Secrets Never Told

by Raegan Teller

  ◆◆◆

  At the Glitter Lake Inn, Theo had made a special lunch for Enid and Madelyn. They were seated on the balcony off the library at a small table for two, which was covered in a crisply pressed white cloth. The poached salmon salad was topped with Theo’s family-recipe vinaigrette and served with small buttery biscuits. An assortment of chocolate and lemon cookies finished the meal.

  Madelyn pushed back from the table and put her napkin beside her plate. “Only Theo can make a salad a memorable meal. That was delicious.”

  “I agree. He’s amazing,” Enid said.

  Madelyn glanced at the time on her Apple watch. “You said you had some questions.”

  Enid pulled a folder from her leather tote and handed the article to Madelyn. “Do you remember this trial?”

  Madelyn scanned the article again. “Yes, vaguely. Why?”

  “Do you recall if there was talk around town about the verdict?”

  Madelyn wiped the condensation from her iced tea glass with the starched linen napkin before taking a sip. “I hate to sound cynical, but you know how it works. If this Long guy had been related to the mayor or was a prominent businessman, this revelation might have been big news. But, you’d got a black man dating a white woman, which I don’t have to tell you is still frowned upon in many places, and the young woman he supposedly killed got around a bit. She was hardly a model citizen.”

  “Her name was Angelina. And what you’re saying may be true, but it’s still not right. Long deserved a fair trial, and the victim’s family should be confident that the right person was convicted.”

  Madelyn paused briefly before responding. “What’s this really about? What are you crusading for?”

  Her bluntness was one of the things Enid respected about Madelyn, but today, after Josh’s departure, her emotions were jagged. “I’m just looking for information, not a lecture, thank you.”

  Madelyn’s face softened, and she put her hand over Enid’s. “It must be difficult for you to have your ex show up and accuse your beau of murder.”

  While Madelyn was trying to be supportive, the words cut through Enid like a sword. “So you’ve talked to Cade, I see.”

  “We had drinks at Bourbon in Columbia not long after he arrived. He’s worried about you.”

  Enid didn’t trust her voice, so she just nodded.

  “I don’t know Police Chief Hart, but I understand he’s a good man. And you know Cade. He’ll get to the truth. If Josh is innocent, Cade will report it.”

  There was no point in arguing with Madelyn. Eager to change the subject, Enid asked, “What do you know about Sheriff Bernard Waters?”

  Madelyn seemed to pick up on her friend’s signal to change topics. “Boogie? Well, I’ve known of him for a while, and I met him almost a year ago in connection with Theo’s missing daughter. As far as I know, he’s a law-and-order guy who likes to dance the shag. That’s about the extent of my knowledge. I haven’t lived in Madden or Bowman County for a long time.” She paused. “But I’ll ask around discreetly, if you’d like. I have to be careful about these kinds of things now that I’m running for office.”

  “No, don’t do that. I wouldn’t want you to risk your campaign by asking the wrong person. But thanks. I’ll keep checking around. By the way, how is it coming along, the campaign?”

  Madelyn shrugged. “After the last presidential campaign, I have a problem believing any of the polls. But, supposedly, I’m ahead of my opponents by five points in the latest.”

  “I’m sure you’ll win. Jack says you’re a natural.” Enid immediately regretted interjecting Jack into their conversation, since she wasn’t sure about the status of Madelyn and Jack’s relationship.

  Madelyn flipped her wrist to check the time. “I need to get back to the office. Somebody wants to interview me. Those pesky press people who are always looking for some little crack they can expose.” She laughed. “You know I’m just kidding about that, although I really do have an interview. I respect you and all members of the press. And that’s my official stance on the matter.”

  After the two women said their goodbyes, Enid watched Madelyn leave. If Madelyn did win the election, these girlfriend lunches might be a thing of the past. Enid would no longer fit in Madelyn’s world, or if she did, it would be as a member of the press.

  When Theo came to check on them, Enid was staring out toward Glitter Lake. “I don’t mean to disturb your thoughts but is there anything I can get you?” he asked.

  “No, everything was delicious. Madelyn had to get back to Columbia. She asked me to thank you also.”

  “Miss Madelyn is going to be a great senator for this state, I’m sure of it.”

  After Theo’s departure, Enid continued to gaze at the sunlight shimmering across the ripples in the lake. As she had done so many times, Enid considered keeping the story simple: remains found at inn and the police are investigating. Yet, it was becoming obvious that this story was anything but simple.

  CHAPTER 21

  Enid returned to the newspaper office to wrap up a couple of stories when Ginger tapped on her door. “Somebody named Phyllis is here to see you.”

  Glancing at the clock on the wall, Enid replied, “Ask her to give me a few minutes. I need to finish this article and send it to Jack.”

  Ginger looked annoyed. “Oh, alright.”

  “Just send her back in ten minutes. I’ll be ready then.”

  Exactly ten minutes later, Phyllis Long and a middle-aged man appeared at her door. “The lady at the front desk told me to come on back. Is this a good time?”

  Enid glanced at the files stacked on the only other chair in her tiny office. “Let’s go to the conference room down the hall where we’ll have more room.”

  Enid sat on one side of the table, and Phyllis and the man sat across from her. “I’m sorry I didn’t make an appointment.” Phyllis smiled. “But I guess you’re used to me showing up here unannounced.”

  “It’s fine. Sorry to have kept you waiting.” Enid held out her hand to the man across from her. He was a middle-aged white man, dressed in khaki slacks and a golf shirt. “I’m Enid Blackwell.”

  “I’m sorry for not introducing you,” Phyllis aid. “This is Lester Brown. He was a juror in my brother’s trial. You said you wanted to talk to him.”

  Enid sat down. “Mr. Brown. Thank you for coming in. I must admit I’m a bit surprised to see you.”

  “As I told Ms. Long, I don’t want to be involved in any of this. But it’s been on my mind for years now. After today, I’m finished with all this. I wish there was something I could do to right this wrong, but I can’t. Anyway, Miss Phyllis begged me to talk to you. It’s the least I can do for her.”

  “Mr. Brown, may I record this interview?” Enid asked. “I want to be sure I get all the details.”

  Brown looked at the iPhone in front of Enid like a man staring at a snake, wondering whether to kill it or walk away quickly. “If you tape it, can we still do this confidentially? I don’t want any more articles about me.”

  “Of course. Besides, I’m not sure how, or even if, this information will be used. I’m doing a series of articles on the bones found at the inn. Ms. Long seems to think the remains may be those of Angelina Peterson, whom her brother was convicted of killing. But we don’t know yet whether the bones and the case in which you served as a juror are even connected. At this point, I’m just digging for information.”

  Brown nodded. “I understand.”

  Enid tapped on the recording app on her phone and did a quick test to be sure it was functioning properly. She then noted the date, time, and subject being interviewed before beginning. “Mr. Brown, tell me why you think Reginald Long was wrongfully convicted.”

  “I’m not an attorney, Ms. Blackwell, just a God-fearing insurance salesman in a small town. I live over in Florence County now and most of my clients are soybean or poultry farmers. I have a good life and serve as a deacon in the church. I live quietly. No trouble. Know wh
at I mean?”

  “I understand. Please continue.”

  “The first thing that bothered me in the trial was that all the witnesses against Mr. Long were either related or knew each other. All their stories matched, almost too good.”

  “Recognizing that, as you said, you’re not an attorney, do you think Mr. Long’s attorney cross examined the witnesses adequately?”

  “The defense attorney went through the motions alright, but the other attorney, the county prosecutor, and the witnesses had an answer for everything. I have to admit they were pretty convincing. When I think back on it, it seemed too rehearsed.” Brown shook his head slowly.

  “What else bothered you about the trial?”

  “That sheriff, Mr. Waters, everybody seemed to treat him like a god. He had command of that courtroom. The prosecutor all but bowed down before him.”

  “Can you give me some examples?”

  “When Sheriff Waters talked about how it happened, it just didn’t add up. There were holes in his explanations big enough to drive a truck through.”

  “Are you saying he lied?”

  “I’m just saying the sheriff’s story didn’t add up. Like the pregnancy. That girl was supposed to be pregnant, but there was no confirmation of that. But everyone seemed to know about it, other than the man who was supposed to be the father. It was accepted as fact by my fellow jurors. And the underwear found in Mr. Long’s car. It was just too convenient. Nobody would leave that kind of evidence behind.” Brown shook his head again.

  “I understand they did a DNA test on the underwear, and it belonged to the victim.”

  “Yes, they showed the jury the report. It was hers.” Brown paused. “I know what you’re thinking, that nothing I’ve said seems so unusual.” He asked Enid, “Have you ever served on a jury?”

  “I have, but not a murder trial. They would hardly let a reporter be on the jury. But why do you ask?”

  “The judge said that it was our job, the jury’s, to evaluate the evidence presented and make our own determination about who was telling the truth. I can tell you what was said, but you had to be there to understand why I feel this way. The body language, the little glances I noticed between the deputies. Just little things. I had a gut feeling that Reggie Long was being railroaded. But then I told myself that gut instincts are often wrong. Later, as I kept replaying that trial in my mind, I knew I should have held out. Maybe if I had . . .”

  Enid thought about how many times she had wrestled with her own gut feelings. “I understand. Given what you’ve told me, do you think Sheriff Waters purposefully convicted the wrong person?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. He had pat answers for everything and never showed any doubt about his deputies or that they were telling the truth. I guess that’s his job, to trust his men.” Brown paused and seemed to be gathering his thoughts. “I read a book one time about an innocent man that was convicted. They kept using the phrase ‘rush to judgment.’ That keeps popping in my mind when I think of Reggie Long’s trial.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Enid was about to close her laptop and call it a day when her vibrating cell phone danced around on her desk. She picked it up and turned it over to see the screen. Josh. “Are you in New Mexico yet?” she asked.

  “Yes. Just got in. Everything okay with you?”

  “Sure. Just doing some checking around for the follow-up articles on the bones.” Withholding information from Josh about her conversation with Lester Brown felt necessary but uncomfortable.

  “With all that’s going on, I forgot to tell you. The DNA results are back. Boogie texted me earlier today.”

  Enid grabbed her pen to take notes. “What did they determine?”

  “His message just said they had the results.” He paused. “I hope I don’t have to remind you that whatever I tell you is confidential.”

  There it was again, that boundary they had agreed on. Except now it was a wall. Perhaps there was no way around it, but it didn’t feel good. “Of course.”

  “I’ll give you a call later. Love you.”

  “Me, too.” Enid packed her notes and laptop and then called a number in her contacts.

  After a couple of rings, a familiar voice answered, “Bowman Sheriff’s Department. How can I help you?”

  Enid identified herself. “I’d like to get some information on the DNA tests for the bones found at Glitter Lake Inn.”

  “I’m sorry but we can’t reveal that information at this time.”

  Enid recalled her journalism professor criticizing her in a mock interview for not being more assertive. But that was years ago, and she had learned the lesson well. “I’d like to make an appointment to see Sheriff Waters. I’m sure there’s something he can tell me. And the public has a right to know.”

  “Hold, please.” The phone went silent, but in less than a minute, the woman returned. “Come on over. He’ll give you five minutes.”

  ◆◆◆

  Sheriff Boogie Waters stared at Enid sitting across from his desk. He looked both amused and annoyed.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” she said.

  He chuckled. “I’ve seen you shoot, so I wasn’t about to say no.”

  Enid winced at the memory of the shooting incident where two men had been killed. Although it was self-defense, shooting another human being was a serious matter. “I’ll get right to the point, since you’ve only given me a few minutes.”

  “Well, go ahead then.” He leaned back in his chair.

  “Do you have the DNA results on the bones found at the inn, and if so, what can you tell me?”

  His eyes narrowed into a squint. “News travels fast. Did Josh have a good trip to New Mexico?”

  Enid refused to take the bait. “I assume you know the race, sex, and approximate age of the victim.” Her pen was poised in her hand.

  “Seeing as you’re Josh’s woman and all, I guess I can tell you that much.”

  Enid slapped her pen down on the desk. “Sheriff Waters, let me be clear. I’m a reporter for the Tri-County Gazette. I’m not here as Josh’s friend or in any other capacity. I ask you to respect my position, as I do yours.”

  Boogie sat up in his chair and slowly clapped his hands. “Well stated, Ms. Blackwell.” His tone was jovial, but his eyes were not. “The remains appear to be a young woman, approximately twenty to thirty years old.”

  Enid scribbled a few notes. “And her race?”

  Boogie opened a folder and flipped through some notes. “Says here she’s white.” He closed the folder and looked at Enid. “That’s about all we know at this point.”

  “Have you run the DNA against the national databases?”

  Boogie opened his mouth to speak but stopped. He then said, “No match yet. Now is there anything else, Ms. Blackwell?” He stood up, but Enid remained seated.

  “There’s just one more thing. A confidential source has suggested to me that the remains may belong to a young woman named Angelina Peterson, known around town as Angel. She disappeared, and her boyfriend was convicted of murdering her. Can you comment on that?”

  “DNA results don’t give you a name, just a biological profile.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “But you know that, don’t you, Ms. Blackwell?”

  “What will happen next if the bones are Angelina Peterson’s?”

  Boogie stood up. “I think your five minutes are up. Have a nice day.”

  CHAPTER 23

  The EverLife Center for Memory Care was just outside of Columbia near Lake Murray. The drive was over an hour from Boogie’s house, but he made it once a week or more, never complaining about the distance. After parking his SUV, he continued on the walkway with the small lawn sign that said, “Buildings 5 through 10.” An arrow pointed toward his destination: Building 10.

  The groundskeepers, most of them Hispanic, nodded in recognition as he walked by. “How’s your arm, Pepito?” The elderly man, whose arm was in a soft cast from han
d to elbow, smiled at Boogie. “Gracias a ti, todo está bien.”

  Boogie took several twenty dollar bills out of his pocket and gave them to the man. “Here’s a little more for your medical bills.” The man shook his good hand to refuse the money, but Boogie stuffed the bills in the man’s pocket. “Take care of yourself, Pepito.”

  Inside Building 10, Boogie was greeted by a nurse. “Mr. Waters, how are you today?”

  “Still dancing to the music,” he said. “Is she awake?”

  The nurse nodded. “Even if she doesn’t know anything else, she always seems to know when you’re coming. I caught her smiling at the mirror this morning.”

  The facility was clean and didn’t smell like some of the places Boogie had checked out. This one had a good rating, but it wasn’t cheap. And each year, the cost of care increased. Last year, he had to sell some of his farmland to make the payments to the center. He tried not to think of what would happen if something happened to him or he could no longer afford this place. What would happen to her?

  At the end of the hall was her room. He had picked that room for its expansive windows and slightly larger square footage. Inside was a hospital bed, a large chair and ottoman, a dresser, and a bedside table. A large rocking chair, which he put there for himself, sat empty on the other side of the bed.

  Miss Lillian, as she was known at the center, sat in the large chair holding a child’s stuffed animal. She spent most of her day there with her feet on the ottoman, refusing to join the others in the recreation center. Several months ago, Boogie had brought her a small, flat-screen television, but it agitated her, and he had to take it away. The stuffed toy she held was so worn that it was hard to tell it was a donkey. Boogie had won it for her at the fair, right after they first started seeing each other. They often went out of the county on dates to avoid prying eyes. Lillian liked the annual State Fair in Columbia, especially the corn dogs slathered in mustard and ketchup and fries soaked in malt vinegar.