a plastic-sided expanding folder labeled Attorney. Even aware of what life was like when minimal things were the norm, this wasn’t much. Ann carefully took down the parents photo and placed it inside the Bible for safekeeping.

  “It’s true? She’s out of here?”

  It was the lunch hour for this wing of the prison and relatively quiet, with most of the women still in the dining hall. Ann removed a calendar picture before glancing over. A woman significantly older than Janelle, who looked as if all of life had been hard on her, stood by the door. Ann smiled. A paper bracelet on her wrist was braided together with alternating white-and-blue strands. “Yes, she is.”

  “She always said she was innocent. After a while you started to believe her.”

  “You’ve known Janelle for a while?”

  The woman shrugged. “I know everyone in this wing. I’m in for life. I figure ‘knowing people’ is my entertainment. Everyone eventually talks to me just to stop me asking questions. My cell is three doors down, so we’re neighbors of a sort.” She leaned against the door’s bars, watching Ann pack. Ann didn’t volunteer further information, knowing the rhythm that worked best with a sociable woman like this.

  “She said a robber did it, killed her boyfriend,” the woman mentioned. “They had a fight at a beach. He wants to break up before he goes back to college. She leaves him there, and he ends up dead. Nearly did her in to know the last words they hurled at each other were angry shouts. She’d give about anything to be able to apologize to him for calling him a ‘selfish, no-good, small-hearted man who’s throwing away the person who loves him most in the
world, so he can go play the field at college hoping to find someone prettier, wealthier, and of bluer blood.’”

  Ann looked over, surprised, and the woman smiled. “Pretty much a word-for-word quote. She wants whoever stole his wallet, phone, and ring, then left him there to die, to face real justice someday. She prayed for that often enough, you figure God might do it just to have her quit asking.”

  “Thanks.” Ann offered her hand. “Ann Falcon.”

  The woman held out her own. “Louise Amber.”

  “She received a pardon from the governor because we believe something like that did happen.”

  Louise paused for a sucked-in breath, then offered a soft, “Good for her.”

  Ann stacked Janelle’s items from the shelf into the second box. “Are you innocent of whatever landed you here?”

  “Naw, I robbed a liquor store. Wanted a bottle of scotch, couldn’t afford it, figured they had plenty and I’d been a customer long enough that they ought to give me one, plus some of my cash back. Wore a ski mask, but hey, my voice, not hard to pick me out. They told the cops my name. I was just drunk enough to be extra stupid that night. I would have been five years and out, but I took an unloaded gun, had two other robberies on my sheet, and three felonies made it forever. Can’t say I like the in-for-life part, but I’m sober for the first time in my life and that’s marginally refreshing. I got two girls, and they come visit now that I don’t smell like a distillery and constantly nag on them.”

  Ann offered her card. “You remember, or hear from others, any other details Janelle mentioned about that night, I’d appreciate a call.”

  “I’ll pass the word. Got anything else I can pass on that’s interesting news?”

  Ann didn’t mind feeding the in-house grapevine. “The rumor from the governor’s office is that this prison is getting a cosmetology and beautician training school come first of the year, twenty students every six months, chosen from those within two years of their release dates. You’ll be able to sign up for an appointment with the stylist of your choice. Driving in, I saw electrician trucks over at the building that houses the library, so I assume it’s being set up there. The dog-training area is going to expand to forty-five dogs with puppies allowed inside the A wing. And the community garden is expanding to allow anyone who would like one to have a garden plot of their own.”

  “Someone likes us.”

  “The prior warden from Wayforth is on the governor’s advisory staff. I saw her briefly, and she’s of a mind that you do more of what’s working in as many places as you can implement the ideas.”

  Ann picked up the two boxes. “Have I missed anything?”

  Louise looked around after Ann stepped out. “You’ve got her whole life in those boxes. She really was innocent?”

  Ann understood the emotion. “The toughest break of all—to not be believed when you tell the truth.”

  “I hear you. Wish her good luck from me.”

  “I’ll do that, Louise.”

  Ann let the warden’s aide carry the boxes as they walked back through the prison halls.

  “Can I ask you something?” he asked when they were nearing the chapel.

  “Sure.”

  “How do you tell the difference between someone who’s innocent and those ones who just say they are?”

  “Find the murder weapon in someone else’s possession.”

  He stopped for a moment to look at her. “Thanks. I was thinking there was some magic formula I was missing.”

  “Just experience. I’ve worked a lot of crimes, and this one was wrong from a couple of different angles, but it was where the murder weapon was found that changed the outcome. My advice, treat everyone with decent courtesy, and listen. Odds are good you’ll deal with another actually innocent person in your career. You find a story that catches your attention, go look at the public record of the trial, convince yourself one way or another about the matter. If you put in the time to free a wrongly convicted person, you’ll do some serious good.” She paused and grinned. “Besides, it never hurts to have the governor know your name.”

  He chuckled and nodded. “There’s a point to that.”

  “I personally see things through a spiritual lens when a string of unusual events come together like this. I think she’s a Christian that God arranged to vindicate in His own time and way. I bought a box at auction that had the murder weapon inside.”

  The aide gave her a second look. “How much did you spend?”

  “Seventeen dollars.”

  “I’m not a religious man, but I’ll agree that woman had someone watching out for her.”

  Ann paused outside the chapel door. “We should be ready to leave in about ten minutes, if you can hang around and walk us out.”

  “The warden is going to want that pleasure, but I’ll trail behind you with the boxes.”

  “Appreciate that.” Ann opened the door on a group hug, tears flowing. She glanced over at Paul, who was leaning against the counter, and recognized the look of a man in some pain behind the polite expression. There were seven women gathered in the chapel, most of them crying. Ann moved to him and slid her hand in his. “I see I missed some fireworks.”

  “One of them fainted, a couple screamed, three tried a chant, ‘I want out too.’ Envy—not surprising—seems to be the word of the day. Janelle has been giving advice and bucking people up: ‘Finish that GED. Quit choosing loser boyfriends. Apologize to your sister. Talk to the chaplain.’ Like that. I’ve caught a couple of hints that she’s desperate to get out of here now but feels guilty walking out when her friends have to stay behind. We were just waiting on you to get back.” He nodded to the file beside him. “I’ve got everything Greg asked for ready to go with us.”

  “Okay. I’ll handle it from here.” Ann moved over to the huddle, caught Janelle’s attention. Janelle eased herself back, and Ann softly whispered, “There’s a bag of farewell gifts in Paul’s briefcase. Go take a look, find something that suits each person.”

  She got an expression of deep relief, and Janelle walked over to the pew, opened the case, lifted out a blue sack. She carefully looked at options, chose gifts, and came back to the group. She gave a gift, a hug, and said individual goodbyes, then wiped her own tears before she picked up the briefcase Ann gave her. With a last nod goodbye to the group, she headed toward the door. And her friends let her go.

  The warden escorted them out through the prison. Ann walked beside Janelle, watched her breathing catch and her hand tighten nearly white on the briefcase handle. Though the pardon papers said she was already free, the walk out of the prison was when it became real. The garment bag they’d brought was hanging on the coatrack inside the administrative entrance doors. Ann unzipped it, held out the coat. “One of mine. It’s short for you, but you’ll need it only for a few hours. Greg says the weather there is seventy-eight and sunny.”

  Janelle slipped it on with a “Thanks” and a wobbly smile. The gloves fit. Ann grabbed her own coat while Paul held the door for them. The warden led them to the guest parking area. His aide stored Janelle’s boxes in the trunk. Handshakes in the cold were quick; everything had already been said. Janelle settled in the back seat while Ann took the front passenger seat.

  As they drove out through the gate of the prison, Ann heard a quietly whispered “Thank you, God” from the back seat. She reached for her husband’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

  seven

  Gregory Tate

  GREG WATCHED ANN MAKE a smooth landing coming in west to east, reversing the airstrip’s normal direction to suit the lighting rather than the wind. He strode toward the open hangar while the taxiing aircraft circled the runway, swung around into the hangar, and powered down its engines. Knowing close to the minute how long it would take Ann to work through the landing checklist before the aircraft’s stairs came down, he didn’t hurry.

  What had once been a spacious Coast Guard air station before they moved flight operations to Florida had turned int
o a private airstrip for island residents. Greg removed his sunglasses as he entered the hangar, walked past his waiting SUV, and picked up wheel chocks from a nearby equipment rack. Ducking under the wing, he set the physical brakes, then moved around to the aircraft door. The small airfield was deserted but for the security officer and the fuel guy who would prep Ann’s return flight. The quiet was welcome, suitable for the guest he was here to meet.

  Ann’s call this morning had interrupted his plan to spend the day deep-sea fishing in the Gulf. It wasn’t the first time a favor for Ann had interrupted a vacation day and probably wouldn’t be the last. So far in his life, Greg had never regretted agreeing to one of her requests, and this one sounded uniquely interesting. Six years wrongly convicted . . . that made for a long journey. He’d be able to help, he was confident of that.

  The setting sun cast long shadows across the hangar floor. Berry Island off the Louisiana coast was basically a chunk of rock sticking up out of the Gulf of Mexico. One hugged by enough pulverized rock and shells, it seemed to float within a ring of wide, sandy beaches. There were a few lazy pelicans and other migrating birds, some turtles, but otherwise the island’s chief claim to fame was the sun and sand. The wind here was a constant. He could feel the dryness in his eyes after spending the day on his deck, reading over the case materials Ann had emailed him.

  The aircraft stairs gave a brief hydraulic hum as they engaged and lowered. Ann stepped out. Her smile bloomed. “You’re looking particularly young and tanned today, Greg.”

  He laughed. “Tanned, I’ll give you. Good to see you, friend.” He hugged her in welcome and gave her an encompassing look. “Marriage agrees with you,” he decided, for she looked even more relaxed than two years ago when she’d been here with Paul, still practically on their honeymoon.