She accepted it from me and read the brief note instructing her to give the envelope to Maggie. Her face grew dark with something that felt like anger.
“I told Marla not to trust that sister of hers! I knew in the end, Maggie wouldn't cross Matthew.”
She shook her head in sorrow. “If she'd only done what Marla requested of her when she knew she was dying, perhaps the monster would be behind bars right now.”
“He is,” my father replied, bouncing Preston on his knee.
Trinity’s head snapped up in surprise. “Then evidence has surfaced about his involvement in Marla’s death?”
“I’m afraid not,” my father replied. “He’s been arrested on unrelated charges. I think I explained that Maggie confided to Tylar on her deathbed that she felt he'd poisoned her the same way that he'd poisoned Marley.”
“Yes, I recall that Judge. But, will those unrelated charges keep him in prison for the rest of his miserable life?”
“Perhaps,” he replied, “but they won’t get him the death penalty.” I looked over at my father’s somber expression. He wanted an eye for an eye. He wanted to avenge my mother’s murder. I felt the same way.
Trinity rose and went to a tall wooden cabinet in the corner of the parlor. She opened the door and searched the top shelf, finally pulling out a small envelope. She handed it to me. It was sealed; ‘Maggie’ was written on the front. It was my mother’s handwriting. I recognized it from the pages she'd written and torn from the notebook. I opened the sealed envelope and took the folded piece of paper from it. There was a curly lock of hair taped to the paper. It looked like baby hair. The note was short and direct.
Maggie,
Please take this lock of Tylar’s hair to Preston in Baton Rouge. Tell him he has a daughter and she needs his protection.
The hair will provide the DNA proof she's his child. He'll protect you as well for doing this good deed. Trinity will know what the key opens.
Love,
Marla
The business card my father had given to my mother before he left was enclosed in the envelope. I handed it over to my father to read. Tears sprang to my eyes as I sat back down and tried to compose myself. My father looked up, first at me, and then at Trinity.
“I don’t understand why Marley would've trusted Maggie with a task such as this,” he said, handing the note to Trinity to read.
She shook her head; her eyes were full of sadness. “I’m so sorry, Judge. Marla was still trying to look out for Maggie in some way, it would seem. She knew that Maggie needed to be kept safe from Matthew; she knew that you were one person who could do that.”
Trinity wiped an errant tear from her cheek. “She never shared with me the contents of that envelope there or the contents of the metal box. She said it was family business; it wasn’t safe for me to know too much. Marla loved me like a sister, but she was a very private person. Why, I never knew you were her baby’s father until I received your phone call. She did ask me if the key ever found its way to me if I'd do what I could to assist.”
I was confused; my father appeared to be as well. “Assist in what way?” I asked.
“In getting the metal box opened,” she replied.
“Let’s do it then,” my father replied, standing up holding Preston.
“Can you get the metal box for us?”
“I’m afraid not, Judge Tylar,” Trinity replied softly.
“Why not?” My dad and I both asked in unison.
“It’s hidden inside the casket with Marla.”
Chapter 45
The ride back to Baton Rouge was a quiet one. Preston was sleeping soundly in her car seat. I was lost in thought about all we'd learned from Trinity today. I suspected my father was as well.
Shortly after the botched attempt by my mother and Maggie to leave New Orleans and return to Mississippi, Trinity had moved to Vidalia. She'd preferred the quiet life of a small town to the crowded, noisy life in New Orleans. Around the same time, Matthew had moved to Baton Rouge with my mother, Maggie and me. This had allowed my mother to stay in touch with Trinity and she'd done just that.
Trinity said it hadn’t been more than a month since they'd moved to Baton Rouge when my mother had shown up at her apartment in Vidalia. She'd taken a bus from Baton Rouge. Trinity had been concerned because my mother hadn't brought me with her. She'd questioned my mother about it. My mother had told her that she'd been really sick; that she had to stop breast-feeding me because it'd been making me sick. I'd started vomiting after nursing. She'd put me on formula and left me with Maggie while she went to Trinity for help.
Trinity said that my mother had looked deathly ill. She'd put some various herbs and roots together in a mixture, instructing my mother to drink the concoction several times a day. She said it would flush her system of whatever virus or infection she had going. My mother had given Trinity the envelope, asking her to keep it in case Maggie ever came to her. She wouldn’t tell Trinity anything further.
It was barely a week later that my mother had again shown up at Trinity’s. This time she had me with her. Trinity said she looked worse than before. She was having trouble breathing and complained of hallucinations. She asked Trinity if we could stay with her. She'd told Trinity that she suspected someone was trying to kill her.
Trinity said that my mother’s behavior had been very erratic. She'd rambled incoherently at times, but handed Trinity a locked metal box and made her promise that if anything happened to her, she'd place the box inside her casket hidden underneath the blanket where no one would see it. Trinity promised her she would.
My mother had also given Trinity the caul that she'd preserved. She asked her to make sure that it was placed in the casket as well. She said that my mother had said she wanted something of me with her for eternity. Trinity told my mother she was taking her to a doctor she knew in a nearby town the following morning. My mother had told her it was too late. She just wanted to go to sleep.
During the middle of the night, Matthew had come to Vidalia and was beating on the door of Trinity’s apartment. He claimed that my mother had been using drugs and that he was there to take her back to Baton Rouge for treatment. Trinity had told him that she felt my mother was ill and needed to go to a hospital first for a full assessment. She told Matthew she'd planned to take my mother to her doctor that morning. Matthew had told her to keep out of it; it was family business and she wasn't family.
He'd then pushed past Trinity. He went to the bedroom where my mother and I were sleeping. My mother was dead. I was still cradled within her cold arms.
Trinity had made it a point to travel to Mississippi prior to my mother’s burial. She'd arrived at the funeral parlor early that morning, asking to see my mother. There was no visitation or funeral scheduled; only a graveside service. She quizzed the mortician at great length about the embalming. She explained she was my mother’s best friend and insisted they open the casket for her to view my mother.
When they finally opened the casket, she said they'd done a magnificent job with her. The mortician had commented to Trinity that he'd cried while preparing her for entombment. He said something wasn't right.
He told her maybe someday someone would want answers. He assured her my mother’s body was well preserved. He then left her alone to say goodbye to her dearest friend.
Trinity then carried out her promise to my mother. She'd placed the caul on her pillow and the metal box down underneath the satin coverlet at her feet. My mother had been entombed in the family crypt at a cemetery in Braxton, Mississippi.
The silence of our ride back to Baton Rouge was broken when my father spoke for the first time since we'd gotten into the limo.
“I can order an exhumation, Tylar. It's what needs to be done, you know?"
“Will it be done for the purpose of opening the metal box?” I asked.
“Not entirely,” he answered.
I looked over at him as he continued.
“The metal box might very
well contain evidence that'll help convict Matthew, but we also need forensic evidence. That type of evidence can only be gathered by having a forensic autopsy conducted.”
“Can they do that after all this time?” I asked, astonished somewhat at the thought of it.
“Yes. Modern embalming methods and advances in forensic technology can help prove the exact cause of her death, even after all this time. I want your approval, though. You're her next of kin.”
“You have it, Dad,” I replied, though I knew that in his judicial capacity, he could've ordered it without my consent.
By the time we reached my father’s estate, Trey had arrived. I saw him coming down the stairway as we came into the entrance hall. I flew into his arms. Dad carried a sleepy Preston up from the limo. I took her from him and headed upstairs to our suite. Trey stayed downstairs talking with my father, presumably about what we'd learned on our trip to Vidalia.
I changed Preston’s diaper and stretched out on the bed with her so that she could nurse comfortably. Trey joined me in the suite several minutes later. He sat down on the bed next to us.
“You’ve had quite a day,” he remarked.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak for fear I'd burst into tears at any moment.
“You know, sweetie, it's okay to feel emotional about this. You learned some very disturbing things today. That's why I'm here with you now. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
“I know, Trey,” I sobbed. “I just don’t want to think about what my mother endured because of me.”
“She loved you, sweetie. Would you have done any less for Preston?”
I looked down at my baby who'd fallen asleep cuddled against me. Trey lifted her from me and carried her into the adjoining nursery. He placed her in the crib and rejoined me on the bed, pulling me into his lap. He rested his chin on the top of my head; his strong arms were wrapped tightly around me.
“Tell me what you’re feeling, baby?”
“I feel so many things, I guess. I feel sadness for the loss of my mother; I feel anger that Maggie didn’t do the one simple thing that my mother had asked her to do.”
“Anything else?”
Trey knew me so well.
“Okay, yes, there's something else. I feel sort of angry with my father. Why in the hell didn’t he check on her after he walked out? If he loved her, why didn’t he see that she was protected? My God, he knew the type of man Matthew was at that point.”
“Aren’t you a bit angry with your mother?” he asked quietly.
“Why would I be mad at her? She was the victim in all of this. I have no reason to be angry with her.” The tears started rolling down my cheeks, as I continued to deny any anger towards my mother.
“Tylar, you have a right to feel however you feel. Feelings are not right or wrong—they are what they are.”
He was rocking me gently back and forth in his arms. I knew that he understood me totally. I couldn’t deny those feelings to him any more than I could deny them to myself.
“Okay, yes then. I do feel angry with her. Why didn’t she go to my father? She'd be alive today if she'd done that. I just don’t get it. She died and left me with Maggie. It was wrong.”
Trey lifted me up and turned me around to face him. He gently brushed my tears away with his thumbs. He leaned over and kissed my cheeks and my nose. I looked up at him, realizing that whatever pain I'd suffered along the way to finding Trey had been worth it.
He tilted my chin upward and kissed me warmly on my lips. I laced my arms around his neck and kissed him back, loving the taste and feel of him. We nestled under the covers of the bed, tossing our clothes to the floor. Trey made love to me slowly and sweetly in my father’s house.
I awoke from my nap feeling Trey’s arm wrapped around me and feeling someone’s eyes on me. It was Ms. Deeny. She was standing at the foot of the bed watching us. I had no clue how long she'd been there. She gave a slight smirk as she saw me looking at her.
“The judge sent me up to see if you and Mr. Sinclair will be joining him for dinner. It’s in ten minutes,” she said, turning to leave. “Oh, I took the liberty of caring for your baby while you and Mr. Sinclair…slept.”
She was out the door. I threw the covers back, rousting Trey. He had napped through the one-way conversation that had just taken place. “That gnarled up old bitch,” I hissed.
“Who?”
“Ms. Deeny, my dad’s head of staff. She was just in here watching us.” Trey was up and out of bed now, putting his clothes back on. I headed into the bathroom to freshen up.
“What the hell? Are you talking about that short lady with the long nose?”
“Yes, and apparently that long nose serves her nosiness well. She totally gives me the creeps. I hate the thought that she took Preston out of the nursery.”
“What?”
“Yeah, that’s what she said. Let’s hurry up and get downstairs for dinner. I don’t like the idea of her being near the baby.”
“Tylar, your dad wouldn’t let anything happen to Preston. My God, he's totally infatuated with her.”
When we got downstairs, Preston was playing happily on a blanket on the floor with a multitude of toys strewn about. My father was on his phone with someone. She crawled over to Trey as soon as she saw him.
“Da-da-da-da,” she said, tugging at his pant leg.
“Yes, sweetie,” he laughed, scooping her up and kissing her cheek. “Da-da has missed you.”
She snuggled up in his arms resting her head against his broad shoulder. How perfect they looked together. I looked at my father as he continued talking in hushed tones to someone on the phone. He was a handsome man as well. I wondered what it would've been like growing up here with him.
He ended his phone call and stood up, walking towards us.
“Dinner is being served now. Tylar, I hope you don’t mind, but I fed Preston some of the pureed food you brought along. She's very fond of the green beans, I discovered.”
Uh oh. I hope he didn’t give her the whole jar!
“Yes, Dad, that’s fine. What did you give her with the green beans?”
“Well, I had some of that pureed chicken, but she clamped her mouth shut when I offered that to her. She wanted nothing but those green beans; finished off the whole jar,” he replied, chuckling. Trey and I exchanged glances. My father looked from one of us to the other.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.
“Your Honor, I think you'll be assigned diaper dirty for this evening.” We both snickered, leaving Dad perplexed.
Trey put Preston in her high chair, and she was given a graham cracker and some sliced banana. She was getting pretty good with finger foods. Trey held my chair out for me as if he did this all of the time. He noted my look of surprise and gave me a dimpled grin. My father told us during dinner that he'd been in touch with the state officials in Mississippi as well as some judges he knew in that particular circuit court. He was expecting things to move quickly.
Towards the end of the meal, Ms. Deeny appeared in the formal dining room informing my father that an important call had come in from Judge Westfield out of Jackson, Mississippi. My father excused himself immediately to take the call. Ms. Deeny lingered in the dining room. She asked Trey if he needed anything else.
Midget bitch!
She took one of the cloth napkins and started wiping Preston’s face that was now smeared with mushed banana and soggy graham cracker crumbs. Preston didn’t like her touch. She turned her head away and started fussing.
“I can clean her up later, Ms. Deeny,” I said.
“No worries,” she replied, continuing to wipe at Preston’s face. She clearly ignored the fact that it was pissing my baby off royally. “There now,” she said, stepping back. “That's so much better, isn’t it little Preston?”
Preston clutched another banana slice and pressed it up to her mouth, ignoring the woman. My father came back into the room and thankfully Ms. Deeny took her leave, c
arrying some of the dirty dishes to the kitchen.
“The order of exhumation has been signed by Judge Westfield. It's scheduled for 1:00 pm tomorrow afternoon,” he announced.
From the kitchen, we heard the sound of shattering china as it hit the floor.
Chapter 46
My father chartered a private plane to fly us from Baton Rouge to Jackson, Mississippi the following day. Edie was to care for Preston while we were gone. I had a private conversation with her before we left, instructing her not to let Ms. Deeny anywhere near my daughter.
She'd nodded affirmatively and assured me not to worry. I kissed Preston goodbye, telling her we would be back by dinnertime.
It was early December and there was definitely a chill in the air. I'd dressed in corduroy slacks with a bulky sweater and boots. The flight took about a half-hour. Once we landed at the small private airport, a limo was waiting to take us to the cemetery in Braxton, which was a bit to the south of Jackson.
I curled up against Trey in the car as the limo made its way up the curving drive of the cemetery, finally stopping just past a concrete mausoleum that had the name “Renaud” engraved on it.
The day was sunny and slightly breezy. There was a damp feel to the air. The trees were bare. Dried, dead leaves occasionally floated past us as we made our way to the mausoleum and the officials standing there. A black hearse was parked off to the side on another intersecting driveway.
My father presented the signed order to the deputy sheriff, who was amongst the throng of people. The deputy read through it and then handed it to a man I presumed to be the manager of the cemetery.
This man then instructed a couple of his workers to unlock the heavy, iron door to the mausoleum. Once opened, we stepped inside. There was a barred window on the other side of it that allowed sunlight to filter through. The flooring was concrete. There looked to be about six marble plates affixed to the fronts of the entombed caskets. Three rows of two.
My mother’s parents were entombed there, along with my Renaud great-grandparents. My mother’s casket was entombed on the end in the top row position.
Shadows and Dreams (Dream Series Book 2) Page 32
