Hard Truth

by Mariah Stewart

  “Don’t skip.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t leave town, or I forfeit the bond.”

  “I got no place to go, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

  “I’m not worried, Billie. But how did you get home? I left messages at the prison earlier for someone to call me when you were getting out so I could come pick you up.”

  “They’re all screwed up out there. They told me I was getting out, then made me sit and wait for a couple of hours while they played around with the paperwork. I was lucky, though, ’cause Eileen Sherman was at the prison visiting her sister when I finally got the word I could go, and she offered to drop me off. Stopped at the supermarket for me, too, on the way home. Nice of her.”

  “It was.” There was a bit of an awkward pause, then Lorna asked, “Did you talk to your lawyer? The one the court gave you?”

  “Only that one time.”

  “I think you should call him and let him know where you are.”

  “It’s Saturday. And besides, wouldn’t they tell him I’ve been released?”

  “I have no idea, but even if someone did, it doesn’t matter. He’s your lawyer-Saturday and every other day of the week. You need to communicate with him yourself, as soon as possible.”

  “I don’t have his number.”

  “I wrote it down, let me get it for you. Hold on…” Lorna searched the pile of paper scraps next to her computer until she found the one on which she’d written Joel Morgan’s phone number. She read it off to Billie, adding, “Call him now. Leave a message if he isn’t there. And if you haven’t heard from him by noon on Monday, call him again. Make sure you get to talk to him.”

  “I hate to bother him like that.”

  “Bother him. He’s your lawyer. He works for you in this, remember, not the other way around.”

  “All right. I’ll call him.”

  “Billie, do you know what the charges are against you?”

  “Seems there were three things.” Billie was breathing heavily into the receiver. “Third-degree murder, that was one. Then some manslaughter. And something else… I forget what it was. My lawyer should know that, though.”

  So should you. Lorna shook her head at Billie’s nonchalance.

  “Billie, one more thing. I was thinking about hiring a private detective to look into this. I don’t know how much real investigation the police are doing. I’m afraid they just assume you’re guilty and they believe that having found Jason so near to your house is enough. If we’re ever going to find out the truth about what happened back then, we’ll have to do it on our own.” She paused to let it sink in. “How do you feel about that?”

  “About finding out what happened to my kids?” Billie said softly. “I still wonder, every night. But that’s going to cost way more money than I’ll ever see. I appreciate the thought, Lorna, I really do, but I can’t see how I can pay for such a thing.”

  “Let me figure that out.” She was thinking about using an IOU for some of her share of the proceeds from the sale of the farm. She wasn’t sure what the property was worth, but she knew it would be a substantial amount. She hoped T. J. Dawson would accept that, and figured anything she spent would be more than covered. “I’m sure it’s what my mother would do, if she were here.”

  “I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you, I swear I don’t. And it’s too much for you to do.”

  “Maybe we won’t be able to find out what happened back then, but I do believe it’s worth a try. I don’t know how much I can put into this, but once the investigator looks over all the reports and statements from back then, maybe he’ll have some ideas. If he thinks he can find something, we’ll give him a chance to do that. If he thinks otherwise, well, then, we’ll deal with that. I only ask that you cooperate with him.”

  “I’ll do whatever he wants.” Billie started to sob quietly. “I don’t know why you’d do all this for me.”

  “Melinda was my friend. It’s time we found out what happened to her.”

  “You sure are your momma’s daughter, Lorna Stiles.” Billie blew her nose. “You surely are.”

  “Thank you. That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. Now, don’t forget to call Joel Morgan,” Lorna reminded her. “It’s very important that you speak with him.”

  Lorna hung up, wondering how hard Billie would try to track down her lawyer. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if she had to call him herself before next week was out. The woman didn’t seem to have a lot of motivation, even considering what was at stake.

  It occurred to Lorna that maybe Billie had expected to be arrested, sooner or later, that maybe she’d lived with that expectation for the past twenty-five years. Does she believe her conviction is a given? Are her expectations from life so low that she assumes she’ll be found guilty? Or does she expect to be found guilty because she is guilty?

  Maybe Billie felt guilty not because of what she did, it occurred to Lorna, but because of what she’d failed to do. Failed to cherish her children, failed to protect them, failed to care for them when she had them. Billie Eagan had been a crappy mother, and maybe, after all these years, she expected to be punished for it.

  Either way, it’s time to find out, Lorna told herself. No more second-guessing-should I commit to this, should I not. Just move it along, find the truth, then get on with my life.

  The grandfather clock in the front hall chimed five. She saved her work and turned off the computer and went into the kitchen to scramble some eggs for dinner. She tossed in a handful of cheddar cheese and some hot peppers she’d picked up at the Amish farmers’ market stand two miles down the road. One of the best things about living out in the sticks, as Bonnie called it, was being able to buy directly from the farms, if you didn’t garden yourself. Her grandmother had had a wonderful garden, right out there past the magnolia. Her mother had kept it up until she’d fallen ill. Then all her energies had been diverted to beating back the tumors that seemed to come from nowhere to invade her body. Lorna finished eating and walked out the back door.

  The bones of the garden remained, and she stepped through the gate and inside the white fence that surrounded it. She leaned over to pick up the pickets that had loosened and fallen to the ground over the past two years, and she stood them up in their places. The stakes her grandfather had cut to tie up the tomatoes were still lined across the back of the garden, though the plants were long gone. The weeds had grown out of control, and without thinking, she stooped and started to pull the tallest ones. Where her mother had planted green beans that last year, wild thistles now stood. They were thorny and deep-rooted, and her bare hands were no match for them. She went into the small potting shed and searched for a pair of garden gloves and a weed digger, then set out to annihilate the invaders. A large pile of the offenders lay on the pebbled path when she heard a car pull into the drive. She looked up to see T.J. unfold from the small sports car sitting so low to the ground. She wondered how he got out when the top was up.

  “Hi,” she called to him while she hastily wiped her hands on her cutoff jeans. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”

  “What have you got growing back here?” He asked as he walked toward her, a leather folder under his arm and a white cardboard box in his hand.

  “A bunch of weeds.”

  “Well, they certainly look robust. What are you feeding them?”

  She laughed. “They’re apparently quite capable of feeding themselves. I’m afraid the plot’s gone unattended for two summers now. These things have taken over. My mother would be appalled if she could see it.”

  She pulled off her gloves and tucked them between two pickets.

  “There’s still mint.” He pointed to the far corner of the garden. “At least, it looks like mint from here.”

  She went to the corner to check it out. “What do you know, it is.” She smiled up at him. “And I’ve been drinking my iced tea plain all week.”

  She broke off a few stems and sni
ffed at them. “Nice. How’d you know what it was, from over there?”

  “Hey, I grew up in New Jersey. They don’t call it the Garden State for nothing.”

  She went through the gate and closed it behind her, making a mental note to come out tomorrow with a hammer and a few nails to mend the broken section of fence.

  “Oh, here.” He handed her the white box.

  “What’s this?”

  “Peace offering.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “The best napoleons in Baltimore. Hands down.”

  Lorna lifted the lid and peered inside. Four plump, sky-high pastries marched single file across the bottom of the box.

  “How could you have known that this is my all-time favorite thing?”

  “You look like a woman who understands good pastries.” He smiled. “My grandmother worked in a bakery back in Tuckerton, years ago. She used to bring these bad boys home for special treats. Good report cards. Winning touchdowns. Honor roll. Even college vacations, she’d drop off some before I left to go back to school.”

  She held the box to her chest. “Well, I hope you bought a couple for yourself. I’m not sure I want to share.”

  “Mine are in the trunk.”

  “I was kidding. I’d share. Thank you. This wasn’t necessary, you know. You already apologized.”

  “Some women like to drag that out awhile.”

  “I’m not one of them.”

  “So I won’t need to grovel?”

  “Groveling is demeaning to the groveler as well as to the grovelee.”

  “I’ll remember that. And thank you. I swear I didn’t mean to put you between a rock and a hard place.”

  “We’re past that. Let’s just deal with what is, see what can be done.”

  “Have you determined if Billie has used her get-out-of-jail card yet?” he asked.

  “She’s home. I spoke with her earlier. She hitched a ride with someone who was visiting a relative out at the women’s prison earlier today.”

  “Did you remind her not to leave town?”

  “Yes, but she’s not going anywhere. Even she admitted she had nowhere to go but home.”

  “I have the copies of the police reports, if you want to take a few minutes to look them over.”

  “I would. Thanks. Come on in.” She waved him on and he followed her into the house. “I’m sorry it’s so hot in here. I’m pretty much dying without air-conditioning, but there’s only one old unit and it doesn’t work very well, especially since the humidity’s been so brutal.”

  They walked into the dining room. She turned on the lamp on the sideboard, and hoped they’d finish up before it got dark enough that they’d need to turn on the overhead light. It was hot enough without it.

  “Let me tuck this box into the refrigerator. Can I get you something to drink while I’m there?”

  “A glass of water would be fine.”

  She brought back two bottles of spring water, handed him one, and twisted the lid off the other and took a long drink.

  “Thanks,” he said, setting the bottle on the table. “Where would you like to start?”

  “You tell me.” She pulled out the chair at the head of the table and started to sit, gesturing for him to take a seat as well. He took the one to her left.

  “I guess we’ll go in order.” He started pulling files from the leather folder.

  “In order of what?”

  “The crimes. Let’s start with the disappearance of your friend.”

  “I remember that night very well.”

  “Tell me again, everything, just as you remember it.”

  She did.

  “Was anyone with Jason when he arrived to pick up Melinda?”

  “Not that I recall.” She chewed absently on a cuticle. “No, I’m pretty sure he was alone. I remember standing on the back porch and watching them walk out past the barn.”

  “You lived here at the time?”

  She nodded. “We’ve always lived here, as long as I can remember. My grandfather died when I was three, and my parents moved here so my grandmother wouldn’t be alone. We all grew up here.”

  “Any chance anyone would have been waiting for Jason out near the barn?”

  “I guess anything is possible. But I didn’t see anyone, and I was out there for a while.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Looking for a star to wish on.” She hesitated, then told him, “I was worried about Mellie’s mother finding out about the dress. We put it in a bag, and I was afraid she’d have trouble sneaking it into the house. That her mother would see it and punish her. I was looking for a star so I could wish that her mother wouldn’t hurt her.”

  “You knew that Billie was rough with her kids?”

  “I pretty much knew. I told myself that maybe I was wrong, but deep inside, I pretty much knew. If it turns out that it went too far that night, and that Billie really did kill her, I don’t think I could ever forgive myself for every time I suspected something wasn’t right but kept my mouth shut.”

  “Is that what this is really about? You trying to decide if you have to carry that guilt around for the rest of your life?” he asked softly. “Because if it is…”

  She brushed him off. “So what else do you have?”

  “I have the police reports from the night Melinda disappeared. Everyone they spoke with. Billie Eagan. Your mother. Your father. You. Jason. Someone named Evie Kemp.”

  “She lived next door to the Eagans. Died a few years ago.” Lorna held out a hand. “May I see what she had to say?”

  He handed her the file. Lorna quickly scanned the Kemp report.

  “She says she didn’t see Melinda at all that night. She saw Jason in the yard with his mother… heard Billie yelling at him. Never saw Melinda, though.” Lorna looked up at him and smiled. “And Mrs. Kemp would have known. She knew everything that everyone was doing, all the time.”

  “Nothing like a nosy neighbor.”

  “I guess sometimes that’s true, right? Sometimes the neighbors see things that can help out in an investigation.”

  “Sometimes.”

  She glanced over the other reports in the file, the early investigations following Jason’s questioning right through to finding the body in the back field. The clock in the hall chimed ten. No wonder she was tired. And T.J. still had to drive back to his home.

  “I didn’t realize it was so late. May I keep this tonight?” she asked. “Then maybe we can talk tomorrow.”

  “Sure.”

  “I need to decide how much money and how much more time I want to put into this.”

  “I don’t blame you. You take your time.” He stood up. “Actually, I’m busy tomorrow. Call Monday, anytime. I’ll be around.”

  “I thought you said you sold the business. Will I be dealing with someone else?”

  “No. If you go forward with this, you’ll work with me.”

  She walked him to the front door.

  “Thanks again for the napoleons. Unnecessary, but very much appreciated.”

  “You’re welcome. Thanks for being so understanding.”

  “You have any thoughts at all on this?” She went out the door with him and across the porch.

  “One thing I was wondering. Was the dress ever found?”

  “Her birthday dress, the one in the bag?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t see any mention of it having been found that night, and it wasn’t on the evidence inventory. Actually, you’re the only person to have mentioned it.”

  “I don’t know that anyone else would have been aware she’d had it with her. Her mother didn’t know she had it, and Mellie sure wouldn’t have told Jason. My mom and I knew, but I don’t recall that anyone asked me about it.” She shook her head. “I don’t really know if my mother said anything to the police about Mellie having a bag with a dress in it. But they wouldn’t have been looking for something they didn’t know was missing.”

  He walked down the steps with his hands in hi
s pockets.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked from the top step.

  “Melinda had to have disappeared somewhere between here and her house. According to Jason’s statement, he stopped off at a friend’s house, and his sister continued on through the field. So whatever happened to her, obviously it happened in that field. Or started in the field. Someone else had to have been there, someone had to have taken her from there. If we’re assuming someone grabbed her, chances are the bag with the dress in it would have been dropped someplace. I’d expect her to fight, wouldn’t you? And in fighting, she probably would have dropped the bag.”

  “She would have fought. Melinda was tough, chippy.” Lorna nodded solemnly. “She would have fought like a demon if a stranger had tried to grab her.”

  “Then where is that bag?” He opened his car door and stood next to it. The driver’s seat looked barely large enough to accommodate a man of his height and broad shoulders. “Where’s Melinda’s birthday dress?”

  “I never thought about it. It never occurred to me that it might be missing.” She gazed off into the field. “Maybe it’s buried out there someplace, turned over into the field by the tractor when the field was plowed.”

  “Or maybe,” he said as he got behind the wheel and started the car, “it wasn’t a stranger she ran into that night.”

  9

  Mosquitoes. The bane of summer.

  Lorna swatted at the air around her head and pulled the covers up a little higher. Why do they always seem to know when you’re having the best dream?

  She hunched under the covers, but the buzzing persisted. It was another long minute before she realized there was no mosquito in her room. Someone was buzzing the doorbell.

  She got out of bed and went to the side window. Looking toward the front of the house, she saw a black-and-white police car, engine on and the lights silently whirling. She threw up the sash and called out, “I’ll be down in a minute.”

  She pulled on her clothes and slipped her feet into rubber flip-flops and went downstairs, grumbling to herself. It was eight A.M., and she hadn’t had coffee. She hadn’t slept well, what with Uncle Will prowling around, though thankfully he’d settled into his old room at the end of the hall by two this morning and hadn’t been heard from since. And then there was the matter of T. J. Dawson and what to do about him. She’d spent all day Sunday and well into the night wrestling with herself over the issue.