by Mary Deal
“You have every right.”
“You mean I now have competition?”
Suddenly, he stopped smiling. “Oh, Abi, this has gone far enough. I'm teasing.”
“Well, I'm not.” Regardless how things had deteriorated, she was in for the duration and this was no time to give up. “Too many emotions welling up at the same time. I don't need any more…” She sighed heavily.
“Honey, you're all tense.” He sat on the sofa and motioned for her to put her head on his lap again.
Abi lay on her side and Joe massaged her shoulders. She truly felt ready to cave in.
Chapter 37
Two days later, after dinner, Joe tried gently to break the news. “Abi, I've got something to tell you. It'll hurt a little.”
“I'm feeling pretty numb. Go ahead.”
He sat on the edge of the sofa beside her with his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands. “Your house was looted.”
“What-at? It was boarded up.”
“That doesn't stop a thief.” He shook his head slowly. “Your Queen Anne jewelry cabinet is gone. Evidently your jewelry too.”
Abi sat forward. “That antique cabinet was my mother's… a family heirloom meant for Becky.” She tried to clench her fists and couldn't because parts of her hands and fingers were still bandaged. “What else?”
“Anything they could carry. Your silver's gone, crystal's all broken.”
For days, Abi fought waves of depression. She questioned why everything she cherished had been snatched away. Though she always avoided projecting dismay onto others, pain had been with her so long, hurting wasn't something she could single out. Until now.
After the clothing came back from the dry cleaners, she decided it would be too much to ask of Joe to allow her to hang Becky's few things in the closet. She packed them neatly in a box and placed them on a shelf, all except for one set of play clothes that had been Becky's favorite.
One day she passed the doorway of the bedroom and caught Joe's reflection through the mirror on the dresser as he stood in the closet. He was deep in thought, holding the denim jumpsuit and pink ruffled blouse with both hands. They came loose from the hanger, but he just stood, staring at the clothes. Abi could not determine his mood or motivation as the muscles in his jowls flexed. She slipped away to leave him alone with his thoughts.
The next time Abi visited Megan proved another unsettling occasion.
“I'm sorry about your house. Heard about it from some inmates.” Stranger still was the way Megan's eyes related no emotion.
As time flew by, more fires made the news. The first was a restaurant on the Interstate north of Creighton, which was ruled arson. Two weeks later, an estate home in the rural area south of Seaport went up in flames. That fire was still under investigation. They had found one major clue. A set of boot prints left several good markings in the dirt in the back alley between the homes. Judged by the way the imprint had splayed the loose dirt, it was judged that someone exited through the back gate of the property and ran from the scene. Plaster casts were made. The edge of the sole at the side had a huge chunk missing. No one who lived in the home, nor any of the neighbors, claimed to have a boot with such a piece missing from the bottom.
Stan Yates had been photographed with another man withdrawing cash from his bank account at various ATM locations. His sister had not thought to tell police that he had access to the disability checks that she always deposited in his name. He had withdrawn all the money and now it was too late. That was the last anyone saw of him, except someone reported that a man fitting his description hitched a ride on the Interstate. The police department listed his description and pertinent information with the National Crime Information Center, but nothing turned up.
The late spring fog, which was particularly bad, had caused a tragic multi-vehicle pile-up on the Interstate in the dead of night. Though Abi watched TV more than ever, she learned to distance herself emotionally from all the bad news. She tried to concentrate on the good. A woman down in Lawton had quadruplets. Surely, that was a joyous occasion with more babies to replace the missing. She clicked off the TV.
Another month passed with no word when the DNA tests would be completed, and lately, fewer updates from Det. Britto as well. Abi decided to put some pressure on both the good detective and the sometimes all too silent attorney. It was past time for them to apply the pressure where it was desperately needed.
Abi wasn't about to hang up but waited, letting the phone ring till he finally answered.
“That lab down in Lawton, ma'am, it's the hub facility for the entire state, police, hospitals, everything. They're really backed up.”
“Can't they hire more people?”
“Not people. I understand they're in line for new equipment soon as the backlog's eased.”
“Eased? That's a laugh. Maybe new equipment could speed things up. With all the crime—”
“There's something else, ma'am.”
She braced herself while the detective gathered his thoughts. “You're going to tell me something I don't want to hear, right?”
“Couple of things, but stuff you gotta know.” He paused again and she waited. “They aren't rushing your DNA because Winnaker was already convicted. They'll put new crime cases before your personal tests.”
“I knew you'd say something like that.” Still, Abi was undeterred. “What else?”
“Back in Idaho, Kuna, Idaho, where Winnaker was from, the PD checked and found no trace of a Preston or Becky. No Fishers at all.”
The investigators had yet to release Abi's house so she could rebuild. Certainly, the insurance company would delay paying her claim, pending the outcome of the investigation.
Most aspects of living at Joe's were quite comfortable and helped bolster her spirits. Unfortunately, Margaret's recall progressed to the point she remembered feelings she once felt for Joe. He became quiet and moody. Most of his conversations with Margaret took place outside the kitchen door, in the garage, or other areas out of earshot. Abi freely allowed Joe time and space to deal with the situation and refrained from passing judgment or interfering. Yet, she still worried that she could do nothing about Margaret's guile. She would be glad when the woman finally went home and her presence could no longer strain or consume precious time she and Joe needed to spend on more pressing issues. Margaret needed to take responsibility for her situation, and do it back where she came from.
Joe maintained his contacts among the media and no one had heard anything more about the Supreme Court's early review of the Winnaker case. Weeks earlier when they heard the announcement on the car radio, that station had been the only one to air the announcement. That afternoon, Abi went directly to the radio station to speak to someone, but they refused to quote their sources and said they had not received anything further.
Back at Joe's home, she paced in front of the French doors. “The Supreme Court could be reviewing Becky's case right now.”
“We have no control over that.” He sat at the piano, playing a soothing melody.
“Why would the station air a story about the Supreme Court's early review if it weren't true? Why did other stations not jump on that?”
He shrugged and stopped playing. His hands rested lightly on the keys. “Maybe the station let the matter drop to cover their faux pas.” He began playing again.
“Don't they take into consideration how that affects us?” She stopped pacing, arms locked tight beneath her bosom.
He stopped playing again. “Evidently not. News flashes are good for ratings. In this case, they don't necessarily have to be true.” He resumed playing but the tune sounded melancholy.
She sighed heavily. “We have new leads. They can't deny that.”
“Agreed, but we need to come up with something more substantial in case the Supreme Court lets us down.” He stopped playing again and leaned over and reached for her hand. “Britto will come through.”
Det. Britto's quiet yet constant personable attention
left Abi in a quandary. “Is he trying to hit on me, Joe?”
“Who?”
“You know, Columbo's cousin.”
Joe smiled at the comparison to the 1970's TV cop, Columbo, who always used the term ma'am. “I hardly think so.”
“Every chance he gets, he puts his arm around my shoulder and looks into my eyes saying, 'Yes, ma'am. No, ma'am,' like that TV cop. I've been patient with him, but my name is Abi.”
Joe only snickered. “That's just his way.” He pushed away from the piano as the bench legs scraped the hardwood floors.
“I have to wonder. You told me he loves the ladies. If he thinks—”
“Abi, he's that way with everyone. It's his nature.”
“Well, it's too personable.”
Joe's smile was pathetic. “I have to agree. Some women do fall for it.”
“Not this one.” She didn't like it one bit.
He took her into his arms. “Do you not like it, or do you really like the extra attention and find it tempting?”
“Wha-at?” She pushed him away. “Just talk to him, would you? Tell him hands off.”
“You've got to be kidding. I'm sure he means noth—”
“I'm well aware of his subdued attention. It's the same undercurrent Margaret projects onto you.” She regretted the words as soon as they were spoken.
“Oh, I see. You don't want to have a guilty conscience when you complain about Margaret.” He was still smiling and treating the situation like a joke, just like he always did when caught up in a tense moment. “You know? I had hoped moving you in here would bring us closer.”
“Or keep your mind off Margaret?” Anger had kicked in.
“Is mentioning Britto's attention your way of fighting back?”
“That's not it at all.” She paced nervously. “I don't need Britto's kind of attention and I'm about to let him have it with how I feel.” She thought Joe would have noticed and said something to him by now.
“Don't need to.” He turned to stare out the windows. “I don't believe my buddy would hit on my lady. I'm not going to mention it.” He turned to face her again and his look was intense. “If Britto can gain some insight in Becky's case by learning what makes you tick, I'm not going to put a damper on his efforts.”
“He already wants to solve this case bad enough. Can't he do it without the innuendoes?”
Joe's expression softened. “Abi, trust me on this one, okay?” He forced a reassuring smile. “But I'll be watching now. Don't doubt it for a minute.”
She had gotten her point across, nearly at the expense of inciting an argument. She had to calm down.
Emery hadn't provided progress reports as frequently as she would have liked, even though Det. Britto reported that Emery was refusing to take any new cases. He pushed to wrap up a few of his open cases and passed others to an associate lawyer. He was always out of his office or unreachable. Now he spent a lot of time with Megan, leaving everyone to wonder why.
During visiting hours the next day, the room was full of people. Abi questioned Megan for her opinion of Emery's so-called expertise.
“I like him a lot, mother.”
“But is he doing you any good? Does he have anything solid to—?”
“Mother, there was this other girl who saw me sell Dad's SS ring to Dara and she—”
Abi jumped out of her chair and gasped so hard she nearly choked. “What other girl?”
Chapter 38
Abi gripped the edge of the table and leaned forward. The thought of another witness was as if spotlights had been turned on in the middle of a deep sleep, unexpected, shocking, and dazzling. “Someone saw you sell the ring and you're just now mentioning it?” A guard took two steps forward. Abi relaxed back in her chair.
“Tess. Her name was Tess. I told everyone way back when I was arrested.”
“Why haven't I heard this?” Her anxiety level began rising. “Why wasn't there any mention of it in Emery's records?”
“In the Court documents, mother. The police checked. They couldn't find her.” Megan actually had tears in her eyes, tears of desperation. “A police officer—Nater somebody—testified that no such person existed. They treated it as if I was lying.”
Abi was appalled. “Tess what?”
“Ulrich, Tess Ulrich. Don't get yourself excited.”
She was tired of people telling her not to get excited. “If only I had paid more attention to your case from the beginning. You can bet I'd have left no loose ends dangling.”
“There's no time for guilt, okay? They looked for Tess.”
“Did they have a picture to put on that National Crime thing?”
“The N.C.I.C.?” Back then they used an APB, but that was only broadcast locally. They also went where she lived.”
“And?”
“Not a trace.”
“Where?” Abi fanned herself. “Where did she live?” One thing Abi knew about was that the N.C.I.C. was a national organization that could turn up new leads.
“In a dilapidated converted barn outside Creighton with a bunch of Aryans.”
“They covered for her, I suppose.” Abi was a bit distracted and continued to fan herself. The air conditioning left a lot to be desired. Now it was worse because of the crowded room. Or, maybe, she was too excited again.
“There wasn't any trace of her. No clothes, nothing, like she never existed.” Megan blew her nose then placed her hands on the tabletop again, as required. Her lungs sounded like they weren't fully healed or maybe getting worse.
Abi leaned forward, determined. “How long did you know her?”
“I didn't. She was just one of that crowd.”
“So what's Emery doing about it?”
Megan's enthusiasm peaked. “Him and that cop. They're circulating my old drawing of her face, with a computer enhan—”
“You drew—”
“Emery's also going on one of those—”
“You drew… you… you call him Emery?” Abi clasped her hands so tightly that a knuckle popped. She began to perspire.
“Yes, why not?
“Isn't that being a little too friendly with your attorney?”
“He's more than my attorney. He says when I get out he's going to help me get started all over again. He's got some great plans.”
Abi felt her jaw drop. “He told you he has plans for you?” Another person was making plans for Becky's future. Abi had not had a chance to become reacquainted with her, let alone get her freed. Surely Preston had corrupted his daughter's ability to feel anything for her mother.
“Plans for my art.” Megan did not realize the gravity of what she was saying. “He knows movie producers who want to do my life story. He treats me real special—”
Abi leaned forward quickly. “All those thoughts are distracting you both from what needs to be done.” She remembered the look exchanged between Megan and Emery when she and they were together in the room for their first contact meeting. Her intuition was right. There had been a spark of something between them, perhaps enough to cause Becky to look forward to a life outside of prison. At least Emery had given additional reason for her hopes to soar and that would help restore her health. Abi had always envisioned herself and Becky doing things together, finally getting reacquainted. But if this young woman was her daughter, Becky now looked forward to spending time with Emery. A feeling of sadness came creeping in.
A moment of silence passed. Suddenly, Abi understood. Megan's subtle teasing was meant to entice Emery to do all he could to get her freed. Megan was an ex-Aryan, though no way existed to prove it. As an ex-Aryan, she would have no use for a man with black blood. She was using Emery because he was the only legal hope that presented itself. She played up to him to assure his interest. Sadly, Abi began to see the woman who was potentially her Becky Ann as worldly wizened, no longer the sweet, demure child, but an unpredictable chameleon.
She had to let the situation between Megan and Emery stand and keep her thoughts to herself.
In the back of her mind, she knew it would be a terrible shock to Megan if the Supreme Court ruled against her. With the little they had to go on, if Emery was not successful in presenting conclusive evidence to snap the Governor to attention and if the Petition for Clemency was denied, there would be no further recourse. “The two of you, just stay focused. You hear me?”
Late that afternoon, as Abi drove into Joe's garage and climbed wearily out of her car, a pain began underneath her sternum and spread like a pressurized balloon inside her chest. She couldn't catch her breath and broke out in a cold sweat, then felt her knees buckling. Instead of reaching for her nitro, she had only a second to fall back into the car to sound the horn before everything went black.
Chapter 39
When Abi opened her eyes, she looked around without moving. She was in the hospital again, in a private room and not the ICU. The IVs and other lines connected to her on one side and the monitors on the other meant only one thing. Outside the window, muted facility lights softened the night. She remembered the pain in her chest that was no longer there. She wondered what time it was.
Joe was unshaven and asleep in a nearby chair and looked uncomfortable with his feet propped up on a smaller hardwood chair with a towel cushioning his heels. How much he had endured for her and Megan. Anyone else would have found reason to exit her pathetic life, but Joe loved her. She began to cry.
Joe jumped up and came immediately to her side, as did a nurse. “Abi, you made it!” Relief rang on every word. Tears filled his eyes. He smoothed hair back off her forehead. “Why are you crying?”
The nurse crowded in. “Excuse me. Are you in pain, Mrs. Fisher?”
Abi cringed at hearing that name.
Joe ripped a couple of tissues out of a box and handed them to her. She dabbed at her eyes. “No.”
