Justice for Katie

by Linda Crowder

  "With working cameras and a real alarm company monitoring them! I don't expect you'll recover my work, but I thought you would want to know."

  Matt thanked the author and hung up. He had just stepped away from the wall when Kristy joined him, take out bag in hand. "I'm so sorry," he said sheepishly.

  She shrugged and handed him the bag. "Next time we'll go to my place and you can cook."

  "Deal." Matt smiled down at her, thoughts of decades-old murder cases temporarily forgotten.

  3

  True to her word, Grace Russell did come for a visit. She arrived at Casper International Airport eight days after her conversation with Emma. Contrary to its ambitious name, the airport was tiny. When compared to the massive hubs in San Francisco, where Grace began her trip, and Denver, where she had changed planes, it was hardly an airport at all. When she reached Casper, for the first time in her life, Grace deplaned by walking down steps that had been wheeled to the door. Blasted by the Casper wind, she quickly crossed the tarmac to reach the secured waiting room.

  Spotting Emma waiting for her just outside the passenger area, Grace waved an excited hand. Emma waved back but she was stunned at the change in the woman's appearance since the last time she'd seen her.

  Grace looked older than her 72 years, her skin had an eerie, yellowish cast and hung loosely on her arms, the bones outlined clearly. The woman who had once challenged Emma to a 5K race and trained with her three times a week for two months now looked shockingly fragile.

  Dropping her carry-on bag at Emma's feet, Grace gathered her protégé into a bear hug that felt anything but fragile. "Emma, Emma, let me look at you!"Joy sparkled in her voice.

  She held Emma at arm's length and looked penetratingly into her hazel eyes. "You look happy."

  "I am happy! And you! You're a sight for sore eyes."

  Grace laughed heartily. "I'm a sight, that's true! Now, where's Jacob?"

  Emma winced. She'd forgotten Grace's habit of calling her husband by his given name. Jake hated it. Emma made a mental note to speak with Grace about it. "He's waiting in the baggage are. He didn't want to intrude." She picked up Grace's bag and offered her arm to her old friend who took it warmly. "How was your flight?"

  "Fine, just fine, though it has been a bit of an adventure. When I changed planes in Denver I saw this tiny little propeller plane sitting at the gate. Who knew airlines flew such little planes? But it wasn't mine. Thankfully, mine was a bit bigger. I never flew in a plane that only had two seats on either side of the aisle though."

  "I've flown in the tiny ones," admitted Emma, "but mostly we have jets and turboprops, like the one you came in on. You'd be surprised how many people fly in and out of Casper, especially in the summer."

  "Well it has been a happy adventure."

  "The first of many, I promise." Emma waved at Jake, who was standing with the 20 or so other passengers and their families, waiting for the baggage to come out. He forced himself to smile and asked Grace to point out her luggage when she spotted it on the conveyor belt which snaked through the room.

  With her two matching red suitcases secured, Jake strapped into the bed of his truck, to keep them from jostling during the ride home. He drove while the women talked. Grace had insisted on sitting in the back seat of the extended cab so Emma had turned around in her seat and the two were talking so fast Jake wondered when either woman stopped to breathe.

  "You'll never guess who had a baby!" exclaimed Grace, pulling a picture out of her purse and handing it to Emma.

  "Joey and Tammy!" she squealed, the high pitch making Jake flinch. "Oh that's amazing! I thought they weren't able to have a baby. Boy or girl?"

  "A little boy. They named him Johnny."

  Emma handed the picture back to Grace. "For Joey's father. That's so sweet."

  They kept talking as they unpacked the suitcases in the guest room, made and ate a late dinner, and went outside to savor a glass of wine and enjoy the sunset. "We have fifteen years of catching up to do," explained Emma when Jake commented on the flood of words.

  Jake built a fire in the stone pit and left it for the women to enjoy. He went back into the house and turned on the television to watch baseball. His Colorado Rockies were playing the Dodgers on the road and soon Jake was engrossed in the game.

  The fire had been reduced to glowing embers when Grace and Emma's conversation finally ebbed. Emma sat watching the fire, enjoying the companionable silence. It was so good to have Grace her, talking as they used to talk, sharing stories about people they'd both known so many years ago. As the sky darkened, crickets, toads and nighthawks provided a soothing chorus.

  "Emma, I'm dying," Grace said suddenly, her characteristic bluntness shattering the bucolic peace.

  "What? What do you mean?"

  "I have stage four breast cancer, Emma."

  Emma's mind reeled. "But surely it's treatable. They've made so many advances in treating breast cancer."

  Grace shook her head, less in sadness than in resignation. "I've had all the treatment. I was diagnosed eight months ago after my doctor found a lump in my breast the size of a golf ball."

  "How could they miss that in a mammogram?"

  "I hadn't had one in years, at least not until she found the lump. Now don't give me that look, Emma. I'm a grown woman. I had the right to stop having mammograms. I have a passionate hatred for them. If men had someone putting their body parts in a machine and smashing them while you stand there half naked in what has got to be the most incredibly uncomfortable position I am convinced they would have come up with some better screening by now!"

  She stopped, breathing deeply. "I'm sorry. I'll climb down off my soap box now."

  "No, Grace. I agree with you. I hate mammograms. Who doesn't? I keep doing them only because..." Emma's voice trailed off.

  "Because breast cancer found early is almost always beatable. I know, I've kicked myself for my stubbornness a few times. If I'd gone for my annual screenings and if they'd found it earlier, we might be having a different conversation. There's no sense beating myself up for it now."

  "I'm so sorry, Grace." Emma reached out and took Grace's hand, squeezing it and holding it as they talked.

  "Thank you, Emma. Don't you give up your annual torture. I'm proof enough it's well worth the inconvenience. Anyway, by the time we found the cancer, it had already spread to my liver."

  "I noticed the yellow tone," said Emma sadly. "I'd hoped it was bad lighting at the airport."

  "No, no. It's the liver, slowly shutting down. You know, Emma, it's a horrible shock to the system to learn you have stage four cancer. You don't want to believe it. I've been going through all the Kubler-Ross stages of dying. Do you know what the focus has been for my anger stage? The surgeon who removed my tumor. Do you know that man told me to charge up my credit cards because I wouldn't be around to pay the bills?"

  "He didn't!"

  "Oh, yes, he did. I was devastated. Then, I was furious. I filed a complaint about it with the medical board, but everyone just shrugs and says what notoriously bad bedside manner surgeons have."

  "What a horrible thing for him to say! Who does he think he is?"

  "You remember that old joke about the difference between God and a Surgeon is God knowing He's not a Surgeon. Stage four has a 22% survival rate and I saw no reason why I couldn't be one of the survivors. I planned to go back on my five year survival anniversary and fling my credit card bill in his arrogant face."

  She sighed and stared into the embers, keeping company with her own thoughts. After what seemed an eternity, she continued. "But it turns out he may be right. The latest round of tests showed the cancer has invaded my bones. Even my oncologist has started talking to me about palliative care."

  She looked up at Emma. "I was digesting that news when you called. It seemed like the universe was sending me a signal - get out and live, Grace, while you still can. All my life, all I've ever done is work. Rewarding work, certainly, but in the end, what do I have?
"

  Emma lifted Grace's hand and squeezed it again. "You have me. I'm so glad you came."

  Grace patted Emma's hand. "It's not fair to you," she told her. When Emma started to protest, she stopped her. "It's not fair to Jacob either. Now, don't try to tell me he was happy when I agreed to come."

  Emma blushed. She had been going to mention how much Jake hated to be called Jacob, but decided now was not the time. "He knows you never approved of my moving to Wyoming, that's all. When he has a chance to get to know you, he's going to love you just as much as I do."

  Grace stared back into the fire. "No, I did not approve of him. I was afraid you were repeating the mistake you made with your first husband, and you were doubling down by going so far away from everyone who cared about you. I may have been wrong about that. You and Jacob radiate happiness. Casper has been good for you."

  "Yes it has, and it will be good for you too."

  "You're good for me, Emma. I'm only sorry I took so long to remember that."

  4

  Carolyn Maxwell was used to working alone. For years, she'd shown up at the office earlier and left later than any of the other ACAs. When she'd graduated from the University of Wyoming law school, women were still a rarity in the legal profession.

  She'd shunned social connections. She didn't have time to get married and she hadn't taken time to nurture any friendships after graduating from college. She'd had to work harder than the men in order to earn their respect and that meant long hours. If she had married, she knew she wouldn't have a supportive spouse at home taking care of the family, as the men working with her did. She didn't know how younger women managed to find enough hours in the day to take care of both a career and a family.

  She had long since established herself as a top-notch prosecutor, but her approach to her work remained the same. Driving herself to perform at her peak had won her the coveted senior slot in the County Attorney's office sixteen years ago, when the former senior retired. Instead of being able to ease up a bit and enjoy her success, her single-minded devotion had taken a toll on her health.

  "You've got to slow down," her doctor had warned her at her last physical. "Your blood pressure is much too high. Next time I see you, I don't want it to be because you've had a stroke."

  He'd prescribed medication and recommended she start an exercise program to help reduce stress. Carolyn had taken his advice and joined a gym. As her health improved, so did her curiosity to explore the things she'd been missing. She'd always wanted to see the world but she'd never taken the time. Six months after hearing her doctor's warning, Carolyn decided to retire.

  She was 67 years old and had been working non-stop since she was seventeen. She had lived frugally and set aside money for a comfortable retirement. She had enough vacation banked that she would not have to show up at the office for her last four months on the payroll. She would leave at the end of August with her official retirement date the end of the year. When snow fell in Casper, she planned to be laying on a beach, sipping some exotic concoction, burying her feet in the warm sand.

  Today, as Carolyn unlocked the door to her office, she heard voices coming from down the hall. That was odd. The main lights in the County Attorney's office suite had been off when she arrived. Who would have come in so early? Why didn't they turn the on lights?

  She dropped her purse and briefcase on her desk and started down the hall toward the voices. There were only two other offices and a storage room down this hallway. As she approached Clint Taylor's office, the voices fell silent.

  His door was closed so Carolyn knocked. "Hello? Clint? Are you in there?"

  There was silence on the other side of the door, then she heard footsteps. The door handle rattled as someone worked the lock. Clint Taylor, unshaven and with his clothes rumpled, opened the door. "Carolyn! So sorry. I didn't hear you."

  Carolyn took in his uncharacteristically disheveled appearance. "Did you sleep here last night?"

  Clint ran his hand through his hair, making it worse. "I wanted to read through my notes one more time before I go to court this morning. I guess I must have fallen asleep."

  "You'd better run home and clean up. You can't go to court looking like that."

  Clint looked down and seemed to notice the deep creases in his shirt and slacks. "I see what you mean," he said. He took his jacket from a hanger on the back of the door and stepped into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him.

  "Who were you talking to?"

  "Nobody," he answered, slipping into the jacket.

  Carolyn looked puzzled. "I distinctly heard voices when I came in. That's why I knocked."

  Clint shook his head and herded her gently up the hall toward her office. "I was asleep when you knocked. I had the radio on when I fell asleep and switched it off when you woke me. That must have been what you heard."

  Leaving Carolyn at her door, Clint thanked her again. "It's a good thing for me you're always early. If I'd slept until my secretary woke me up, I'd be in for it."

  He headed down the hall toward the reception area. Carolyn stood in her doorway until she heard the bell on the reception door indicating he'd gone.

  The suite was quiet again and she stood listening for a long moment. She walked softly back down the hall toward Clint's office. She was positive she had heard voices coming and she hadn't thought it sounded like a radio. She stood in front of his door and held her breath, listening. Nothing. Then she heard it. Was someone in Clint's office?

  She jumped when she heard the door chime behind her, followed by the laughter of two of the women who worked in the office. She hurried back to her own office before they could catch her listening at the door. She left her door open and positioned herself where she could see the hallway. Whoever it was would have to pass by her office on their way out.

  ***

  Later that morning, Carolyn waited anxiously in the lobby of the Emerson Hotel and Conference Center, scanning faces as the Casper Rotary Club arrived for their lunchtime meeting. She exchanged greetings absently, waiting for the one face she wanted to see.

  Emma arrived at the Rotary meeting early, a rarity for her, but she had lightened her schedule to spend more time with Grace. A few days of relaxation had begun to restore the color to Grace's cheeks and her energy was improving enough that Emma thought she might enjoy a little socializing.

  "Carolyn Maxwell, I'd like you to meet a colleague of mine from California, Dr. Grace Russell."

  Carolyn smiled inattentively, glancing around at the milling club members before looking at Grace. "Lovely to meet you. Are you in town long?"

  "I'm not sure. I'm enjoying Casper and spending time with Emma makes me feel young again."

  This time Carolyn's smile reached her eyes. "You aren't by any chance the Dr. Grace Russell who wrote The Origin of Deviance and Criminality are you?"

  "Oh, it wasn't just me. I had two wonderful co-authors. Don't tell me you've read it?"

  Emma linked arms with Grace and Carolyn, leading them into the meeting hall and found seats together as lunch was being served. Carolyn took one last hurried look around the room, then began asking Grace questions about her book. The two women were chatting amiably, exploring common interests, when Grace mentioned she hoped to see Yellowstone National Park while she was in Wyoming.

  "I would love to see Yellowstone in the fall," sighed Carolyn. "I never seem to have time to get away, but I'll be retiring at the end of the month. I hope to do a lot of things I never took time to do before."

  "You should go," encouraged Emma. "The colors are beautiful when the aspen turn. The wildlife start moving down from the high ground, and the tourists all go home."

  The three laughed and turned their attention to the speaker, followed by the business meeting. When the meeting ended, Carolyn gave Grace one of her business cards and asked her to call. "We'll go to lunch and plot out that trip to Yellowstone."

  As they rose from the table, Carolyn spotted Amanda Knoll across the room. "I h
ate to run, but I have just got to speak with Amanda before she slips away."

  Not waiting for a response, Carolyn wove her way through the crowd toward where Amanda was standing. Emma watched as Amanda bent her head toward Carolyn and listened intently to what she was saying.

  Amanda frowned and said something to Carolyn, who nodded and they left the room. As Emma and Grace left the hotel, she saw the two attorneys standing next to Carolyn's car, speaking with their heads close together.

  As Rotarians started to flow into the parking lot, the two finished their conversation and got into their separate cars. "I wonder what that was about," wondered Emma.

  Grace hadn't noticed the exchange. "Everyone is so friendly here," she told Emma as she settled into the passenger seat. "Maybe I should take you up on your offer and extend my stay a bit."

  Emma smiled, wondering how Jake would feel about that. She hadn't mentioned to him that she had pressed Grace to make her visit open-ended because Grace hadn't seemed interested. She hoped he was in a good mood when he got home tonight.

  That evening, Grace and Emma were reviewing the events of the day with Kristy, who was joining them for dinner. Jake and Matt grilled steaks and debated whether the Rockies had any chance of winning the division.

  Matt's cell phone chirped and he flipped it open to take the call. "I'll be right there," he said, then closed the phone.

  "I'm sorry, Jake. I'll have to take a rain check on that steak."

  "Another shocking storage locker break-in?"

  "Not this time. It's a murder."

  "Oh no," said Kristy, joining them on the deck. The women had heard Matt's phone and as Kristy told them, after hours calls were never good. "I hope it isn't anyone we know." She blushed, "That sounds awful, doesn't it?"

  "Understandable," said Matt, kissing her cheek. "Do you want me to run you home?"