by Elle Casey
“What did he say?” she asks, her heart squeezing in her chest painfully.
“Nothing to me. You know he only talks to you. Besides, this is your call to take, not mine.” He hands the phone to her. “Do you want me to stay or go?”
“Stay,” she says, taking the phone. She doesn’t pull away when he takes her hand in his.
“Hi, this is Nicole.” She works hard to keep her voice confident and tear-free.
“Hey, Nicole. I’ve got your news. Are you sitting down?”
“Yes.” She stares at her daughter’s funeral arrangements and the words begin to blur as she focuses on the deep voice of the man who knows her fate.
He sighs. “You’re being charged with culpable negligence.”
Her heart stops beating for a few seconds. Fear grips her in its icy hands and goosebumps appear all over her body. “What does that mean?” She grits her teeth painfully to keep a handle on her emotions.
“Well, several things. First of all, the good news is that it’s not a felony, so there will be no jail time.”
“Oh, thank God.” She can breathe again, although the ache in her heart is still there.
“There will be a fine and possibly some minor issues to deal with, but really, it’s what I consider a bullshit charge. I’m happy to fight it for you. I think the DA is under pressure to do something, to show she’s tough or whatever. Honestly, in our jurisdiction, the case law tells me this thing won’t hold up.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want you to fight it.”
“It’s your call, but before you make that choice, at least let me tell you what it’s technically saying about what happened, okay?”
“Okay. Can you do that now or do I have to wait?”
“Yeah, hold on a second. I just need to get the jury instructions. That’s probably the clearest way to describe it to you.”
“Okay, I’ll hold.”
“What’d he say?” Brian asks. He pulls out the chair next to her and sits down.
“He says they’re going to charge me with culpable negligence but that there’s no jail time for that.”
Brian frowns. “And?”
“And he says he could fight it but I don’t want him to.”
“Why?”
“Just wait,” she says. “He’s going to read me something.”
“You still there?” the lawyer asks, the sound of papers rustling in the background making its way over the line.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
“Okay, so if there were a trial, these are kind of the instructions the judge would read to the jury before they went into deliberations. When I talk to my clients who are facing this kind of decision, this is what I do. I read parts of the jury instructions because it puts the law into very practical terms. So these are the instructions for culpable negligence: Culpable negligence is a course of conduct showing reckless disregard of human life, or of the safety of persons exposed to its dangerous effects, or such an indifference to the rights of others as is equivalent to an intentional violation of such rights. Culpable negligence is consciously doing an act or following a course of conduct that the defendant must have known, or reasonably should have known, was likely to cause death or great bodily injury.” He pauses. “I took a lot of stuff out, but you get the idea.”
“Wow. I … don’t know what to say to that.” Tears well up in her eyes as she considers the weeks before her daughter’s untimely birth and then the night she chose to go out into the garage and lay on a pile of blankets. Choices. Life is all about making choices with the information you have at hand at the moment you’re making them. She wants to believe she did the very best she could have, all things considered, but if the district attorney feels differently, it’s probably true that she had other options. Options she failed to consider or act on. Other options that might have meant the difference between her daughter living or dying.
“Yeah, it’s a mouthful. And legally speaking, I’m confident the DA won’t be able to prove reckless disregard or that what you did or didn’t do was likely to cause death. The coroner’s report backs that up one hundred and ten percent.”
“I don’t think I agree with you,” Nicole says, imagining herself giving birth in a pristine hospital bed instead of a dirty garage floor, and the chance her daughter might have had to live instead of ending up in the cold ground without even a funeral to lay her spirit to rest.
“I’m speaking in legal terms. You’re speaking from a totally different perspective, and I get that. Regardless, you have the choice to accept the charges as they are, waive your right to a trial, and have a judge decide your fate … or you can fight it, and while I can’t guarantee anything, I feel confident I could get you off without any charges. At least, you wouldn’t end up with anything worse than that. And your case is pro bono, so the expense shouldn’t be a concern.”
Nicole takes a shaky breath. “Your time is valuable, whether you’re charging me or not. And I really am fine with this outcome. I don’t believe I should just walk away without paying some price. I just don’t. I can’t explain it any better than that to you, I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. You don’t need to. No need to apologize either. I’m going to enter into negotiations with the DA, with your permission, to try and get the fine involved lowered and so on.”
Nicole grips the phone hard, nervous and scared but determined to get this done. “I don’t want you to do that. Just accept whatever she thinks is fair and get it over with.”
“Nicole, she’s not thinking fair. She’s thinking be as tough as possible, even when the charge is bogus.”
“That’s fine with me. I deserve to be treated that way. That’s how I want it.”
The lawyer sighs. “Okay, if that’s how you want to play it. You’re going against my advice, which is to at least attempt a plea bargain, but that’s your prerogative. I’ll do what you want. I’ll get back to you later today or tomorrow with the details.”
“But no jail, right? I’m not going to jail?”
“No. This is not a felony, so there will be no jail time.”
Nicole lets out a deep breath that she feels like she’s been holding for days. Weeks, maybe. “Thank you so much, Gary. I’m sorry I’m not going along with your advice. I really am.”
“Hey, I’m no one to judge, okay? Don’t apologize to me. I’m just here to help you as much as you’ll let me and as much as I can. I’ll be in touch.”
“Okay, thanks. Bye.”
Nicole hands the phone to Brian and then before either of them even have time to say a word, she bursts out sobbing. Throwing herself into Brian’s arms, she speaks into his neck. “It’s over. I don’t have to go to jail.”
“Thank God.” He buries his face in her hair. His voice comes out muffled. “Nicole, I’m so happy for you. For us.”
“Me too.” She feels like her heart is going to implode with the pain. “But I miss her so much. I know I never knew her, but I miss her. It’s so unfair. Why did she have to pay such a high price for my mistakes?”
Brian stands and pulls her to her feet long enough so that he can pick her up like a baby and carry her to the living room. He sits down with her in his lap and holds her close. “Shhhh, I know you feel bad, babe. I know you do. But it’s not fair to blame this on yourself. It’s not fair and I won’t let you do it. If you want to put the fault on someone, you blame the only one at fault and that’s John. Plain and simple.”
Nicole can’t argue the blame issue. No one will see it like she does. And all she can imagine now is the beautiful baby she held in her arms for too short a time. “She was so tiny, and pretty. She had my nose. My old one. I could totally see it.” Her face is hot with tears and sorrow.
“I’ll bet she was beautiful,” he says, stroking her hair.
Nicole pulls back and stares at Brian, desperation making her voice go higher. “I need to have a service for her. I need to do that as soon as possible. I can’t wait anymore.”
“Then let’s do it. I’ll go start making calls right now.” Brian puts some space between them, his expression going hopeful. “And while I’m making the calls, I want you to talk to Helen about the surgery. Let’s make all the positive changes in your life we can right now. Let’s not wait. Time is too short to let another day slip by in limbo.”
Nicole nods. “Forward movement.”
“Yes. Forward movement. Together.” He kisses her on the mouth and then slides out from under her. “Use the phone on my desk for Helen. I’m going to use the cell for the arrangements.”
He disappears into the kitchen and Nicole takes a few moments to dry her eyes and blow her nose with tissue from the box on the table. Her hands are still shaky, but she pushes through and calls Helen’s number.
The phone is answered after only one ring. “Hello, this is Helen. What’s the news?”
“Hey, Helen, this is Nicole.”
“I know it’s you, now tell me! Did you hear yet?”
“Yes. No jail time, but a charge of culpable negligence.”
A string of swearing goes on away from the phone before Helen comes back. “I knew it. That bitch. You going to fight it?”
“No.”
“I knew that too. Dammit.” Her voice goes softer. “I wish you would, but I get why you don’t want to.”
Nicole doesn’t want to have that conversation, so she jumps right into the reason for her call. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“You mentioned you know a surgeon…”
“Yes, I do. A really good one, as a matter of fact.”
“I’ve been thinking … maybe he can do something about my nose. And maybe my ears?”
“I’m sure he could. I’ve already talked to him.”
“You did?” At first Nicole’s not sure whether to be happy or annoyed at that, but it takes less than a second for her to appreciate what her friend was trying to do for her. Nicole knows she’s lucky to have these people caring for her like they are. Just a month ago, she was a virtual stranger, and yet now they treat her like one of the family; and this is what family does.
“Yes. And I showed him pictures from my cell phone. He says he could do a full consult if he had a picture of you the way you were. You know … before the abuse.”
“I have one. Or I should say, John has one. It’s at his house on the front hall table.”
“Then we’ll just have to get it.”
Nicole immediately goes cold with fear. “Go in his house? I couldn’t do that.”
“I think it would be good for you. We’ll go together. You, me, and Brian. Let’s go kick some ass on those ghosts of yours.”
Nicole tries to answer, but her voice comes out sounding strangled. “I … gah … I don’t know about…”
“I’m coming over right now. No better time than the present, right?”
The phone goes dead and Nicole just stares at it, the butterflies flying mad circles and figure-eights in her stomach.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
LOCKED DOORS DON’T STOP BRIAN for a second. Wrapping his hand with an old work rag, he punches out a pane of glass on the back door and has the thing unlocked in less than a minute. The place has a musty smell to it. John hasn’t made it out of the hospital yet, apparently, because the place definitely doesn’t have a lived-in feel anymore.
There’s a layer of dust on everything and something rotten coming from the area around the refrigerator. Brian walks quickly through the house to stand at the front door, waiting for Nicole, Helen, and Agnes to join him inside. The key sitting in the lock makes it a piece of cake to let them in.
“Come on,” Helen says, taking Nicole by the elbow. “Time to slay some dragons.”
Nicole doesn’t budge. Her face is pale-white and she’s shaking her head. “I can’t.”
Brian holds out a hand. “Come on, babe. There’s nothing in here that can hurt you anymore.”
Nicole’s taking big gulping breaths. It looks like she might be ready to vomit.
Agnes places her hand on Nicole’s shoulder. “Sweetie, what are you worried about? Tell us. Maybe we can help.”
Nicole stares down at the threshold. “I just … I sat on the other side of that line, wanting to come out for so long. And now I’m here. I’m afraid … I’m afraid …” She looks at the ceiling of the porch, as if tipping her head back will keep the tears from falling. “… If I go back in, maybe I’ll wake up and realize this was all a dream.” She looks at Agnes and then Brian. “…That I’ll be inside again, looking out.”
“But you know that’s not true,” says Agnes, her tone letting everyone know how badly she feels for Nicole. “You’re a smart girl. Besides, you know you’ve never had a dream this detailed before.”
Nicole looks at her absently. “That’s true.” She goes back to staring at Brian, her face full of anguish. “But I’m still afraid.”
Brian steps over the threshold and holds out his hands. “Take my hands and I’ll go with you. You’re not alone.”
“We all will,” says Helen, holding out a hand too.
“Together,” says Agnes. She holds out a frail, bony hand.
Nicole takes Agnes’s and Helen’s hands, laughing just slightly as she looks at Brian apologetically. “I only have two.”
“See? You have more help than you need.” Brian walks up and takes her face gently. “Nothing can hurt you anymore in here. Just painful memories, but we’re here for you, okay? Come on … let’s do this.”
Nicole walks forward as Brian’s hands slip down to her shoulders. He’s guiding her without pulling, as the women walk next to her.
She smiles briefly. “I feel like I’m in a love straightjacket.”
“Am I holding too tight?” asks Agnes. “I have to admit, I’m a little nervous. I can imagine how scared you must be.”
“No, I don’t mean it like that.” Nicole looks at the older woman. “I like love straightjackets. They make me feel safe.”
Brian backs over the threshold and lets Nicole go. “Your turn,” he says, glancing down at the slight rise in the flooring Nicole has to move her feet over before she’s officially inside the house.
Nicole lets Helen and Agnes go. “Okay.” She huffs out a loud breath and squares her shoulders. “I can do this.” Lifting her foot and letting it hesitate over the threshold for a few seconds, she finally steps into the house. One foot in front of the other puts her into the foyer where she stops and looks around.
Helen and Agnes come in right behind her.
“It smells different,” says Nicole, wrinkling her nose a little.
“No one’s been in here for a while,” says Agnes. “The place needs a good dusting.”
“There’s rotten food in the fridge,” Brian says.
“Someone should just burn the whole thing down,” says Helen, walking into the living room. She stares down at the holes in the carpeting. “What happened here?”
Brian clears his throat, glancing at Nicole before he answers. She seems to be waiting for his explanation.
“That’s where I found Nicole. He probably cut out the spots in the carpet that had blood on them.”
“Must have been quite a bit,” says Agnes, holding onto the edge of the arch leading into the room.
“So where’s this picture?” asks Helen, walking back to the front hall and facing Nicole.
Nicole points to a narrow table against the stairs. “It used to be there. He always kept it there where I’d have to see it all the time.”
“Stay here,” Brian says. “I’m going to look around for it.” He doesn’t stick around to deal with any of the reticence he expects to get from Nicole. This whole place just depresses the hell out of him and he has no desire to stick around any longer than necessary.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he quickly finds himself at the top and goes into the closest room. It’s empty except for a weight bench and miscellaneous work-out equipment. The room at the end
of the hall reveals what he assumes is the master suite.
There’s a bed in the middle of the room against the far wall. The bedspread is so tight, he imagines a quarter bounced on the top would fly right up to the ceiling. It makes him think that John must have been a military guy or maybe one of his parents was. It’s perfectly symmetrical with two identical nightstands on either side.
He walks over to the side nearest the attached bathroom. Opening the top drawer he finds two pictures. One is a photo of a woman with an infant wrapped in a blanket. Her hair is dyed black and she’s thin. Her smile is haunting, but she’s definitely not Nicole, so he pushes it to the side in favor of the other.
His eyes take in the contents of this second frame. It probably used to have a photograph inside, but now it has a shredded one there instead.
Picking it up, he looks at the image behind the glass. It’s a close-up of Nicole; he can tell by the beautiful eyes. But the rest of what’s there will probably do little to help the surgeon. It’s been ripped and then put back together, but not the way it had originally been. The strips are all off-kilter, making her face appear warped. It’s so obviously off, it has to have been done this way on purpose. It gives him chills, and he refuses to think of the point behind John’s cruelty; he’s sure he won’t understand it anyway.
He looks over his shoulder to be sure no one has followed him up and then quickly takes the frame apart. The pieces of photograph paper fall to the bed in a mess of long strips and smaller squares. There’s nothing holding them together. He gathers them up and puts them as gingerly as he can into his front pocket, throwing the frame and its backing under the bed. The last thing he wants is for Nicole to see this mess of her face. She already has enough issues with her image and John’s responsibility for ruining it.
Helen walks in. “Find anything?”
“Uh, no not really.”
She comes in farther. “Nicole’s downstairs. She’s looking out the back window. Have you seen it back there?”
“The graves? Yeah.” Brian suppresses a shudder. “Fucking awful is what it is.”