Water's Edge

by Robert Whitlow

  Looking back, he could see how skillfully Harrelson and Arthur played him. Because he trusted Arthur, he’d been at a terrible disadvantage. Now he saw no avenue of escape. He had no tape-recorded phone conversations, no incriminating e-mails, and no documents that would create doubt about the twisted lies presented to the grand jury. Every time he thought about Arthur Pelham, he remembered the older man offering to step in as a substitute father. Arthur’s depraved hypocrisy knew no limits. How could someone he’d known and trusted his whole life do this to him?

  Tom knew that the answer lay in the massive scope of fraud and corruption within the Pelham Financial empire. Tom’s alleged embezzlement of $1,750,000 was a paltry sum. References in Harold Addington’s memo to “island properties” and “insider loans” weren’t future plans but present realities. Tom had ignored Addington’s warnings. Now both he and Rose were suffering for it.

  Tom thought about the photographers lurking outside the exercise yard. His life of normal, comfortable obscurity was gone forever. He began to pace back and forth in the cell. The flip-flops on his feet slapped against the cement floor. It was four strides from the back wall to the door and three from one side of the room to the other. Tom tried to pray, but how could he expect that to work when someone as experienced as Elias had failed? The door buzzed. The sound echoed in the silence, and he spun around with a wide-eyed look on his face. It was Weldon.

  “You have a visitor,” he said. “Follow me.”

  Tom followed the guard into a room that contained three cubicles where prisoners could talk via phone to someone on the other side of a glass partition. Elias, wearing a coat and tie, was sitting in the nearest cubicle. Tom sat down. Elias, with great sadness in his eyes, looked like he’d aged five years in a single day. Tom clenched his jaw and picked up the phone. Elias did the same.

  “Did you talk to Esther Addington?” Tom asked.

  “Yes,” Elias said in a tremulous voice. “Detectives from the sheriff’s department searched her house.”

  “Do you know if they found anything?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  “Did they take anything from your house?”

  “No. They went through every room.”

  “Including your study?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the garage?”

  “I know two men went out there, but they couldn’t have gone through everything. They were back in less than thirty minutes.”

  “Okay. Did you contact Gary Abernathy?”

  “Yes, he didn’t issue the arrest warrant for you and Rose, but he knew all about it.” Elias glanced over his shoulder. “There are TV crews outside the jail and reporters in the lobby.”

  “Did anyone try to talk to you?”

  “No.”

  “What did Abernathy tell you?”

  “Your bond has been set at $1 million.”

  Tom’s eyes widened. “What about Rose?”

  “They’re not going to set a bond because she’s not a US citizen. Abernathy said Charlie Williams is afraid she’ll leave the country and go someplace where they can’t bring her back.”

  “Does Esther know that?”

  “No, I didn’t call her back.”

  Tom stared past Elias at the blank beige wall behind him. “I’m not sure any bondsman in Etowah County would vouch for a $1 million bond,” Tom said. “And even if he could, it would cost at least $100,000 to get it. I guess I’m stuck here until I’m brought over for arraignment in front of Judge Caldwell.”

  He dreaded the look he knew would be on Judge Caldwell’s face when Tom was escorted into the courtroom wearing handcuffs.

  “What can I do to help you?” Elias asked, his eyes filling with tears.

  “Take care of Rover,” Tom said, forcing a slight smile. “And don’t be so hard—”

  The door behind Tom opened, and Johnson stepped inside. “Come with me,” the officer said to Tom.

  “But we’re not finished,” Tom protested.

  “Yes, you are.”

  Elias had a bewildered look on his face as Tom left the room. Johnson took him to the booking area and told him to sit down. The officer reached under his desk and handed Tom an orange plastic bag. It contained Tom’s personal belongings.

  “You can change in there.” The officer motioned to the nearby bathroom.

  “Why do I need to put on my regular clothes?”

  “You’ve been bonded out.”

  Tom stared at the guard for a moment without moving.

  “Someone posted your bond,” the guard repeated.

  “The bond was $1 million,” Tom replied in shock.

  “I know,” Johnson replied, shaking his head. “I’ve been working for the sheriff’s department twenty-one years. It’s the largest one I’ve ever seen anyone make. You must have some rich friends who care a lot about you.”

  After Tom dressed, Johnson took him down a different hallway. They passed through a pair of secure doors and entered the area for the administrative offices. Since it was Saturday, only a couple of people were working. They stared at Tom as he walked past.

  “This is as far as I go,” Johnson said, motioning to a regular door. “They’re in there.”

  Tom entered a small room that contained a rectangular table and three plastic chairs. Standing by the table was an unfamiliar man in a rumpled suit with a briefcase in his hand. Beside him was Hal Millsap, who stepped forward and grabbed Tom’s hand.

  “Tom, this is Ken Grant. He’s a bail bondsman from Chattanooga. I’ve made arrangements for him to sign your bond.”

  “Who paid the bond fee?”

  “Several people chipped in, and I called Mr. Grant,” Hal replied. “He agreed to come down immediately.”

  “Who chipped in?” Tom persisted.

  “We’ll discuss that later.”

  The bondsman put his briefcase on the table. “Mr. Crane, I have some papers for you to sign. Since you’re a lawyer, I’m sure there’s no need to explain them to you.”

  Tom sat down at the table.

  “Sign here,” Grant said, pushing several sheets of paper in front of Tom. “You’re agreeing to be jointly liable on the bond and understand the consequences should you fail to appear in court and a bench warrant for your arrest be issued by the judge. Do you have any questions?”

  “No,” Tom said as he quickly scanned the paperwork.

  “Your arraignment is set for next Friday at 9:00 a.m. in front of Judge Caldwell. Have you contacted an attorney to represent you?”

  “Not yet.”

  Tom signed the papers and Grant scooped them up and returned them to his briefcase. “Thanks for the business. I’ll be on my way.”

  Grant left Tom and Hal alone in the room.

  As soon as the door closed, Hal spoke. “Don’t try to cross-examine me. I’ve been running around like a crazy man since I found out you were arrested, and I’m sworn not to reveal the names of the people who contributed money to get you out.”

  Tom looked at his watch. It had been eight hours since he’d been brought to the jail.

  “How did you get all this put together on a Saturday?”

  “I’ll answer that because it’s a mundane question, but there are quite a few people who don’t want to see you spend the night in jail. Once Mr. Grant knew I had the money, he was thrilled to drive to Bethel to get it.”

  “The bond fee would be at least $100,000. That money is gone.”

  “True, but if you hadn’t jerked me out of the river, I would be permanently on vacation from planet Earth. Organizing the effort to get you out was the least I could do.”

  “You’ve got to—”

  Hal held up his hand. “Please, I’m not answering that kind of question.”

  “You know the charges against me?”

  “Yes, you allegedly stole money from Pelham Financial, but there are people who don’t believe that’s possible.”

  “When word gets around that you’ve helped me
get out, you’ll lose your job.”

  Hal gave him a grim smile. “When I used to go to Sunday school, I remember the teacher saying something about counting the cost before building a house. That’s what I did, and it’s too late to back out now. If I lose my job, I’ll have to find another one. I’ve already answered more questions than I intended to.” Hal pointed toward the door. “There are reporters outside hoping for a crack at you. Unless you want to wade through a sea of microphones and cameras, I made arrangements for you to sneak out a different way.”

  “I don’t have anything to say to the media.”

  “Then follow me.”

  Hal led the way into the hallway Tom had just left.

  “I was meeting with Elias in the visitation room when a guard pulled me out and brought me here,” Tom said. “If he’s still here, he could give me a ride. I need to pick up my car. It’s at the parking lot for the trail up to the painted rock.”

  “Let Elias leave without you. I was outside when he arrived, and no one seemed to notice him. They’ll figure out soon enough that you’ve been staying with him. For now, let me get you away from here. I can take you to your car. From there, you’re on your own.”

  Hal stuck his head in a doorway. “Bobby, we’d like to go out the back way.”

  A young deputy sheriff joined them and unlocked a metal door with a key. It opened into a deserted kitchen area. They walked through the kitchen to a double door that the deputy unlocked with another key. Beyond the door was a loading dock. Hal’s truck was backed up to the dock.

  “Thanks,” Hal said to the deputy. “I’ll get you four tickets to the Georgia-Auburn game.”

  “Thanks, Hal. My father-in-law won’t believe it when I tell him we can go.”

  The deputy closed the doors behind Hal and Tom.

  “The tint on these windows is so thick it’s barely legal,” Hal said, “but you should probably sit on the floor until we’re away from here.”

  Tom pulled up his knees so he could squeeze into the floorboard space. Hal drove away from the dock.

  “Let’s see,” he said after he made a right-hand turn. “I’ll describe the scene for you. There are three TV trucks with their antennas sticking up in the air. It looks like the evening news is going to have to run without a live shot of the accused.”

  “The sheriff’s department will release my mug shot,” Tom replied from his hiding place. “Or they’ll use a photo of when I stuck my head out the door into the exercise yard for a few seconds.”

  “I’d recommend one of the pictures from the newspaper article about you saving my life,” Hal replied. “I’m sure the reporters will get statements from Charlie Williams and someone at Pelham to spice it up.”

  “Williams told me Arthur Pelham and Owen Harrelson are in town.”

  “Maybe. I’m not on the distribution list for Mr. Pelham’s daily itinerary, and nobody wants to see Harrelson coming. He only pays a visit when someone is in trouble.”

  The truck stopped.

  “We’re at the stoplight at the intersection of Cornwell and Dantszler Streets,” Hal said. “In a couple of blocks, I think it will be safe for you to sit up. I’d hate to get stopped by the police and get a ticket because you’re not wearing a seat belt.”

  The truck moved forward.

  “How can I thank the people who contributed toward my bond if I don’t know who they are?” Tom asked.

  “I’ll do that for you.”

  They drove a bit farther.

  “Okay,” Hal said, “the coast is clear.”

  Tom hoisted himself onto the passenger seat of the truck. They were on the outskirts of town. They passed a house with a light on in the kitchen. Inside, Tom could see a family preparing to sit down for supper. He was struck by how normal everything looked outside the truck’s windows. Hal turned onto the highway, and the truck picked up speed. Tom suddenly felt very tired. He leaned his head back until it touched the headrest and closed his eyes. He felt the truck go around several corners.

  “Here we are,” Hal said as he turned into the gravel parking lot. “Your car is still here.”

  Tom opened his eyes. In the fading light he could see a layer of dust covering his vehicle. “I don’t have words to tell you—”

  “Then don’t mess up by trying.”

  “But I appreciate you believing in me.”

  “I’m not sure what happened and what didn’t, but I couldn’t stand the thought of you sitting in a jail cell.”

  “Somehow I’ll pay back the bond fee.”

  “That would be nice, but it’s not what you need to be thinking about. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

  Tom shook Hal’s hand and got out of the truck. By the time Tom unlocked the door of his car, Hal had left the parking area in a cloud of red dust. Tom followed at a slower pace. He wasn’t sure exactly where he should go. Fatigue beckoned him toward Elias’s house, but he was worried he might encounter reporters lurking at the end of the driveway.

  Instead of going home, Tom retraced the route to Bethel.

  He drove to his father’s office. The parking spaces in front of the building were empty. Yellow police tape was stretched across the front door. Tom drove around the corner and parked at the back of the building. He put on the camouflage cap Elias gave him and pulled it down over his eyes. Walking around the corner to the office, he slipped under the police tape and inspected the lock on the door. There was no sign of forced entry. He went inside but didn’t turn on the light in the reception area. Going directly into his father’s office, he closed the door and turned on the lights.

  Other than the missing laptop computer, everything seemed to be in its place; however, when he opened the desk drawers all the information and documents related to the designated trust account were missing. The burglars knew what they were after. The thought that someone had violated the privacy of the office made his skin crawl. Not sure if he’d locked the front door behind him, Tom turned out the light, returned to the reception area, and flipped the lock shut. He put his hand to the glass door and peered outside.

  It was dark. The street was deserted. Tom went back into his father’s office and sat behind the desk. The Bible he’d been reading rested on top of a legal pad on which he’d written his thoughts and prayers. There was no indication anyone had disturbed them. Neither did Tom. If he went to prison, he’d have plenty of time to read the Bible—if he wanted to.

  A loud banging noise startled him, and he spun around. A face was pressed against the glass door.

  chapter

  THIRTY-ONE

  It was Noah Keller.

  The dark-haired detective held up his badge and motioned for Tom to open the door. Tom unlocked the door and cracked it open.

  “You can’t be in here,” the detective said. “This is a crime scene.”

  “And it’s my office,” Tom replied.

  “Is your name on the lease?”

  “No, but I’m here as executor of my father’s estate. There was a burglary, and I have a right to find out what was taken.”

  Keller scowled. “I’m not going to argue with you, Mr. Crane. Either leave now or I’m going to take you back to the jail.”

  Tom stepped outside and locked the door.

  “And I’ll take that key,” Keller said.

  All fight drained out of him, Tom placed the key in the detective’s hand.

  “This will be tagged and placed in the evidence locker at the jail. You’ll receive a receipt in the mail within the next five to seven business days.”

  Tom walked around the corner to his car. When he drove past the office, Keller was snooping around in the reception area.

  The exhaustion Tom felt earlier returned, and by the time he reached the end of Elias’s driveway his eyelids were heavy. Fortunately, no posse of reporters was camped out near the mailbox. He parked beneath the large oak tree and trudged up the steps onto the porch. The front door was locked, a sure sign Elias had been bot
hered by news seekers. Tom unlocked the door and went inside. Rover was lying on his side in the front room. Elias wasn’t in sight. The dog woofed in greeting and trotted over to Tom. A glob of drool fell out of the dog’s mouth onto the floor. The sight made Tom long for the days when cleaning up Rover’s slobber was one of the bigger hassles he faced. The light was on in Elias’s study. The door opened, and the old man came out. He narrowed his eyes and gave Tom a strange look.

  “Are you Tom’s angel?” he asked.

  “Uh, no.”

  Elias brushed his hand across his eyes and stared at Tom again. “How did you get out of jail?”

  “Hal Millsap and an unknown group of friends put together the money to pay a bondsman in Chattanooga. I’ve been out since shortly after you came to visit.”

  “Where have you been?”

  Tom told Elias about his encounter with Noah Keller.

  “I have a spare key to the office,” Elias said. “It’s on the hook in the kitchen.”

  “That’s not necessary. I’m not sure what I expected to find, but I don’t want to go back and risk getting thrown back in jail.”

  “When you left the visitation room, I had no idea what was going to happen to you, so I came home to pray,” Elias said.

  “We’re past the point of that doing any good.”

  Elias didn’t argue.

  “Did any reporters try to talk to you?” Tom asked.

  “Around suppertime a young man and a young woman knocked on the door and said they were from Atlanta.”

  “What did they ask you?” he asked.

  “Not much after I quoted a few verses for them about how the Lord detests it when the innocent are deprived of justice and the guilty go free. There are several passages like that in Proverbs.”

  “Did they take any pictures?”

  “Not of me. The young man had a camera and took photographs of the house. After they left, I locked the door so I wouldn’t be bothered.”

  “I’m sorry for the embarrassment this is causing you—” Tom began.