God Only Knows

by Xavier Knight

  Cassie gripped Marcus’s hand and placed her free one on her son’s slumped shoulder. She was so thankful that both Dante and Whitlock appeared to be on the road to recovery. Although he was not yet well enough to be processed through the justice system for his latest crime, Dante had been conscious long enough now to roughly corroborate M.J.’s account, so signs there were hopeful. And although Peter Whitlock was the last person likely to help M.J. out of this jam, Cassie was now confident that she had that avenue covered.

  Once she and Marcus had exchanged hugs with M.J., shaken hands with Brinker, and excused themselves, Cassie checked her watch as they stepped into the courthouse’s bustling hallways. “The hearing’s not for another two hours,” she said. “I can’t just sit around here waiting on it, Marcus.”

  Marcus placed an arm around his wife’s shoulder. “Let’s go over to that Boston Stoker by the Schuster. We can get a drink, pray some, and you can return Julia’s call.”

  “That’s right, she did call when we were on our way out the door this morning.” Cassie was embarrassed at her nervous movements, realizing she had placed the knuckles of her right hand into her mouth for a second. “I do need to call Julia, baby, but I’d rather do that later. I know she’s praying for us in the meantime.” She left unspoken the other part of the truth; she had to do something now, something that she had no intention of telling Julia about until it was done.

  “Okay, then you’ll make do with my company,” Marcus replied, smiling at his own uneasy attempt to lighten the moment. He kissed her cheek. “Let’s head on out, so we can get back early.”

  “I’ll make you a deal,” she said, placing a hand to his chest. “Let me drop you off at Stoker and run a quick errand, then meet you back there.”

  Marcus frowned. “What errand have you got, Cassie? We’re both off work all day. M.J. needs us now; then we’re picking up the twins early from school so we can brief them about everything.”

  “It’s nothing big,” she replied, stroking her husband’s chest again. “Just something I can knock out quickly for work, and distract myself for a bit. Okay?”

  After she had spent time in prayer —time that included whispered requests for forgiveness not just from God but from Marcus and her children —Cassie dried her tears and emerged from her car. Checking her watch, she crossed the main walkway leading to the lobby of Miami Valley Hospital. In order to get back to Boston Stoker at a reasonable time, she had to get in and out of the hospital within twenty minutes. Not much time to take one of the most monumental steps she had ever considered, but Cassie was convinced God was at the helm of this decision —He would provide.

  “Good morning,” she said as she stepped up to the information desk. “I’m looking for the room of Peter Whitlock, please.”

  “How did you get in here?” Still immobilized in his hospital bed, but capable of lifting his own head, speaking, and eating, Whitlock noted Cassie’s entrance with wary eyes.

  “I was blessed,” Cassie replied, standing with her back against the closed door. “A couple of uniformed officers were walking the other way as I came down the hall. Sounded like they were on a coffee break.”

  Whitlock looked from his apparently immobile body up to Cassie’s gaze. “You here to finish off what your boy and his goon started?”

  “You’re speaking clearly,” Cassie said, intently keeping her tone soft and pliant. “I was told you were unconscious for several days.”

  “It wasn’t that dramatic,” Whitlock replied, one hand hovering over the call button to his right. “It’s been ten days anyway. I’ll be out of here in another day or two.”

  “To answer your question, Peter,” Cassie said, eyeing the call button, “I’m here to talk, that’s it. Will you hear me out for a minute, please?”

  Whitlock shrugged. “Say your piece, then get out. We’ll be settling up eventually, Mrs. Gillette.”

  “I agree,” Cassie replied. She stepped toward the detective’s bed but kept a respectful distance. “I’m here to settle now, actually, on terms I hope you’ll find favorable.”

  “Oh, now you want to come clean about everything?” Whitlock shook his head. “If I’d known that, I would have had a shoot-out with your brat kid months ago.”

  Cassie shook off the crack and crossed her arms. “I’m going to finally tell you all the truth I know, okay? More important, once I tell you, I am going to tell the authorities —no lawyer at my side, no games. I’ll simply confess to the truth of what I experienced the night of Eddie’s accident. I have one question for you first.”

  His cheeks reddening with what looked like hope, Whitlock attempted a painful shift upward in his bed. “What’s that?”

  Cassie peered ahead with eyes saying, Don’t lie to me. “What have you told the investigating officers about how your shooting went down?”

  “I’ve only been myself mentally for the past day or so,” Whitlock replied. “One of my detective buddies started taking my statement this morning.”

  Cassie rolled her tongue from one side of her mouth to the other before asking, “Is there still time to edit your statement, Detective?”

  Whitlock grunted suddenly, apparently overcome by the effort to sit up. Collapsing lower into his bed, he traded fleeting glances with Cassie before saying, “That depends.”

  33

  Julia and Amber were rushing through their kitchen, shuttling to and from the car with grocery bags from Kroger, when Cassie called. Catching her breath, Julia paused in front of her freezer as she grabbed her cordless phone from the wall. “Hey, girl.”

  Cassie’s voice had a tinny, remote quality. “Julia, I need you to turn on the news in a few minutes. Channel two, preferably. I know they’ll get it right because I had a long conversation with Marsha Bonhart this afternoon.”

  “Oh, well, I’ll have to catch the eleven o’clock newscast,” Julia replied, her mind too occupied to catch the gravity of her friend’s statement. “Amber and I are putting up groceries, then hustling to her dance lesson tonight.”

  “Julia.” Cassie gave what sounded like a gasp. “You need to see the newscast, the five-thirty broadcast. Trust me.”

  Julia frowned with fresh concern. “Cassie, I don’t understand. What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

  “I love you, girl, please remember that.” Cassie sighed. “I have to go now. We’ll talk later, but first I have to explain all this to Marcus.”

  Julia opened her mouth to request another explanation, but she was met with nothing but the click of Cassie hanging up. “Your aunt,” she said to Amber, who was cramming frozen vegetables into the freezer, “is acting very strange, honey.” She checked her watch. “Amber, will you take your backpack upstairs, and go ahead and choose your outfit for tomorrow while you’re at it?”

  “Auntee,” her niece replied, shutting the freezer and looking past her toward the kitchen clock, “aren’t we going to be late?”

  “I’ll explain it to Ms. Bell,” Julia said, referencing the dance instructor. “Go on now.”

  The newscast was due to start in two minutes, so Julia’s wait was mercifully short. Instinctively, she remained on her feet after turning on the television in her room, and as a result, she was still there when Marsha Bonhart, the iconic local anchor, opened the broadcast.

  “Dayton police tonight announced an unexpected break in a cold case dating back to the 1980s. Cassandra Gillette, a former student at Christian Light Schools, has confessed to involvement in an altercation that ended in the incapacitation of fourteen-year-old Eddie Walker, her classmate at Christian Light. . . .”

  Julia dropped her purse; she felt the walls of her bedroom and every layer of clothing on her body fall away. She had never felt so bare, so exposed. This was it, then? Despite her attempts to coordinate an organized confession of truth, in a fashion that could ensure everyone’s ability to steer clear of unjust prison sentences, was this how it would end? With Cassie cracking under the pressure and giving everyone up be
fore they had time to ensure everyone had the same perception of the truth?

  “. . . Mrs. Gillette,” an attorney —not the one that Julia had helped Cassie retain —was speaking, apparently for Cassie. “Mrs. Gillette’s conscience moved her to clear the air finally,” he was saying, “but she is as much the victim here as was Eddie Walker. She was attacked by the young man, and had to fend him off completely by herself.”

  Julia looked down into one hand to see that she had already grabbed a phone and had begun dialing Terry’s number. Dropping the phone, she decided to wait and see the rest of this report, as well as anything on the other networks. She may as well give Terry and Toya the most complete information she could get. Did she really edit us out of her account of what happened?

  “. . . complicated dimensions involved here,” a police lieutenant was saying, “given that you’re talking about an incident involving two minors and a claim of self-defense. However, anytime someone has confessed to shoving someone in front of a moving vehicle, we have to conduct a thorough investigation, ensure justice is served.”

  “What?” Julia’s exclamation was a roar, loud enough that within seconds Amber was at her side.

  “Auntee, what’s wrong?”

  “Come here, sweetie,” Julia said, wrapping her niece close and easing down next to her on the bed as the news moved on to the next feature of the day. “I love you, do you know that?”

  “Yes, Auntee,” Amber replied, her dimples revealed as she nuzzled in against Julia. “Why were you yelling, though?”

  Julia felt her cell phone vibrate in her jacket pocket. Hugging Amber close, she checked the caller ID on the phone with her free hand. “Let me take this,” she said, planting a kiss on her niece’s forehead. “We’ll need to talk on the way to your dance class, okay?”

  “Okay, but you have to promise.”

  “Promise.” Julia continued smiling into her niece’s beaming face as she answered the phone. “Hello, Maxwell.”

  Maxwell was quiet momentarily before saying, “You must be with Amber.”

  “That would be correct.”

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Julia held to her smile, but answered honestly. “No.”

  “Is this dance class night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can I meet you there?”

  “Yes,” Julia replied, gamely raising Amber to her feet and following the child down the hallway. “I would like that.” The strength in her tone faltered as she admitted, “I need that.”

  34

  The news of Cassie’s confession changed everything. Julia wondered whether her life would ever be the same.

  If she had any illusions that her friend’s climactic, sacrificial act would be easily reversed, God allowed plenty of signs to the contrary. The Wednesday morning after news of Cassie’s confession hit the local papers and broadcasts, Julia answered her front doorbell to find both Terry and Toya standing on her porch. Her two old classmates were a study in contrasts: Toya stood, with her back arched, covered in a knee-length black fur coat, business slacks, and high heels, while Terry slumped next to her in a velour tracksuit worn underneath an aged tweed overcoat.

  “Hey, Julia,” Terry said, stamping out a cigarette and pulling her overcoat tighter around herself. “You mind if we come in?”

  If it had just been Terry, Julia might not have been so surprised. After all, Cleveland wasn’t even a four-hour drive away, and she knew Terry’s family was still in Dayton. They had probably called her the minute Cassie’s confession hit the news. It was Toya’s presence that left Julia feeling a little dizzy. “Hey, you two. Uh —”

  Toya scrunched her nose, frowning as she checked her watch. “It’s chilly out here, old friend. Do you mind stepping aside?”

  Julia stepped back involuntarily, replying as she did so, “I was heading out in a few minutes for work and to drop Amber at school. . . .”

  “That’s Julia Turner,” Terry replied, a hmmph underriding her tone as she and Toya stepped past Julia into the foyer. “Julia never breaks stride, doesn’t matter what type of hell breaks loose. I always wished I could be that cool.”

  “She’s not that cool,” Toya said, chuckling as her eyes took an indulgent glance around, indicating she was less impressed with Julia’s home than she had expected to be. She removed her coat and handed it toward Julia. “I trust you have a good-quality wood hanger for this, yes?”

  Julia frowned freely at Toya as she took both her coat and Terry’s. “So, did Terry call you? I have to admit, Toya, I never thought you would actually cross the ocean over this.”

  The two women stood facing Julia down, both looking a little annoyed not to have been offered a seat. Arms crossed, Toya replied, “Terry didn’t have to call me, I called her. I still have three aunts in town, all of them the worst gossips. Somehow they put two and two together when they heard about Cassie’s story, figured that she must have been my same class year. Two of them e-mailed me the night of, the other one called me the next day.”

  Terry cut her eyes in Toya’s direction. “Go ahead and tell her why you came back into the country, though.”

  Toya sighed as she began to unbutton the beige jacket of her pants suit. “I think you have the heat on overdrive in here, Julia. Look, you might as well know that I paid for Terry’s plane ticket and coordinated for us both to arrive around the same time so she could ride with me. I’m here, Julia, because if I stayed over in Paris, you’d invoke your leadership skills and react to this mess in the way you see fit. I’m here to make sure I have a say in all this.”

  Julia pinched the bridge of her nose, saying a prayer under her breath. “Have a seat,” she replied finally, walking over to her hall closet to hang the coats. “I appreciate the effort you both made coming here, so we will talk this nightmare out. I will need a minute to run Amber to school at least, okay?”

  “You do what you need to do,” Toya replied dismissively, reaching for a cell phone from her purse. “I’ll just have a seat in your kitchen and catch up with my family.”

  Terry walked into the family room and collapsed onto the couch, her gaze on the entertainment center. “I see a stereo. Where’s your TV?”

  “Oh,” Julia replied, “we don’t have one downstairs. I’ve worked hard to minimize Amber’s exposure to television. I let her watch approved content on the idiot box in my bedroom, weekends only.”

  Terry raised an eyebrow but chuckled. “Sound like child abuse to me, Julia.”

  When Julia returned, she put on some coffee, called in late to the office, and warily took a seat across from Toya and Terry, who each sat on the family room’s couch. “I wish I had the right words,” she said, searching her old friends’ eyes. “Cassie’s actions put all of us in a bind, but I understand it’s even more of an imposition on you two. Cassie’s decision was her own, but at least I should have seen it coming, especially once M.J. got drawn into the middle of everything.”

  “Never mind all that,” Terry replied, the fingers of one hand absentmindedly tracing a circle into the glass on the coffee table. “I’m here because I know out of all of us, you’re the one with both smarts and common sense. Do I need to get a lawyer, Julia? I mean, a real one, like the kind I can’t afford?”

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Toya said, patting Terry’s hand condescendingly. “No one besides Cassie will need a lawyer once she recants her confession.”

  Julia frowned. “What are you talking about, Toya? She can’t take back her statement, not with any credibility.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised,” Toya replied. “We just need to find her the right high-priced lawyer, after we hire a private detective to get us some leverage against Peter Whitlock. All we need is the right piece of blackmail to make it look like he coerced Cassie into confessing. I mean, let’s be honest, that’s what he basically did by threatening her and M.J. in the first place.”

  “Her mind was made up long before I could reach her,” Julia
replied, shaking her head at Toya’s irrational certainty. “The cat’s out of the bag —maybe Cassie made up some parts of her account, but the fact is there’s a lot of truth in it. She can’t just recant it now and win a ‘get out of jail’ pass. For that matter, she doesn’t want one.

  “Now, for Terry’s question about a lawyer.” Julia took a sip of her coffee before clasping her hands in thought. “To be honest, if I thought you had unlimited resources, I would suggest getting one. But right now, if money’s tight, you might be able to hold off and see how this plays out.”

  “Plays out?” Terry narrowed her eyes. “What you mean? Eventually the truth will get out, right? Cassie won’t get away with trying to act like she was the only one who roughed the boy up, will she? Not to mention this fantasy about her pushing him in front of that truck? We all know she left the scene with us, she wasn’t around when the boy walked out into the street.”

  Toya grimaced. “You said Cassie doesn’t want to recant her story,” she said. “That’s because she wanted to make this false confession, is that it?”

  Julia had prayed about whether to share her next words, but she had peace now. “I’m going to tell you both something, okay?” Patiently now, she told both women about the deal Cassie had made with Detective Whitlock, the reason that her confession would not be getting much scrutiny. “Cassie waited until after confessing to explain her reasoning, but here it is. She made a deal with Eddie’s brother, the detective. In exchange for giving him the satisfaction of seeing her prosecuted for supposedly putting Eddie in front of that truck, he had to admit to starting the shoot-out with M.J. and her cousin’s son.”

  “So,” Terry said, squinting, “that’s why M.J. and the other boy’s charges were pleaded down, or whatever?”

  “Yes. So now Cassie says that she has Detective Whitlock’s word —well, he’s not a detective anymore, he was basically forced into retirement as a result of his confession about the shoot-out —that he will never question her confession or whether others may have been involved. The only way our involvement would ever come to the authorities’ knowledge is if one of us chose to confess in some fashion too.”