“Did you see him come back out with mail?” Michael asked.
“No, I got a call and had to leave. But get this. I was just talking to Mrs. Haughton, and she told me that he served dinner to Annalee and Jackson Sunday. And here’s the kicker. He’s working as a janitor at PC Labs.”
Cathy’s mouth fell open.
“Jackson and Warren are Mrs. Haughton’s only two heirs left.”
Juliet slowly got to her feet, her hand over her mouth. “That’s a big estate. They have a lot of money. Do you think …?”
Michael nodded. “I think we’ve hit on something. He’s taken out his sister, and now he’s trying to take out Jackson before his mother dies. Think about it. If Jackson’s alive when she dies, then Jay will be in charge of Jackson’s part of the inheritance. Warren would never get it.”
Juliet turned her panicked gaze to the door. “We’ve got to get him out of there! He could kill him while he’s sitting with him!”
“Call Max,” Cathy told Michael. “Tell him everything!”
“I’m on it. Cathy, if I were you I’d call the judge again. Go to his house if you have to. Make him understand that we have to get Warren away from him.”
Cathy was already heading for the door. “I’ll try to catch him at home.”
CHAPTER 34
Jay didn’t get the message in jail until seven o’clock that morning when the guard came to wake the inmates. As he passed out bowls of tasteless oatmeal from a rolling cart, the guard called out, “Cramer? Jay Cramer?”
Jay stepped forward, hope lifting his heart. “Yeah?”
The guard didn’t even look at him. “Got a message. Your son’s in the hospital.”
Jay’s stomach dropped. “What’s wrong with him?”
“They said he had an intestinal thing. He went to the emergency room last night. That’s all the message said.”
Jay lunged for the door. “I need to go call … I’ve got to talk to the sheriff. They’ll let me go for this, won’t they? My son needs me!”
“Back up!” the guard barked out. “You don’t got bail yet. You’re staying right here.”
“But can I at least call?”
“No phone calls till eight. That’s when the phone comes back on.”
“Not the pay phone. Can’t I use the phone downstairs? I can only get landlines on this one. I need to call my sister’s cell phone.”
“Nope,” the guard said, and rolled the door shut. Jay broke out in perspiration, his heart hammering. What could be wrong with Jackson? He went to the phone to wait for eight o’clock, but two men were already there waiting to use it.
“Please … I need to use it first,” he said. “My son is sick. He’s in the hospital. I have to know —”
“I was here first,” the burly man who went by the name A.Z. said. “Get in line, pal. I gotta call my wife.”
“But my son could be in trouble. He’s only five and he’s sick!”
Anthony, the next one in line, grabbed the sleeve of Jay’s jumpsuit and pulled him back. “You got a problem hearing? Wait your turn. You ain’t gettin’ the phone until we’ve made our calls.”
Jay had no choice, so he waited, fidgeting. As soon as the clock said eight, A.Z. grabbed up the phone and called his wife to cuss her out for not posting bail for him. Jay couldn’t imagine why the woman had accepted the collect call that was clearly from the jail. Hopefully, she would hang up on him and cut this short.
After a few minutes, the next guy called his mother and had a fight equally blood-curdling, F-bombs flying.
Jackson in the hospital. What could have happened? The guard said it was his intestines. Had he eaten something bad at his grandmother’s? Was he just sick from the stress? How bad must it be for one of his sisters to call the jail and get this message to him?
When he was finally given his chance at the phone, he called Juliet, but only got voice mail. She must be at the hospital.
Now what? Jay racked his brain. He couldn’t call the hospital. He didn’t have a number. He tried to think of someone who still had a landline and could fill him in. Michael used his cell phone mostly too, but he did have a landline in his office. Since he lived there, maybe Jay would catch him in. He closed his eyes, tried to remember Michael’s office number. Two repeating digits … 4545?
“You gonna make a call or what?” a guy who’d just come up behind him asked.
“Yes. Just give me a minute.” He dialed the number, waited, praying. Miraculously, Michael picked up. “Michael Hogan.”
Relief washed over him. Jay waited as the prison system’s automated voice told Michael he had a collect call from the jail and asked if he would accept the charges. When it came time, Jay spoke his name into the phone, waited. Thankfully, Michael said yes.
Finally, the call connected them. “Jay, are you there?”
“Yes,” Jay said. “I can’t reach my sisters. I got a message that Jackson’s in the hospital. Do you know what’s going on?”
Behind Jay, the waiting man tapped his shoulder. “Hurry up, I got an emergency.”
Jay shrugged the man’s arm away and plugged his ear so he could hear.
“He was really sick, had bloody diarrhea last night,” Michael was saying. “Mrs. Haughton called an ambulance. They tested him and discovered he has E. coli.”
Jay had to steady himself on the concrete block wall. “E. coli? Is he gonna be all right?”
“I just left the hospital,” Michael said. “He’s still in ICU. I can’t lie to you, man. It’s bad.”
The man tapped his shoulder again. Jay spun around, shooting him a death look. Sweat dripped into his eyes, even though it must be fifty degrees in the room. “How did he get E. coli? You can die of that!” he bit out. “Is he awake? Is someone with him?”
“Warren is with him.”
It just kept getting worse. “Warren? No, I want Juliet to be with him. Michael, you guys have got to get me out of here. Tell Cathy to talk to a judge, get him to set bond. I’ll pay anything.”
The man behind him tapped him again, and rage erupted. Jay swung around. “Back off!” he shouted.
Michael hesitated. “Jay, are you all right?”
Jay felt the blood pounding in his face.
“Jay, calm down, buddy. Don’t get into a fight. It’ll make things worse for you.”
Jay knew he was right. He drew in a deep breath, tried to calm down.
“We’re working hard to get you out, or at least to get Jackson back with Juliet.”
The man shoved Jay and knocked the phone out of his hand. Rage exploded in Jay’s head. He started to fight back, but instead, raised his hands in the air. “Come on, man. We don’t want to fight. Just let me finish my call.”
The man who had come in sometime during the night looked wild-eyed and dangerous, but he was about fifty pounds smaller than Jay. When he swung, Jay caught his fist, but the guy threw a quick left hook, catching Jay on the cheekbone.
Inmates gathered around and began rooting them on, as if they’d waited days for such entertainment. In a flash, he thought he could kill the guy. But what about Jackson? They wouldn’t let him out of here if he jumped the man, even in self-defense.
He forced his hands to his sides, determined not to feed the fury.
“Punch him!” someone shouted, and others bellowed agreement.
“I’m not fighting with you, man!” Jay yelled. “These guys want trouble, but you’re the only one making it.”
The door slid open, and two guards broke up the cluster of men egging the fighter on. Jay kept his arms at his sides, praying they’d see that he’d done nothing wrong.
One of the guards wrestled the rabid little guy out of the pod as men yelled insults and mocked him. They would turn on him next, he thought, and he’d have to make a decision how far he’d go to defend himself.
The guard still in the room backed to the door and called out, “Cramer? Get over here.”
Dread stooped him. With one last look at the hanging teleph
one, he crossed through the loud men and faced the guard whose name tag said Davis. “You need to see the nurse?” the guard asked Jay.
Jay blinked and stared at him, surprised at the question. He raised his hand to his cheek, realized it was bleeding. He could go to the nurse and get out of this madness for a while. But then he couldn’t finish the call. “No. I’m okay,” he said. “I just need to finish my call. That’s all I want.”
As he turned back from the door, he saw that someone else had already grabbed the phone.
The guard clanged the door shut. Jay brought his hands to his face and went to a bench, wiped the gash with the sleeve of his jumpsuit. How could this happen? His wife dead, his son dying? And him here in jail, powerless to help.
Why was God allowing everything in his life to be stripped away? It didn’t line up. There was no sense to be made of it.
Still, he fixed his eyes on the stupid orange flip-flops they’d issued him, while he sent up desperate prayers for the life of his son.
CHAPTER 35
Judge, you’ve got to listen to me,” Cathy said to the man who stood in a bathrobe on his front lawn, walking his dog. “I understand why you gave the order for Jackson to be with his grandmother and why you haven’t wanted to hear me out about this earlier, but I don’t think you understand the situation.” She explained about Mrs. Haughton’s prognosis and Jackson’s illness.
Judge Harper looked a little like Ed Asner, round, grumpy, and world-weary. “Was the illness caused by neglect or abuse?”
“We don’t know … but he got sick while his uncle was caring for him.” She knew better than to go down the road of accusing Warren of killing his sister and trying to kill his nephew. He would demand that she follow proper procedures for reporting a crime and expect ironclad evidence.
“My brother wants Jackson with my sister Juliet. I’ve got the paperwork here. He signed everything. His parental rights have not been rescinded, so he still has the right to determine who keeps his son.”
The judge took the papers, stared down at them. “It hardly matters right now if the child is in the hospital.”
“You’re wrong, Judge,” Cathy said. “Warren is sitting with him in ICU. He’s the one making decisions about Jackson’s treatment. Jackson is not close to him, and he’s so sick that he coded this morning. He’s grieving over his mother, and he doesn’t understand where his father is. He’s close to my sister. She’s kept him a lot, and he’s comfortable with her.”
“I know his grandmother. She’s a good woman. I’m sure he’s comfortable with her too, even if she is ill.”
Cathy wanted to shake him. “He’s not with his grandmother. She’s at home trying to breathe. He should be with the relatives that his father chose. My brother is innocent until proven guilty, and he still has parental rights.”
The judge’s dog found a place to do his business. She couldn’t tell by the man’s face if he was considering her motion or not.
“Judge, you know me. I don’t make stuff up.”
“Oh, come on, Cathy. You make stuff up all the time. You write about your opinions as if they’re fact. You convict people before they’ve even gone to trial.”
“You know I’m usually right. I speculate, but I’m not pulling things out of air. I have good instincts. You’ve told me that yourself back when I was practicing. But all that is irrelevant. We’re talking about custody and whether a father has the right to choose the caretaker for his sick child. Your friendship with Mrs. Haughton shouldn’t have influenced you. In fact, it’s a conflict of interest.”
“Are you accusing me of impropriety?”
Cathy hesitated. “No, I’m just saying that your friendship with that family might have subconsciously influenced you.”
“It didn’t. I would have placed him with the next of kin no matter who she was.” Judge Harper drew in a deep breath, let it out in a huff. “The best I can do is make sure we get a quick date for a hearing. I’ll need to hear both sides before I change my order.”
“But it’s urgent. He’s in danger. Don’t you think it’s strange that he’s stricken with a life-threatening bacteria the same week his mother is murdered?”
“Cathy, if you have an accusation to make against his grandmother —”
“Not his grandmother. His uncle. At best, he’s incompetent as his caretaker. At worst, he could be culpable …”
The judge’s face flashed. “Are you seriously suggesting attempted murder when you haven’t even filed a complaint with the police?”
“The police are fixated on my brother, but it’s all going to come to light soon. You’ll see that you’ve made a terrible mistake letting the Haughtons keep custody. It’ll be an embarrassment —”
The moment the words were out of her mouth, Cathy knew she’d gone too far. Judge Harper’s mouth tightened with derision.
“Cathy, you’ve made your case and I’ve given you my answer. I suggest you don’t press your luck. You’re about to make me mad.”
Cathy wanted to scream as he led his dog back into his house. They would just need to get definitive evidence to have Warren arrested. Jackson didn’t have time to wait for a hearing.
CHAPTER 36
Holly had dozed off and on at the hospital, but altogether she’d probably gotten an hour of uninterrupted sleep in the ICU waiting room. According to the doctor, Jackson’s kidneys had failed. He was facing dialysis. Beyond that, the family didn’t know what the next step in his treatment would be.
When the morning visitation time came, Holly hurried in to see her nephew. He didn’t wake up to see her. Warren sat by his side like a sentinel, refusing to move. Some good she was as a PI. Here she sat, knowing Warren was the killer but unable to prove it. He could kill Jackson under all their noses.
It would be three more hours before the next visitation. Juliet had gone home to get her kids off to school, and Michael and Cathy had left to work on the case. There must be something Holly could do. If she could just get into the Haughton house and snoop in Warren’s room while he was here at the hospital, she might find evidence the police could use in his arrest.
She could take Mrs. Haughton breakfast, offer to make her coffee, and help her with her medications. That would get her in the door. She knew better than to ask Michael or her sisters. Juliet would freak if Holly even suggested it. But how else would they prove Warren’s guilt?
Deciding to take matters into her own hands, she left the hospital and headed for Krispy Kreme, bought a box of doughnuts and some coffee. Throwing back the coffee, she headed to the Haughton house.
Nervous, she knocked on the door, dreading the idea that Mrs. Haughton would have to hobble to the door to answer it again. But soon she heard the woman’s feet shuffling across the floor. She heard the door unlocking, then it creaked open.
Mrs. Haughton seemed out of breath and fragile as she peered out.
“Mrs. Haughton, I’m so sorry to get you up,” Holly said. “I hope you weren’t asleep.”
She was still wearing the clothes she’d had on last night. “I was dozing on the couch,” the woman wheezed out. “Is Jackson all right?”
“Yes, he’s holding his own.”
“Oh, thank heaven. I thought you’d come to tell me …”
“No, nothing like that.” Holly smiled and brandished the box of donuts. “I brought you some breakfast, since Warren wasn’t here to help you this morning.”
Mrs. Haughton didn’t answer. Hunching over her cane and wheeling her oxygen tank, she shuffled back to the couch, dropped back down.
Holly followed her in and cleared off a place on the table, set the donuts down. “Can I make you some coffee? Get you your medicine?”
The woman looked as if she couldn’t think. “Yes … I guess so.”
Holly went into the kitchen, looked around. Of course Warren wouldn’t have a clown suit sitting out here. In fact, if he had one at all, it would be hidden, since he couldn’t let his mother know anything about it.
<
br /> Holly started a pot of coffee, poured Mrs. Haughton a cup of water for her pills, took it back to her. “I hate to ask, but may I use your bathroom?”
Mrs. Haughton waved a hand toward the hall. “It’s probably a mess. We haven’t cleaned since Jackson got sick here. Warren fired my maid … got in a quarrel with her …”
Of course, Holly thought. He didn’t want her catching him at anything. “It’ll be fine,” she said.
Mrs. Haughton reached for a bottle of pills, opened it, her hands trembling. Holly headed for the bathroom. In the corner by the tub, she saw a pile of pajamas and other clothes that Jackson had soiled. The smell hung in the air, making her nauseous.
She should offer to wash those so Mrs. Haughton didn’t have to deal with it, but she supposed the less she moved things around, the better. If the police had to search …
She came out quietly, hoping Mrs. Haughton wasn’t paying attention. She stepped into the room across from the bathroom — Warren’s room. The bed was made and everything was neat. She wouldn’t have expected that of him. She’d figured him to be more like her, never making his bed, dirty clothes piled on his floor. Quickly she opened his closet. There were a few shirts and several pairs of jeans folded over hangers. No clown suit hung there. There was no chifforobe or armoire, but there was a chest of drawers. She crossed the room, pulled the bigger drawers open, looking for anything red with polka dots. Nothing.
Getting on her knees, she pulled the bed skirt up. Only a few pairs of shoes.
As she got back to her feet, she scanned the closet shelf. Nothing red.
Disappointed, she turned back around, looking for his trash can. Finally, she saw it under his bed table. She stooped and looked inside.
A stack of mail had been tossed away. She flipped through it without removing the letters from the can, looking at the addresses on the labels.
It was mostly junk mail addressed to Resident. She kept flipping through it …
Then she saw something. A sale catalog addressed to Doug Streep, at the post office box they’d been watching! Doug Streep … the name of the man who’d ordered the clown suit!
Truth-Stained Lies Page 17
