Midnight Confessions

by Karen Leabo

  Jenn was not impressed with the Rhymer County jail, which was a truly disgusting series of minuscule cells in the basement of the deceptively picturesque county courthouse.

  By the time the obnoxious deputy had reached the sheriff’s office in Missouri, a Rhymer County deputy had arrived to pick her up. With a frightening lack of paperwork— and, Jenn suspected, a lack of due process, as well—she and Cathy were shuffled from the back seat of one squad car to the back of another. The Rhymer deputy was a stranger to Jenn, silent, unyielding.

  Cathy whimpered the whole way home, unmoved by Jenn’s attempts at solace. Jenn couldn’t blame the child. Her reassurances had sounded weak even to herself.

  Her only comfort during the long ride back to Rhymer was that she’d still had her daughter with her—and the fact that, whenever she looked out the rear window, she’d seen the rental Buick’s headlights. Whatever horrors lay ahead, she’d thought at the time, at least she wasn’t alone.

  But those small comforts had been short-lived, for as soon as they’d come to the Rhymer County Jail, Cathy had been ripped away from Jenn. Then a detective had tried to winterrogate her, but before she’d answered even one question she demanded a lawyer, which halted the proceedings. She’d been summarily thrown into this wretched cell with its lumpy cot and an appalling lack of privacy.

  Joe, it seemed, had been denied visiting privileges. She sincerely hoped he didn’t push the issue, because if they threw him in jail, too, Cathy would lose her most powerful champion.

  She didn’t even know where Cathy was right now. She’d been curtly told that her child would be well cared for. Just the same, Jenn had begged anyone within hearing distance not to put Cathy in her step-grandfather’s hands. Dennis probably wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything now, or at least, not after Jenn leveled her accusations. But she didn’t want the man near her daughter, no matter what the circumstances.

  When she’d been incarcerated for almost five hours, without benefit of seeing a judge or being formally charged, she started making noises about constitutional rights. That’s when Dennis Palmer showed up.

  “I don’t want to see him,” Jenn said flatly when a guard informed her that her stepfather wanted to visit. But she quickly changed her mind. Now was the time to play her only card, weak though it was without Tammy’s support. Unless she made her threat known, Dennis and his cronies would railroad her right into jail—or an institution, she thought with a shiver—without any qualms at all.

  She would have preferred some neutral meeting ground, but the guard brought Dennis right to her cell, where she felt most vulnerable and humiliated. Dennis, appearing freshly groomed and well-rested, knew when he had the advantage. He declined to sit down, preferring to tower over her.

  “I’ll make this brief, Jennifer,” he said without preamble. “I don’t know what in hell has gotten into you, but it’s going to end here and now. That child needs a stable home. She doesn’t need to be dragged all over the country, living in cheap motels, eating macaroni and cheese—not even going to school, for chrissakes.”

  Jenn listened without comment. She sat on her bunk, leaning against a cinder block wall, her knees drawn up.

  “Look at you,” he said with disgust. “Have you bathed recently? Have you fed your child? What kind of mother are you?”

  She knew what his game was. He was deliberately baiting her, hoping to cause a scene, one that the guard, standing nearby, would witness. He was planning to add to his arsenal of evidence depicting her as unbalanced, an unfit mother.

  Well, she wasn’t going to play that game. “If I or my child look unkempt,” she said calmly, “it’s because we were kept up all night traveling from Missouri to Alabama, per your orders. And, yes, I feed my daughter. She had homemade tacos for dinner last night. Any other questions?”

  “Jennifer, there’s no amount of smart-aleck answers that will help you this time. You’ve dug yourself into a hole so deep that no one, not even that good-for-nothing horny P.I., can pull you out. But I’m prepared to offer you a deal, and if I were you I’d consider it very carefully. It’s the best offer you’re likely to get.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Drop the custody suit. Let your mother and me raise Cathy, give her all the good things in life she deserves. You can visit her as much as you like. Hell, you can come live with us, too. That offer still holds.”

  “Why do you want her so badly?” Jenn asked, raising skeptical eyebrows.

  “She’s my only grandchild. I love her dearly, and I want what’s best for her. I’m...afraid for her, living with you. You’ve shown deplorable judgment. Jennifer, surely even you must see that you’re not the same since the accident that killed Doug. You’re physically disabled to the point that you can’t earn a living—”

  “I beg your pardon, but I’ve been working for the past six months, supporting myself and Cathy just fine.”

  Dennis snorted. “Working as a waitress in truck stops and seedy bars, and doing God knows what else for tips and minimum wage. You call that supporting yourself?”

  “It’s the way millions of women do it,” she said with a shrug. “Anyway, that’s beside the point. What exactly is in it for me if I drop the custody suit?”

  “I’ll have all charges dropped against you and your boyfriend. He is your boyfriend, right? I mean, I figured that’s what happened. He couldn’t keep his private parts out of his work.”

  Jenn ignored the crude accusation.

  “I’ll help you get back on your feet financially,” Dennis continued. “I’ll buy you a little flower shop, something to keep you busy. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  She didn’t answer him. “And if I don’t cooperate?”

  “I’ll see you in the pen,” he said calmly, “which will make the county jail seem like a picnic. And I’ll see Andresi indicted, too. Don’t kid yourself. I’ve got the power to do it. Your daughter will grow up knowing her mother as a jailbird, a con. You want that?”

  Jenn had had enough. “There is a third alternative,” she said, standing crisply. She couldn’t look him in the eye, but for the first time since he’d entered her cell, she felt on equal footing with him. “I tell the world that you’re a child molester.”

  He paled visibly, and Jenn mentally gave herself a point. But his faltering composure returned almost immediately.

  She went on, emboldened by his resistance. “Yes, I remembered every degrading incident. And I’ll tell a court of law all about it, in excruciating detail, unless you drop all charges and return legal custody of Cathy to me, where it belongs. Stuff that in your pipe and smoke it, you disgusting excuse for a human being.”

  She flopped back down on the bunk and began studying her nails, indicating the interview was over. Inside she was trembling, but outside she attempted to look strong and confident.

  “You think you’re real smart, don’t you?” Dennis said.

  She ignored him.

  “Well, let me tell you something, little girl. If you pursue this—if you make your accusations to even one person—I’ ll bury you so deep in lawsuits you’ll never get out. You think anyone’s going to believe a crazy, unemployed, indigent, pitiful thing like you? Hell, without even lifting my little finger I can convince a jury you’re a desperate, grieving, unbalanced young woman who would say or do anything in your misguided effort to keep your child. You chew on that. Meanwhile, I’ll let you stew in jail awhile longer.”

  “I want to see a judge—now,” Jean said without looking up. “I have that constitutional right.”

  “You’ll see your judge, all right,” Dennis said with a sneer. He motioned for the guard to let him out of the cell. The door closed behind him with a frightening clang. “I believe your case is up before Harold Hustead.”

  Jenn felt the blood draining from her face. Judge Hustead was a good friend of her stepfather’s. So much for impartiality.

  She considered telling Dennis about Tammy, then decided against it. S
he might be able to use that information later, with surprise on her side. So she stared at the wall until the sound of her stepfather’s footsteps receded into silence.

  When they came for her again, she thought for sure she would see the judge. But her guard, a young, bored police officer, escorted her down a dark corridor to another room. He opened the door and more or less shoved her inside, then slammed the door and locked it. It took her a moment to realize that the other occupant of the room was Joe.

  He was out of his chair in an instant, enveloping her in a bone-crushing hug. Her joy and relief were instantaneous and so strong they took her breath away.

  “Darlin’, are you okay?” Joe murmured in her ear, rubbing her back, holding her so close she could hardly breathe.

  “Cathy, where’s Cathy?” she asked, not even bothering to answer Joe’s question. As long as her daughter was safe, she was okay, and Joe would know that.

  “She’s doing fine.” Joe released Jenn, and she immediately felt bereft. But she resisted the urge to throw herself in his arms and soak up the security he represented. They had business to discuss, plans to make.

  She never let go of his hand, though, as they sat down in two of the room’s haphazard collection of chairs.

  “She’s with Protective Services at the moment,” Joe said. “I didn’t want to draw too much attention to myself, because I was afraid Dennis would press for my arrest, but I quietly found a nice social worker who listened. Her name is Dee Powell, and I’m sure she’ll want to talk with you. She’ll be interviewing Dennis, and Esther—Dr. Josephs, if you’ll give your permission.”

  “Of course I will. You told her about Dennis?” Jenn asked.

  “Yes, and about Tammy, too. Since I’m a former cop, she took me very seriously. She assured me that Cathy would not be released to Dennis’s custody without a thorough investigation.”

  Jenn allowed herself to relax, slumping down in the chair. “Thank God for that, at least. She’ll be put in foster care?”

  Joe nodded.

  “Have you seen her?”

  “No, they wouldn’t let me. But Dee said she’d check on her.”

  Jenn supposed that was as much as she could hope for at the moment. “I need a lawyer,” she said.

  “I’ve already taken care of that. Ronnie Bloom is the best damn defense attorney in the state and he’s a buddy of mine. He’ll be here shortly to talk to you.”

  “Joe, you’ve already done so much—”

  “Not nearly enough, apparently. Don’t argue with me on this one. You don’t have the resources to hire a good attorney, and you definitely don’t want to take your chances with a court-appointed lawyer. Not with what’s at stake.”

  “You’re right, of course,” Jenn said. “But I’ll pay you back every penny.”

  “Don’t worry about that right now.” He rubbed his face with his hand, and for the first time Jenn realized how tired he looked. With his day’s growth of beard and the shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep, he appeared every bit as wrung out as she felt. With a pang she realized that Joe Andresi wasn’t merely trying to help her; he’d taken on her dilemma as his own, like they were family.

  His caring warmed and reassured her as nothing else could. At the same time she wondered how much of his concern was due to the fact that he felt responsible for the position she was now in. When he’d first taken her into custody, she’d blamed him with monotonous regularity for the rotten circumstances in which she’d found herself. Now she understood that he’d only been doing a job. She couldn’t possibly blame him. But she sensed that he blamed himself, and that troubled her.

  “You look exhausted,” she said, riffling her fingers through his dark hair, trying to bring some order to the chaotic waves that obviously hadn’t seen a comb since yesterday morning. “Why don’t you go home and get some sleep?”

  He shook his head. “Lots more work to be done. Oh, here, I brought these up for you.”

  Jenn peeked into the paper sack he handed to her. It contained a change of clothes and her most basic toiletries. “Thanks, that’ll come in handy. I must be pretty wilted and rumpled by now.”

  “You look great to me.” He grinned, but the smile soon faded. “Is there anything else you need?”

  “Just do what you can about Cathy. Visit her if they’ll let you. She must be scared to death. Tell her I love her, and— oh, Joe, this is so hard.”

  He pulled Jenn onto his lap and enveloped her in the warm nest of his arms. “Of course it’s hard.”

  “I want to be strong.”

  “You’re strong when it counts. Right this moment you don’t have to be.”

  “Yes, I do.” She felt like if she gave in to tears, she might never stop crying. If she hadn’t had Joe to help her through this, she didn’t know what she would have done.

  A wave of love washed over her. She wanted to tell him how she felt. She almost did. Then she bit her tongue. He already felt obligated toward her. If she admitted that she’d fallen in love with him, he’d feel doubly guilty. She was sure he hadn’t intended for that to happen.

  He would probably try to tell her that what she felt was misplaced gratitude or some such nonsense. But she knew better. He was a rare and wonderful man, and she would have fallen in love with him no matter what the circumstances of their meeting. He was strong and tender, conscientious, hardworking, sexy as hell, and he was terrific with Cathy.

  Damn, if she didn’t get out of here she was going to cry like a baby. “I have to go,” she said, abruptly pulling away from him.

  “We still have a few more minutes. They’re not that strict about visits here.” He tried to pull her back onto his lap, but she resisted.

  “No, really, I have to go. I want to compose myself before the judge sees me. No sense me looking and acting like some psychotic sanitarium escapee and giving Dennis ammunition.”

  Joe looked puzzled at her sudden desire to be away from him, but he nodded. “Okay. As soon as they set your bail, let me know. I’ll make arrangements for it.” He stood. “Be strong, Jenn. We’re going to beat this thing.”

  How? she started to ask. But she supposed this wasn’t a good time to let Joe know how hopeless things looked to her. She didn’t want to mar what little optimism he might be feeling right now. So she kissed him, hard and fast, then pulled away and pushed the buzzer that let the officer know the visit was over. He appeared immediately to lead Jenn back to her ugly cell.

  The next few hours were a blur to Jenn. She was brought before Judge Hustead, her stepfather’s crony. He read the charges against her—one count of kidnapping, one count of interfering with child custody, along with several other minor charges relating to her use of a false identity. Dennis, apparently, was going for the whole ball of wax. The list of charges made her sound like she belonged in the pen.

  Dennis was there, looking smug, glancing every so often in Jenn’s direction. She resisted the urge to glare hatefully back at him. She didn’t want Judge Hustead to believe she was unreasonably hateful.

  Joe was there, too. She acknowledged his presence with a tight smile, then avoided looking at him. Just the sight of him brought a confusion of emotions to the surface, and she didn’t want to break down or laugh hysterically in front of the judge.

  Jenn entered a plea of not guilty. The prosecutor, a weasely little man named Mark Simmons who was no doubt in Dennis’s pocket, asked that bail be denied due to Jenn’s history as a fugitive.

  “You haven’t met the conditions necessary for me to deny bail,” the judge said, causing hope to flare briefly for Jenn. But his next words squelched it. “But I am cognizant of the risk the defendant could flee. Therefore, I’m setting the bail at one million dollars.”

  Jenn accepted this decision stoically, having expected as much, though she wondered how she was going to visit. Tammy and convince her to testify if she couldn’t get out of jail.

  She made eye contact with Joe once more before she was led away. He gave her an e
ncouraging smile, then mouthed something to her that she at first understood as “isle of woo.” By the time she figured out, a few seconds later, that he’d told her he loved her, he was gone. And she was so stunned she could hardly manage to put one foot in front of the other.

  The next few days were characterized by tedium punctuated by hurried conferences with her attorney, Ronnie Bloom, as he attempted to put together a defense based on her allegations of her sexual abuse at Dennis’s hands. Ronnie certainly knew his stuff, Jenn had to admit. But he wasn’t optimistic about her chances.

  Jenn’s psychologist would testify about the repressed memories. Another psychologist and a physician, appointed by the court, would examine Cathy and present their findings. Since Cathy had not herself been abused, that testimony wouldn’t help Jenn’s case.

  Without someone, somewhere, to back up her accusations, it would be easy for the prosecutor to convince a jury she’d manufactured the story out of desperation. He could certainly prove she’d done a lot of other desperate things.

  Dennis was not amused by the fact that she’d carried out her threat. He requested another visit, which she denied. But even out of her sight, he terrified her. Dennis was frightening when he was provoked.

  Her mother came to see her. Esther Palmer, in her linen dress and pearls, her silver helmet of hair in perfect alignment, looked especially out of place in the grimy visitation room. She declined to sit on any of the mismatched chairs, instead standing awkwardly while Jenn made herself comfortable.

  Their earlier phone conversation, the one that had led Dennis to her whereabouts at the Connallys’, had been stilted and uncomfortable. Esther had obviously informed her husband of the call so that it could be traced. Jenn felt betrayed and foolish for thinking her mother would show any loyalty to her errant daughter. She’d always sided with Dennis during Jenn’s frequent altercations with her stepfather.