by C L Hart
There was no avoiding answering her. Lincoln turned around to face both Sarah and Robin. “There was a traffic accident yesterday and Fred Hyamensky was killed.”
Robin had no idea who this person was, but Sarah did. Her gaze fell to the cedar deck as her hand came up to her mouth.
Seeing Sarah’s reaction, Robin turned in confusion to Lincoln. “Who was Fred Hyam—”
“The forensic pathologist who worked the crime scenes,” Lincoln said.
“Doesn’t that mean he was on the side of the prosecution?” Robin asked in confusion.
“Yes, but we were counting on his testimony to blow away half of their evidence. Look, I shouldn’t be discussing this with Sarah sitting—”
“Lincoln, don’t piss me off with that shit.” Sarah’s eyes shot fire.
“I’m not trying to piss you off, I’m obeying the law.”
“Well, sometimes the laws are stupid and they need to be bent,” she snarled back uncharacteristically.
“Now you’re starting to sound like Abby. The laws are there to keep society structured. They’re there to protect us—”
“From whom? The dangerous people like Abby?” She faced off with him. “I know the difference between the truth and a lie, and when the time comes for me to testify, I will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.” Sarah squared her shoulders, pulling herself up to her full height. “Billy Ward used me, he manipulated me, and he tried to kill me. He got pleasure out of feeding me his voice numbing concoction so that he could beat me within an inch of my life without anyone hearing me scream. Well, they will hear me now! They will hear that all he wanted and all he talked about was revenge against Abby. He wanted to make her pay!”
Looking up to the mountains, Sarah vented the pain and emotion that had been dormant since her attack.
“When Ronald de Barr puts me on the stand, I’ll tell how Billy bragged about the murders he had committed, and what he did to those girls when they were alive, and what he did after they were dead. Those girls meant nothing to him! He didn’t care who they were, only that he could torture them — that was all he talked about. Pain and torture, everything to him was pain and torture, right from his childhood in some mental hospital, to his loathing of Abby. He was a sick, twisted little man who should have stayed in that hospital. He’s dead, and you know what? I’m glad. I’m glad it’s over and I’m glad that son of a bitch is dead. He did everything he could to destroy Abby, including taking his own life. But he is not going to get away with it, not while I still have a beating heart and a single breath in my lungs.”
“Sarah, we’re certain Billy killed himself,” Lincoln offered her in support.
Sarah pulled her eyes away from the view to look at him. “But without Hyme, how can you prove it?”
♥
Sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, Sarah nervously swung her legs. Lincoln had done his best to calm her, but there wasn’t much more he could do. He rose to his feet and crossed the sterile room to look out the window.
“So what happens now, Lincoln? I mean with Hyme’s death and the trial?”
“They’ll have someone else come in and interpret his notes. They’ll also have his deposition from earlier, but unfortunately we needed him in person. There’s no way he would have put any of what we required in his notes, especially what Webber said to him about not doing any further investigations. It does give us some room for a retrial, though.”
Sarah grew silent, and Lincoln could see her mind was moving. “Lincoln, what do you think her chances are?”
He sighed deeply. “I don’t know. I mean a few days ago, Nathan was optimistic. We had things laid out and we had a plan. But this has taken the wind out of our sails. In some ways, our pointing a finger at Ward makes us look desperate, and that isn’t a good thing in the eyes of a jury.”
She studied him for a moment, trying to decide if he was telling her the truth. “Lincoln, you didn’t answer my question.”
“Maybe I don’t have an answer,” he offered.
Sarah’s gaze fell to the floor as Lincoln looked for solace outside the window. “Then, Lincoln,” she questioned, “shouldn’t you be out investigating or something instead of being here babysitting me?”
Walking over to her, he took her hands in his. “I’m not babysitting you. I’m here as a friend, to support you in any way I can. Besides, we have a two-day recess because of the accident.”
“I still think your time would be better spent—”
The door opened, and in walked a jovial Dr. Greene. “And how’s my star patient doing today?”
“Nervous, scared...a little excited, too, I guess.”
“You should be. This is the big day. Do you know your arrival and departure by helicopter sure turns this place into a gossip pit?” he asked as he went over to the counter to take out a sterile tray. “Half the staff thinks you’re a movie star here for a tuck and shine, the other half thinks you’re in the witness relocation program. I love it,” he said with a chuckle as he brought over the tray.
Everyone grinned and some of the tension eased. “Okay,” Dr. Greene asked, “are you ready?”
Seeing the fear in Sarah’s eyes, Lincoln reached over and grasped her hand. She squeezed Lincoln’s hand tightly. “As ready as I can be, I guess.”
With steady, skilled hands, Dr. Greene began the long process of unrolling, unwrapping, and removing. For the most part, Sarah kept her eyes closed as she felt her cotton protection being removed.
Lincoln was amazed and intrigued when Sarah’s face began to emerge. As each bandage came off, he felt her trembling grip tighten on his hand as a vaguely familiar face came into view. For the first time since they had met, Lincoln saw the woman whose picture he had carried in his pocket so long ago.
“You can open your eyes now, Sarah, it’s all over,” Dr. Greene said softly while removing his gloves. Slowly, she did as he asked and then he reached for her shoulders. “Now remember, there’s still swelling and bruising, though that will go away.”
Sarah nodded, but said nothing as she turned to Lincoln. His broad smile told her more than any words could. “You look better than your pictures.”
“Really?” she asked in a small voice.
“See for yourself,” Dr. Greene said as he offered her a hand mirror.
She hesitated, but finally took it. Keeping the reflecting side down, she laid it across her lap and looked to her friend for support. “Lincoln, I don’t think I can.”
His smile faded and he grew serious. “Yes, you can.”
“But what if—”
“What if nothing. You’ve come this far, do you want to stop now? Because that’s not the Sarah I’ve come to know.” Her eyes searched his for the strength she needed and Lincoln did his best not to fail. He held her stare and refused to let his eyes wander.
“I know you’re scared, Sarah. That’s normal. I see it in almost all of my patients...even the movie stars.” Dr. Greene’s attempt at humor broke the stare between the two friends.
Sarah looked down at the mirror in her lap. Removing her hand from Lincoln’s grasp, she put both hands around the handle and lifted it up. Just like her reflection that morning in the lake, the first things she noticed were her eyes and her cheekbones. Dr. Greene was right, there was still a lot of swelling and discoloration, but the woman looking back at her was someone familiar. Raising a hand, she gently touched her cheek.
“Careful,” the doctor cautioned.
After several long minutes of examination, she finally admitted what everyone knew. “It’s me,” she said, keeping her eyes on her reflection.
“Yes, my dear,” he answered as he too admired his work. “It’s you. There wasn’t anything there for me to change. I just had to put back the pieces, that’s all.”
Lincoln couldn’t control the smile on his face. “I told you, you look like a million bucks.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” she said as she reached to touch the bri
dge of her nose. The scar was gone and her nose was back to being straight — swollen, but straight. “Thank you.” As she spoke, Sarah noticed her mouth still didn’t properly form her words.
Seeing her concern, the doctor interjected, “There was a lot of damage to that side of your face, as I’m sure you know. I wish I could tell you it’ll all heal, but I can’t.”
Keeping her eyes on her face, Sarah tried to smile and she saw what couldn’t be fixed. The left corner of her mouth rose only slightly.
“It will improve, as will the movement in your neck, but it will take time and hard work.”
“But they will come back?” she asked as she made several attempts to work a smile onto her face.
“They will improve. And there will be a couple more minor surgeries, but—”
“But I’ll never be like I was before.” She pulled her eyes from her reflection.
“Sarah, I’m sorry,” the doctor finally said. “Maybe down the road. I mean, advances in the medical field are happening every day.”
The two men in the room had no idea what else to say as they cautiously watched her for a reaction. After a few more glances in the mirror, she put it down and walked over to the window. Concerned, Lincoln followed her as the doctor picked up the tray and took it over to the counter, giving the two a little privacy.
“Sarah,” Lincoln said softly, and to his surprise she turned around with a smile.
“I’m okay,” she answered with rising confidence. “It’s the new me, and I can live with it. I’m alive. That’s more than the rest of Billy’s victims.” With her head held high, though slightly tilted, she walked over to Dr. Greene. “I can’t thank you enough,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. “You’ve given me back more than just my face. You’ve given me back my life, and for that I’m grateful. How could a ‘thank you’ be enough?”
Dr. Greene said with a smile, “It just is.”
♥
Sarah and Lincoln waited for the helicopter to return to pick them up. “You don’t have to come back with me. I’m sure you have things to do,” Sarah said as she glanced at her reflection. It was new and it was different, and it would take some time to get used to.
Lincoln was looking down at his watch, not responding to her prodding.
“Okay what gives? That’s like the tenth time you’ve looked at your watch. The pilot said he’d be back at one and it is only twelve forty-five.”
“It’s not that, it’s just—” The cell phone in his pocket rang and he smiled. He reached for the phone and then held it out to her. “I believe this is for you.”
“Abby?”
Lincoln nodded toward the ringing phone. Licking her lips, she flipped it open with a hesitant, “Hello.”
“Sarah.”
The voice on the other end of the phone echoed through her soul, sending a wave of aching desire right to the center of her chest. “Abby.”
“I have only a minute, but I wanted to talk to you so badly. How are you? Is it okay? Are you okay?”
“Abby.” The tears ran freely as Sarah closed her eyes.
“Sarah?” Abby questioned with concern.
“It’s good, it’s me...a new me, but it is me...” Her voice broke.
“For the first time in my life, Sarah, I can honestly say I’m glad I had the money to do it, to do all of it. I can’t take back what’s happened to you, but I hope I can make it better.”
“You have, and more. I want to see you.”
“I want to see you, too, but I’ve got to go. Nathan snuck me in this phone and I don’t want to get caught with it,” she said in a rush. “Tell Linc I said thanks. Sarah, I love you.” The phone line went dead.
“I love you, too,” Sarah whispered as she brought the phone to her forehead and closed her eyes.
Chapter 32
Lincoln sat alone on the helicopter as the night sky swallowed the view except for the distant lights of the city. It had been a long day, with many emotional ups and downs, and he laid his head back against the cushioned wall. Seeing Sarah was like a breath of fresh air, something he definitely needed after his stressful testimony. And then to be there when she saw her face again, well it had almost made him forget about Hyme and the uphill climb that lay ahead. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t hear what the chopper pilot said. “I’m sorry, what was that?” He leaned forward.
“Where would you like to be dropped off?”
“Oh...at the hospital. That’s where my car is.”
“All right, we’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Less than half an hour later, Lincoln was standing on the helipad at the hospital waving goodbye to his ride. “Beats the hell out of driving,” he muttered to himself as he turned to find his car. Walking past the hospital doors, he noticed the sign hanging in the well lit hallway, Psychiatric Ward, with an arrow pointing the direction. Lincoln’s mind wandered back to the conversation he had earlier with Sarah. In all the work and background checking they had done on Ward, nothing had ever come up about Billy spending time in a mental hospital.
Then why would he have said that to Sarah? Lincoln thought to himself as he spotted his car, and headed for home.
Carla was waiting with a late dinner for Lincoln, but he only picked at it in silence. After wandering aimlessly around the house with unanswered questions swirling in his head, Lincoln kissed his wife on the forehead and told her not to wait up as he was going to the office. With a heavy heart she watched him leave, knowing he would turn over every stone until every question had an answer, one way or another.
♥
Lincoln’s small office was strewn with notes and pictures of Billy’s past. Then slowly, with his methodically trained mind, questions continued to nag at him. He wrote them down and stuck them on his window so he could see them at any time, but the answers he was looking for kept eluding him. When he ran out of sticky notes, he switched to a dry erase pen and wrote on his windows. Names of mental institutions were written up everywhere, to be crossed off one by one when their answers came back in the negative. No one had ever admitted a William Daniel Ward.
♥
One morning while sipping his coffee at his desk, Lincoln’s gaze fell on the videotape from the ATM camera. Plunking the tape into the VCR, he leaned against his desk as he watched it play one more time. He knew if he could find whoever was driving that Jeep, Abby would be a free woman. The tape played, but he didn’t need to watch it. He knew it by heart. The Jeep drove in, sat for a minute, and then the person got out. Lincoln leaned forward and froze the tape.
“Who are you?” he asked the black and white image. “Someone had to have seen you. No one is that—” Lincoln snatched the tape from the machine and left.
Pulling into the Hasty Motel parking lot, Lincoln climbed from his car with the videotape in his hand. Looking across the street, he glanced at the ATM machine and the people waiting in line to use it. The camera had a clear, unobstructed view of the motel, and in broad daylight it made the evidence all the more disheartening.
A buzzer blared as Lincoln pushed open the single glass door, and the smell of stale cigarette smoke instantly invaded his nostrils.
An elderly man pulled himself away from his small color TV, but kept one eye on it as he parted the numerous strands of orange plastic beads that separated his business from his living quarters. “What can I get for ya, buddy?” he asked without even looking at the tall investigator.
“I’m looking for Dot.”
“Who’s askin’?”
“A friend.”
“She ain’t here,” he grumbled as he finally turned his unshaven face to see who was asking the questions. “And you ain’t no friend of hers,” he said as he checked out Lincoln’s impeccable attire from head to toe.
“Do you know where I can reach her? A phone number?”
“Nope. What’cha want with her? You a cop or something’?”
“No. I’m a private investigator, and I need to speak to Dot.”
“About?” He sucked at his teeth.
“That’s none of—” Lincoln stopped and thought about the tape in his possession. Maybe this guy had seen something that Dot hadn’t. “Actually, I work for the lawyer who is representing Abby Stanfield, the woman accused—”
“I know who you mean — that broad that hacked up that guy? Is it true that she cut off his unit? Man, that’s sick.”
“Yes, that’s the case I’m referring to.” Lincoln decided he didn’t need to embellish any further. “Did you see anything that night?”
“Nah, I just started here a couple weeks back, but I heard all about it. What’cha need to know?”
“I was hoping to talk with Dot, so can you tell me when she'll be back in?”
“I ’spect never.”
“Excuse me?”
“Apparently she called the owner in the middle of the night, said she was leaving. Packed up and was gone by morning.” He was losing interest in Lincoln and turned back to his TV program as he scratched at his unshaven chin.
Lincoln suddenly wondered if de Barr or Webber had found Dot. Realizing he needed this man’s undivided attention, Lincoln pulled a few bills from his wallet. Snapping the money in his hand, he held it out to the grubby attendant. “Did she leave with anyone?”
“Don’t think so.”
He reached for the money, but Lincoln pulled it back. “Now this is important...do you know if she talked to the cops?”
“Can’t say.” He eyed the bills.
“Try,” Lincoln said firmly.
“Look, Mister, from what I know ’bout Dot, those little green backs was all she thought about. If someone offered her money, she’d say or do, just about anything.”
It wasn’t what Lincoln wanted to hear, but he paid the man and quickly went outside for some fresh air. Once inside his car, he pulled out his cell phone and quickly dialed a familiar number. “It’s Lincoln. I think we may have a problem.”
♥