by Kirk Jockell
Stone quivered at the sound of his voice but whipped herself back into shape. “But, what?”
“But ... I could.”
“So,” she said, “you admit to murdering Terrance Lundsford.”
“Murder is an awful crime. Murder involves an innocent victim. Murder steals something from civil harmony. Murder creates a void where there was once love. Murder is one of the foulest crimes toward humanity. That is something I am incapable of. No, I didn’t murder Terrance Lundsford.”
“What exactly happened?”
Nigel sat back in the chair and thought for a minute. Always think before speaking. He collected his delivery and leaned in toward Stone. “Let me tell you a story.”
Stone nodded.
“When I was a little boy, I can’t remember how old, another kid was viciously attacked and mauled by a neighborhood dog that jumped its fence. I don’t know what kind of dog. That doesn’t matter. All I remember is my mother would not allow me to play outside after school. She feared for my safety, because this dog was allowed to roam free. It jumped the fence all the time. There were no leash laws back then. Those were different times. Had that happened today, the owner of the dog would have been charged, convicted, and in the lockup.
“My father and several other neighborhood dads tried to talk to the owner about the dog, but the owner said his backyard fence worked just fine.
“Gosh ... I haven’t thought of this in forever, but now, I remember it like it happened yesterday. I was playing with my Lincoln Log set on the living room floor. It was after school. I was in the second grade. That would have made me what, seven or eight years old? My dad came home from work and he sat down and helped me complete the roof. You know, those little green slats of wood. Did you ever have a Lincoln Log set?”
“I am a girl, Chief, if you haven’t noticed. It was more Barbies and the Mystery Date Game for me.”
“Anyway, after helping me with the roof, he told me to go to my room so he could talk with my mom. I was on my bed organizing my GI Joe foot locker when a loud explosion occurred outside the house. It scared me to death and my GI Joe gear flew everywhere. I was afraid to move. I was frozen on the bed. My mom came in and sat with me. I remember asking, ‘What was that?’, but she never answered. Then there was another explosion and I grabbed my mother tight. All she would say is, ‘Everything is fine. You don’t have anything to worry about.’
“She comforted me, rubbing my head and back while she rocked me back and forth. It seemed like forever, but after a few minutes my dad came in the room. I asked, ‘What was that, daddy? That loud noise?’ He returned a comforting laugh that told me everything was just fine. ‘Fireworks. That’s all. They sure were loud, huh?’ I nodded my head with a smile.
“My dad looked around my room and said, ‘Why don’t you clean up this mess in here, then go outside and play while there is still daylight?’ I looked at my mom and asked, ‘What about the dog?’ My dad answered by saying, ‘It’s okay, sport. He’s gone. He won’t hurt anybody, ever again.’”
Stone said nothing. Thoughtful quiet filled the room.
Nigel shrugged his shoulders. He was looking toward the floor, between his knees. He said, “We never talked about it. The dog and what happened that day. It took years for me to figure it out on my own. I never realized he had a gun until I was much older.”
“So … your dad killed the dog?”
The hardened features and coldness in his voice returned. Nigel eased his head up and looked at Stone. He tilted his head and said, “Exterminated. When you kill something dangerous for the greater good, it’s extermination.”
Stone nodded her head and turned toward Stan, her cameraman, and asked, “Please tell me you are getting this?”
“Dumb question,” replied Stan.
“So, Chief. You didn’t murder Lundsford, you exterminated him?”
“There’s a difference. Wouldn’t you say?”
“Based on my personal history,” said Stone, “I would have to say, ‘yes’. Go on. Tell us what happened.”
Stone woke him with a cup of coffee. It was almost 1030. They had filmed all night, until about 0400. When they were done, Nigel crawled on a bed and looked at the ceiling. His last thought was of Candice as he closed his eyes and fell asleep. Stone was able to steal about an hour and a half of sleep after spending the early morning editing her piece. Nigel looked around the room. The cameraman, Stan, was still passed out on the sofa. He looked at Stone and whispered, “Good morning.”
“Listen to me for a minute,” said Stone as Nigel sat up in bed. I have a proposition. If you are against it, I’ll understand. No problem.”
She told him her plan. He listened to the whole thing. He didn’t like what he was hearing. When she was done, he said nothing.
She broke the silence and said, “Forget about it. It’s selfish on my part, I know. Just drop it. I’m sorry I said anything.”
“It sounds humiliating.”
“I know. Just forget it.”
Nigel thought for a beat or two and said, “Maybe a dose of humility will do me some good.”
He swung his feet to the floor and walked around to where she stood. He hugged her and they held each other tight. He whispered in her ear. “You’re better than a great friend. You’ve done nothing but try to help me. Thank you, for everything. The answer is, yes. You have a green light.”
They broke their embrace and she kissed him on the cheek. He looked at his watch and said, “We better get moving.”
Stone threw a pillow at her cameraman and said, “Let’s go, Stan. We go live in about 90 minutes.”
Deputy Timmy Morris was back at Mama Easley’s having a little lunch. He paid little attention to the television on the wall that was showing the noon news out of Tidewater. Then a casual glance led to his full attention. “Hey! Turn that up!”
Morris read the “Breaking News” caption at the bottom of the screen: “Suspected Murderer Nigel Logan Surrenders.” He watched the sidewalk scene as the camera zoomed in on the face of a man stepping out of a vehicle. It was the same man that a day earlier had bought his lunch. “Dang! Look, Mama. That’s the guy that I had lunch with yesterday. We sat right over there.”
Morris continued to watch as the camera rolled on Logan who was talking on the phone. Stone provided the narrative. As Mama turned up the volume, he heard Stone say, “He’s on the phone with Detective Anderson as you are watching this. As promised, he’s turning himself into the authorities.”
As Stone was telling everyone about her exclusive interview with Logan the night before, Nigel ended the call and handed her his phone. He took a few steps toward the building and bent down on his knees and placed his hands behind his head, interlocking his fingers.
His wait wasn’t long. The camera showed every available uniform in the building rush out with weapons drawn. Anderson stood at the top of the stairs that led to the front doors of the station. Despite Logan being cooperative, he was still taken down hard. Logan grimaced as his face was driven into the sidewalk pavement. He continued to cooperate as a knee was placed on the back of his neck. His only protest was toward Stone. As they were cuffing his hands behind his back he shifted his eyes up at Stone and said, “Thanks, sugar. This was a grand idea.”
Stoned mouthed the words I’m sorry as he was jerked to his feet and rushed up the stairs. The camera followed and the uniforms stopped Logan in front of Anderson. Nigel said, “Hello, Larry.”
Anderson chuckled and pointed to the red, strawberry abrasion dripping blood under Logan’s eye. Anderson asked, “What happened here?”
Logan said, “I fell down.”
They stared at each other and exchanged unexpected looks of respect and admiration. Each had proven persistent. As opposite as they were, each had stuck to his values. They were both determined and results-driven. They both saw all of that in each other. The moment was lost and interrupted when an out-of-breath voice bellowed through the smoke of a freshly lit cigar
ette.
The camera turned to see Jacob Hawkins running up the stairs. “Easy on the goods, officers. Easy on the goods.”
Hawkins asked his client, “You okay?”
“I’ve had better days. Me and Larry, here. We were just getting to know each other again.”
Then Anderson ordered, “Take him inside. Stick him in interview room two.”
Deputy Morris watched the television and saw Logan and the officers disappear behind the doors. The camera was on Stone and she spoke to her audience. “There you have it. Chief Logan has turned himself in and is in custody. Viewers will want to tune into the six o’clock news as we show a preview of my exclusive interview with Nigel Logan.”
The noon anchorman asked, “Can you share any insight, Sherry? Did he confess to killing Terrance Lundsford?”
“I will say this. You’ll have to tune in and watch to find out. From Police Headquarters in Virginia Beach, this is Sherry Stone. Channel 7, The News Voice of Tidewater.”
Mama turned off the television. “Damn, Timmy,” she said. “You had lunch with a killer.”
“Seems so,” said Morris. “And he was such a nice guy.”
Mama said, “I guess it goes to show. You never really know, do you?”
The envelopes shuffled through his fingers. When he came across a plain white envelope with no return address, he stopped. He flipped it over to look at the back, a circle was drawn on the point of the envelope flap. The number seventeen was written in the middle. He stuffed the envelope in his pocket. From the other side of the house, Trixie raised her voice, “Anything good?”
Red turned his head in her direction and lied, “Just bills.”
Trixie was still in the dark. There were few that knew. Only Red, Candice, and Luke McKenzie knew the truth about Nigel’s whereabouts. They all agreed to keep quiet until there was more to share. The last thing they wanted is for folks to speculate.
Red knew more than the other two. He had been keeping up with the news on the Internet. He read the online news articles of Nigel’s surrender and the video confession obtained by Sherry Stone. The station had planned to air the confessional piece the day Logan turned himself in but backtracked on that idea. None of the other news stations had anything as exclusive, so time was on their side and the station promoted the upcoming news segment heavily. The piece would air on the evening of his sentencing, and it was expected by everyone that Sherry Stone and the station would own the news cycle that day.
Red knew the sentencing was scheduled for next Monday, five days away. It pained him to think he would probably never see his friend again. The thing that bothered him more was that he knew he would have to bring Candice up to speed on the latest. Although she was half expecting bad news, the truth and reality of it all would destroy her.
“Whatcha got there, Red?” asked Trixie as she lit a cigarette and blew her smoke up in the air.
Red had moved to the back deck to sit in one of their tall Adirondack chairs that overlooked the water. He was just finishing Nigel’s letter. He folded it back up and thought for a bit as he looked out over the Gulf of Mexico. Without looking at Trixie, he said, “It’s a letter. From Nigel.”
Trixie said nothing.
Red said, “You better sit down. I have something to tell you.”
She didn’t like the tone in his voice, so she put the cigarette out and took a seat in the big chair next to him. They both looked out over the water. Red was searching for the right words and where to start when Trixie said, “He’s not coming back, is he? The fuckers finally caught him, huh?”
Red’s head snapped to the left to look at his wife.
She said, “Don’t look so surprised, damn you. I’m in the bail bond business for crying out loud. I check out everybody. I got dirt on just about everyone in town. Shit! I’m a regular J. Edgar Hoover.”
Red said nothing.
“Son of a bitch,” she said. “I was hoping this day would never come. So ... bring me up to speed. Where are we?”
They compared notes. Red told her everything he knew. Most of which she was already familiar with. He got the laptop and showed her the video of him on the sidewalk, turning himself in. She gasped when she saw how hard his face hit the pavement. “Bastards,” she said under her breath.
Red closed the laptop.
“They really got him,” she said. “He’s really not coming home.”
“He confessed,” said Red. He picked up the letter and waved it. “That’s what this is all about.” She handed it over for her to read. He got up and said, “We need to go tell Candice. But I need a Bloody Mary first.”
“Make it two and make them strong.”
The five of them, if you include Maxine, decided to meet at R.I.D.D., Red’s Institute for Drunk Drivers. It was after hours, quiet, and private. They could stream the newscast from there and watch the Stone-Logan interview which was scheduled to air during the station’s six o’clock news hour.
At first the station executives were thinking of breaking the interview into three 10-15 minute segments. Air it over the three full hours they dedicated to news, which started at four o’clock. They wanted to keep a viewer glued to the television over the entire newscast. This would have caused much of the interview to be excluded in editing. Instead, they gave Stone the entire six o’clock news hour. She would own the entire hour. They promoted it heavily in the days before, and, on the day of, they used much smaller teaser segments during the four and five o’clock news hours.
Candice brought beer and wine for herself, Trixie, and Luke. She also threw in a couple tall boys of PBR for Maxine. Her flavor of the month. Red had more than enough Jim Beam stocked in his desk drawer. At ten minutes before the six o’clock hour, Red fired up the computer and started streaming what was left of the 5 o’clock news hour.
They scrambled around topping off beverages before gathering around the desk to get a view of the monitor. Candice tried to be strong, but she lost it as an image of Nigel sitting with Stone appeared by the anchorman’s head as he announced, “Stay tuned for reporter Sherry Stone’s special report. Stone takes the full hour as she reveals her exclusive interview with Nigel Logan, the confessed killer of local rapper, Terrance “T-Daddy” Lundsford. You don’t want to miss it, and it all happens ... right here ... on Channel Seven, The News Voice of Tidewater. Starting at six. Don’t go anywhere.
As the screen went to commercials, Trixie brought Candice hugs and a box of tissues. “Are you sure you want to do this?” asked Trixie.
Candice thought for a few seconds and nodded her head. “I’ll be alright. I think.” The room then fell silent as the broadcast started. They watched as Sherry Stone stood on a city sidewalk. She looked into the camera and said, “Welcome to a special edition of The News Voice of Tidewater. I am reporter Sherry Stone, and I will be your host tonight as I bring you a story of love, revenge, and justice. The story of retired Navy Chief Nigel Logan and the Terrance “T-Daddy” Lundsford murder.”
The camera started moving back as she began to take a few steps toward the camera and her audience. She stopped and with her thumb she pointed behind her and said, “For me, the story starts right here, at the old River Theater in Portsmouth. The doors and windows are boarded up now, but they do nothing to conceal the things that went on inside. It was here that I, too, was raped by Terrance Lundsford.”
Candice gasped and said, “Oh dear,” as the camera and Stone turned to take the focus off the old dilapidated building. There was a long stretch of sidewalk behind Stone; light foot traffic passed by as she continued, “But tonight’s broadcast isn’t about me. My tale has been told. Tonight, three other women come together to tell their stories and to meet the man that delivered their justice. One of the women is Grace Matthews.
“Allegedly, it was the rape and beating of Matthews that caused Logan to take the law into his own hands. I had the privilege of recently sitting down with Chief Logan. In his interview, he leaves nothing to the imagination. A
nd it all starts, right now.”
The screen shifted to the normal opening credits of the broadcast, then to Sherry Stone sitting behind the news desk. The camera zoomed in on her face and she said, “Hello again, and welcome to the Channel 7 six o’clock news hour.”
She gave another brief introduction and jumped right into her interviews with the other women. Red and Luke looked on as the eyes of Trixie and Candice were glued to the screen. They watched and listened as the ladies told their versions of what happened. They particularly paid attention to what Grace had to say. Her interview was especially emotional and riddled with guilt. Nigel Logan wasn’t just a stranger; he was family. And it was with her own words that law enforcement now had a tougher hold on Logan.
The camera briefly showed the ladies hugging Logan and saying goodbye. The long embrace between Nigel and Grace was special and moving. The box of tissues was passed back and forth between the two women. Not even Red and Luke could hold back their alligator tears. They didn’t even try; accompanied by the occasional sniffle, they let them spill over their lower lids and run free to the floor.
Now the camera was on Stone as she did her intro for the interview with Nigel. You could have heard a pin drop as they listened to Nigel tell the story of his father and the dog that was no more. Candice was wringing her hands as Trixie bit her fist knuckles. Trixie wanted a cigarette something awful, but Red wouldn’t let her, not in the building.
As soon as they cut to commercials, Trixie ran to the door to light up. Candice followed her out and they paced together on the sidewalk. Trixie said, “I just can’t believe this. I don’t want to believe this is happening, or has happened.”
Candice said, “I don’t think I want to watch anymore. I don’t think I can stand to watch Nigel...”
The front door opened and Luke stuck his head out the door. “It’s back on, ladies.”
Trixie dropped her cigarette and squashed it with the sole of her shoe and said, “Come on.”
Candice hesitated. But as bad as she didn’t want to watch, there was a side of her that couldn’t stay away. She went back in and they all took her chairs with fresh beverages.