by Mary Deal
“The contents. Did they give a clue to—?”
“Sorry, nothing, ma'am. The letters talked about being brave through it all. A friend supporting a friend.”
“That's all?”
“Well, this Rae person wrote about Winnaker's art. She talked about Winnaker finally having a showing once she got sprung.” He shrugged. “Rae's favorite artist was Van Gogh.”
“Nothing to show that Rae is Becky?”
“Not a clue.”
“Strange they would talk about art at a time like this.”
Two days before the execution date, Emery delivered a message for Abi that Megan wanted to meet with her, but only to apologize. She was adamant about not knowing Becky's whereabouts. Abi didn't believe her. The two could not so conveniently lose track of one another. However, Emery reported that all of Megan's mail and emails and extra-curricular activities had been stopped once it was known that execution was to take place. She had no further outside contact.
Chapter 51
Abi and Megan were locked inside a drab gray makeshift cell set aside as death row where Megan lived for nearly nine years. Locally, women did not as often receive the death penalty. Unlike men's prisons, only one cell was isolated from the rest. The cubicle had one tall window not wide enough to get a head or body through. The glass was double-paned and embedded with crosswire. No matter from which angle viewed, the scene outside was of the tall concertina wired double fence and far beyond the clearing, the forest, which had evidently invited a few over the years to attempt an escape.
As if making a personal statement about her identity, Megan had hung some of her art by using bubble gum to stick the papers to the walls. The front wall of bars opened out to an empty larger room where, perhaps for future use, another cell or two could be added. The only object in that area was a camera mounted from the high ceiling in a corner. Megan may as well have been tossed into solitary confinement since a wall separated her from the rest of the prisoners. At least the empty space outside the cell provided a feeling of expansiveness.
Considering that Megan was allowed to meet with her attorney in another location, and to use the library and art room where she mingled with other inmates, why did they bother with an isolated death row cell? Never before had Abi seen the inside of such a facility and one with lenient rules at that. Maybe they were relaxed because this was a women's institution.
Abi felt sad. She hugged herself and rubbed her arms and tried to imagine what it might be like being cooped up for years. She was thankful that Megan managed to keep her wits about it, enough so that she was allowed to interact with other inmates. Truly, she had a lot of inner strength. She wondered how Megan coped during nights alone when the lights would suddenly go out, pre-set on a timer, and she not ready for sleep.
In the last few weeks, Megan's emotional state deteriorated. So why wouldn't she tell where Becky was? If Abi had to play along with Megan's pathetic game to get her to talk, then she would, but she had great difficulty containing mixed emotions.
“You were my only hope.” Megan spit the words. “I thought of telling the truth but was afraid once you found Becky, I wouldn't stand a chance.” At least she now looked a person straight in the eyes when she spoke. “Becky never told me her exact whereabouts in Creighton so I can't locate her now that my mail's been stopped.”
“What would Becky do if—if…?”
“If it looked like I would be freed, we planned to meet at the pier at Pt. Meare. If it looked like I wouldn't make it, Becky said she would flee this wretched town.”
“Without contacting me?” Tears spilled out of Abi's eyes.
“I told her long ago how to contact you if I'm not around later.”
“Am I supposed to thank you for that?” Abi seethed inside. “Why hasn't she come forward?”
Megan glanced at her out of the corner of her eye and then looked back again. It was clearly a warning. “And get me killed? Your daughter doesn't know you. She has no feelings for you one way or the other.”
Abi stifled a gasp. It took a movement before she could speak again. “Did you have a chance to tell her the truth about me, Megan? That I didn't run out?” Abi heard the tone in her voice and realized she was begging. “Did you tell her that I've always looked for her?”
“I told her as much as I could.”
“What made you come looking for me? Why didn't Becky come?”
Megan explained that Becky might have been having a change of heart and really might care. Megan said that when the county court house and records building burned to the ground decades earlier, that was when Preston had false IDs made because they were already using the names Quincy and Rae Overland. Preston died when Becky was ten years old. “My dad and me, we took Rae. We were already sisters.”
“No one else cared for Becky?”
“Rae and me were home-schooled by women in the Aryan movement.” Her voice had softened. “About the time my dad died, that's when Rae saw those pictures in a travel magazine and got curious. That's when I came to Seaport.”
“She couldn't come here herself?”
“We were just two young girls on our own.” Megan put out her hands. “Guess Rae couldn't convince herself to care enough, maybe.”
Again, the words stung but Abi held her tongue. “That old art, Megan, what about the art? Both you and her—”
“We're both artists. Rae taught me, way back when we were kids. Dad let us peddle our stuff at flea markets for money to live on. Sometimes no one bought. Thank heaven for soup kitchens.”
“Soup…? Abi grimaced, thinking how hard life had been for the two young girls; how much was missed that they deserved to know and live.
She flashed a cock-eyed smile, like she was remembering hard times, and freedom. “That real old art you and Joe have, the line drawings, they belong to your daughter.”
Abi's hands began to shake. So much existed that Abi had to know and may not have a chance to learn, if not at that moment. “Tell me more, Megan. Please. Tell me anything.”
“All our stuff was mixed together. We're sisters, okay?” She sighed. The look on her face said she was remembering.“We learned to protect one another.” She explained that both fathers were part of the Aryan movement where they lived in Idaho. “Rae and me, we never liked it but we couldn't say anything.”
Megan must have realized the moment as an opportunity to set the records straight to clear her conscience. She kept talking. She and her dad met Preston and his daughter when both she and Becky were kindergarten age. It might have been right after Preston abducted Becky. “That was when he changed her name. I had to start calling her Rae.”
“But you knew the name 'Bippy.' ”
“Rae used to sing it to herself: 'Bippy, Bippy, you're my Bippy.' It sent her dad into a rage. He made her stop saying it. That's when he told her that you ran away with another man.”
Abi's heart wrenched. The lump in her throat threatened to keep her from speaking. “Do you think she missed me?”
“That's probably why she sang it.” Megan's voice softened. She shrugged. “I guess.”
Tears spilled again and Abi drew up the edge of her sweater and dabbed at her eyes. “I knew that could only be from her life.”
“Yep. My mom died when I was born.” Megan seemed suddenly flippant. “Never knew her.” She leaned against a wall and looked like any other person having a casual conversation.
Abi keenly observed Megan's mood swings and attitude and expression changes. “The scars you have. What are those from? What about Becky's face?”
“Oh, yeah.” Megan smiled as if pleased with the ruse. “It's amazing how this helped me.” She lifted the sides of her hair away from her face and Abi remembered the nearly non-existent scars. “Motorcycle accident.” She turned the right side of her face toward Abi. “They had to fix the damage to this side and that dumb-ass doctor didn't get it right. So they stretched the left side to make it look more like the right side.”
&nbs
p; What a pathetic life this young woman had been forced to live. No wonder she assumed Becky's identity for a while. “Becky's face?” Abi gestured to her left cheek. “What about—?”
“It's gone. Surgery. Another thing Rae and I have in common. Only, she's the one who had the dermabrasion and laser peel.”
“How? When?”
“She was bandaged when I met her.”
“I knew it!” Abi clenched her fists and yelled toward the ceiling. “Preston, you butcher!”
Megan came to her and wrapped her arms around her while Abi cried. They eased down to sit on the bed side-by-side. Abi's mind raced. What a sorrowful existence these two young women had had, first as innocent girls, then as women who never had a chance at happiness. What tragic lives. That had to end immediately, with Megan being freed and them finding Becky. Life would be better then, happy and rewarding and meaningful. She took Megan's hand. “Please, tell me if you can. Where would Becky stay now since she knows no one locally?”
“With the Aryans, of course.”
“But you said—”
“They're all she knows.”
The big old dilapidated barn on the fringes of Creighton that the Aryans lived in years earlier had long since been torn down and replaced. No one knew any longer where members of that clan congregated. “She could have come home.”
“You don't get it, do you?” Megan sounded like she was trying to temper her words. She stood again. It seemed her anxieties would not allow her to remain still for more than a minute. “She doesn't know you, doesn't know if she wants to see you. She's here because I needed her to be here.”
“Can't she think for herself?” The moment the words came out, Abi regretted them. “Megan, isn't she the least bit curious about her mother?”
Megan's face took on a real hard look, something Abi had not seen before. “Rae is loyal to me, just like I am to her. I didn't think I would end up being put to death. I'm innocent. If I were freed, I'd have left this sorry town on the next wind. Then, after all these years—surprise! You walked in.” She leaned against the opposite wall. “The moment I was sure you were her mother, I had to explain it all to her. Getting her to come here was one of the hardest things I've had to do.”
“What if… what if she's alone after… after…?” Abi couldn't say the words. She stood again and walked to the front of the cell. She was glad to be confined together so Megan could not escape her questioning, though, now she felt a dire need to get out and look for her daughter. She needed specifics. “Where will she go?”
Megan looked tired. “Guess that'll be up to her.”
Abi had to curb the urge to slap Megan's face for her flippant attitude and for holding back the information she had searched a lifetime to find. She turned away momentarily and felt like a caged animal. She waited till she calmed, then sighed. “Megan, I know in my heart you're going to be okay. You will see Becky again, and so will I.”
“We've been able to communicate all these years because we talked in code.” Megan's tone was mocking, the revelation shocking.
The notion caught Abi off-guard. “Code?”
“It was easy. We've done it since we were kids.” She seemed proud to be one up on everyone, having gotten away with the ruse under everyone's noses. “It was our safe haven, sort of, from things we didn't like.”
“What sort of code?”
Megan scrunched up her mouth and seemed utterly pleased as she explained. As young children, she and Becky always renamed people and objects with artist's names and other terminology related to art and that was their code. “We've always written that way and those prison people read all my mail and never caught on.” She retrieved an art tablet from a stack on the floor and opened it to several pages containing different versions of the short pier that she had drawn. She held up a page for Abi to see.
“Only Becky would have known about the short pier.”
“It was part of our plan to convince you I was remembering the area. Almost goofed on that stunt though.”
“You got the information from Becky?”
“That's why the details aren't perfect, like the memory wouldn't be perfect. I saw the long pier when I first came here, but recently didn't have time to get much detail about the short pier because we had to talk in code.” She closed the tablet and dropped it onto the stack.
“You convinced Becky through code to come to Seaport to give the blood sample?”
“When I had to get Rae to come here, I told her 'I've found Van Gogh's ear and they want to do DNA tests right away.' ”
“Van Gogh's ear?”
“Your code name was Van Gogh, because Becky believed if you ran away with another man, you might wake up one day and realize a part of you was missing.” She smiled again, looking thoroughly pleased with the deception.
“Becky has known all along what you've been going through?”
“She couldn't help me, really.”
“Is that why she didn't come till you needed her blood?”
“I didn't want her involved in this, She's my sister.” Megan's demeanor flipped. She chose a book from a stack against the wall and carried it to the bed and sat again. She patted the bed. “Come, I want you to understand something.” She opened to a page that had been turned down. “I understand that when it happens, it's all over for me in an instant, so it says here.” She seemed resentful and conniving and at peace, all at the same time.
Chapter 52
Abi's mind reeled. “Don't talk about that.”
“I have to.” Megan held her chin held high. “I have to face it. So I've read about it.”
“I've been praying for you, Megan, praying for a miracle. Please don't give up.”
“I'm not, but I'm the one who has to face this.”
“You're perpetuating it.” Abi went to sit beside her.
“No, I'm facing reality.” Megan drew up her legs and turned to face her, sitting cross-legged. “Look, this is what I've read.” She leaned close to share the book.
“Please, don't.”
Megan avoided looking into her eyes. “You need to know too. It's quick, it happens fast. It's the most humane form of—”
“It's your life we're talking about.”
“There's no real pain this way.”
“Losing an innocent person is pain and heartache for everyone.” She moved to push the book away. “Megan—”
“Try to understand. If I have to go, I'm going proud. Right now, I'm still here. Don't you see?” As she talked excitedly and raised her voice, it echoed off the walls. “I'm getting over being afraid. Right now, this very moment, I'm here. I still have my mind. I want to know.”
“That's morbid.”
“No, I'm being brave, because I'm innocent.”
“I know. We all know.” Abi swiped at tears. Strangely, her heart did not pound erratically. Now it simply hurt with a rending emotional ache that seemed worse than any angina attack.
“So listen to me. It's over fast.” Megan could well have been giving a demonstration. Had she really gone into denial? “They put this thing called a cannula—”
“A what?” Abi's tears flowed as she struggled to understand and to be a part of whatever Megan thought was important, but she really didn't want to hear any of it.
“It's the base that they stick the IV needle into. The cannula goes into the vein here.” She pointed to the fold of her arm. “When they release the clip on the IV line, so much sodium pentothal rushes into the blood stream, it knocks the person unconscious.”
“No, Megan!”
“They don't even feel their body spasms and twitches from the massive dose.”
“Megan, stop!” Abi stood and paced the length of the tiny cell.
“You have to be brave with me.” She sounded like a lecturer demonstrating a new product. “Did you know that no one knows for sure who releases the rest of the chemicals?”
“Why do you persist?” Abi could only stare at the inmate, whom she never got to
know, and whose only defense was to speak about a horrible ordeal as if it were happening to someone else.
Megan closed the book. “The guards tell me everyone's talking about it in here.”
“Must we?”
“I'm trying to tell you, it's not as bad as it seems.”
“Your death?” Finally, Abi began to know this young woman for the first time. In Megan's frightened, confused state of mind, she had bravely accepted what was happening to her. That did not excuse her from withholding Becky's whereabouts, but that was over-ridden by the fact that Megan was about to die. She could do nothing more. Her lonely struggle to save herself had been a most diligent effort. She gave it her best, her all. Though frightened and knowing the next few days would be her last, she chose to use her mind and to learn about the only matter at issue now, her own execution.
“They have these three buttons on a metal box that get pushed simultaneously by three different people.” Megan seemed more like trying to eliminate any last remnant of care she may have about the process. “Only one of the buttons releases the rest of the gases. On average, death comes in about fourteen minutes. After the spasms, muscles relax. You pee, you crap your pants.”
“Megan!”
The naïve tone of her voice and her overall demeanor said that this was the only way she could fight back. Yet, to hear her describe the morbid process of lethal injection was more than Abi could bear.
“Then it's over, providing they find a vein to begin with”
“Wha-at?”
“In one case, the idiot executioners took over an hour to find a vein. They ended up cutting into this guy's foot and sticking a tube in there.”
“That's disgusting!”
Megan opened out her arms and examined them. “Thank heavens I've got good veins.” She looked up at Abi and smiled. “I'd hate to lay there strapped down, unable to move, while they poked holes in my body.”
