Empty Shell

by Ashley Fontainne

  Tears were streaming down his face, and my own dripped on to the cheap Formica that separated us. His words hit me like an emotional freight train, my heart spinning from the heartfelt, genuine pleas. But the knowledge that he was about to drop another bomb on me, one that my gut seemed to know would ruin everything, gnawed inside me.

  “Motive, Jack,” I said, my voice so low I doubted he heard me.

  “Serena told me…right before I left, that she was three months pregnant with our child. And the police think that’s why I killed her.”

  My world crumbled as the acid in my stomach burned a hole through me.

  “You bastard!” I hissed into the mouthpiece, slamming the phone down and standing up so fast I tripped over the chair. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Nor could I hear the sounds around me. Someone grabbed my arm and helped me up. I tried to free their grip but it was too tight. I looked up and realized it was the guard who signed me in.

  “Bathroom, please,” I mumbled through my hand that was clamped across my mouth.

  “Hang on, ma’am. It’s this way.”

  The guard held on and managed to keep me upright as we stumbled out the door. My eyes were unable to focus on anything but the brightly lit hallway that would take me out of this hellhole and away from the lying, cheating mouth of my soon to be ex-husband.

  “Honey, y’all need some water or sumptin’?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Are ya sure? Kinda green around the gills still.”

  I leaned over the sink and turned the water on, rewet the paper towels in my hand, and applied them to the back of my neck. The woman who had been sitting next to me in the visitor’s room stared at me with knowing eyes and smacked her gum.

  “Really, I’m fine. What I would like though is some gum. Do you happen to have anymore?” My voice shook.

  “Sure thing, darlin’. Here, this’ll help set ya’ll right,” she said after fumbling around in her bag. “Lawd, I ain’t seen nobody spew that hard since I was a teenager.”

  I took the gum, unwrapped it and popped it into my mouth. I hated peppermint, but it was better than the taste in there already. “Thank you.”

  “No thanks needed. First time in here, I did the same thing. Twice in the parking lot when I left.”

  “How did you…?”

  “Honey, ya’ll reek of newbie. The hair, the clothes, those shoes. And yer man in there? He better learn to hide that fear. Ain’t no room for fear in jail. Show it, and he’ll end up lookin’ like he got hit by a truck—worse than he already does.”

  Though I appreciated the gum, I had no desire to stay in the filthy bathroom inside the bowels of the jail and continue this conversation. I had to get outside and clear my head. Problem was, I had no idea which direction I should turn when I left the bathroom.

  “What happens to him, at this point, is his problem, not mine. Besides, I don’t plan on returning to see if he has any more wounds. So, could you please point me in the direction of the front entrance? My visit is officially over.”

  “Yep, newbie. Listen sweetie, let me share some things with you. One, you can’t just waltz around the halls like ya own the place. We walked in here as a group and we leave as a group. Them’s the rules. Visitin’ time is over now, but thanks to that little show y’all put on in there, it’s a bit longer today. Everyone is waitin’ outside so we can leave together.”

  “Oh, that’s just great,” I muttered.

  “Number two. Those dividers don’t mask anythin.’ I didn’t hear all but enough to know that he was cheatin’ on ya and that he’s up for murder. Them’s hard pills to swalla. Y’all married?”

  “Not for much longer.”

  “Welp, now’s the time y’all find out what takin’ vows really means. Ya either stand by him or walk away. I’ll tell ya, it’s a choice that ain’t easy to make.”

  I’d heard enough. I moved to the door and jerked it open. “Well, it isn’t hard for me. I won’t step foot inside this place ever again.”

  “Sass it up now, missy, but that’s just anger talkin.’ Y’all be back. I can see it in ya face.”

  I didn’t respond or look her way again as we exited the bathroom and followed our group to the jail exit. I had to force myself not to scream at everyone to hurry the hell up. I wanted to run down the halls and never look back. I wanted to tell the brazen woman she didn’t know me, had no idea what I would or would not do. How could she when I didn’t even know? I wanted to walk up to the guard who kept giving me the evil eye and ask him what his problem was. He stared at me like I was his enemy and I didn’t know him from Adam. I wanted the glass that had separated Jack from my fingers to have magically disappeared so I could have strangled him.

  But mostly, I wanted this horrific dream to end.

  Please God, let me wake up.

  CHAPTER EIGHT - THURSDAY AFTERNOON

  Anger consumed me, blinding my vision with a dark red haze. I stepped outside, wanting to scream at the top of my lungs. Wanting to hit something. My fingers clenched as fury ripped my sanity to shreds. I was already beginning to sweat. I scrounged through my purse for my sunglasses, only to catch my wedding ring on the clasp. Freeing my hand, I stared at the shimmering gemstone with disdain. The gold circle that held the exquisite diamond shone in the sunlight, but instead of the beauty of the colors, all I saw was red. The symbol of unity, of uniting two hearts as one under the eyes of God, seemed laughable now.

  To love, honor and cherish my ass!

  I forced the tears that threatened to overtake me down, the emotional urge squashed by my rising rage. In a huff, not thinking about anything other than putting as much distance between myself and the jail as possible, I began to walk.

  My original plan with Regina was to call a cab when my visit with Jack was over, since she would be across town picking up my mom. That plan was now blown to smithereens. It was all I could do to remember how to walk. Operating a phone was impossible in my current state. Putting one foot in front of the other was all the skill I had left in me.

  The walk under the relentless sun left me sweating and took me through some of the seedier areas of downtown Little Rock. I ignored my safety and well-being, almost hoping that someone would dare approach me. I would have welcomed the distraction and the chance to unleash my wrath on any unsuspecting passerby. Cars honked, and disgusting innuendos were hurled, but no one tried to hassle me. I guessed my anger made me seem taller and more of an opposing figure. Maybe it was the way my feet stomped on the hot pavement as I strode down the cracked sidewalks.

  How am I supposed to handle all of this? What the hell am I going to do now?

  “Melody, what in the world are you doing?”

  Through the pea soup haze of my mental meanderings, I heard the familiar voice calling. Roger’s black BMW had pulled up alongside the curb and he leaned across the passenger seat. “Get in.”

  “No. I need to walk. Clear my head,” I said and kept walking.

  “This is not a good area of town to take an afternoon stroll through, Melody. Please, get in. Wouldn’t want some rouge reporter who works the crime beat to see you, now would you? I don’t think you are ready to face the press just yet. Or Detective Knowles, who has been hounding me for your statement.”

  Those things I hadn’t considered when I started on the trek to my car. Oh, who was I kidding? My thoughts were consumed with images of my life sinking into a mud hole. My internal hysteria left little room for anything else. Without a word I turned around, walked back to his car and opened the door. After I was situated, Roger jerked the wheel hard and headed toward the office. Awkward silence enveloped us until he spoke.

  “I really wish you would have told me your true plans for the day, Melody. I would have done my best to persuade you otherwise. This was not a good idea.”

  “I don’t think I can handle a lecture right now.”

  “Cold, hard facts aren’t a lecture. They are simpl
y the truth. I assume your visit did not bode well with you?”

  I snorted. “You assumed correctly. Say, how did you know that I—”

  Roger’s eyes cut over to me, his irritation clear. “I knew the danger was there when you sent the text saying you were coming to get your car. Besides, I have connections in the jail. I asked to be informed of any visitors who came to see Jack. I was afraid this might happen.”

  Small damned town.

  I tried to hold the catty response that danced on the tip of my tongue in check. I couldn’t afford to lose my job, since it looked like I would be the sole contributor to the household for…oh, God, who knew how long. I knew Roger was perturbed at me for going to see Jack and didn’t want to make things worse. “I needed to see him, Roger. I had to look him in the face when I talked to him about this…situation. I can tell when he’s lying.”

  Roger pulled into the parking deck and tried to hide the doubt on his face by turning his head to fiddle with his window and insert his security key into the card reader. I caught a glimpse of his raised eyebrow before he looked away, which was a dead giveaway to his thoughts. “Can you? Lie detectors, even human ones, are not always reliable and can be easily fooled by a skilled liar.”

  The heat of embarrassment tinged with a smidgeon of anger crept up my neck. “That was low, Roger.”

  “It wasn’t said in the form of a dig at you or your marriage, Melody. It’s a mere statement of fact.”

  I didn’t respond as we wound around through the parking deck to the top level where we both parked. Roger was right and I understood the point he was trying to make. For the last four months, my husband had been cheating on me and I had been oblivious.

  But then it hit me. I never asked Jack because it didn’t occur to me to do so. I’d been too wrapped up inside my own depression to really focus on what was going on with him. Had I asked him, would he have been able to lie to me convincingly? Would he have caved and told me the truth? I tried to think back over the span of our twenty-one years together to recall if he’d ever lied to me before. I couldn’t readily recall any instance where he had. Hell, even when he tried to plan a surprise thirtieth birthday party for me and I called him out on it, he faltered. He had stuttered some inane excuse which I saw right through, though I pretended not to. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise he’d worked so hard to achieve.

  Had I confronted him about the affair, would I have been able to see through his lie? Were the eyes that stared through the glass at me earlier telling me the truth when he spouted his innocence? Or was he just a desperate man clinging to the last person who he hoped would believe him, despite the mound of evidence stacked against him?

  There was only one way to find out.

  “Roger, I need to go see Bertrand.”

  His hands hovered over the steering wheel while he formulated a response. I could tell that he wasn’t sure if he should shut his car off or not. He leaned back in his seat and stared at me for a few seconds before asking, “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I need…no, I want to see the evidence against him. Jack told me some things today that I believe will require my own eyes to look at before I make my next move.”

  Roger let out a small sigh and rubbed his forehead while chewing on his cheek. “Did he tell you…everything?”

  “If you mean about Serena being pregnant and the video purportedly showing him returning to the hotel after he claims he left, then yes.”

  “Melody, why don’t you wait until tomorrow? Today has been traumatic enough.”

  “Roger, it’s much easier to rip the bandage off in one fail swoop rather than peel it back slowly and feel the agony of every hair being ripped out. The pain may be intense, but it’s over quicker when it happens all at once.”

  “That certainly is an interesting metaphor and one that I can’t really argue with. You’re one tough cookie, I’ll give you that.”

  “It has nothing to do with toughness. It is more about necessity. Waffling back and forth about my husband’s guilt or innocence is tearing me apart. I can’t think with a clear head when talking to him. I’m too emotionally involved and easily swayed by his words. I need to see the evidence for myself, then make a decision. One way or another. I have to know.”

  Roger nodded in slow agreement, I think realizing that he couldn’t argue with my logic or say anything that would dissuade me. “I’ll call Bertrand’s office and set it up. Do you want me to go with you?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. My heart’s already broken so there’s nothing left to break. But thank you for the offer. I’ll head that way now. Please let him know I’m on my way and that I won’t take no for an answer.”

  I exited Roger’s car before he could respond and headed to the elevator. Bertrand’s office was on the third floor of our building and, though I couldn’t stand the obnoxious little jerk and loathed the idea of talking to him, I was glad his office was close to ours.

  “Mrs. Dickinson. Please, have a seat.”

  “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Mr. LaFont. I’m sure I don’t need to explain why.”

  “Well, if it weren’t for your boss letting me know that you were still alive, I would have begun to worry about you. Generally, the loved ones of a client are knocking down my door to offer their assistance in helping in the defense of the wrongfully accused.”

  Oh, God, this is going to be harder than I thought. He gives me the creeps.

  I forced myself to sit down and watch his short frame waddle over to the other side of the enormous conference room table. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back, his dark brown eyes intense, and his pudgy body poured inside an expensive suit. It made the stuff Roger wore look like something bought off the rack. If ever there was a man that looked the part of a shyster lawyer, Bertrand LaFont fit the bill. Inwardly I cringed at the thought of the low life criminals who had sat in the very same spot that I was now, waiting to hear their high-priced lawyer’s plan to keep them out of jail.

  Never a place I thought I’d be. Dear God, give me strength.

  He busied himself with several files and then buzzed his assistant. “Liz, please bring in the CD that has the surveillance tape in the Dickinson case. I believe it is still in my disc drive. Oh, and some water and coffee. I’m afraid Mrs. Dickinson looks a bit parched.”

  “I’m fine, thank you. If we could just get started? It’s been a very long day for me.”

  He swiveled his high back leather chair around to face me. No, to study me. His eyes didn’t miss a thing. “Yes, I heard. Understand you went to visit your husband today. I’m sure he was relieved to see you.”

  “I did. His thoughts or feelings on the matter are not what I came here for, Mr. LaFont.”

  He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the glossy table, lacing his stubby fingers together. The smile on his face wasn’t friendly or comforting. It was downright eerie. “Yes, I know why you are here. But, before we get started, I have some questions I need to ask you. Ones that, hopefully, will assist me in providing a top-notch defense for your husband.”

  Hold it together. You knew he would ask questions that would be difficult to hear. Tell the bare minimum.

  I had a chance to mentally prepare myself when his assistant entered and set down the items he requested. She walked out, and I realized as I watched him pour a glass of water that I was thirsty. He must have sensed it too and poured a second glass, gathered up the files in front of him, then walked over to where I sat.

  “Please, have a drink. This could take a while and I don’t want you to lose your voice.” He sat down right next to me. His overpriced cologne made me want to vomit. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

  “Okay.” I took a hefty sip, hoping it would ease my queasy stomach.

  “You’ve had several days to contemplate the situation, plus you met with your husband today. Do you believe your husband killed Serena Rowland?”

  Wow, right off the bat. Way
to shove the dagger deep!

  “I’m not going to answer that, Mr. LaFont, unless you extend me the same courtesy. Do you believe Jack is responsible for Serena’s death?”

  Mr. LaFont squinted, the shock of my question requiring a few seconds for him to formulate an answer. It was a calculated risk asking him, but my hope was that he would whip out the typical attorney card and sidestep it.

  “It is the job of the jury to decide Mr. Dickinson’s guilt or innocence, not mine. My role is to provide him with the best defense possible and raise reasonable doubt in the minds of the jurors, nothing more, nothing less. My personal views regarding this case are not essential to my defending it.”

  Gamble taken, hand won.

  “Nor are mine,” I said, hoping my reply carried enough temerity for him to leave the question dead in the water. My eyes locked with his, stern and determined. He recognized the brick wall, backed up and came at me from another direction.

  “Were you aware that your husband was seeing Ms. Rowland?”

  “No, I was not.”

  “When did you find out?”

  “Monday morning.”

  “Did he tell you?”

  “No, I figured it out on my own.”

  “Mrs. Dickinson, please don’t be trite. I’m trying to understand every single piece of this case to help your husband. You do realize that he’s been charged with capital murder?”

  I swallowed another sip of water, hoping it would cool the rising anger inside me. “Yes, Mr. LaFont, I do. Perhaps if you wish different answers, you should ask different questions.”

  Anger flashed behind his eyes and I offered him a wicked smirk.

  “As you wish. What evidence led you to discover that your husband was sleeping with Serena Rowland?”