by Willow Rose
“Sure. I’m up anyway,” I say.
“I’m coming over.”
Less than a minute later, she is in the kitchen of my dad’s house. I make some coffee for the both of us. It’s almost three o’clock anyway, and I have realized I’m not going to get any sleep tonight anyway, so I might as well stay up.
“So, what’s up?” I ask, and serve her the coffee.
She has a very serious look in her eyes as she speaks. “Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.”
“Okay? What are we talking about here?”
“Marcia. I took another look at her case. I simply can’t believe she would do such terrible acts. I went through her case file and found this.” Chloe puts a piece of paper in front of me.
“It’s from the forensics report,” she says. “Ballistics. From the Elingston house. The second one. Look at the results.”
I look down at the paper, then back up at Chloe.
“They don’t match,” she says. “The bullet that killed Andrew Elingston didn’t belong to the gun they found in the house. It didn’t belong to Marcia’s gun.”
Chapter Seventy-Nine
April 2007
“He’s in here.”
The nurse walking ahead of Daniel stops in front of a closed door and turns to look at him. “I have to admit, he has not been the easiest among our patients. He has caused us quite a lot of trouble.”
“Peter? He’s the easiest in the world,” Daniel says, startled. “He’s the gentlest human being on this planet.”
The nurse snorts. “Well, we haven’t seen much of that since he got here.”
Daniel can’t believe what he is hearing. It was Shannon who called the day before and told him that they had called—again—from the home where Peter lived since their mother died and since the trial ended, and told her that Peter was causing trouble there, asking them to come and visit him.
Daniel has been there a couple of times before, but work and family have been taking up a lot of time lately, and the visits have been further apart than when he lived at the house.
Maybe it is just a bad excuse for not coming because Daniel can’t stand the place, can’t stand to see his brother in a place like this.
But his siblings all think it is a great idea. They found the most expensive home with the best care, they say.
“He’s going to love it there,” Jack argued when Daniel objected and asked if there really wasn’t any of them who could take Peter in. “There’s going to be a lot of other people who are just like him. He’s going to have a blast.”
A blast is very far from what Daniel is looking at now that the nurse is opening the door to the room with the words:
“We had to strap him down.”
Daniel stares at his brother lying motionless, arms and legs strapped to the bed. He has to calm himself down to not say something he might regret later on.
“Strap him down? But…why?”
“He was hurting himself and everyone else trying to help him. He smacked one of the nurses in the face and gave her a bruise. We really can’t have that. It was for the good of everybody.”
Daniel takes a couple of angry steps towards his brother. His wrists are bruised from trying to get loose. He is lying completely still now. Doesn’t even react when Daniel approaches him. Usually, he chirps when he sees Daniel. Chirps with excitement. But not today. He is not even screaming like he usually does when he is upset or angry.
Daniel waves a hand in front of his face, but his eyes don’t even blink. Daniel is shocked by this lethargy from his usually so lively brother.
“What happened to him?”
“We had to give him something to calm him down,” the nurse says.
“Drugs? You gave my brother drugs?”
“He was hurting himself. And constantly gnawing at his hands. Look at them. Those sores won’t heal if he continues to chew them.”
“He only chews them when he is upset.”
“That might be, but he has been doing it excessively since he got here. We had to do something. The wild movements with his arms are so uncontrolled we never know when he’ll hit someone.”
“But that’s his disease, for crying out loud,” Daniel says. “He can’t control his muscles and movements.”
The nurse sighs. “I know. But what do you want us to do? We have to wash him. We have to feed him. We can’t do that if he is constantly moving. The doctor recommended it.”
“I would like to be alone with him, if I may,” Daniel says, struggling hard to keep his cool.
“Very well. I have places to be too,” the nurse says and leaves the room.
Daniel sits next to the bed. He reaches out and grabs Peter’s hand in his, something he can usually never do, since he rarely stays still. Daniel tries to get eye contact with his brother, but Peter’s eyes stare eerily into the ceiling; they don’t move, they hardly blink.
It’s like he’s not even alive anymore.
Daniel strokes his brother’s hand several times, while tears leave his eyes, thinking about how alive Peter used to be when he was at the university or when debating with his classmates after class. How vibrant he used to be when working with Kristin and discovering new things with her. Daniel tries not to, but he feels so guilty for having deprived his brother of that world. No matter if she manipulated his words, it was still better than this. Wasn’t it?
Now Kristin was in jail, and so was Peter.
“I am sorry, brother. You have no idea how sorry I am,” he whispers.
Chapter Eighty
February 2016
“They never told you this, did they?”
Chloe leans back in her chair and looks at me, her arms crossed over her chest. “The police never told you that the bullets didn’t match the gun.”
I shake my head pensively. “No.”
“They conveniently left that out,” Chloe says.
“What do you mean?” I swallow another Oreo and wonder if I’ll get sick if I eat any more. Probably. They do a great job of keeping me awake, though.
“They didn’t tell you because then maybe you wouldn’t agree to be a witness for them. But that is also why they so desperately need you. Without yours and Steven’s testimony, they have nothing. If they can’t match the murder weapon with her, they don’t have much to go on.”
“More like nothing to go on,” I say.
This puts me in a very difficult position for sure. I don’t want to be the one to put the last nail in Marcia’s coffin. I don’t want to be the sole reason she is locked away for life. Especially not now that there is doubt about her guilt. I, for one, am not convinced anymore.
“There is something else,” I say. I look at the door to the guestroom, where Mark is sleeping. At least I hope he is. He looked like he needed it badly.
“What’s that?”
“Mark came here tonight. He’s sleeping in the guest bedroom. He told me something that shook me deeply.”
“Really?” Chloe sips her coffee and grabs some chips from the bag. I know she is used to eating at night as well. Well, to be frank, she does everything at night. She never eats much if she’s awake during the day. Me, I eat both night and day if I can get away with it.
“I promised I would only tell if he agreed to it, but I think he knows he can trust you as well. He saw the body be dumped.”
“What body?” Chloe asks.
“Shannon Ferguson. The teacher. He saw someone dump her from the bridge. He says it wasn’t his mother, that this was someone taller.”
“Why hasn’t he said anything?”
“That’s the thing. I can’t tell you that because it’ll break his heart; just trust me that he has thought about it every minute since, but he couldn’t.”
“Why? It could have helped his mother? At least in the case of Shannon Ferguson. I don’t understand this.”
I sigh. I can’t betray Mark’s trust and tell her everything. “He is afraid to get someone else in trouble, okay? Ask hi
m yourself when he wakes up. I just can’t tell you unless he agrees to. He trusts me.”
“Okay. So you’re telling me he saw someone else dump the body, not his mother? Am I getting that right?”
“Yes.”
“So that is two deep inconsistencies in the case against Marcia,” Chloe says. “We have to do something. We can’t let them put her away with such light evidence.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I say. “But what? What do we do?”
Chloe looks pensive. She is biting the inside of her cheek.
“We could go to the detective with everything we know. Maybe they’ll look into it,” I say.
“You know as well as I do, they won’t,” Chloe says. “They have their killer. They believe she is guilty. Heck, she has even admitted to being guilty.”
“But also pulled it back again,” I say. “They can never use her testimony in court. She has no idea what she is saying.”
“I know that and so do you, but they don’t. I mean, who’s to say when Marcia is clear minded and when she isn’t. When she’s confessing or when she’s pulling it all back again? The bottom line is, they’ll do anything to prove her guilt. They won’t listen to loose allegations like these. So what if the gun wasn’t a match? Maybe she had another one that she used and disposed of somehow?”
“Maybe she didn’t act alone?” I say.
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe there was someone else in the house? The one who had the right gun, the same person who dumped the body from the bridge?”
Chloe looks pensive.
“But where does that leave Marcia? As an accomplice?” I continue.
“Maybe. Or just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
I exhale with a deep breath. “How do we find out?”
Chloe stands to her feet.
“I may have an idea.”
Chapter Eighty-One
February 2016
She is sleeping when we enter the room at the hospital. No one notices us as we walk through the hallways. Everything is in night mode. There are no guards outside the door either. I wonder why. They were, after all, victims of an attempted murder. But, apparently, that didn’t give you any extra protection. Probably because they believed they had their killer.
We walk slowly towards her. I remember her name is Lindsey from the police files. She is sitting in a chair next to her mother’s bed, her head lying on top of her mother’s stomach, her eyes closed. She is snoring lightly.
I put a hand on her shoulder while Chloe makes sure to close the door silently behind us. The girl gasps and looks up at me. Her eyes are still in the daze that is sleep and blinking as she looks at me. She gets agitated and starts wheezing.
“Don’t be scared,” I say. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
She doesn’t look like she believes me. The wheezing is getting worse. I can’t blame her for being afraid. She doesn’t say anything. I know she hasn’t spoken at all since the attack in her home. I don’t expect her to now, especially not to me, a complete stranger, who is trying to prove the innocence of the woman everyone believes killed her father and left her mother in a coma.
“I’m Mary. This is Chloe. We’re just here to talk to you a little bit,” I say. I smile and look at Chloe, who smiles as well. Her smile is far from comforting. I know I have to be quick before anyone finds us here.
“We’re here to talk to you about the woman in your house, the one who was arrested in your house. I know it must be hard for you to talk about, and we won’t ask you to. Just help us a little, okay?”
Lindsey stares at me. Her eyes are frightened. Again, I can’t blame her. But then the unforeseen happens. The wheezing calms down and Lindsey nods. She doesn’t speak, but just nods, agrees to us being there, while catching her breath. We find her inhalator on the end table by her mother’s bed, and she takes a few deep breaths till the wheezing stops completely.
I grab my phone and find a photo of Marcia in it. I zoom it with my fingers so she can see her face up close. “This is her, right? She was in your house, right?”
Lindsey stares at it for quite a while, then up at me. I expect her to start wheezing again, but she doesn’t. Instead she nods. Then she lifts her finger and points at me.
“Yes, yes I was there too. I didn’t think you’d remember me. I came in just before the police arrived.”
I am glad she remembers me and understand that is why she trusts me. I wonder if she trusts me enough. “I realize this must be very difficult for you, Lindsey. But we need to know what happened. We fear the police are about to make a mistake, one that will cost our friend to be locked up for life.”
I show her the picture again. She smiles when she sees it and a warm feeling overwhelms me.
“Did this woman shoot your father?” I ask. “Was it her?”
Lindsey’s wrinkles her forehead. Her eyes are torn in confusion. Determined, she shakes her head.
I look at Chloe behind me. “I knew it,” she says. “I bet they never asked you.”
I look at Lindsey again. “Then, who did shoot your dad?” I say, knowing very well she can’t answer me.
Once again, Lindsey stares at me, then points at the phone in my hand. She opens her mouth and says the words I know will never leave me again.
“S-s-save.”
She is struggling to get the word across her lips, and she speaks while pointing at Marcia. She starts to wheeze again and grabs her inhalator.
“Save? Marcia…Marcia saved you?” I say with cheer in my voice. She nods eagerly, while breathing through her inhalator.
“Marcia didn’t hurt anyone, she tried to save you!”
Lindsey nods with big eyes.
Chloe grabs my arm. “Ballistics,” she says. “Ballistics showed that Marcia’s gun had been fired. She had residue on her hands. It just didn’t match the bullet that killed the father.”
“She fired to stop the intruder, who had probably already killed Andrew Elingston. The question is if the intruder was hurt.”
“Not enough for her to not be able to escape,” Chloe says.
I look at the little girl in front of me. I get so emotional looking into her eyes. I can’t believe this much bad can happen to one little girl. It’s devastating. I lean over and kiss her forehead. She grabs me around the waist and holds me tight. It’s the best hug I’ve had in many years.
Chapter Eighty-Two
February 2016
Mark is awake when we get back to my dad’s house. So is my father. While Chloe goes home to sleep and take care of her mother, I throw together some pancakes and serve them for my father and Mark. I miss Salter when I watch Mark eat. Salter is spending the entire weekend with his father. I realize I haven’t thought about Steven once since last night.
While the others eat, I call him up.
“So, what was so urgent last night?” he asks.
I sigh. I don’t feel like I can tell him everything, but I want to talk to him about it anyway.
“It’s…we believe Marcia might be innocent,” I say.
“What?” His tone is angry. Rightfully so. He doesn’t know the entire story. I can’t tell him what Mark has told me or what Lindsey told me. At least not yet, so I go with the evidence.
“Ballistics show that it wasn’t her gun that killed your brother, Andrew. It was another gun.”
“So what? She could have used two guns or something. Maybe ballistics is wrong. I know she did it, Mary. I saw her, she went for my niece with that gun. She would have shot her if we hadn’t interfered. You know I am right. You saw it yourself.”
I sigh. I don’t expect him to understand. But I want him to trust me on this. “What if she was trying to save them instead?” I ask. “What if her gun was fired, but at the intruder instead?”
“What the heck? Are you kidding me?”
“I’m very serious, Steven. The evidence doesn’t add up. I am telling you. Marcia could be innocent.”
“But she
’s not. I know she isn’t,” he says. “She did it. She hasn’t even tried to defend herself. If she saved them instead of killing them, then why doesn’t she tell that to the police?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “She is sick. Maybe she doesn’t remember.”
“She has admitted her guilt.”
“But also pulled it back.”
“That doesn’t make her innocent.”
“Doesn’t make her guilty either.”
“But she is…she is guilty, Mary, and she’ll be locked away. I promise you she will. I won’t sit here and watch while she gets away with killing most of my family. I simply refuse to. Leave it alone, Mary. This is my battle to fight. We’re finally about to get closure. Do you have any idea what it is like to not know what happened to your family? No, you don’t. Because it was my family.”
“I understand why you are upset but…”
“No buts. You leave this alone; you hear me?”
“Hey. Marcia is my friend,” I say a lot harsher than intended. He’s got me angry now. “I am not about to stand here and watch as they convict her when she is innocent. She has a life too; she has children too.”
“Then I guess we don’t have anything more to say to each other,” he says.
Really? Wow!
“I guess not.”
I hang up and realize I have burnt the last pancake beyond recognition. Mark looks at me from the table.
“Was that Harry?” he asks.
I nod and remove the burnt pancake.
“His real name is Steven,” my dad says. “Apparently…he lied about it.”
“Steven?” Mark asks.
“Yes,” my dad says. “Doesn’t sound like…he’s going to come around here…again.”
“That’s too bad. I liked Harry, or Steven,” Mark says.
I grab a pancake from the stack for myself.
“So did I.”
Chapter Eighty-Three
February 2016
I manage to get half an hour of sleep before the doorbell wakes me up. Outside is Danny. He is wearing another T-shirt with his department’s logo on it, and it makes me chuckle. I try to hide it to not hurt him. He looks very muscular in this one.