The Victims’ Coordinator nodded.
“No matter who you are or what type of license you have including a conceal carry license,” the Victims’ Coordinator said.
“You were warned not to bring your telephones or digital gadgets,” the Victims’ Coordinator said. “There are a few of you who have specific permission to help victims who weren’t able to attend in person. If the police find you with your camera, phone, or a device you do not have written permission to have with you, your device will be confiscated and donated to the Denver Road House. It will not be returned to you. If you manage to sneak it in, the defendant can claim that his civil rights have been violated. That will cause a mistrial, and this entire process will start over again.”
A few people groaned and shuffled around. A couple of men squeezed out of the room. The Victims’ Coordinator turned to Samantha Hargreaves.
“Is there anything you’d like to add?” the Victims’ Coordinator asked.
“I . . .” Samantha started.
A small woman, she was invisible to most of the room. Her brother, Colin, set a chair in front of her and helped her onto it. She waved when she was up.
“I know that, at this moment, you feel triumphant,” Samantha said. “That’s normal. This man has hurt you so badly and in so many ways. You may feel elated to get into the courtroom and start this process.”
“I want you to know that the next few hours are going to be brutally hard,” Samantha said. “Please take care of yourselves. We’ve asked a number of Victim’s Advocates to attend the session.”
“Victims’ Advocates? Can you raise your hands?” the Victims’ Coordinator asked.
A number of women and a couple of men raised their hands.
“These Advocates are here to help and support you,” Samantha said. “If you get overwhelmed or have trouble, just ask for help by raising your hand. Don’t try to tough it out. No one will think badly of you if you need a break or get some help. While there’s nothing easy about any of this process, these final moments can be brutally hard.”
“I am going to be up front with the District Attorney,” Samantha said. “I am still fighting for you. I will watch like a hawk to make absolutely certain every single thing that happens is in your best interest. If not, I will object. The judge has already said he will do whatever is best for the victims.”
Samantha nodded and stepped down off the chair.
“How do you feel?” Heather asked Tink in a low voice.
“Really scared,” Tink said. “I wish Charlie or Sissy were here.”
“Val has them on her tablet,” Heather said. She waved for Valerie to come over. “Do you want to talk to them before we go in?”
“It’s not the same,” Tink said.
“It’s not,” Heather said. She put her arm around Tink.
As people started to move out of the room, Ivy came up to Tink, and the girls hugged. Valerie made it to them. Noelle was right behind Valerie. With Valerie’s help, the girls talked to Charlie and Tink before heading into the courtroom. They easily made it through the metal detectors and the search. Behind them, a father was arguing over his handgun. Heather gave the father a soft look before heading into the courtroom. Because they were one of the first, Tink and Ivy were able to save seats for Noelle, Nash, Teddy, and Wanda. Valerie sat next to Tink. Aden and Erik, Wanda’s father, sat right behind them. Sandy and Jill sat together near the wall.
They waited almost ten minutes, until all the victims were in the courtroom.
“Please rise!” the Bailiff called.
They stood in their seats, and the judge came into the courtroom.
“You may be seated,” the judge said.
And the proceeding began.
Chapter Three Hundred and Ninety-Six
Clogged
Wednesday afternoon — 2:55 p.m.
Jacob wiped his nose on the sleeve of his jacket and sat up.
“Classy,” Mike said.
Mike gestured to the snot smear on Jacob’s jacket. Jacob moved his arm away from him so that he could look at it. Blane grinned.
“Snotty, more like,” Blane said.
Despite his sorrow, Jacob joined them in a laugh. After a few moments, he sighed.
“I’m freezing,” Jacob said. “Let’s go inside.”
Jacob got up.
“Ya gots to have warm testicles to make us a son,” Jacob said to Mike, in a terrible imitation of a Scottish Accent. He gestured to Blane. “That’s why he has sons.”
“How would you know the temperature of my testicles?” Blane asked as he got to his feet.
“I has my ways,” Jacob said.
Laughing, Mike got up. Blane grabbed the milk; Mike took the bowls; and Jacob cuddled the cereal as they went inside.
“I have beer,” Mike said, gesturing to his apartment a few feet away.
Jacob nodded. They followed Mike into his apartment. Mike nodded toward the leather couch, but Jacob took a seat at the bar in the kitchen. Mike went to the refrigerator.
“Blane?” Mike asked.
“Water,” Blane said. “Can’t have beer yet.”
Nodding, Mike took out two bottles of beer and a bottle of expensive carbonated water some producer had given Valerie. Mike slid a beer across the counter to Jacob. Blane took a glass down from the cabinet and poured himself a glass of the fancy water. Jacob opened his beer, and Blane took a seat next to Jacob. Mike leaned on the counter across from them.
“I guess I do need to talk,” Jacob said.
Mike and Blane looked up at him. Mike make a flourishing “go ahead” gesture with his hand. Jacob took a swallow of beer and fell silent.
“Why don’t you start with the Sea of Amber?” Blane asked.
“Did Aden call you, too?” Mike asked.
“Came in while I was packing Jacob’s office,” Blane said. “When did Aden become such a girl?”
Mike and Jacob laughed. Blane smirked.
“I’m telling you, those marriage classes are emasculating,” Blane said.
“Hey!” Mike exclaimed. “I went to those marriage classes.”
“I rest my case,” Blane said.
Jacob and Mike laughed.
“Got any lime?” Blane asked.
Mike gestured to the refrigerator, and Blane got up to look.
“Bottom shelf,” Mike said.
Blane leaned over to get the lime, and Jacob sighed. Jacob set his beer down on the counter around the time that Blane turned around with the lime in his hand. Blane went to get a knife.
“How do you know where everything is in my kitchen?” Mike asked Blane.
“Every kitchen in this building is set up the same way,” Blane said as he cut the lime.
“How could you possibly know that?” Mike asked.
“I helped Jake put most of them together,” Blane said.
“Why?” Mike asked.
“I was living here,” Blane said.
“Why don’t I remember that?” Mike asked.
Blane slapped the back of Mike’s head as he passed. Mike reached to grab him, but Blane was too fast. Blane sat down next to Jacob. He gave Jacob a piece of lime and slid one across the bar for Mike.
“Limes are for girls,” Mike said as he put the lime into his beer.
“Something you’d like to share?” Jacob asked.
Mike and Blane laughed. Jacob smirked and took another swallow of beer.
“I keep thinking,” Jacob started.
Jacob looked up to see if Mike and Blane were listening. Their eyes were riveted on his face. Jacob nodded.
“I keep thinking that I can swallow it away, swallow it down,” Jacob said. He took another drink of beer. “But it . . .”
He gestured to his throat.
“Stuck in your craw,” Blane said with a nod. “I think that’s what that expression means.”
“You just have to start talking,” Mike said. “Doesn’t matter where you start. You just have to start.”
/> “Sea of Amber,” Jacob said. His eyes flicked up to look at Mike. “It sounds like a place like the Mediterranean Sea or Loch Ness. I guess from the outside, it’s like that.”
“Like what?” Blane asked.
“A place,” Jacob said. “Something outside of yourself, you know. There’s me.”
Jacob held up his hand.
“There’s beer,” Jacob said. He poured a drop of beer, onto the palm of his hand. “A place.”
“You have to admit that a lake of beer would be pretty awesome,” Mike said.
Jacob smiled at Mike’s way of easing the pressure. Mike nodded. Blane put his hand on Jacob’s shoulder.
“The Sea of Amber isn’t a place?” Blane asked.
Jacob shook his head. He finished his beer and they sat in silence.
“I guess dying would be the same way,” Jacob said with a nod. “But it would just happen faster and might be less . . .”
“Dying?” Mike jumped to his feet. “What are you talking about?”
Jacob looked up at Mike with eyes filled with angst.
“I think he’s saying that the Sea of Amber isn’t like being in water,” Blane said. “It’s more personal than that, more intimate.”
“There’s no Sea of Amber,” Jacob said. “No separation between me and the . . .”
Jacob fell silent and scowled.
“Dark,” Blane said, finally.
Jacob nodded.
“I’m not saying what you went through was easier, or different, really,” Jacob said. “But someone did it to you.”
“Someone outside of yourself,” Blane said.
“Are you the Jacob translator?” Mike asked.
“Yes, I am,” Blane said.
Jacob and Mike laughed. Blane grinned. Mike grabbed the empty beer bottles, tossed them in the recycling bin, and went to the refrigerator. He returned with beer and lime slices. He made faces at Blane, who laughed.
“One moment, I was fast asleep in my bed,” Jacob said. “Inside my body, inside my mind. My bed was in the Castle on Race Street. I worked at Lipson Construction. The Castle and Lipson Construction are located in Denver, which is a city in Colorado. Colorado is a state in the middle of the country of the United States of America. The United States of America sits on the continent of North America, which floats on a planet that miraculously circles the sun.”
Jacob stopped talking to catch his breath.
“Jill was by my side. Katy was a baby monitor away. The boys . . .” Jacob scowled. “The next minute, I’m talking to Fin or some creature I thought was Fin.”
Jacob twisted open his beer.
“Then . . .” Jacob touched his chest. “There was no body. There was no mind. There was no bed, no children, no Castle, no Jill, no Denver, no . . .”
Lost in memory, Jacob nodded to finish his sentence.
“There was just me,” Jacob said, “just the essence of me because I don’t think I had even a soul or a spirit. One minute, I live inside all of these homes. The next minute, it’s just me and . . .”
Jacob stopped talking and stared across the kitchen.
“The dark?” Mike asked after a moment.
Jacob’s eyes flicked to Mike.
“Sure,” Jacob said. “But it was more personal than that. It was like my personal dark . . . my darkest thoughts. Thoughts I didn’t know that I had. Thoughts that were just outside of my consciousness. Thoughts that . . . my . . .”
Jacob looked at Mike and then Blane.
“I feel like an idiot saying this to you,” Jacob said. He looked at Blane. “You had such an awful childhood and . . . everything. And you, Mike, were Roper’s punching bag. But I . . .”
Jacob put his hand on his chest.
“I was so loved,” Jacob said. “I had problems — I mean, everyone has problems — but I had my mother and . . .”
“Sam,” Blane said with a nod.
“Nothing really affected me,” Jacob said. “It sounds stupid, I know it does, but everything that happened to me was filtered through Mom or Dad or Delphie, even. I never . . . faced it all on my own.”
Jacob sighed. Embarrassed, he looked down. Blane put his arm around Jacob’s shoulders.
“I talked to Delphie,” Jacob said. “After we got back. I asked her what it was like for her. She laughed and said it was like living with Johansen. The dark didn’t affect her because she was kind of used to it. But I . . . never . . .”
Jacob shook his head.
“And there I was,” Jacob continued. “Face to face with self-loathing and cruelty. Every horrible memory. Every moment of shame. Naked, but worse than naked because I had no skin, no barrier. I was completely defenseless.”
Jacob stopped talking. He looked at his beer before downing it.
“I’ve always been special,” Jacob said. He tossed the beer bottle in the air and moved it easily into the recycle bin with his mind. “Special isn’t easy, but I felt . . . good, solid with being different, being a Marlowe, from a long line of weirdos. Then suddenly, I was not special. I wasn’t anything. I was just there — weak, alone, vulnerable — surrounded by . . . my own dark.”
Without even taking a breath, Jacob pressed on.
“There’s so much dark, horrible in this world,” Jacob said. “Love is no defense against it. And you cannot fight it. Warfare, even arguments, feed into this evil. Self-loathing. We have so much, and everyone hates themselves. It’s like the entire country is set up to enhance people’s hatred of themselves. There is nothing in this world but . . . despair.”
“And Lipson?” Jacob raised his eyebrows as if they’d asked him a question. “Lipson is one nightmare after another. One whiny client or corrupt state official or bullshit employee or broken-down piece of equipment after another. It’s kept me . . .”
Jacob shrugged.
“Going,” Jacob said finally.
“Jake,” Mike said in a low voice. When Jacob didn’t respond, Mike reached across the counter and shook him by the shoulders.
“What?” Jacob asked.
“You’re wrong,” Mike said.
“What are you talking about?” Jacob asked. “You, of all people, know that there’s no way to fight all of the evil in this world. We are evil. Our very cells are made up of evil. We should just detonate our nuclear bombs and wipe us out.”
Blane put his arms around Jacob, kissed the top of his head, and pushed him back into his chair.
“I love you, brother,” Blane said. “But you’re wrong.”
“How can you say that I’m wrong?” Jacob asked. “You, of all people. You know what people are capable of!”
“I do,” Blane said. “I know they are capable of great love. I know they are capable of heroic deeds — like what you and Celia did to save me or what that Army team did to save Mike.”
“But that . . .” Jacob said.
“I think that’s what the Sea of Amber did,” Blane said.
“What?” Mike asked.
“It convinced you that the darkness, the negative, was more real than the overwhelming, everyday beauty of this world,” Blane said with a nod.
Jacob shot Blane a look like he was crazy.
“Think of Lipson,” Blane continued. “How much of your day was actually spent dealing with problems? In hours. How much?”
“All day,” Jacob said with a sigh.
“Why don’t we check it out?” Blane asked with a shrug. “I still have your schedule. Let’s look.”
Blane took out his smartphone. He clicked around until he pulled up a day from a few months before.
“Let’s see . . .” Blane said. “This is kind of a random Wednesday. We started with . . .”
“Breakfast,” Jacob said, looking over Blane’s shoulder. “Problem solving.”
“Some,” Blane said. “But this was the day we went to Pete’s — remember? Everyone came up to talk to you about Jill and the boys? Remember Sam showed up? I remember because it was just before I went into the hospital.�
��
Blane scrolled down the schedule.
“Look, we went out to Jerry’s site to celebrate completion?” Blane asked.
“The owner was thrilled,” Jacob said.
Jacob flipped to the next day and scrolled down the schedule. He scowled and took the phone from Blane. He flipped through the day-by-day schedule.
“Huh,” Jacob said. “Did you change this?”
“No,” Blane said. “I always kept track so we could do the end-of-the-year audit. You wanted to be sure how you actually spent your time. You used it to give bonuses and to let go of problem projects.”
“There aren’t problem people . . .” Jacob repeated as if in a trance. “I remember feeling that way.”
Jacob nodded. For a moment, he fell silent.
“What happened to me?” Jacob asked in a low voice.
“The Sea of Amber is a legendary place,” Mike said. “My dad, Perses, told me that the original stories about hell were told by people who’d been stuck in the Sea of Amber. It’s a horrible place. He said they intentionally dropped all stories about the Sea of Amber to keep people from wanting to explore it.”
Mike shook his head.
“You talk about what happened to Blane or me,” Mike said with a quick shake of his head. “What we went through had good and bad to it. Blane loved the jerk who ruined his career. I . . . saw the sun every day, felt its warmth. We worked in the fields and . . . There were moments of laughter and joy mixed in with all of the horrors. Children playing . . .”
“Laughter,” Blane said with a nod.
“But the Sea of Amber . . .” Mike said with a shake of his head. “I think it’s clogged your pores.”
Mike waved to his head to indicate Jacob’s psychic abilities.
“That’s why you didn’t know about being done at Lipson,” Blane said with a nod. “You’re clogged with amber.”
“I remember being . . . different, feeling different, but it’s been so long, such a long time,” Jacob said.
“A couple months,” Mike said.
Olney Springs Page 10
