by Willow Rose
Daniel can see on her face that she is afraid. Everyone in the courtroom is watching her, holding their breaths, as Daniel steps forward. He approaches Peter in the wheelchair and his eyes meet Kristin’s shortly before he stops and looks at his brother. The plan is for him to ask a series of questions about a subject that Kristin has no knowledge of, something only Peter will know the answer to, if he is, in fact, as smart as Kristin claims him to be. The answer will hopefully help the jury determine if he is able to communicate, if he was able to give his consent to having sex with Kristin or not.
Daniel takes in a deep breath. He looks at her as he collects himself. He doesn’t really know if he wants her to succeed or not. He is unsure what he hopes will come out of this. Does he want her to go to jail? Maybe. He has been lying awake so many nights cursing her for what she did, how she tricked all of them, especially him, how she manipulated him into believing what he so desperately wanted to believe. But seeing what he saw in Peter’s eyes the day before in court when he looked at Kristin, he is torn. What if? What if she is right? Would he be willing to send his brother’s only love, his only voice to the world to jail? Does he have the heart to doom their baby to a life without parents?
No one will take the child. You know they won’t. Heck, you’ve already decided not to. Jill will kill you if you do. The rest of the family will disown you.
Daniel blinks. He is the one who suggested this test. Now, he must perform it. He is unsure of why he suggested it. Was it because he thought it would save her or condemn her?
It’s out of your hands, Daniel. She has to prove herself.
“Alright,” the prosecutor says. “Daniel. You can ask your first question.”
“Okay,” Daniel says, and clears his throat. He looks at his piece of paper, at the questions that he and his siblings have made together. He is struggling to keep the paper still.
“So, tell me, Peter. When we were younger, we had a dog, a golden retriever. What was his name?”
Daniel bites his lip while waiting for the reply. He avoids looking directly at Kristin as she assists Peter when he starts to type. Instead, he focuses on Peter’s fingers while he types his answers slowly, one letter at a time. The answer is read out loud by someone the court has appointed. Daniel is holding his breath.
“Charlie,” the woman yells. “It says Charlie.”
Daniel lets out a breath of relief. “The answer is correct,” he says.
“You may ask your next question now,” the prosecutor says.
Daniel looks down at his paper again, then back up at Peter, whose eyes are on the ground. All this commotion is a lot for him to take.
“So, Peter, tell me, how old was Charlie when he died?”
They wait a shorter time for the answer this time.
“Five,” the lady yells.
Another correct answer.
“Tell me, who is Jimmy?”
The answer comes even quicker this time.
“My favorite uncle.”
Yet another correct answer.
“Who is Sigetty?”
There’s a long pause before Peter writes his answer. It is read out loud. The court-lady’s voice is shrill.
“My nephew.”
Daniel looks at Kristin and freezes.
“Is the answer correct, Daniel?” The prosecutor asks.
Daniel shakes his head. “No.”
“Let the court know that the answer is wrong,” the prosecutor says. “Sigetty is another name for Peter’s uncle; it’s his middle name.”
Maybe Peter didn’t know? Daniel asks himself and gets himself ready for the next question.
“What is the frog?”
The answer arrives quickly and is read out loud.
“Our old car.”
Daniel finally dares to look at Kristin. There is no way she could have known that. It is the name they gave the car when they were children because it was green like a frog. The fact that the answer is correct fills him with joy. Daniel realizes he wants Kristin to succeed. He wants them to be in love. He wants her to be right when she says she didn’t do anything to Peter that he didn’t agree to himself. But he is afraid that he is the only one in his family thinking this way.
“The answer is correct,” he says.
The sound of surprise goes through the rows of spectators that have grown day by day as the trial has been going on. Most are journalists covering the bizarre case, but a lot of activists are occupying the seats as well, yelling every now and then for Kristin Martin to hang in there.
“Alright. Last question,” the prosecutor says.
Daniel’s palms are sweating and he wipes them on his trousers. The next question is the hardest one to answer. This next one, she has no way of knowing.
“I showed Peter something in the waiting room this morning before we came in here. What was it?”
The silence is devastating. Daniel looks at Kristin; their eyes meet, and he can tell she is scared. Even more than earlier.
Please be the correct answer. Please be correct for all of us. For Peter’s sake. Please be correct.
The answer comes slowly, a lot slower than the others. It seems as if Peter is struggling to find the keys to press. Daniel wonders if he is too tired, if it’s all a little too much for him.
The answer finally arrives and is read out loud.
“An old photo of our grandfather.”
The judge looks at Daniel. “Is that correct?”
Daniel drops the paper to the ground. No one was in the waiting room with them when he showed the picture. There is no way Kristin Martin could have fabricated that.
“Yes. Yes, Your Honor. It’s correct.”
Chapter Seventy-One
February 2016
I invite the entire crew over for a barbecue as soon as we’re settled in the house. They all arrive late in the afternoon, and we hang out on the porch, eating burgers and drinking beer. It’s a nice warm night out, and we decide to have a bonfire and make S’mores for the kids.
Sandra is there with Ryan, and I observe her and am not surprised to notice how she constantly looks at Alex. He glances at her constantly as well, even though he sits with his wife, Maria. Their daughter Ava hangs out with Salter down by the beach. They seem to have become quite good friends. I feel like we’re walking on a volcano about to erupt with this. I am afraid what it might do to the group once their affair is found out. I am still angry with them for acting like this, for their betrayal, but what can I do? I have told them how I feel about it, still they do it anyway. I tell myself they’re grown-ups and make their own choices. Even if I don’t believe they’re being very mature about their decisions.
It has seemed to help Sandra get back some of her confidence, though. She seems happier and stronger, even though Ryan doesn’t pay any attention to her at all. He is deeply engaged in talking to Chloe. He is visibly flirting with her, and it makes me feel sick. Chloe seems to mostly think of him as very annoying. She has to be the pickiest person I have met when it comes to guys. Come to think of it, she hasn’t had many boyfriends over the years. I know she was into my brother for a little while, until he showed his true colors, but that is all I have heard of. I wonder if she is ever lonely or sad with the way her life has turned out. She never shows me if she is.
“So, is Joey coming later?” Danny asks me. He is wearing a T-shirt that says Cocoa Beach Fire Department. I don’t know anyone who is as proud of his job as Danny. It’s kind of sweet.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I invited him, but I don’t think he really wants to hang out with me lately.”
“What happened with you two anyway? I thought you had figured things out? It seemed like you were doing good again.”
I sip my beer and look at him. “It didn’t work out. You know how it is. Sometimes it lasts, sometimes it hurts instead.”
“That sounds like an Adele song,” he says.
“I think it actually is a line from one of her songs,” I say, laughing.
He shrugs. “I guess we just have to accept the fact that you’re not getting back together, then. I am sad for you two, though. It’s hard to understand. You always were so perfect together.”
“Apparently, not perfect enough.”
Danny nods and drinks his beer.
“What about you?” I ask. “Are you soon ready to move on?”
“I guess. It’s been four months since she died. Maybe I should get back out there? I just really don’t want to get onto that train, you know, going on internet-dates and all that. It has all changed so much since we were young. I don’t think I can be a part of that. I tried that Tinder-thing but…it’s just not me. It makes me feel so old.”
“Maybe there is another way,” I say.
“I heard you were seeing someone? That guy that lived at Marcia’s house?”
“Yeah. We’ve been on a couple of dates. We’ve been down to Heidi’s Jazz house a couple of nights and heard some great music. It’s kind of become our favorite place to go together. But it’s still very new.”
“But, you like this guy?”
I sip the beer and nod. “Yeah. I think I do. It’s just hard with Salter and Joey and everything. It’s kind of hard for me to let go of the feeling that we’re not going to be the happy family that I always believed in.”
I look at my dad, who is sitting on the other side of Sandra. They’re both laughing. I smile, thinking how great it is for my dad to be able to be with people again, to get out of his room. His physical therapy is going well, his trainer says, and he has now regained some movement in several of his fingers. That is great news, since the trainer says that if he can get some parts of his body back, then there might be a chance he can get others as well. It gives us hope.
“I miss Marcia,” Danny says, and puts his feet up on the chair next to him. “You can say a lot of things about Marcia, but she sure knew how to get a party going.” He chuckles lightly, then his eyes turn sad.
I know how he feels. I miss her too. Now that we’re all gathered—well almost all of us—she is kind of missing. Her loud laughter, her inappropriate remarks, her getting too drunk after a few hours, her dancing and telling us we’re getting old and boring. I even miss her loud music that she always somehow puts on when we reach a certain point in the evening.
“How is she, by the way?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Have you visited her?”
I am ashamed to say I haven’t. I shake my head.
“You?”
“Nope. I don’t think any of us have. I feel awful. What kind of friends are we anyway?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s not that easy. I wouldn’t know what to say to her. I mean, she killed a lot of people. I saw the look in her eyes when she was walking towards that girl, a young girl about Salter’s age. I can’t…I don’t know if I can forgive and forget that easy. Especially now that I’m with Steven. I know she is sick and all, but what do you say to her? I will never be able to understand.”
“Maybe we don’t have to forgive and forget,” Danny says. “Maybe we should just show her compassion. Show her we still love her.”
I nod. He is right. Not a day goes by without me thinking about her almost every hour of the day. I feel awful that she is sitting in that prison waiting for her trial to start. I just hope she gets the help she needs. “I think you’re right,” I say. “Maybe you and I should go visit her someday soon?”
“I think I would like that.”
“Is this supposed to be a party?!”
I turn and look at Joey, who is stepping onto the porch. I feel a pinch in my heart. I am so glad to see him. I really wanted him to come. I smile, but in the next second my smile completely freezes, when someone else steps onto the porch as well, holding Joey’s hand.
“I want you to meet someone,” he says. “Everyone, this is Jackie. Jackie, this is the Crew.”
Chapter Seventy-Two
February 2016
Danny gets up immediately and walks to Joey.
“Come on, man,” he says. “You bring her to your ex’s party?” he asks. “Not cool, Joey. Not cool.”
Joey stares me down, his tongue rolling inside of his cheek. “What are you talking about? She’s my girlfriend. I can’t bring my girlfriend to a party now?”
“Come on, man,” Danny says. “You two barely just split up. Your son is here too. Do you really want him to see this?”
“Well, she’s seeing someone; why can’t I?”
“She didn’t bring him here, today, did she?” Danny asks.
Joey shrugs. “So what?”
Danny sighs. “You’re drunk, Joey. Go home.”
“No way! I’m here to be with my friends and hang out with my girlfriend; now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to go mingle. Come, Jackie.”
Joey walks and his shoulder pushes Danny’s as he passes him. My stomach is in a knot. I walk over to Danny.
“Idiot,” he mumbles.
“It’s okay,” I say. “But, hey. Thanks for standing up for me like that. That was very gentlemanly.”
“I can’t believe he would bring a date,” he says.
“I can’t believe he would bring her,” I say.
“What do you mean?” Danny asks, and looks into my eyes.
“It’s nothing.” I shake my head and try to avoid looking at him. I don’t want to tell them the story. Joey is their friend too, and I don’t want to sew bad blood. It’s the same with Salter. I haven’t told him what happened, since I don’t want him to hate his father. Instead, he hates me for leaving his dad, but I’d rather have that. His father is important for him. He’s the role model.
“I know that look. It’s not nothing. I know he cheated on you in New York…oh no, he cheated on you with her, down here? Ah, that makes so much sense. That’s why you broke up again.”
“I really can’t hide anything from you, huh?”
“You shouldn’t have to,” Danny says. “That’s what friends are for, right? If you can’t tell me stuff like this, then where are we?”
Wow. I knew Danny was a good friend, but I had no idea he would back me up like this.
“Thanks,” I say, and finish my beer. I glance at Joey, who is talking very loud and entertaining the others with how fast he can drink a beer. He suddenly seems like he is a teenager again.
“You want to see, huh? I bet Jackie would like to see it, wouldn’t you, Jackie?” he says and grabs a new beer. “Now, time me.”
He places the beer to his lips and starts to drink. I’ve had enough. I walk to my dad and look at him. “You ready for bed?”
“Yes,” he says with a deep groan. It has become easier for him to speak. He doesn’t have to stop as much to catch his breath or to focus on the words as he did earlier, but it still tires him. “It was very nice…talking to you, Sandra, but now…I’ll leave. The night belongs to the young.Goodnight, my…dear.”
“Goodnight Mr. Mills,” Sandra says with a chuckle.
I help my dad get back to his room and into bed. I cover him up and brush his teeth, then kiss his forehead. “Thank you…for a wonderful evening,” he says. “Don’t let Joey get to you. He just…misses you.”
“I won’t, Dad. It only makes me realize it really is time to move on.”
Chapter Seventy-Three
February 2016
“We’ll need you to testify against her.”
It’s Monday and Detective Brown has asked me to come in to the Sherriff’s office in Rockledge. I have been there several times since the incident in Melbourne. It hasn’t stopped being painful yet.
“You’re kidding me, right?” I say. “You have everything I told you in your files; can’t you just use that?”
He shakes his head. “The thing is, we can’t get a valid testimony from Marcia Little. She says one thing one day then something completely different on another. One day she tells us she is guilty, then she withdraws it the next. I need your statement.”
“She hasn’t woken up yet,” he says.
I suck in my breath. “Still?”
He shakes his head. “They don’t know if she ever will. Her brain was deprived of oxygen for a very long time.”
“So she was strangled and not shot?”
“We believe there was a fight between the two of them. Then Marcia Little tried to strangle her.”
“What about the girl?” I ask, thinking it’s odd that they would fight when Marcia had a gun and could easily have shot her. She had the gun in her hand when I saw her through the window. Why would she try to strangle the woman?
He shakes his head again. I can tell he is troubled by this case as well. “She hasn’t spoken to anyone since it happened. She is in such deep shock that she refuses to speak. We’ve tried everything. Every time we approach her with our questions, she breaks down in a severe asthma attack and needs medical attention. Her child psychologist tells us it might take a very long time before she’ll be able to talk again. So far, she stays in the hospital as close to her mother as possible. They can’t get her to leave her mother’s bedside.”
“I can’t say I blame her,” I say.
“But now, you might also be able to understand that, so far, all we have are yours and Steven Elingston’s testimonies. You both saw Marcia there.”
I stare into the eyes of Detective Brown. I don’t know what to say to him. I really, really don’t want to have to testify against my friend. At the same time, I want justice to be served for Steven and his family, especially the poor kid sitting in the hospital right now by her mother’s bedside. It breaks my heart.
“We know her attorney will plead for insanity, so with your testimony, she will be committed to a psychiatric facility for an indeterminate period.”
“So, you’ll basically lock her away in a mental institution for the rest of her life,” I say, swallowing hard.
“She did kill a lot of people, Mary.”