Touching Cottonwood

by Randall Simpson

  “It’s not yet time to reveal that,” said Rebecca.

  “If not now, then when, dear?” asked Diane.

  Rebecca looked down at the coffee table and then back up. “I don’t exactly know when, but not now. I’m sure of that.”

  The group was silent as the Reynolds and Diane sipped their coffee. Finally, the judge stood up and said, “Excuse me for a moment while I get my copy of the Cottonwood Municipal Code.”

  The judge got up and went into his study, leaving the three in the living room. Gayle was sitting opposite the coffee table from Rebecca and couldn’t help staring at the new bride’s wedding ring.

  “I’ve been thinking about that ring since I first saw it Friday night,” Gayle said. “I’ve got to tell you, Rebecca, that’s the most gorgeous ring I think I’ve ever seen. You must be absolutely crazy about it.”

  Rebecca was looking at the ring as Gayle was commenting. “It is lovely,” said Rebecca. “We had actually looked at it together many years ago. We were just sort of fantasy window-shopping in Seattle. I thought it was beautiful then, and when he surprised me with it—well, I could hardly see it for a moment—through the tears.”

  “I wonder how he kept it—” began Gayle, but then stopped.

  Rebecca picked up the direction of her thought and finished the question, “While in prison, you mean?”

  Gayle glanced at Diane and then looked down.

  “I haven’t asked him that and really don’t care,” said Rebecca, looking once more at the ring.

  “Maybe he bought it after he got out,” offered Gayle.

  Rebecca and Diane said nothing, and then Gayle seemed to realize what an absurd suggestion she’d made.

  There was silence for a few moments before Judge Reynolds returned to the room with a thick green book. He sat down and opened it to a page he’d apparently bookmarked while in his study and said, “Rebecca, I found the exact section of our town code that talks about the visitation rights of prisoners. I’d like to read it to you first, and then we can discuss what it means. The section reads:

  Prisoner Visitations

  All persons detained for any reason in the town jail, whether awaiting arraignment, trial, or sentencing, shall be allowed up to a fifteen-minute visitation period once daily during their detention. This visitation may be by any person, related or not related. Visitation by attorneys shall not be counted in this fifteen-minute period. Prisoner visitations shall be in private or within the presence of a security officer, with such privacy to be allowed at the sole discretion of the sheriff or a designated appointee. The sheriff or the appointee shall also have the sole discretion to cancel or deny visitation privileges for any prisoner, at any time, based on security or behavioral concerns related to the prisoner or his or her visitors.”

  The judge closed the book and looked at Rebecca. “It would seem that the sheriff has more power in this situation than I thought at first,” he said. “I guess we’ve never had this exact scenario come up here in Cottonwood before, and apparently, related to this part of our town’s code, the sheriff knows more about it than I do.”

  Rebecca’s stomach tightened and she felt sick. “That’s it then,” she said. “I won’t be able to see Matthew before he’s taken back to Washington State, and there’s nothing you can do about it?”

  “I’m afraid the law is pretty clear. We—” the judge started to speak, but his wife cut him off.

  “We can find some way to get you in to see Matthew,” said Gayle. She glared at her husband for a moment. “Rebecca and Matthew are both town citizens. I don’t know what Matthew may have done wrong, but that’s not the point. It’s just not right that John should keep these two from seeing each other.”

  Judge Reynolds rubbed his chin. “What are you proposing I do?” he said, looking at his wife. “I have no authority to order him to let her in to see Matthew.”

  Gayle intensely stared at her husband. “No, you probably can’t, but you do have a closer relationship with the mayor and town council than he does. You have influence that he doesn’t. You can make this happen, Richard—and you should.”

  The judge looked away from his wife to Rebecca. “Suppose I could get you in for a visitation? He’d surely be curious to know why you are so keen on seeing Matthew. He’d also wonder why I’d used my influence in this case. I think the secret of your marriage would be in jeopardy.”

  “I’ll risk that. I want to see my husband,” said Rebecca.

  After a pause, the judge said, “Well, I’ll do my very best.”

  “You’ll see your husband,” added Gayle, before quickly glancing at the judge. “Consider it an extra wedding gift.”

  The four talked a bit longer in the Reynolds’ living room, and it was after sunset when Diane and Rebecca left. Diane had invited Rebecca for dinner, but Rebecca said she felt like she needed a good and long night’s sleep. They parted company at the sidewalk in front of the Reynolds’ house, each heading toward home.

  Rebecca approached her dark house, lost and lonely. Just two nights earlier, she had been celebrating her wedding night, feeling as though she were living in a dream, and now she was returning to her house alone, feeling as if that dream had transformed into a cruel nightmare. Most of all, she was wondering if and when she would ever get to see her husband again.

  She didn’t bother turning on any lights when she entered. She put her keys on the table by the front door and made her way through the darkness to the kitchen. She was both exhausted and starving. She opened the refrigerator door and looked inside. The light cast a soft glow in the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of milk, took a few cookies from a jar by the stove, and headed out to her back patio to relax and think.

  She sat down at the patio table and dunked a chocolate chip cookie into the milk. She had only started chewing the first bite when she noticed that the small candle in the cobalt blue glass holder on the table was still lit. She remembered seeing it lit before, when she’d come home earlier in the day, but had not given it much thought. The fact that the small candle was still burning, now struck her as odd. Normally, such a small candle would only burn four or five hours, at the most, before needing to be replaced.

  Rebecca continued to drink her milk and nibble the cookies while staring at the candle. The flame was strong and constant and only flickered slightly as the warm summer-night breeze in the backyard passed across it. It wasn’t until she had nearly finished her snack that the realization came to her—Matthew must have lit the candle!

  It could only have been him, and considering that he’d been arrested and put in jail on Saturday evening, that meant the small candle had now been burning for nearly a full twenty-four hours!

  She picked up her empty glass along with the small candle and returned to the house. She placed the glass in the sink and then carefully walked through the house, making sure she didn’t walk too fast or do anything to extinguish the candle before reaching her bedroom. Once there, she placed it gently on her bedside table.

  She washed, got undressed, and slipped into bed. The flame shining through the cobalt blue holder cast a soothing tint to the flowers of her wallpaper. The dancing shadows reminded her of her wedding night. She lay on her side and watched the candle flame through the cobalt blue glass. The impossibility and yet the reality of it burning after so long both excited and confused her. Its flame moved and danced ever so slightly, seeming almost alive and giving her some unexpected though welcomed comfort. As her eyes grew heavy and the day’s events receded from her mind, she finally accepted the lit candle for what it was—a simple gift from her husband. It was one smallest detail of the day that gave her the greatest measure of hope.

  The light from the candle melted into a white mist. There were rocks and the sound of water. A waterfall high overhead tumbled down to the rocks. The rocks were like sharp black fingers that extended up as rough daggers from the water. She was wearing a sheer white nightgown and was wading in the dark cold water. First, she was d
rifting but then felt herself being pulled toward the rocks. Faster and faster she moved toward the rocks, and then they grabbed her—the fingers of the rocks were pulling at her. The water was deep and cold, and the dark rocky fingers tore and pulled at her nightgown. High overhead was the moon, partially obscured by the mist rising from the bottom of the waterfall. The rocks began pulling her under the water—her nightgown caught in their sharpness. She struggled but was only slipping under ever faster. From above, across the misty moon, flew a feathered form. It was a dark form. A large black bird descended from the sky and struck at her, ripping at her hair, arms, and nightgown. Another bird appeared high in the mist and descended rapidly. Its feathers seemed dark at first, but as it drew closer, they appeared white. The white bird dropped right at her, and she lifted her arm to cover her eyes. The large bird’s talons reached around her arm and pulled her from the rocks and water. She was lifted ever higher by the bird and could now look down upon the rocks below. From out of nowhere, the first bird’s black wings flew in front of her, its great talons ripping a large mass of white feathers away from the bird that had been carrying her. She dropped. She was falling back down toward the rocks. She was on her back and falling but looking up at the black bird and the white bird locked in a knotted mass of feathers, striking beaks, and ripping talons. She felt the rocks and water approaching but couldn’t turn to look at them. The two birds were falling with her, right above her, still locked in battle. She felt the jolt of coldness hit her back. Or was it rock? Water covered over her head, but pain rippled through her body. She slipped under, and the water carried her down, further and further, into the cold darkness. In one last desperate chance, she held her arm as high as it would go out of the water. She felt a talon reach around her arm, but it stung. There was pain. The water was pulling her down, and the talon was either pulling or ripping at her flesh. She couldn’t tell. The darkness shrouded the bird from her sight.

  Sixty-One

  A Night at the Slumberjack

  The mattress in David Westmore’s hotel room at the Slumberjack Hotel in Montrose was among the lumpiest he’d ever experienced. Considering the hundreds of hotels and motels he’d stayed in and the many bad mattresses he’d endured, to rise to the top of his lumpiest list meant it was unbearably lumpy. As he contorted his body, trying to find a comfortable spot between the lumps, he thought back to the roadside signs for the hotel and imagined that hidden under the mattress must have been an actual complete lumberjack’s axe, handle and all, with the lumberjack’s boots thrown in for good measure. Finally, after tossing and turning for over an hour, he jumped out of bed and lifted up the mattress. There was no axe.

  Instead of getting back into bed, he opened the drapes and sat at the small table in the room, staring out at the dark Colorado night. Through the hotel room window, he watched the cool neon blues and greens of the Slumberjack sign light up, one letter at a time. Next to him on the table was a mostly full bottle of whiskey he’d retrieved from the trunk of his car earlier in the day. After barely finishing the first drink, he found he had no desire for a second. He had gone to bed only to find an invisible lumberjack’s axe under the mattress. Now he sat alone in the darkness. Tomorrow he’d go to Cottonwood to complete his journey, but there was no sense of victory for him—only a vague unease he couldn’t quite place his finger on—like an itch that couldn’t be scratched or the feeling that something had been forgotten or overlooked at home once the train had already left the station for a long journey.

  The agent reached over, turned on a floor lamp next to the table, and grabbed his briefcase from the floor. Though he knew it no longer mattered, he pulled out the next unread file from the Matthew Duncan case and began reading:

  Edgewood Court Transcript, Part V

  Edgewood County Court

  Official Court Transcript

  Case #020086044

  The People vs. Matthew William Duncan

  (WHEREUPON the following was heard and recorded in open court, to wit:)

  Bailiff: All rise. Court is now in session. The Honorable Montgomery S. Nelson, presiding.

  Judge Nelson: Thank you, and thanks to everyone for coming back from our recess so promptly. I believe it is now time for Mr. Silverstein to call his next witness. Mr. Silverstein?

  Mr. Silverstein: Thank you, Your Honor. I would now like to call Dr. Bernice Roth to the witness stand.

  Judge Nelson: Dr. Roth, will you please come forward to be sworn in.

  Bailiff: Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, under penalty of perjury, so help you God?

  Dr. Roth: I do.

  Bailiff: Thank you. You may be seated.

  Mr. Silverstein: Dr. Roth, could you please tell the court today, what you do for a living and how long you’ve been doing it?

  Dr. Roth: I’m a medical examiner for the City and County of Edgewood and have been doing this job for fourteen years. I’ve also worked in the same capacity for six years total, in other places.

  Mr. Silverstein: And in those twenty years of working as a medical examiner, how many different deceased bodies would you say you’ve examined—approximately?

  Dr. Roth: Oh, I’d say probably many hundreds—maybe three or four hundred.

  Mr. Silverstein: And Dr. Roth, do you recall examining the body of Mr. Dominic Montoya in early June of this year?

  Dr. Roth: I do.

  Mr. Silverstein: And were you able to establish any conclusion as to the cause of his death, as a result of that examination?

  Dr. Roth: I was.

  Mr. Silverstein: And could you tell the court what conclusion you came to as to the cause of Mr. Montoya’s death?

  Dr. Roth: Mr. Montoya had several lacerations and puncture wounds to the chest area and to the upper abdomen. It appeared that all the wounds had been treated with surgical procedures consistent with the medical report of the emergency physician who attended to Mr. Montoya. There were, however, signs of internal bleeding in the upper chest cavity, and further examination of the heart showed there was a rupture to the walls of the heart. Mr. Montoya had a spontaneous cardiac rupture, a very rare condition, and it caused his death.

  Mr. Silverstein: A heart rupture? Is that the same as a heart attack?

  Dr. Roth: No, not at all. A heart attack is the blockage of blood flow to a heart muscle, such that the muscle may be damaged and the ability to pump blood decreased. A spontaneous cardiac rupture to the heart is a tear or laceration to the walls or muscle of the heart. In such a case, a person would bleed to death fairly rapidly, depending on how big the rupture was.

  Mr. Silverstein: So, why do you call it a “spontaneous” cardiac rupture?

  Dr. Roth: It must have spontaneously happened a few hours, at most, prior to his death. The area that ruptured must have been weakened in some way, prior to rupturing, and then something triggered it to rupture.

  Mr. Silverstein: What kinds of things can trigger such an event?

  Dr. Roth: Again, this is a very rare event with very little in the medical literature on it, and I am not an expert on the heart. From my knowledge, it can occur after a person has had a heart attack. As far as triggering it—just about any extra stress on the weakened area could probably cause a rupture, or it could give way by itself. That’s why it’s called spontaneous.

  Mr. Silverstein: Could a stressful event of some kind precipitate such a rupture?

  Dr. Roth: It could, but I don’t think it’s predictable. Again, I’m not an expert on the subject.

  Mr. Silverstein: Thank you, Dr. Roth. I have no further questions.

  Judge Nelson: Ms. Yates, your witness.

  Ms. Yates: Thank you, Your Honor. Dr. Roth, when referring to this “spontaneous cardiac rupture,” you indicated that there is no way to predict with certainty what might cause the weakened area to suddenly rupture. Is that an accurate summary?

  Dr. Roth: Yes, it is.

  Ms. Yates: And so, is it accurate to say that any single even
t, in and of itself, cannot be definitely linked to this rupturing of the heart?

  Dr. Roth: I would say that is accurate, but, as I stated, I am not a specialist in this area.

  Ms. Yates: I understand that, but based on your knowledge of the functioning of the heart and this rare event of a heart rupture, you’re saying that such an event could not be definitively linked to some other event—correct?

  Dr. Roth: In my opinion, that’s correct.

  Ms. Yates: Thank you, Dr. Roth. I have no further questions.

  Judge Nelson: Mr. Silverstein, would you like to re-direct the witness?

  Mr. Silverstein: No, Your Honor. I have no further questions.

  Judge Nelson: Very well, Mr. Silverstein, are you prepared to call another witness at this time?

  Mr. Silverstein: I am, Your Honor. I would like to call Dr. Isaac Clemens to the stand.

  Judge Nelson: Dr. Clemens, would you please approach the stand to be sworn in.

  Bailiff: Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, under penalty of perjury, so help you God?

  Dr. Clemens: I do.

  Bailiff: You may be seated.

  Mr. Silverstein: Dr. Clemens, would you mind telling the court what it is that you do for a living?

  Dr. Clemens: I am a medical doctor, specializing in cardiology.

  Mr. Silverstein: And could you please briefly explain to the court exactly what a cardiologist is and tell us how many years you have been practicing in the field?

  Dr. Clemens: A cardiologist specializes in the heart and heart related conditions. I have been practicing for twenty-six years.

  Mr. Silverstein: And in your twenty-six years of practicing cardiology, have you studied or come across a condition known as spontaneous cardiac rupture?

  Dr. Clemens: I have.

  Mr. Silverstein: And could you describe for the court, in as much non-technical detail as possible, what this term refers to?

  Dr. Clemens: In general, it refers to a laceration or tearing of some part of the heart. It is a rupture of the heart, causing internal bleeding and nearly inevitably leading to death.