Down To The Needle

by Mary Deal

  “I have no way of knowing. I just know it wasn't me.”

  “We'll turn up something. Have faith.”

  A guard opened the door and Emery entered with an over-sized red-brown artist's envelope. He was all smiles, like they were getting together for a business meeting. How false the happiness felt.

  “Are they going to let you give it to her now?” Megan seemed gleeful as a child. “I did want to watch her when she sees it.”

  Emery pulled the large sheet of art paper from the envelope. He looked at it, raised an eyebrow and smiled. Then he turned it around and quickly slid it across the table.

  Abi gasped. “Oh, my.” The exquisite artwork contained hues of the morning sun and shadows. The ever-twining cypresses with clumps of compressed needles looked so real they almost leaped to life from the pastel cliffs.

  “For our memories, mother.”

  “Do you finally remember Pt. Meare?”

  Once again, Megan seemed to need to put something together in her mind before responding. “No, Joe gave a photograph to Mr. Kenton to give to me, to try to help with my memory. I thought you'd like this.”

  Emery nodded. “Becky looked at some of those old drawings you let me borrow. She doesn't remember yet.”

  “Do you like it?” Megan acted like a child arriving home from school with the day's art project.

  “I love it.” Abi leaned forward and hugged her again, but felt overwhelmed.

  “Shall we continue?” Emery glanced at his watch.

  Abi nodded and dabbed at her eyes.

  “Mother, Mr. Kenton has a plan.”

  “That's right. Here's what we're doing,” He had a page of notes in front of him. “I'm going out to see this Yates guy—”

  “Oh, please. Let me go. Let Joe and me go too.”

  He thought a moment, and then spoke quickly. “I think that might be okay.”

  “I want to hear exactly what he has to say for himself.”

  “I think he's said it all.” He's just waiting for me to be put to sleep.”

  “Sh-h.” Abi patted Megan's arm resting on the tabletop. “Don't say that.”

  “I also learned he could have his sight restored. At least part of it.”

  Abi nearly choked. “Really?” She bolted upright in her chair. If that were true, he should have had the surgery years earlier. “Why didn't the state require it?”

  “State can't compel anyone to undergo a complex and possibly dangerous medical procedure.” Emery shifted into his attorney's mode.

  “Not even to perfect an identity?”

  “He IDed the photo of Beck… uh, Megan Winnaker, before he lost his sight. That's all they cared about.”

  “He's wrong.” Megan dropped a fist onto the tabletop. “Don't they get it? He's dead wrong.”

  Emery shook his finger at them. “Listen to me, both of you. We need nothing less than a miracle if the Supreme Court rules against us.”

  “Please, Mr. Kenton.” Megan doubled and redoubled her fists. “I didn't kill anyone.”

  “Have faith.” Abi squeezed Megan's hands. She turned to Emery. “Joe and I will go with you. What else?”

  “For now, just the DNA tests.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as authorities here at the prison can come together.”

  “Come together?” Abi screeched and nearly came out of her chair. She remembered the window and could care less about her composure. All those people on the opposite side of that window were not only watching but hearing every word spoken.

  “Quite a few people are involved, Abi.”

  Abi elevated her voice, intending to be heard. “What does it take for a few people in the front office to go to the infirmary for five seconds while her blood is drawn?”

  Emery said nothing, but glanced quickly toward the window. He picked up the drawing and envelope and stood. “The last bit of time together belongs to you two.”

  His and Megan's eyes met. Something clicked between them. Was it an attraction? The comfort of someone in desperation begging help from one who seemed would provide it, like confessing patients who fall in love with their psychiatrists? Whatever it was, Megan probably felt that, finally, someone cared.

  Chapter 28

  The next day, Abi met Joe at Emery's office. They set out to drive to Creighton together. Emery's vintage but beautifully maintained Cadillac Seville might have needed new shock absorbers by the way it swayed over bumps and chuck holes like a boat slopping over waves.

  They drove through a subdivision of run-down homes just outside Creighton on the seedy edge of town. Emery slowed to read street numbers and pulled up in front of a small, dilapidated green house across the street from a sleazy dive called the Tip 'em Up Tavern. Next door to the house were boarded up tenements covered in graffiti and the lot was strewn with debris among tall weeds. A couple of guys ducked out of sight through boards torn off a doorway when they spotted the Seville approaching.

  “Probably a crack house. Hope the Caddie's here when we come out.”

  “How did you know where to find him?”

  “Been following the case, you know.”

  “All this time? Your interest didn't end with the verdict.”

  “No way, Joe. That's about when I dug in my heels.”

  “I invited Britto, but he's sure Yates will stick by his story and he doesn't want to hear it again.”

  Abi almost laughed. “He might learn something new.”

  “The way Britto tells it is that this guy Yates sticks to his story like it's rehearsed. That sends up a flag in my mind. I mean, what is it he's trying to avoid saying?”

  Both Emery and Joe jumped out of the car. Joe opened the rear door for her. She climbed out, took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, preparing for what she secretly intended to do. She would get through to this witness with an offer he couldn't refuse.

  The Yates's front yard was over grown with uncut weeds that poked up through cracks in the walkway.

  Emery looked around and chuckled. “So he still gets out of mowing the lawn.”

  “Excuse me?” Abi couldn't believe the way the property was left unkempt.

  “The yard, Abi. At the Yates's house that burned, he had concreted the entire yard. That's why there was such a lack of evidence on the ground.”

  “Concreted the whole yard?”

  “No footprints in any dirt. Nothing.” Emery's smile was almost silly. “Yep, lazy man's way of getting out of mowing the grass, and in this house, he can't see to do it if he wanted to.”

  If anything new could be learned, this was Abi's opportunity. She would not be like Emery, jumping in only when asked. She had already formulated a plan. Today might be her only chance to influence this witness. Yates was known to be disagreeable and spiteful. If he would not consent to helping, in the very least, she would have planted enticing ideas that he would have no choice but to consider. She had to convince him that he might have made a mistake. That might prove to be a daunting task.

  A weathered crone's face peered out from behind the slightly opened door. “Oh, it's you'uns,” Hazel Yates accepted Emery's business card. She pushed open the screen door for them to enter. She primped her scraggly hair but it still hung lifeless. She had no teeth. Emery thanked her for convincing her brother to see them.

  The first thing Abi noticed before her eyes had time to adjust to the dimness was that the air inside the house carried the stench of uncleanliness mixed with the nauseating odor of sweat. Greasy cooking smells lingered. Cigarette smoke hung heavy in the rays of sunlight that shined through the closed windows.

  They squeezed into the tiny living room-dining area, overcrowded by a 1950's style table with a faded yellow cubism pattern on the top. Slashes and tears marred the matching pattern on the vinyl seat covers. Rust spots covered the once-shiny chrome legs. Crowded against the wall was an old sofa in a state of collapse, the seams busted with stuffing protruding. The armrests were threadbare and frayed. Cigarette
burns marred the edges of a tiny end table.

  Hazel smiled sheepishly. “I ain't bought no new furniture fer him.” She primped again. “He cain't see it no way.”

  Abi smiled nicely, feeling Hazel's embarrassment. “Hello, Hazel.”

  “You're that girl's mother.”

  “I'm Abi Fisher.” She offered her hand. “I know this is hard for you and—”

  “This ain't hard.” Hazel didn't accept Abi's hand, instead swatted the air in front of her. “What's hard is takin' care of a blind man.”

  “Is he incapacitated otherwise?”

  “Nah.” She relaxed a little. “He's just an old drunk. Can find his way to the booze cabinet okay.” She closed her mouth the same way most toothless people pucker that pushed her upper lip closer to the base of her nose. She led them into the first tiny bedroom along the hall. “This here's our sittin' room.” Still no ventilation and more mismatched dilapidated furniture hugged the walls.

  A shock of thinning white hair stood up above the back of a broken down and slightly lopsided brown corduroy recliner. The chair sat in the middle of the room and faced toward the dirty sliding glass door with its torn screen that sat off-track. A dim ray of sunlight fell across the man and the chair. A huge yellow wasp dived against the outside of the glass patio door and then zigzagged away as it struggled to regain its flight. A mangy dog paced back and forth on a leash in a yard that was nothing more than a soggy mud wallow and poop hole.

  A small TV with a converter box sat on an end table at the wall in front of Yates with the picture in a constant horizontal roll. The sound was clear, however.

  “I hear ya'.” He reached to lower the TV volume, finding the knob as if he had sight. “What is it you be a-wantin'?” Despite his reputation, they found him sober.

  Emery approached to stand in front of him.“Do you mind if we sit and talk a while?”

  “Don't make me no difference. I don't see ya' if ya' do, 'er if ya' don't.”

  Hazel left the room. They glanced at one another and looked for seats that would allow them to somewhat face him. Abi quietly slipped around to the front of the man to see what he looked like. His eyes were opened and if she had not known anything about him, would believe he had sight. His eyes seemed only to stare through her as she moved closer. His face was pallid, nose long and peaked between sunken cheeks covered with wrinkled skin that sagged into an alcoholic's droop.

  “You, lady.” Yates flagged a finger directly at her, knowing exactly where she stood. Abi took a step backwards. “You sit right here.” He kicked his footstool toward her.

  Emery was just as astounded. “How did you know where she was?”

  “I kin smell 'er!”

  “But I'm not wearing perfume.”

  “You think 'cause I'm blind I done lost everything else?” Again, he motioned toward the stool. “Sit up real close. After we talk, I'm gonna show you somethin' real perdy.”

  The thought that this belligerent man could smell another's presence and know that she was a woman seemed a breach of common decency. Much as she wanted to run from him, Abi remained standing and stared at the small jagged scar on the side of Yates's forehead. It was difficult to believe that this man might save the life of the woman who might be her daughter.

  Emery began. “What we wanted to see you about was—”

  “That other guy with ya'.” Yates chucked his head sideways. “Ain't he got no voice?”

  Abi glanced at Joe and Emery in quiet surprise. Yates knew two men were present even though only Emery had spoken.

  “I'm Joe Arno.”

  “I just wish I could see all you'uns. Most of all, I wish I could see the face of the woman who bore the child that done took mine away. I got somethin' to show you, lady, a little later.” He leered in her direction. Yates wallowed in self-pity with words full of vengeance so deep, surely he was born that way, and then denied it through booze. She glanced at Joe who stepped past Emery to stand beside her.

  Emery started again. “We understand you could have had your sight restored.”

  “Could've, I s'pose.”

  “Can I ask why you haven't?”

  “Well, ya' see, it's like this. When that ol' house of mine burnt to the ground, everything I had went with it. I didn't have no insurance.”

  “You couldn't get state aid?”

  “Nope.” He smiled sheepishly with the lower half of his face. “I had this bank account, ya' see, my drinkin' money, sort of. Had more in there than I realized. Never told my wife.” Again, he grinned boastfully, displaying stained teeth dangling from putrefied gums.

  “Why didn't you get the surgery? Surely you want to see again.”

  “Well, they told me how much the operation would cost. Was gonna take dang near all I had, leave me with nothin'. I didn't want no hard times afterwards, you know.”

  “But it's your sister who's struggling now.”

  “She's got 'er pension.”

  Emery shook his head in disbelief, rolled his eyes, then looked at his notes. “What were the chances of you seeing again after surgery?”

  “Fifty-fifty, they said. Maybe I wouldn't get both eyes back neither.”

  Abi could wait no longer. “Would you consider it, the surgery?”

  “Hell, all my money's gone now. I ain't been workin', ya' know.”

  “Mr. Yates, we need your help. First of all, my daughter's innocent and—”

  “You ain't a-gonna' change my mind, I tell ya'. I don't care if ya' done found your long lost brick thrower. That don't make her innocent and it ain't gonna' bring my family back.” Yates breathed hard with raspy congested lungs. “Now what are you'uns really here fer?”

  It seemed Joe hadn't caught on to what Abi intended. He motioned that she continue.

  “Mr. Yates, if you really want to see my face, I'll make that possible. I'll pay for your surgery.”

  Both Joe and Emery seemed stunned.

  “I believe yer a-pullin' my leg.”

  “No, I'm not. I'd do that, but only on the condition that once you have your sight restored, you'll look at those photos again.”

  Yates's lips smirked. He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Desperation's sure a funny thing. Ain't it now?”

  Emery seized the moment. “That's right, Mr. Yates, we are desperate. If there's a chance you IDed the wrong person, wouldn't you like to straighten that out?”

  “I reckon after all this time, it don't make me no difference. Someone's gonna' pay fer killin' my wife and kids.” He shook his finger in the air. “You think I care about anything else?”

  “If you were wrong, an innocent woman will be put to death and the guilty one remains free.”

  “But someone's paid.”

  Joe had caught on and leaned forward, placing a hand on Yates's arm. “Sure, but the real guilty person is free to do the same thing again. What makes you think those people won't come after you again?”

  Yates remained quiet a while. “Hell, they ain't no other guilty party. If they was they'd have kilt me off by now.”

  Joe shook his head and looked away in disgust. He couldn't add much. This was for Abi and Emery to handle. “We're here for you, Stan. We'll see you through anything, if you'll help us.”

  “I dunno. Surgery and all that pain again?”

  “The doctor says the new laser techniques make surgery virtually painless.” Emery's words were upbeat. He seemed practiced at voice inflection. It evidently had an effect.

  Yates's expression softened. “Painless, huh?”

  “Just the inconvenience of spending a day or two in the hospital.”

  Abi and Joe were again surprised about how much detail Emery knew.

  Yates suddenly straightened in his chair and turned his face in Abi's direction. “Looky here, lady. Kept this from way b'fore.” He bent forward toward the end table exposing the old scar on the back of his head from where he fell and was knocked out. It was a rather large depression with not much hair growing from it. He opened a
drawer and pulled out a picture frame turned upside-down. “You think you been a-waitin' all this time to find yer daughter? Hell, I been a-waitin' fer someone to pay… pay fer what they done to me.” He turned the frame right side up. The picture was an old newspaper photo of Megan Winnaker with her head shaved. A whimper escaped as Abi gasped and covered her mouth. “You see this here?” Yates still spoke in her direction. “Every day I take this here out and hold it. The only reason I might wanna see is just so's I can watch her body go into them deep spasms when that prison doctor injects her with all that poison acid.” He slapped his knee. His giggle was more like a screech. “They twitch and jerk, I hear.”

  Abi moaned and collapsed against Joe.

  Emery sympathetically leaned in to touch the man's arm. “Stan, let's just say you identified the wrong person.” He spoke quickly and took advantage of another cloaked opportunity. “With your sight restored, you could identify the true guilty person and still get to see someone punished.”

  “You mean they'd really let me be right in on it?”

  “If you're up to it.”

  “And the' ain't no friggin' law that's gonna keep me on the outs?”

  “None in hell.” Emery flashed a pathetic look of disgust. His voice was feigned, playing to Yates's stupefying arrogance. “None in hell.”

  Chapter 29

  They had purchased take-out to eat lunch at Joe's studio so he could finish a photography project. Abi brought her laptop and other transportable business from her office. Joe turned up the heat. Fog that was normally prevalent in June and July along the coast surprisingly rolled in early in May and sometimes stayed the entire day. Not knowing what the weather would be like, she wore layered clothing, which at times, was cumbersome. She threw her jacket and sweater aside, kicked off her shoes and brought her legs up under her, sinking deeper into the brown overstuffed leather chair.

  Joe seemed nervous and paced around and glanced at her once in a while as she worked. The old desk telephone rang. He let the call roll to voice messaging. Neither she nor Joe answered phones anymore without first seeing the caller's number. Only those with whom they wished contact knew their cellular numbers. Then Abi's cell phone rang.