by Don Prichard
The assessment stunned her.
No.
Thoughts like that said she was on the wrong track. No one had betrayed her, least of all, God. She sagged back into the chair.
“You thought what?” Crystal worried the edge of the photograph with her fingers.
“I recognized him, but not who he was.”
“Maybe from your memory? From way down deep?”
From the mouths of babes. “Maybe.”
Crystal plopped her bottom onto the carpet and looked up with pleading eyes at Eve. “Why won’t you believe me, Mom? Why won’t you let me even talk about Jake, about you and him? Why won’t you trust that I’m telling the truth?” Her voice cracked, and she looked down at the floor. “It hurts so bad.”
Crystal’s pain burrowed into Eve’s heart. Because I have a stockpile of reasons to revile the man, topped by his own admission that he murdered someone. Set all those on the scales against a fifteen-year-old’s emotions, and of course the scales wouldn’t tip in her favor.
“Do you even want to believe me?”
Believe that she loved Jacob Chalmers? No. “It’s not about you, Crystal. It’s about him.”
“You won’t even give him a chance.”
“We need to get cleaned up now, eat breakfast.” Eve stood and walked to the stairs.
“Mom.”
Eve turned. “What?”
Crystal held up Jake’s photograph. “Your memory gave him a chance. You recognized him.”
Eve drew in a sharp breath. Yes. Her memory had as good as said she loved him.
“I’ll think about what you said, Crystal. That’s all I can promise.”
She sighed, half grumpy, half resigned to a new direction. She wanted to erase Jacob Chalmers from her and Crystal’s lives, not start a new chapter.
All right, if she was going to do this, she’d better accept a meeting with Jake’s children. She had prayed to be a good parent. Maybe it was time to help Crystal attempt a stockpile on her side of the scales.
Chapter 63
Eve discovered the letter from the U.S. District Court crumpled on the couch where she’d dozed off last evening. All this time waiting for its arrival, and then she’d forgotten about it! She sliced open the envelope and smoothed out the rumpled page before sitting to read it. The temptation to scan the contents teased her, but she remained resolute to read every delicious word one by one.
At the title Drug Czar, she smiled. It should be Anti-Drug Czar, but since it wasn’t a public label, it didn’t matter. Only a small number of people within the judicial system would know about Eve’s new designation in order to protect her from becoming a target. Excitement jittered a silly tap dance across her nerves. So it was official now: from this moment on, her focus was to combat illegal drugs in the Chicago area by coordinating law enforcement assets.
Thank you, Danny Romero! The success of her decade-long quest to nail him had put this judicial hammer in her hand.
The only disappointment was that she had to keep the assignment a secret. If she told one person, that person would, like her, feel compelled to tell one other person. And that person, one other person. And so it would go, multiplying like rabbits, until a public announcement might as well have been made in the first place. So Crystal was out. And Marianne. And Stella. And Chaplain Peterman. None of them could be told.
At least her former boss was part of the “inner circle.” Brad Henshaw would have been her first choice as an ally, anyway, so she was grateful for his inclusion.
She poured a cup of coffee and climbed the stairs to her home office. The room was simple in its furnishings but rich in decorations. With her identity lost in a miasma of soggy brain cells, she found it rewarding to define the “new her” by impulsive choices in art, literature, and music. Were the selections true to who she’d always been, or were they indicative of a totally “different her” who had moved on with her life?
Her first task was to answer Jake’s letter. She made it fast and simple: yes, she and Crystal would accept a visit with his children, and no, she and Crystal would not attend the wedding. She folded the single sheet in thirds, inserted it in an envelope, addressed it, and added one of the air-mail stamps she had bought for Crystal’s overseas letters to Jake.
Done. Would he even get it in time to write back to his children? Maybe she’d luck out and miss their visit to Chicago.
***
When the telephone rang two weeks later, Eve knew the call was from Dana or Brett Chalmers by Crystal’s squeal of delight. Rats! She put down her morning coffee and listened.
“I can’t wait to meet you, I’m, like, so excited, I can’t believe it’s really going to happen!” The words pelted from Crystal’s mouth like kernels of corn in a hot popper. “Sure! I’ll get her for you.” She swiveled and thrust the phone at Eve with lips spread to the max in a wide grin. “It’s Dana!”
Eve winced. So she was going to have to go through with this. It was Saturday, with no excuse of school for Crystal or a workday for her. Best to get it done and over with as soon as possible. No telling what the Chalmers kids were like, but she would at least approach them with dignity. Mentally assembling herself in a judge’s robes, she squared her shoulders and took the phone. “Hello, Dana.”
Dana’s greeting was as stiff as hers. Eve startled. She hadn’t thought about how the rendezvous might be as difficult for Dana and Brett as it was for her. To them, their father was the victim and Eve the culprit. Why had she ever said yes to this meeting?
A glance at Crystal’s face gave the answer. As if she had heard both sides of the icy exchange, Crystal’s glee had transformed into uncertainty and was rapidly converting into dread.
Eve cranked out a pitiful rendering of a smile for the child’s sake and attempted a friendlier voice. “Crystal and I are”—she managed not to choke on the next words—“looking forward to meeting you and Brett. Is there a time that’s good for you?”
“We’re staying at the Hilton. Is it too late to meet for breakfast, or brunch?”
Good. There was no way Eve was inviting them to her house. Not that safety was an issue, but getting together with anyone even remotely connected to Danny Romero was reason enough to meet in a public place. “That would be perfect. Does forty-five minutes from now work?” Hopefully, the Chalmers didn’t expect her and Crystal to spend the day sight-seeing with them.
When they hung up, Crystal gave her a hug worthy of a grizzly bear and dashed for the stairs. “Gonna brush my teeth and change into somethin’ totally choice and be right down.”
Eve followed her up the stairs to her own room to get ready. It was hard not to want to make a good impression on someone who found her the guilty party.
***
When Eve and Crystal entered the restaurant, the hostess, told to expect their arrival, escorted them to a table where a young man and woman sat. A striking pair. Chestnut hair with sun-streaked red highlights, copper freckles sprinkled lightly across nose and cheeks, mahogany eyes that observed every step of Eve and Crystal’s approach. Assessing them. Just as Eve and Crystal were assessing them. Were their hearts beating as fast as hers? Their mouths as cottony?
Differences became apparent as Eve and Crystal reached the table. Brett stood to hold out Eve’s chair—really?—exhibiting a height of about six-two. Dana, Eve guessed, since the girl was sitting, was probably a half-foot shorter. Brett was straight and lean; Dana was curvy with pleasing proportions. The boy had high cheekbones; the girl’s face was round. Both were attired in jeans, tees and Members Only jackets.
“You look just like your mom and dad,” Crystal said. From there, Brett and Crystal carried the conversation until the cardboard finally leached from Eve’s and Dana’s britches. It helped that the talk centered around the twins’ four years at West Point instead of events on the island. By the end of the meal, Eve, doggone it all, liked them.
“What are you doing the rest of the day?” Hello? Had she really asked them that? Ev
e smiled at herself and made the question into an invitation. “The Museum of Science and Industry is right down the street from our house. If you’re available, we could make a day of it and finish up with dinner at our place.”
Brett and Crystal immediately claimed they were in. Dana was slower to respond. “I need to make up my mind between two wedding gowns before we leave tomorrow. Could I talk you into coming along, Eve? I’d love to have your input.”
Dana’s request was like walking into a rose garden on a sunny day. Gowns over trekking around a museum? Not a brain buster. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do! Are you okay with taking Brett to the museum, Crystal?”
Fifteen-year-old Crystal glanced at twenty-two-year-old Brett and grinned. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do!”
Chapter 64
Crystal and Brett took a city bus to the museum while Eve and Dana marched into their quest for treasure, two princesses armed with credit cards. They expanded their search to include dainty items Dana hadn’t bought yet, as well as gowns at boutiques Eve knew of within walking distance.
The Saturday pedestrian traffic wasn’t crowded, but steady enough that Eve wanted to make sure she didn’t lose Dana when the girl stopped to gaze in store windows. Rather than hang over Dana’s shoulder like a pesky mosquito, Eve often stepped ahead to window-shop nearby. The April weather was brisk but sunny. Perfect for sauntering along the downtown streets and indulging in the sights, sounds, smells, and occasional shoulder bumps of Chicagoan humanity.
A boutique with jewelry Eve favored was two stores ahead. When Dana lingered at a department store window, Eve made a beeline for the boutique. A tired-looking woman with a coat draped over her arm stood in the middle of the sidewalk, slowing down the foot traffic, peering up and down the street as if lost. Before Eve could dodge her, a man elbowed past Eve in the narrow gap between the two women, knocking Eve off balance. He hesitated, muttered “Sorry,” but didn’t stop to help her regain her footing.
At once, Eve knew what had happened. “Stop him,” she yelled. “He stole my purse!”
The man broke into a run, threw something into a trash container at the edge of the street, and fled around the corner. Eve sped after him. A glimpse over her shoulder showed Dana frozen, mouth gaping along with other pedestrians staring at the disturbance.
A fat lot of good she was! Eve clenched her jaw and pushed through the gawkers ahead of her. At the corner, she halted, torn between chasing the thief and turning back to examine the trash container for her purse before someone else did.
Dana was nowhere in sight. Eve strode to the container and peered into the yawning opening. Most of the trash was food cartons and cups. She could almost hear the sighs of contented flies that had found their corner of detritus heaven.
Her purse was nowhere in sight. Gritting her teeth, she stuck her hand in and pushed aside the top layer of debris. The smell of fermented garbage assailed her nose, as did a landing force of angry flies on the defense. She swatted them with one hand and finished her nasty invasion of their homeland with the other hand. No purse, no wallet, nothing she could claim as hers.
She stepped away from the war zone, only to face the raised eyebrows and tittering of passersby, who gave her a wide berth. Her face flushed hot. Come on, people, bag ladies don’t dress in Gloria Vanderbilts.
Gah. Her right hand was filthy with the contamination of trash. Perhaps the boutique would let her use its employees’ bathroom, or at least grant her paper towels to clean off her hand. Spying a policeman entering the store, she ran to intercept him and report the crime.
Inside, her heart jumped at finding Dana in an arm-wrestle with an older woman at the check-out counter. The policeman was trying to pry them apart.
“Here she is,” Dana cried out, breaking away to point at Eve. “She’s the real Judge Eriksson.”
“What’s going on?” Eve stormed up to them. Had Dana been caught shoplifting and was claiming guilelessness because of Eve? Chagrin that she’d been fooled by Dana and Brett knifed her heart.
“Compare their signatures, officer.” Dana squirmed as the policeman clamped onto both her and the other woman. “You’ll see this woman is lying. She and a colleague stole Judge Eriksson’s purse minutes ago, and are using the judge’s credit card.”
Eve gasped and wrenched the older woman around. It was the same woman who had been standing near her on the sidewalk when the thief bumped into Eve. And the same coat still draped over her arm. Eve grabbed the coat and pulled it away, revealing her purse. “That’s my purse, officer. If my wallet is still in there, the picture on my driver’s license will identify me.”
The policeman released Dana and pulled the purse off the woman’s arm. He handed Eve the purse and resumed his hold on Dana. “Show me,” he said to Eve.
Eve did. Relief swamped her at finding everything intact inside. The vexation of having to get a new driver’s license and make phone calls to stop her credit cards evaporated. She made arrangements to press charges against the woman, and after the policeman left with his handcuffed prisoner, she all but leaped on Dana in a huge hug. “How’d you know?”
Dana hugged her back. Her face glowed as they broke apart and Eve continued to hold Dana’s shoulders in affection. “I thought I saw the man pass your purse to her. It happened so fast, I wasn’t sure. I felt bad not joining you in the chase, but I wanted to see what she’d do. When she turned and walked straight into the boutique, I followed her. Using a stolen credit card right away allows the thief to make pricey purchases before the credit is stopped. The woman wasted no time selecting expensive jewelry. When the clerk took her credit card and called her Ms. Eriksson, I grabbed the woman and told the clerk to call the police.”
Eve shook her head in admiration. “I’d never have thought to suspect her.” She looked at her right hand, saw it was as good as clean, and hoped she’d wiped it off on the woman’s coat and not on Dana’s back with her bear hug. She dropped her hands from Dana’s shoulders and removed a tissue from her purse to finish the task. “How can I ever thank you?”
“Oh goodness, you don’t owe me a thing.” Dana laughed, then lifted her eyebrows. “You know, there is something. I’d love it if you and Crystal would attend my wedding. Even better, if Crystal could be my bridesmaid.”
Eve drew in a sharp breath. Dana’s lips were pressed flat, holding her breath as well. Funny how easy it was to release the air and say, with a genuine beam, “You know, I think we will.”
***
Jake didn’t have much to take with him into the prison cell. A few items of clothing, a blanket, and letters from back home were about it. His pocket Bible was lost. Or stolen. He suspected it fell out of his pocket in the tussle with Mallet, but it was nowhere to be found when he went back to look. He mourned its disappearance. Not only because he couldn’t read it, but because important dates were written next to Scripture passages. Like when he became a Christian. Same with Crystal’s and Eve’s dates. And Ginny’s, Brett’s, Dana’s, his dad’s and mom’s.
Making matters worse, he now had no bunkmate. He and Puno decided to locate in two different pods to oversee group three since it was large enough to have to split up. Group one, Emilio’s men, including Mallet, was in a third pod. The Muslims, unhappy to be on round-the-clock display to their pod guards, were in the fourth pod.
He set his meager possessions on the lower bunk. It was too short for him, but at least it had a mattress. The biggest plus of moving into the new prison was that each cell had a toilet and sink. Jake’s design had included showers, but the warden had cut them out. There was clean water to drink and bathe in, but it was restricted to two hours in the morning and two hours in the evening. That meant sewage sat until it could be flushed, but the stink was nowhere as bad as when they’d had to use the fifty-five gallon drums cut in half.
His dream was pretty well accomplished. The nasty drums and their hordes of flies were gone. The old Salonga Prison now housed the furnitur
e and other trade industries that had sprung up. There was purpose—hope even—for those who wanted it. No human carabao languished in the courtyard but were bunked in the new prison. All the prisoners were free to move about within the confines of Salonga, but at night they were secured in their cells with electronic locks controlled by the pod guard on duty.
The four prisoner pods radiated equidistant from the central administrative pod, where Mendoza could survey his kingdom in both the old and new prisons with surveillance cameras. The offices and barracks for the guards and other employees were upstairs; the kitchen, cafeteria, dispensary, and other rooms were downstairs. Gravel defined a new parking lot, and trees and plantings around the entrance gave a pleasant appearance to the whole structure.
“You are rewarding prisoners with a five-star hotel,” Mendoza grumbled at his weekly meeting with Jake.
“They are getting decent facilities, Warden, that’s all. Take away a man’s freedom, and you take away his choices. What you give him is slavery.” Jake scowled. “Believe me, the loss of liberty bears no comforts.
“What you do have, however, is a five-star prison. Word will get out, and it will become a model for new prisons throughout the Philippines.” Jake smiled. “You best prepare yourself for visitors.”
Beginning, perhaps, with a wedding. If security at the prison proved reliable, he would ask the warden next month if Dana could be married on Salonga Prison’s premises.
It was a big if. He had to be one hundred percent sure. Ninety-nine percent wasn’t good enough.
Chapter 65
June
Eve declined a meeting with Jacob Chalmers at the prison. “I don’t want to intrude on your time together and all the planning you need to do for the wedding,” she told Dana. Truth to tell, she wanted to skip the whole event. But for Crystal’s and Dana’s sakes, she’d have to at least put in an appearance. Remain way at the back of those attending the ceremony. Unfortunately, there wouldn’t be many guests to hide behind.