Justifiable Means

by Terri Blackstock

  He stepped back, framed her face with his hands, and gazed intently into her eyes. “Melissa, that’s not going to happen. I’m going through this with you.”

  “But I don’t want you to,” she cried. “I don’t want you to have to suffer.”

  “But I am suffering,” he said. “I’m suffering because you are. I wish I could move the clock back three years and stop what happened to Sandy, for your sake, but I can’t. All I can do is be here with you now. And you have to let me.”

  She wilted in his arms then, allowing herself to feel the peace and comfort and sustenance he offered, the support she didn’t deserve, the grace she hadn’t earned. Just like God’s love, she thought. For she saw Larry as a gift, sent as a light in the darkness her life had become.

  They spent as much time together as they could for the next two weeks, avoiding the subject of the hearing coming up, avoiding mention of the names Soames or Pendergrast, avoiding the topic of jail or hearings, avoiding the media, who had latched onto her story like hungry dogs to a bone. Because notice of her arraignment had appeared in the local paper, Melissa lost her job with the temporary agency. That was part curse and part blessing, Larry decided, since her mind wasn’t on work right now, anyway, and she needed this time to prepare. Besides, her interview with the DOC had lasted for two whole days, and it had taken a few days after that for her mental and physical exhaustion from rehashing the whole story to fade.

  Larry, too, was interviewed, along with Tony and some of the other cops who’d answered her call that first night. It was apparent to him that they were trying to determine just how much damage had been done with her lie, and how calculated it was. Melissa never asked what he had told them, and when he’d tried to tell her, she’d refused to listen. He didn’t owe her an explanation, she told him. But whether they spoke of it or not, the clock was ticking.

  He took some vacation days the week of her sentencing, and on that Tuesday, drove her to the beach. They took off their shoes and rolled up their jeans and walked barefoot through the gentle waves at high tide. The sun was just beginning to set, and a cool breeze swept in from the Gulf, whispering through Melissa’s hair, the pink-golden rays of the sun making her hair look even lighter.

  She slowed her step and kicked at a wave as it frothed around her ankles, then turned toward the breeze and watched the sunset fill the sky with a brilliant array of pinks and golds and yellows. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Look, Larry. Isn’t it beautiful?”

  He put his hands on her shoulders and stood behind her, watching the sky. She felt so small beneath his hands. Her head barely reached the indentation of his neck. “Yes,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Let’s just sit here for a while,” she said. “Let’s watch it until it goes down.”

  She sat in the white, dry sand, and he sat beside her, holding her against him as the sun made its grand finale of the day. It took over an hour for it to disappear below the horizon, and in all that time, they didn’t utter a word.

  Finally, when the pinks and golds had given way to a grayish blue, Melissa scooped up some sand in her hand and watched it fall through her fingers. “I have to call my parents,” she said.

  “Good. I hoped you would.”

  “It’s not going to be easy,” she said, still watching the sand. “In fact, I can’t tell them this over the phone. I need to do it in person.”

  “I’m sure they’ll come.”

  She swallowed and looked up at him. “Will you help me, Larry? Help me tell them, I mean?”

  “Of course. I’ll tell them for you if you want.”

  “No,” she said. “They have to hear it from me. But I’m just not sure I’m strong enough. And I’m not sure they are.” Her voice broke off, and Larry pulled her against him.

  When she finally pulled herself together and sat up straight again, she drew in a deep, rugged breath. “Let’s go. I want to call them now. Maybe they can come tomorrow, and I can spend a few days with them before the hearing.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Melissa had trouble getting the words out over the telephone, but she managed to tell her parents that she was in trouble and she needed them. They were already frantic after not being able to reach her since her last vague, evasive phone calls, and the cursory note she’d sent them telling them not to worry hadn’t helped. When she tried to tell them where she’d been, she couldn’t go on. She handed the phone to Larry.

  “Mrs. Nelson?” Larry asked. “This is Larry Millsaps. I’m a friend of Melissa’s.”

  “Is she all right?” Nancy Nelson asked with a quiver in her voice.

  “What’s going on there?” Jim Nelson threw in from the extension.

  “Well, she’d rather talk to you in person. I gathered from her end of the conversation that you’re coming tomorrow?”

  “Yes. We’ll get the earliest flight. We can come tonight if she needs us to.”

  “No. Tomorrow will be fine.”

  “Mr. Millsaps, tell us—has she been hurt? Is she sick?”

  “No, ma’am. She’s not hurt or sick. She’s fine.”

  “But she said she was in trouble!” her mother said.

  “Does this have anything to do with—Edward Pendergrast?” her father asked.

  Larry looked at Melissa, then closed his eyes. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because of the phone calls. The threats. The way she’s been evading our questions. All the secrecy! It’s so much like it was with Sandy. Does this have anything to do with him?”

  Her mother was crying now. “We’ve just had a feeling all this time. When that man called us . . . I kept thinking I knew that voice.”

  Larry put his hand over the phone and whispered, “They want to know if it has anything to do with Pendergrast.”

  “Oh, no.” She took back the phone. “Mom, Dad? Please. This is real important, and I need to talk to you in person. All I can tell you right now is that no one has hurt me. Can you just accept that and wait until we can talk?”

  “All right, sweetheart.” Her father’s voice cracked. “All right. If that’s how it has to be.”

  “Will you be all right until morning?” her mother asked.

  “Yes, Mom. I’m in really good hands. I’m staying with a terrific person, a new friend. And Larry’s watching over me, too. I didn’t mean to scare you. This is not like it was with Sandy. My trouble is of my own making.”

  Perplexed, her parents were silent for a moment, then finally, her father said, “We’ll see you early in the morning. Will you be at the airport?”

  She wished she could say yes, but the airport was in Tampa, and she had been ordered not to leave St. Clair until her hearing. “Larry will be meeting you,” she said. “He’ll bring you to where I’m staying. He’s a tall man, about six-two, with dark brown hair . . . good-looking . . .” She smiled slightly, and Larry couldn’t help returning it. “You’ll like him, Mom.”

  “Is he someone you’re seeing?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Well, why haven’t you mentioned him?”

  “I’ll explain everything tomorrow, Mom.”

  Her mother didn’t answer for a moment. “Melissa, I’m so worried about you.”

  “Please try not to worry, Mom. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

  Larry had made it a point to drive by Pendergrast’s apartment several times a day to check for both cars. If one was missing, he would call Melissa and make sure everything was all right. It didn’t appear that Pendergrast had yet figured out where she was staying. Larry had found Pendergrast’s car parked at Proffer Builders for the past two days, so he assumed that he had gotten his job back. Everything was back to normal for him, Larry thought bitterly. Meanwhile, Melissa had to tell her parents that she might be going to jail.

  Satisfied that Pendergrast was nowhere near Melissa, he drove an hour to the Tampa airport and walked the long walk to the gate where the Nelsons would be
coming in. Melissa had described them to him, but somehow he felt that he would know them anyway the moment he saw them.

  The plane was just landing as he reached the gate, and he stood by the window, watching, praying silently that they’d manage to take this well. It wouldn’t be easy dealing with a jail sentence for their only daughter. God certainly knew it wasn’t easy for him.

  He watched the passengers come out of the tunnel, searching their faces. And then he saw them. The woman’s blonde hair was pulled back in a bun, revealing a little gray around the temples, but it was clear from her blue eyes and the shape of her mouth that she was Melissa’s mother.

  They both looked younger than he had expected, probably in their late forties, and their eyes were troubled as they scanned the crowd for him.

  Slowly, Larry worked his way to them. “Mr. and Mrs. Nelson?” he asked.

  “Larry?” Jim Nelson returned.

  Larry smiled and shook his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Do you need to go to the baggage claim?”

  “No,” her father said. “It’s all in our carry-ons.”

  “All right. My car’s this way.”

  They walked in silence for a moment. Larry glanced over at them. “Did you have a good flight, Mr. Nelson?”

  “Jim,” he said. “Call me Jim.”

  “And call me Nancy,” Melissa’s mother said. “You’re obviously important to our daughter. There’s no point in formalities. Have you known her long?”

  “Only a few weeks,” he said.

  “Oh. From what she said last night, I thought it had been longer.”

  “It seems like longer,” he agreed. They came to the escalator, and he stood back and allowed both of them to precede him.

  Not much more was said as he led them to his car. When they were on their way, with Jim in front and Nancy in back, Larry could sense Jim studying him. “I know Melissa has something to tell us, and she wants to do it herself, but can you at least tell us where she’s living? She has an apartment, doesn’t she? Why isn’t she in it?”

  “She’s just been spending a couple of weeks with friends,” he said. “It wasn’t a good time for her to be alone.”

  Her mother leaned forward on the seat. “Is she living with you?”

  He glanced in the rearview mirror. “No, ma’am. Absolutely not. She’s staying with a friend named Lynda Barrett.”

  Jim looked him over again. “What do you do for a living, Larry?”

  Larry hesitated to tell him. “I’m a police officer.”

  Jim let the words sink in for a moment, then glanced back at his wife.

  “How did you two meet?” her mother asked in a voice that was growing more raspy.

  He swallowed. “I’ll let her tell you about that, if you don’t mind.”

  For the rest of the hour’s drive to St. Clair, no one spoke. There was nothing more he could tell them, after all, without treading on Melissa’s ground.

  Lynda was at work and Jake was at physical therapy when Larry brought the Nelsons to Melissa.

  Her parents looked apprehensive as they got out of the car and looked around at the modest little house. The side door to the house opened, and Melissa came out. “Mom. Dad.” She ran into their arms, and for a moment, Larry stood back, feeling like an outsider. But he had promised her he would stay.

  When the family hug broke, she led them all into the house, and into the living room. Her mother and father huddled together on the couch, waiting for the bomb to drop. “What did you want to tell us, Melissa?” her father asked gently. “Please don’t make us wait any longer.”

  Melissa took Larry’s hand and sat down across from them. “All right.” She took a deep breath, and looked up at Larry, struggling to find the words. She’d practiced all night and all morning, but now that the time had come, all her scripted words escaped her. How would she tell them?

  Mom, Dad, I may be going to jail.

  No, she couldn’t tell them that yet. She had to start at the beginning.

  She cleared her throat. “You know when I quit my job at the FBI, and you were all upset and confused?”

  “Yes,” her mother said.

  “I quit because I’d managed to locate Edward Pendergrast.” Her mother gasped, and her father’s frown grew deeper. “He was working here in St. Clair under another name,” she went on.

  “Oh, no,” her mother cried, sitting back hard on the couch. “You came here to find him? Why? You should have stayed as far away from him as you could!”

  Melissa blinked back the tears in her eyes. “I got a job working where he did.”

  “What?” her father asked in horror.

  “I wanted to set him up,” she said. She got to her feet, paced across the living room, and turned back to them. “I thought if I made it look like I’d been his next victim, then this time he’d get convicted. I’d make sure that there were no loose ends. That he wouldn’t get off on a technicality this time. That he’d go to prison, where he belongs.”

  Her father stood slowly. “Are you telling us that you pretended he’d raped you?”

  “Yes,” she said. “That’s exactly what I did. Larry was one of the detectives assigned to the case. He’s a good cop.”

  Her mother was starting to cry. “Melissa, how could you do that? It could have gotten you killed! No wonder Pendergrast started calling us. He was looking for you!”

  “Yes, he was,” Larry agreed, “and they didn’t keep him in jail after his indictment. He was out pending trial.”

  “Oh, Melissa! Is that why you kept moving?”

  Melissa shoved her hair behind her ear. Her hand was trembling. “Yes. I caught him following me a couple of times. And he broke in.”

  “He was in your house?” her mother whispered.

  Melissa nodded. “Nothing happened. I think he was just trying to scare me.”

  “I brought her here because I knew he wouldn’t find her here,” Larry cut in. “Lynda’s a friend of mine.”

  “But—you lied, Melissa,” her father said. “Is he in on this?” he asked, pointing to Larry.

  “No, Dad. The thing is, I confessed two weeks ago.”

  Larry braced his elbows on his knees and propped his chin on his fist. Melissa kept her eyes on her parents.

  “Why?” her father asked.

  “Because it wasn’t right. I had lied. And lying to a grand jury is a felony.”

  Jim’s face paled, and he sank back down onto the couch. Her mother took his hand. “A felony?” she whispered.

  “The actual charge is ‘perjury in an official proceeding.’ I could get up to five years.”

  “In prison?” her father asked in horror.

  Her mother’s face reddened. She covered her mouth, then asked, “What about him? What about that monster?”

  Larry saw how Melissa struggled with that answer, so he spoke up. “They dropped all charges against him. They couldn’t try him for something that hadn’t happened.”

  “So he’s still out there?” her mother asked on a sob. “And Melissa’s the one who might go to jail?”

  Larry nodded. “Unless the judge decides to go easy on her. The sentencing is Friday.”

  “Only two days from now?” Nancy gasped.

  “Lynda’s my lawyer,” Melissa managed to say in a higher pitched voice. “She’s hopeful that I won’t have to serve any jail time. But there’s no way to know for sure until we get into court. The judge will read all the testimony in the presentencing investigation, and he’ll make his decision. All we can do is pray.”

  Melissa watched the pain distorting her parents’ faces, and she broke into a sob. “I wanted you to hear it from me. I wanted you to be here.”

  Both of her parents got up and drew her into a hug. They all wept as Larry sat alone, wishing he could ease their pain.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  T hursday dawned with harsh finality—the last day of life as she’d always known it. Tomorrow was Melissa’s hearing; tomorrow she w
ould find out if she had a future. She had hoped to sleep late, but she woke just after dawn and lay awake staring at the ceiling.

  Tomorrow she could be going to jail.

  She closed her eyes and prayed for deliverance, but even as she did, she felt the shame of deserving what she was getting.

  The funny thing about God’s forgiveness was that the consequences still had to be paid. Not because God necessarily required payment—but because the state did.

  Not for the first time, she longed to turn back time, to forget her obsession with making Pendergrast pay. If only she had put him out of her mind and gone on with her life, tried to forget. But such a big part of her hadn’t wanted to forget. Feeding her vengeful hatred had somehow sustained her. Now it was doing her in.

  Tears rolled down her temples and into her hair as she stared up at the ceiling. The image of Gethsemane flashed through her mind—Jesus weeping the night before his own arrest—the disciples sleeping through it all as Larry and Lynda and Jake all probably were. She closed her eyes and thought of Christ’s prayer for deliverance. She, too, had asked for deliverance—had pleaded and bargained for it. But she feared that the price of her disobedience would still have to be paid.

  Getting out of bed, she pulled on her robe and went barefoot down the hall. A light was already on in the kitchen, and quietly, she stepped into the doorway. Lynda was sitting at the table reading her Bible. In her white cotton nightgown with little blue flowers, Lynda looked like a little girl, rather than a successful attorney. “Hi,” Melissa whispered.

  Lynda looked up. “Did I wake you?”

  “No. I thought you were still asleep. You don’t have to be at the office for two hours, do you?”

  “No.” Lynda closed her Bible and pulled her knees up under her gown as Melissa sat down. “I’m thinking about taking the morning off.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m ready for court tomorrow, and I think somebody needs to get your mind off things.”

  “I’m okay, really.”

  Lynda set her chin on her palm. “I’m not sure I am.”

  “This puts a lot of pressure on you, doesn’t it? You’re worried.”