She told Jeffrey, “Stand here,” pointing to the foot of the bed.
“What are you going to do?”
“There’s nothing to attach the thread to on this end,” she said. “I need to use you.”
“Okay,” he agreed, and she went back to each piece of thread, probably thirty in all, and judging the angle as best she could without the proper instruments, she followed the angle of the splatter, pinning the ends of the thread to Jeffrey’s clothing. She used the black tape to highlight where the yellow threads crossed. By the time she had finished, Sara had worked up quite a sweat in the closed room, but it was well worth the effort.
“His head was here,” Jeffrey said, indicating the point at which all the string converged. The black electrical tape represented the area of impact, like some sort of forensic spider on a web, showing the exact spot where the bullet exploded out blood, bone, and brain.
Sara had already gotten her jeans dirty crawling around on the bloody carpet, but she was hesitant to put herself where Swan had been kneeling when he was shot. He must have been a few feet from the bed when the bullet hit. She said, “He was a little shorter than I am, so his head must have been about here, give or take a few inches because of miscalculations on my part.”
“Jessie was in bed,” Jeffrey said, not moving because of the string. “Swan must have been on his knees in front of her.”
Sara saw what could have been an outline of a handprint. “Here,” she said. “Do you see this?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Swan must have had his hand there. Maybe he was leaning against the bed, using it for balance.”
“He was facing this way,” Sara said, indicating the bed. “The bullet entered the side of his head, here,” she put her fingers to the space above her ear. “It came out low on the other side.” She indicated the glob of flesh still stuck to the bedside table. “This is his earlobe.”
“So it fits,” Jeffrey said. “Robert was standing over here about where I am and Swan was kneeling beside the bed, doing whatever.”
“He was facing Jessie.”
Jeffrey’s shoulders slumped, and the string went with him. “What he said was right, then. He didn’t even give him a warning. He just shot him in cold blood.”
“Let’s get these off,” Sara said, meaning the pins. “This doesn’t tell us why.”
“The why is clear enough,” he said, helping her with the pins. “He saw another man fucking his wife. I’d feel the same way.”
“You wouldn’t shoot someone.”
“I don’t know what I’d do,” Jeffrey said. “If I saw you with somebody else…”
“Robert saw them first,” Sara said, still trying to think it through. “He wasn’t carrying his gun when he walked in the first time.”
“No,” Jeffrey agreed. “He must have gone back out into the room or his truck or wherever the fuck it is he keeps his gun.”
“Then he came back,” Sara continued. “That’s premeditation.”
“I know,” Jeffrey said, dropping some pins into the plastic box.
She wound up the string, wondering what they were going to do now. Robert had already confessed. Their purpose here had been to try in some way to break his story. They had done nothing more than proven he had shot the man with premeditation. It was the difference between ten years with early release and death row.
Car tires screeched outside, and Jeffrey said, “I wonder what—” just as a door slammed. They both walked to the front of house to see who was there. Jeffrey threw open the door just as a woman was raising her fist to bang on it.
“You!” she screamed, her voice reminding Sara of a gravel truck. “You fucking bastard, I knew you’d be here!”
Jeffrey tried to close the door but the woman inserted herself in the house. The smell of her hit Sara first, the metallic tinge of menstrual blood, though the woman was well past that time in her life. She was enormous, probably a hundred pounds overweight, with a face that was a mask of sheer rage.
“You fucking pig!” the woman screamed, punching her hand into Jeffrey’s chest.
“Lane—” he began, holding up his hands to stop her.
“You killed my daughter, you murdering bastard!” she bellowed. “You and your fucking friends aren’t going to get away with this!”
Jeffrey tried to push her out the door, but she was able to keep it open by sheer force of weight. She punched her hands into Jeffrey’s chest again, this time hard enough to knock him back into the house. The door flew open as he fell to the floor.
Sara went to him, telling the woman, “Stop!” before she could help herself.
She turned on Sara, giving her the kind of up-and-down appraisal that she would probably give a leper. “I heard about you,” she said. “You fucking slut. You don’t even know what kind of trash you’re with.”
Jeffrey had managed to stand, but he was breathing hard, and Sara wondered if the force of the punch had broken one of his ribs.
Sara hissed, “Who is this?”
“Eric!” the woman called back into the yard. “Get in here. You, too, Sonny.”
Jeffrey leaned hard against the wall, like he needed help to stay up. Sara was about to ask him what was going on when she saw two young boys walking up the porch stairs. They were pitiful creatures, undernourished and filthy. Sara was reminded of two baby birds who had fallen out of their nest and been abandoned by their mother, and she felt angry just looking at them. What sort of person could allow such neglect? Who could treat two children this way?
The woman grabbed one of the boys by the back of his neck and thrust him toward Jeffrey. “Say hello to your father, you little bastard.”
Sara caught the boy before he fell. Under his dirty gray shirt she could feel his ribs poking through.
The woman said, “This is the asshole who raped your mama.”
Sara felt as if her throat had closed. She looked at Jeffrey but he would not meet her gaze.
“Rape?” Sara managed, the word echoing in her head like a bell.
“You pig,” the woman told Jeffrey. “Be a fucking man and take some responsibility for once in your pathetic life.”
“Please,” Sara said to the woman, trying to concentrate on the things she could control. “Don’t do this in front of the children.”
“Don’t do what?” the woman demanded. “Boy needs to know his father. Ain’t that right, Eric? Don’t you wanna meet the man who raped and killed your mama?”
Eric looked up at Jeffrey, curious, but Jeffrey’s face was stone, and he did not even glance at the child.
“Are you okay?” Sara asked the boy, using her fingers to push his dirty hair out of his eyes. He was tall enough to be Jared’s age, but there was something sickly about him. She could see odd-looking bruises on his arms and legs. She asked, “Are you sick?”
The woman answered for him. “He’s got bad blood,” she said. “Just like his piece-of-shit father.”
“Get out of here,” Jeffrey growled, his voice a warning. “You don’t belong here.”
“You’re gonna let Robert pay for this,” she said. “You fucking coward.”
“You don’t know anything about it.”
“I know I got medical bills out the ass,” she yelled back. “Nobody on my side of the family’s ever had this kind of shit.” She gave the boy a look of pure hatred, like she could not stand being near him. “You think I’m made of money? You think I can afford to rush this’un up to the hospital for a transfusion every time he falls down?”
Jeffrey warned, “Get the fuck out of here before I call Hoss.”
She stood her ground. “Bring him on! Bring him on right now and we’ll settle this once and for all.”
“There’s nothing to settle,” Jeffrey shot back. “Nothing’s changed, Lane. You can’t do anything now.”
“The hell you say,” she told him. “Everybody knows you raped her.”
“The statute of limitations on that ran out three years ago,” he told he
r, and the fact that he knew this sent a cold shiver through Sara’s spine. “Even if you had something, they couldn’t touch me.”
The woman shoved her fat finger into Jeffrey’s face. “I’ll fucking kill you myself, you goddamn bastard.”
“Ma’am,” Sara tried, keeping her hands on Eric, not wanting to let him go. He seemed a million miles away, as if he was used to adults behaving this way. The boy who remained in the yard was playing with a plastic toy truck, his lips making engine noises. Still, Sara said, “Let’s not do this in front of the children.”
“Who the fuck are you?” she laughed. “Just who the fuck do you think you are?”
Sara stood up, anger compelling her to speak. “I know that this child is sick. He’s filthy. How can you let him get like this?” She indicated the other boy. “Him, too. I should call child services on you.”
“Go ahead and call them,” she said. “You think I give a shit? Two less mouths to feed.” Still, even as she said this she reached out her hand, indicating Eric should come to her. The boy followed the command, and Sara reached to stop him, her fingers brushing his arm. She could feel raised welts where the black and blue marks riddled his skin.
The woman told Sara, “Your boyfriend here raped my daughter.”
Sara felt light-headed. She put her hand out to the wall to keep herself steady.
“He raped her and got her pregnant, and when she asked him for help, he killed her, and left me to raise his little bastard of a son.” The woman shoved her finger back in Jeffrey’s face. “This isn’t over.”
“Yes,” he said. “It is.”
“You tell that fucking buddy of yours if I see him in the street, he’s a dead man.”
“Why don’t I tell Hoss and he can run you in for making threats?”
“You fucking coward,” she said, her lips twisting into a sneer as she coughed in the back of her throat. Before Jeffrey could move away, she spit on his face.
“This isn’t over,” she repeated, grabbing Eric by the wrist. He already had bruises up and down his arm, but the child did not protest. The other boy in the yard trotted back to the car, looking for all the world as if his mother had told him they were going for ice cream.
Jeffrey took out his handkerchief and carefully unfolded it. He patted his face, wiping off the spit.
Sara took several minutes to find her voice. She kept hearing the woman’s accusation over and over in her head. Finally, she managed, “Do you want to tell me what that was about?”
“No.”
She threw her hands into the air, feeling angry and vulnerable. “Jeffrey, she said you raped her daughter.”
“Do you believe her?” he asked, looking her right in the eye. “Do you believe I raped somebody? That I killed somebody?”
She had been too shocked to let her mind fully consider the possibility. The accusation had hit her like a hammer, knocking her senseless.
“Sara?”
“I don’t…” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”
“Then we don’t have much to say to each other,” he told her, walking away.
“Wait,” she told him, following him down the driveway. “Jeffrey.” He did not turn around, and she had to run to catch up with him. “Talk to me.”
“Looks like you’ve already made up your mind.”
“Why won’t you tell me what happened?”
He stopped, turning to face her. “Why won’t you let it be, Sara? Why can’t you just trust me?”
“It’s not a matter of trust,” Sara told him. “My God, that woman says you raped her daughter. She says you have a son.”
“That’s bullshit,” he snapped. “You think I could have a kid and not know it? There’s no way.”
Sara remembered Jared, and bit back the urge to throw Nell’s secret in his face.
“What?” he demanded, mistaking her reticence for something more sinister. “You know what? Fuck this.” He continued to walk down the street, obviously exasperated. “I thought you were different. I thought you were somebody I could trust.”
“It’s not an issue of trust.”
“ ‘Issue,’ ” he repeated. “Fuck that.”
“Oh, that’s really mature,” she said, mocking him. “ ‘Fuck that.’ ”
She tried to grab his shoulder to stop him but he jerked away, advising, “You wanna leave me alone right now.”
“Why?” she asked. “Are you going to rape me, too? Strangle me?”
He had been angry before, livid, but she read his hurt like an open book, immediately regretting her words.
Sara tried to take it back, but he shook his head like he did not trust himself to talk. He held up his finger to her, as if to make a point, but still he said nothing. Finally, he shook his head again and continued down the street, walking toward his mother’s house.
“Shit,” Sara whispered, tucking her hands into her hips. Why did everything have to be so difficult between them? The minute things were going well, something—usually someone—came along and ruined it. Rape. She could handle anything they said about him but this. Why had he not told her before? Why hadn’t he trusted her? Probably for the same reasons she did not completely trust him.
Nell was sitting on the front steps when Sara walked up to the house, and she stood, holding her hand out to Sara, saying, “I saw Lane Kendall’s car up at Robert’s. What did that old cow say to you?”
Sara opened her mouth and to her surprise burst into tears.
“Oh, honey,” Nell said, leading her into the house. “Come here.” She pulled Sara toward the couch. “Sit down.”
Sara sat, and Nell hugged her. She felt ridiculous and grateful at the same time, and her words came in jagged murmurs between sobs as she let everything out that she had wanted to tell Jeffrey. “Those poor children.”
“I know.”
“They looked so dirty, so hungry.”
Nell shook her head, tsking.
“I don’t want to feel this way.”
“Oh, now,” Nell said, stroking her hair. “Shh…”
“What happened?” she begged. “Please just tell me what happened.”
“Come on,” Nell soothed, taking a Kleenex out of the box. She held the tissue to Sara’s nose and said, “Blow.”
Sara did as she was instructed, feeling silly for her outburst. She sat up, wiping her eyes with another tissue. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s a wonder you haven’t broken down before this,” Nell said, taking another tissue to wipe her own eyes.
“Those children…” Sara murmured. “Those poor boys.”
“I know. It makes my stomach ache every time I see them.”
“Why can’t anyone do something?”
“Don’t ask me,” she said. “I’d put an ad in the paper if I thought someone would take them.”
Sara tried to laugh, but she could not. “What about children’s services?”
“You wanna know something funny?”
Sara waited.
“She used to work for them.”
“No,” Sara said. She could not believe it.
“She did,” Nell confirmed. “About fifteen years ago she was a caseworker at the Department of Family and Children’s Services. Then she got into a car accident on the way to do a house visit and sued the county and the state and anybody else she could get her hands on. Between her disability and whatever she got from the settlement, she’s not hurting for money.”
“Where does she spend it?”
“Not on any of her kids,” Nell answered ruefully. “The upshot is, she knows all the rules. She knows how to get around having those kids taken away. D-FACS is scared of her. If it wasn’t for Hoss making drop-bys every now and then, she’d probably put those two boys in a closet and throw away the key.”
“What’s wrong with the youngest?”
“Some blood thing,” Nell said. “He’s always having to get transfusions.”
“Hemophilia?” sh
e asked, thinking Nell probably meant infusions. Even in a town as small as Sylacauga, the doctors would know better.
“No, something else like that, but not hemophilia,” Nell told her. “State pays all the bills, I’m sure.”
Sara sank back into the sofa, feeling an overwhelming exhaustion. The two women sat there in silence, and for some reason Sara told her, “I was raped.”
For once, Nell did not respond.
“I’ve never said that out loud,” she said. “I mean, the actual words. I always say I was attacked or I was hurt….” She pressed her lips together. “I was raped.”
Nell let her take her time.
“It was when I worked in Atlanta,” Sara said, adding, “Jeffrey doesn’t know.” She picked at a piece of string on the cushion.
Nell gave Sara a moment before saying, “I guess we’ve each got our secrets from him.”
“I’ve never felt like this with a man,” Sara said. “Not about anybody.” She tried to find a way to articulate it. “I feel totally out of control, like no matter what my brain tells me, there’s this little thing in the back of my head saying, ‘No, don’t listen to them. You can’t live without him.’ ”
Nell repeated, “He has that effect on women.”
“I just want…” She threw her hands into the air. “I don’t know what I want.” She picked at the string again. “I can’t even tell him to his face that I love him, but every time I see him or even think about him…”
Nell took another tissue and handed it to Sara. “I never believed it,” she told her. “What they said about him and Julia.”
“What exactly did they say?”
“That Jeffrey and Robert raped her in the woods.”
Sara bit her bottom lip. Nell had said the words matter-of-factly, but they still had power. The word “rape” in and of itself was the most obscene sort of profanity.
“She was a slut,” Nell said. “Not that that’s any excuse. Hell, my sister Marinell was a bigger slut, but she knew better than to brag about it.”
“Tell me everything,” Sara said. “Jeffrey won’t.”
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