by Mary Deal
“Becky!” Abi yelled after her. “We'll get help.” She pressed both hands over her mouth and felt as though she might vomit. She slumped over the table and sobbed, barely aware of others trying to comfort her.
Det. Britto leaned near Abi. “I'm right about this girl.” He whispered and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know I'm right.”
Chapter 24
The next day, Abi felt weakened but knew she could not wait. She and Joe went to see Emery Kenton, who smiled warmly and shook their hands. The trendy casual clothing he wore enhanced his light olive skin. His gaze was intense and full of questions. Out of the corner of her eye, Abi noticed him studying her when she spotted the family photos on the wall; a boy with a black woman and a white man, the photos at different ages as the boy grew. Emery looked a bit apprehensive as he watched her. Abi being Abi had to speak. “You were an only child?”
Emery's concern melted to a beaming smile. “And spoiled, of course.”
Emery did not look like an attorney, but more like a well-heeled college student. For that matter, Det. Britto didn't look like a cop.
Emery's second floor office was located at the dead end of a quaint street on a hill in the financial area. The view from the window that jutted out over the sidewalk below looked down the length of the street, all the way across the broader business district before it disappeared over a hill.
Somewhere, he kept an incense stick opened. It gave off just a hint of an oriental fragrance as air circulated around the room. His office furnishings were expensive, like his clothing, but were littered with books and files and stacks of papers. She and Joe were unable to sit until he removed the stacks from each chair and placed them directly underneath on the floor.
“Each one's a separate case.” He seemed a little embarrassed but shouldn't be if that was testimony to a reputation that brought him such a business load.
Abi wondered if he might be too busy.
“You don't have a filing system?” Joe's joking always eased a conversation.
“These are the cases I work on every day.” He was not embarrassed; rather, he seemed like a person who knew exactly what he needed and wanted things at his fingertips. So how much time did he really have to devote to Becky's case?
Emery accepted the offer to handle Becky's case as if someone handed him a new life. “This is the first white case I'll have taken,” He discounted his usual fee down to expenses only. His fascination with the Winnaker case was clearly evident. The fact that he had not volunteered his services despite managing some larger cases led Abi to wonder just how aggressive or effective he might be. Had it not been for Det. Britto's respect for the man's abilities as an attorney, Abi would have been thoroughly put off by Emery's clandestine interest. He pointed out the contents of the files he kept on the history of the case. How could he have chosen not to get involved? Could it have been that he hesitated to deal with whites because of the Aryan threat in the area?
Just then, the door opened and Det. Britto walked in. After greeting them, he handed a small wooden box to the attorney. Emery smiled and turned it over and over. “I got you with this one, Kenton. This is the latest mind-bender to hit the market.”
Abi watched Emery lose himself in studying the box. It was a Chinese puzzle that came apart, one piece at a time, until the box was broken down. The challenge was not only in learning how to take the box apart, but how to reconstruct it as well.
Emery sat the puzzle on the desk in front of him. Abi noticed similar puzzles in various sizes sitting on the bookshelves. Emery called their attention back to the reason for the meeting.
He separated the stacks of folders produced from his file cabinets. He had clipped all the photos and articles ever published about the Winnaker case. A program from Joe's photography exhibit was among the memorabilia. Yellowed newspaper photos of Juror #12 were included. Abi looked at those for a long time and had to admit the woman did not look as if she had been part of the protest rally, not in either photo. How could it have been purely coincidental that she ended up in the same location twice, and in photos of two separate rallies? “Could she have been a participant, then left the march when she arrived at the place to meet her husband?”
“Something to think about.” Emery had been studying the puzzle while they browsed through the documents.
As Abi, Joe and Det. Britto shared information about each folder's contents, Emery began toying with the puzzle. His long fingers, with spatulate tips, caressed the wooden box as if interpreting a message.
Surprisingly, Emery himself had sketched Megan Winnaker in caricature. He seemed taken by the structure of her face, the sculptured cheekbones, and eyes that seemed to hide secrets. His exaggerated drawings portrayed the very same essence of frightened defiance that Joe had captured through photography. Emery was an artist in his own right and, in many drawings, had captured the boldness of Megan's stance, in others, a haunting emptiness behind her penetrating stare. He had also made notes as to his opinions and speculations. The best had been neatly bound together in that old manuscript from which the newspaper published excerpts. The accumulation hinted that his interest bordered on obsession. His only explanation was that he believed in her innocence.
“What tipped the scales, Kenton?” Det. Britto sounded a little sarcastic of his long-time friend. “What makes you so sure Winnaker needs your help after all this time?”
Emery turned the puzzle over and over in his hands and then pulled the first piece loose. “What Abi said about the birthdays.” Another piece of the box puzzle came free. “Suddenly we know that Becky Ann's birthday is April fourth. Four-four. Her father changed her birthday to September ninth. Nine-nine?” Another piece of the puzzle moved. Emery had not looked at what his hands were doing, but had been reading some of the documents and looking up occasionally. “It's ludicrous. Her father was playing a game with his daughter's life.” He slid two more puzzle pieces and the rest of the puzzle fell apart on the desktop.
Det. Britto stood and paced and stared in disbelief again and again at the puzzle. He touched fingertips to his forehead and stood speechless, staring at his friend.
“So Becky is six months older than she thinks she is.”
“She's losing time any way you look at it.” The first thing Emery would do was file a Brief on her behalf. It would be submitted for perusal at the time that the Supreme Court reviewed the case. “You, Abi, file solely as a friend of the court.”
“What's that mean?”
“It's just new input, your statement pertaining to what you know of your daughter, her childhood traumas, and the fact that she was abducted. The justices could consider it; they could shrug it off.”
Emery picked up two pieces of the puzzle and held them together while poking through the pile for the next appropriate one. “Lucky that forest fire behind the fireworks plant didn't take as long to put out as that old canyon arson.” His easy going nature and ability to smoothly jump from one subject to another seemed curious.
Filing the Brief was the only action that could be taken at that moment. Emery didn't know if the Brief would be accepted, let alone read, but to Abi, it was a ray of hope. “What determines—”
“They've already issued their Cert.”
Abi had to somehow learn a lot of legalese, and quickly. “Their what?”
“Cert.” Emery picked up another piece and poked it between the others. “That's the way they inform us if and when they decide to review a case. They issue a Writ of Certiorari.”
Det. Britto stood with both hands on the back of a chair as he leaned forward over it, watching Emery's hands. “I'll never get it.”
“I can't say if they'll accept your Brief at this late date, but we've got to try.”
After exchanging a few more bits of information and subtle niceties to build rapport, Abi offered her check as a retainer for Emery's services. Instead of reaching for it, he suddenly held up the puzzle. The box was whole again.
As they stood to
leave, Det. Britto's smile was devilish. “I'll get you yet, Kenton.” He shook his finger. “I'll get you.”
Chapter 25
Weeks passed while Emery busied himself with paper work. He wasn't prompt about staying in touch. Abi visited Becky each day for as long as she was allowed to stay. Her intuition reminded her to proceed with caution. Something about the situation didn't feel right. Abi, Joe, Emery, and Det. Britto discussed Megan's look of utter surprise upon hearing the name Becky Ann. The consensus was that Megan could still be impersonating Becky.
After some discussion between herself, Emery, and the hesitant inmate, Megan consented to DNA tests, having held out for several weeks without reason. Just as Abi was about to walk away from the entire situation, Megan relented and even seemed relieved at having consented. With DNA procedures continually improving, test results could be returned in seven to ten days.
News of the birth certificates reached the media. They filmed a documentary of the entire collection of Nazi memorabilia on display and guarded at the Museum. The curator could disclose nothing more than was already known, only that the Museum had been assigned custodian for the artifacts.
Once the birth certificates were mentioned on TV, Abi wanted desperately to discuss them with Megan.
“Keep it hush-hush.” Det. Britto's voice was only a whisper through the phone. “Televisions aren't allowed in Death Row cells because an inmate might try to self-electrocute.”
“Other prisoners might pass the information to her.”
“That's right, when she teaches, but my gut tells me not to say anything if she doesn't mention them.”
“What if she does?”
“Then go ahead and discuss them and learn what you can.” Evidently Det. Britto still held some strong reservations about the inmate.
The next time Abi visited, Megan seemed anxiety-ridden and preoccupied and couldn't concentrate on the moment at hand. Abi couldn't get any information out of her. As Megan recovered her health, her cunning seeped into every conversation. Maybe it was time, or the lack of it, that began to exact a more stringent toll. Her eyes flitted around, like a person scheming, never settling for a second.
Despite foggy nights and heavy morning dew, camera crews stationed news vans outside Abi's home, trampling and killing her fragile spring lawn. Surprisingly, Det. Britto showed up one morning at dawn and bluntly reminded the media that they were trespassing. If they did not keep their distance, he would arrest them all. The vans and crews relocated across the street but were also present in every public place Abi went, including her business, badgering, hungry for new developments. Thankfully, Lindsay was adept at managing the store, including what was happening out front in the street. She turned a negative situation into great publicity for the Kids In Need charity. In an off-season for clothes buying, customers flocked in.
When she first applied for the job, Lindsay came to the interview all wild Afro and hip huggers, with blackish nails and lipstick. She had five solid years of experience at a mall boutique that catered to pop-rockers, but a dead-end future with the store. She bubbled with enthusiasm but Abi turned her down. Lindsay expressed great assertiveness by returning the next day wearing a stunning pink Austin Reed business suit, hair braided down and lighter lips and nails. She admitted her interview fashion faux pas, thinking Abi's store for children was a place where she could dress down. She simply wanted to show her respect by coming back to apologize. That so impressed Abi, she hired her on the spot. Since then, Lindsay's appearance was always sophisticated and she was a natural at business savvy.
Through her own one-way window looking into the store from her office—a window she had, till then, taken for granted—Abi saw that some of the older women customers wore their best clothes and jewelry, with makeup as thick as clay. Lindsay said that outside, they tried to get the media crews to notice them. It was ludicrous what people would do for a late chance in life to be on camera. Abi hired two temporary salesgirls to help out. If people only came to the store to be seen on camera, Abi had no qualms about improving her business. All discounts were cancelled. Shoppers would have to buy something and pay full price for purchases or risk embarrassment for their motives of coming to the store in the first place. Profits skyrocketed, providing money for legal expenses.
While waiting for updates from Emery, which were few at best, Abi spent the hours secreted in her office. She felt fidgety and did not wish to be alone. Working was the best way she knew to burn off the anxiety, that is, when she didn't find herself staring at the wall.
Where was Joe? He should have been around to fend off the rude, persistent media crews, many with whom he worked. However, his short absences were nothing to worry about. He had gone out of town in the past and sometimes she had not noticed till his return, but this was different. With so much happening all at once, she wished he would stay in closer contact. Now, when she needed him the most, he had his own demanding dilemma to manage.
She called him late that night.
“Oh, hi…” He yawned, sounding very tired. “Sorry.”
“Oh, hi?”
“What's up?”
“I was wondering the same about you.”
“How's it going with Emery?”
“I-I haven't heard from him for a while.” A moment of silence passed. “I'm going to call him in the morning. He's supposed to arrange a special visit for Becky and me.”
“Meaning… in the same room? No restrictions?”
“Yes, before she's….”
“Don't think that way, Abi.”
“I have a right to get to know her, don't I, Joe?”
“If you believe she's Becky and that's what you want.” He sounded more awake.
“Time is of the essence here. This case wasn't offered as one of Emery's Chinese puzzles. It's going to take a lot more than that out of him to get this solved.” In another moment of silence, Abi realized she might be self-absorbed and neglecting Joe's needs. “What about you, Joe? Have you located June?”
“It's a long story.”
“Have you found her?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Well, tell me. Is she Margaret?”
Another period of silence through the phone said it all. “Can we talk tomorrow, Abi?”
“Joe, I'm with you in this too. Is she Margaret?”
“Yes.” Another bit of silence said he didn't want to talk about his former lover. The sudden upheaval in their respective lives could now turn into a tedious, complicated situation to manage. She didn't dare push Joe into disclosing his feelings. He had always expressed them on his own in the past. However, seeing Margaret again, and in that ugly situation, he was surely having a difficult enough time dealing with conflicting feelings of both anger and wanting to help her. “Can we get together tomorrow, maybe? It might be better if we talked over breakfast instead of the phone.”
“You want to meet before I go to Rachter?”
“No, that's too late.”
“Okay, I'll go to your place.”
“No, I'll come to yours.”
After hanging up, she stood a moment, thinking. His deciding to come to her house, when she would have to pass near his on the way to Rachter Prison, sounded evasive. What was he avoiding?
Chapter 26
The doorbell jolted Abi out of a bad dream. She felt disoriented and lay still wondering if she had actually heard the bell, or had it been part of that unnerving nightmare? The tone sounded again. More awake now, she glanced at a clock. It was one forty-five in the morning.
She threw on a robe and quickly made her way across the landing to the guest bedroom beside Becky's art room. The telephone rang as she cautiously peered out the curtain to see Joe standing beside the Range Rover in the driveway with the cell phone to his ear.
Abi rapped on the windowpane. He pulled his collar close and looked up as the wind bent tree branches and made his hair stand up. Downstairs, she opened the door quickly. He looked bedraggled, like something had gott
en hold and shaken him. “What are you…?” She was out of breath having hurried down the stairs. Then she noticed how he was dressed and chuckled. “Joe, flashers don't wear pajamas under the overcoat.”
He laughed and stepped back, throwing open the front of the coat. “Da-dahhhhh.”
“What are you doing out? Evidently you were in bed.”
“I was.” He stepped outside, bending to pick up an overnight bag he had dropped at the doorway. “Guess I should have called first before knocking at this hour.”
She closed and locked the door and led him toward the kitchen. “Is something wrong, Joe? Want some tea?”
“Can we just lie down?” He wrapped his arms around her. “Life's gotten too crazy. I need your comfort.”
Upstairs, he took off his pajamas before climbing into bed. He was semi-erect and Abi wondered how he could be so tired yet aroused. He lay staring up at the ceiling through darkness. She listened to his breathing and knew he wouldn't be dozing off soon. “Okay, I don't care what you say. You didn't come here to sleep.”
“I didn't.” He reached for her. “I came to be near you.”
“You have a lot on your mind.” She rolled slightly away. “If you're not going to share it, you'd better make for the other bedroom and lay in there wide awake.” She tried to laugh. “I want my rest.”
Dim light filtered through the window and fell across them. He leaned close and gently traced the shadows that crossed her face. Then he kissed her lightly on the lips, teasing. “You little wench.” Nitroglycerin tablets. That's why you go off like a time bomb.”
“Joe Arno!” She pushed his face into the pillow.
He whispered after they had a good laugh. “I love you.” His lips moved against hers as he spoke.
“Three days without a call.”
“Been busy.” He nibbled her ear lobe.
