by C. E. Case
"Burdette, she shot her husband."
"Merry, she knifed hers."
Today, the photograph of Natalie sprawled on the couch with her cat, tucked into the Book of John, was what Meredith focued on. She kept her head down. She listened.
Unkindly, she judged.
Jolene, new to Conrad this week, shorter and skinnier and smaller than the rest of them, covered in tattooes, told her story for the first time. "They said I was shoplifting, right? But what they didn't get was I had a kid to feed. And the store owed me. They knew it. They should have been paying me, but they fired me. I got what was mine. But no one listened."
Burdette knew all the words by now. "Do you feel you're here unjustly?"
"I'm innocent."
People nodded.
"It's the system. Just because they got me on camera with the Blu Ray, they think it’s the whole story." She laughed. "They didn't even check my shoes. No one listens."
"We're listening, Jolene. We're all with you."
"I figured everyone in here got screwed, too," Jolene said.
"You know who else listens?" Burdette asked, jerking her head toward Meredith.
"Burdette--" Charlotte, the group leader, warned.
"No. Tell her, Merry. Who's going to make it right, since the cops are corrupt, the system's corrupt, and we--we don't really give a shit."
"Burdette," Meredith said.
"Shoot. We don't give a shoot."
Jolene laughed.
Meredith knew if she didn't participate, if she kept her head down and thought about Natalie, thought about the world outside, first Burdette would hound her, and then Charlotte. It was unfair, like Jolene said, to be in this position. To do this duty she didn't care about.
Jolene gazed at her attentively, probably wondering if she was some new prison toy to play with.
"God listens," Meredith said.
"God listens?" Jolene said. She glanced around at the other faces in the assembled circle. "Did she just say, 'God listens'?"
"It's true," Burdette said. "If He can listen to me calling His name every night when I'm getting off, He can listen to you."
"Where's your kid now?" Meredith asked.
Jolene snorted. "With my mom."
Charlotte smiled pleasantly. "We're glad you're with us, Jolene, even if these circumstances aren't ideal."
Jolene slouched back against her broken chair.
Charlotte turned to Robin. "You've been quiet, Robin."
"I think I'm the only one here who, though I didn't do anything illegal--" Robin said.
A wave of protest rippled through the circle.
"--I did something wrong," Robin said.
Jolene rolled her eyes.
Burdette grunted.
"And when I'm done serving my time, I'll go back to my life, like I never left it. And I have to wonder," Robin glanced from Meredith to Charlotte, "What's the point of it all?"
"Do you want to make a change?" Charlotte asked.
"Why should she?" Burdette asked.
"I don't know," Robin said.
"Why are you here? Not at Conrad, but here, in therapy?" Charlotte asked.
"It's a good way to learn about the world."
Meredith's grip tightened on her Bible. She caught Robin's gaze, and asked, "Do you have love?"
"I have a husband," Robin said. She considered, and then added, "I think so."
"Good, so she won't tell you to love God," Burdette said.
Meredith wrinkled her nose.
Siba leaned forward. "Do you do good things?"
"I don't do bad things."
Jolene scoffed.
Siba tilted her head.
Robin glanced at her hands. "Oh."
"Robin, I'd like to continue this conversation next week to see what conclusions you've drawn. Or what new questions have arisen," Charlotte said.
Robin nodded, not looking up.
"Siba--" Now that Siba dared to speak, Charlotte would pounce.
Siba folded her arms, smoothing her shawl, trying to withdraw. But she gave Charlotte her attention.
"Last week we were talking about your children's education. What thoughts have you had?"
"Are you kidding me? How is this theraputic?" Jolene asked.
Burdette tapped Jolene's chair with her foot, illiciting a stern glare from Charlotte. Burdette ignored it and said, "Remember how God listens?"
Jolene nodded.
"You gotta listen, too. So shut the fu--" Burdette glanced at Meredith. "Shut--Oh, hell, just be quiet."
Jolene looked Burdette up and down. And then she bit her lip and turned her whole body toward Siba.
Siba swallowed and began to speak.
# #
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Wheeler's dog rested his head in Natalie's lap. She petted.
"He just wants steak," Wheeler said.
"I've heard that about dogs."
Wheeler put a plate of steak and mashed potatoes in front of Natalie.
"Thank you."
He nodded and brought over the decanter, pouring red wine into her glass. "Ksara's Shiraz Cabernet. From Lebanon. You'll find it's very forgiving with steak."
"I'm sure."
He chuckled and sat down.
The dog settled for lying down underneath the table. Natalie rubbed his stomach with her foot.
"Dr. Hank?" she asked.
"Hm?"
"Am I the only one you ever have over?"
He glanced around the condo. "Mostly."
"Thank you, then."
"It's my pleasure. You can tell me all about Meredith and the boys and your work."
"Don't you want to hang out with the other doctors?"
"I see them all day long. Honestly, Nat, I'm a member of the Elks, I go down there a couple times of month. It's all good."
She nodded. "Merry's good. In fact, I have news."
"Yes?" He took a sip of wine.
"She's got a probation hearing in two months."
"Really. Seems sudden."
"It feels eternally far away to me. But she's nearly off intake probation at Conrad. Which means she can join a work detail. She won't, but--"
"Outside the prison, you mean?"
"Yeah. Like picking up trash."
"Sounds like it would be a good way to get fresh air. See the beautiful highways of North Carolina."
"I agree. But she wants to stay in the infirmary."
"Nat. Her prison job is not going to be taken into consideration with the review board or any job application--"
"I know, I know. I think she honestly likes the work."
Wheeler shrugged. "She's crazy. I mean, who wouldn't want to pick up trash?"
Natalie took a sip of wine. Not too sweet, but thin, when she wanted something substantial. She cut into her steak. Bright, wounded red in the middle, charred on the outside.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
"The best steak I've ever seen, Dr. Hank."
She took a bite. The crust, salty and meaty, crunched and the flesh underneath was warm and smooth. Almost like butter.
"Mine don't taste like this," she said, taking a sip of wine. The Ksara didn't challenge the steak, just ran around her mouth, refreshing it for the next bite.
"It took years to perfect the technique of the sear. And decades for us to start growing our own Kobe cattle in the US, close enough to be shipped by mail."
Natalie stopped mid-bite. "How much is this beef?"
Wheeler pushed the fork toward her mouth. "I'm a doctor, remember?"
Natalie swallowed. "Well, I'm a lawyer and I've never had the pleasure of this before. To answer your question, no, no steak for the boys. They don't chew enough. They like fried chicken, though."
"I'll send you home with a recipe."
"Thank you?"
"And some Panko. Crust won't set right otherwise."
Natalie ate more steak.
Wheeler asked, "All right, what is it?"
"What do you
mean?"
"You seem more cheerful than I've seen you since the day you moved to Tarpley. What gives? I know it's not Luis Duarte. I treated the guy once for poison ivy. You'd have thought I was torturing him instead of writing a prescription."
"I've been working my old friends in the prosecutor's office. Pulling some strings with the attorney general."
"Early release?"
"No." Natalie exhaled. "Small favors. All we can trade for these days."
Wheeler nodded.
"I feel bad enough, doing it. It's unethical. Do you know how many women are incarcerated in the state of North Carolina?"
"Only know there are 300 up with Meredith, which, incidentally, is the staff of the hospital."
Natalie shook her head. "She gets a 24 hour release."
Wheeler smiled. "Wonderful. When?"
"Thursday, when Jake takes the kids."
"You scheduled it around babysitting?"
"What else do I have to schedule around?"
"Good point," Wheeler said.
"Is there more steak?" Natalie asked.
The dog lifted his head.
"Better. There's dessert."
#
Luis wore a suit and paced outside the court room with Natalie, holding the cotton tie in his hands. Natalie wanted to ask him if he needed help, wanted to wrap the thing around his neck and be done, but she just watched. She counted his steps. She checked her watch. They were running out of time.
"Luis--"
"Why do I have to wear this? I look fine without it. Like, I wouldn't even wear this to a wedding."
Natalie frowned.
"It's so old-fashioned."
"Luis, you've got to seem like you're willing to play the game. You have to humble yourself before them. Appearing clean-cut--like them--will go a long way."
"What?"
"If you want the judge's sympathy, you're going to have to make yourself meek." She took a deep breath. "Submissive, even. If you show even a hint of anger, or apathy, they're going to--"
"I don't care what the judge thinks."
"Luis, hey."
He stopped his pacing and turned in her general direction.
"They're going to think you're a monster," she said.
"I'm not--"
"I know. You have to act sorry, even if you aren't. Even if it's not your fault. Pretend."
"Fake it 'til I make it?"
"Exactly. The tie?"
"I know how to put on a tie." He slung the tie around his neck and popped his collar. Then frowned. "Do you have a mirror?"
She pulled a compact out of her purse and held it up for him.
A portly white man carrying a briefcase passed them, paused, looked them up and down, and went inside the court room.
Luis snorted.
"Who's that?" Natalie asked.
"I guess he's the other lawyer." Luis straightened his tie.
Natalie nodded. "There's another thing you have to do, Luis."
He raised his eyebrows. In a suit and tie, with his hair washed and the bruises on his face healing, he looked almost... sweet. Like a boy about to enroll in business school. A Young Republican.
"You have to ignore everything they say," Natalie said. "Everything."
"Okay."
"Even if they lie."
"Okay."
"It's going to get bad in there, Luis. Believe me."
"Okay, already. Geez."
"See? You failed the first test."
Luis squared his shoulders and made his face into stone. "I'm ready. Test me again."
"Now you look defiant. What did I say?"
Luis' expression flashed with anger.
"Second test."
Luis exhaled. "This is going to be a huge failure."
"I know."
"It's okay, though." Luis glanced at the door. "I don't know if I want to go to Burgaw."
"Why not?"
"I know I told you I didn't want to see my family, but, my dad's here, and all my friends are here. I'll miss my dad. This is everything I know. I think I've been to Burgaw like, once in my life. The only time I've left Tarpley is when I went to the beach. Or Raleigh on school trips."
"You've never been to Charlotte?"
Luis shook his head. "Seen the skyline in postcards. It's nice."
"It is. Luis, I know there are pluses and minuses to this. But trust me. This is why I'm your lawyer, Luis."
"But you're not my mother."
"Would your mother send you away to Burgaw?" The subject of his mother hadn't come up before. Eduardo had not mentioned her, either.
"Not that far. She's just smack me and lock me out of the house."
Natalie raised her eyebrows.
Luis didn't meet her gaze. "Until I calmed down."
"Ah."
"I'm calmed down, now."
"Remember what I said."
"Don't call them on their bullshit lies. Got it."
"Right. Remember, I used to be a prosecutor. I know exactly what they're thinking. And I know exactly what they're thinking of you. We can use my skills to our advantage."
Natalie pushed open the door for him. He went through and she followed, up to the defendant's table. The first time she'd ever sat on this side of the table had been at Meredith's trial. Meredith needed no coaching on humility. But the lies made her white and paralyzed with rage. "Ignore them, ignore them, ignore them." She directed the thought at Luis' head.
Then she turned and offered her hand to the portly prosecutor.
"Jacob Weinstead," he said, shaking her hand. "I'm the district attorney for one third of everything southeast of Fayetteville. Usually do traffic cases, though. I guess this is a traffic case." He glanced past her shoulder at Luis.
She nodded. "Natalie Ivans."
"I Googled you." He lowered his voice. "If I may ask, what in the hell are you doing?"
"I moved for love."
"So what's in the papers, all true?"
She nodded.
He grinned. "I never like to assume. Take the facts in evidence as they are. Life seems smoother that way."
"I agree."
"Is there anything I need to know before we get started?"
"No."
He nodded.
She sat down next to Luis.
"You two seem chummy," he said.
"One more piece of advice, Luis," she said.
"I'm not sure I can do three things at once, ma'am."
"This one's easy. Don't trust anyone in this room. Not the judge, not him, not the court reporter. No one is your friend."
He nodded. "Then that--?"
"Was just civil discourse."
He studied the empty judge's chair.
"You know, Luis, speaking of civil discourse. A lot of people just call me 'Nat.'"
Luis looked horrified.
She grinned.
The bailiff came in, and then the judge. She set her nameplate out. The Honorable Fran McCoy. The court room filled with defendants awaiting other cases. Mostly traffic infractions, some shoplifting. Natalie had seen the docket. Twelve speeding tickets, four petty thefts, one vandalism, six drug charges--four pot, two meth--and a man suing his neighbor. Weinstead was working them all for the county's side.
McCoy said, "I have before me a petition for transfer to Burgaw Correctional Facility, pending trial. Is this correct?"
Natalie stood. "Yes, Your Honor."
Fran glanced at Weinstead, and then flipped her paper over. "No filing for bail?"
"No, Your Honor."
"Alcohol treatment?"
"No, Your Honor."
Luis twitched.
Fran gestured to Weinstead. "Any objections?"
Weistead stood. Natalie sat.
"My only question is why, Your Honor? Transport will be a considerable expense, and then Burgaw will have to cover his incarceration. Duplin County Jail is just fine. Why the special treatment for the accused?"
Fran glanced at Natalie. She stood. Weinste
ad sat.
"We're willing to reimburse the city for transportation expense, your Honor. As Luis' father is Sheriff Eduardo Duarte, we feel there could be implications of bias or favoritism at Duplin."
"And you don't want that?"
"Not in this case, Your Honor. We're not asking for any bail or mandated treatment--" she glanced at Weinstead. "But this small thing would benefit my client immensely, and also separate him from the fabric of Tarpley, so healing could continue."
"Mr. Weinstead?" Fran asked.
He shrugged.
"Transfer will take place as soon as Burgaw is ready to receive. County clerk will notify you of your trial date."
Weinstead shook hands with Natalie again, and then she and Luis headed for the court room exit.
"The police are waiting?" Luis asked, when they were in the lobby.
"They'll take you back to your cell."
He nodded.
"You did good in there."
"That guy was an asshole. I thought the judge was going to say no."
"All part of the fun."
"How come you didn't ask for bail?"
"So I could bargain for Burgaw. Not good to ask for two conflicting things at once."
"Then why am I being charged with felony death and involuntary manslaughter?"
"If you're a defendant, I mean. Prosecutors like to be conflicting."
"Why didn't you ask for drug treatment? Don't you think I need it?"
"Would you want to go?"
"Heck, no." He shook his head. "I've been. It doesn't work."
She tilted her head.
"I'm not an alcoholic. I don't have the problem. They do."
"I'm not going to put you through it for nothing, Luis."
"Thanks. I'm so tired of it. 'Oh, send him off to rehab, he'll come back fine.' You know what rehab's like?"
"No idea."
"It's full of whiny morons hunting for a fix. I'm not like them."
Natalie shook her head.
Luis exhaled. "I think I'm actually looking forward to Burgaw."
"Yeah," Natalie said, rolling her eyes. "Think of it like a vacation."
# #
Chapter Forty
On Thursday Meredith's one-on-one therapist pulled her in for an appointment. Breaking routine.
"How are you, Merry?" Dr. Embry asked. She appeared to be about twelve-years-old, doing her civic duty, getting prison rotation on her resume and out of the way, before moving onto something better by the time she turned 30. Maybe she'd have babies. Maybe she'd publish articles. Meredith didn't much like her. Dr. Embry made her feel like a science project.