Down To The Needle

by Mary Deal

  “Honey, we're both carrying a hell of a load right now. I guess you're right. This is not the time.” He flashed a warning grin. “But the moment there's a lull, I plan to back you into a corner.”

  “Unless you end up there first.” She punched his shoulder, teasing and momentarily in touch with all the happiness he brought into her life.

  They drove the last few minutes in silence. Then Abi remembered Margaret again. Joe had said Margaret looked like a new person. He had taken her to have her hair cut and styled, bought her makeup and other cosmetics, even bought her some new clothes, all in hopes she would feel like her former self and begin to remember who she was. With the evidence of the torn photo, Abi was not sure what to expect. If Margaret remembered too much of her former self, she might try her old manipulations again. That could be dangerous, given the fact that Joe still cared enough to want to take care of her. If she had not remembered their torrid affair, there would be no ambiguity between herself and Margaret. Anyway, with her housed behind the garage, Margaret could not disrupt their time together.

  He broke the silence cautiously. “Abi.” He paused. She looked over at him. “You might find some things of Margaret's lying around when you go in.”

  “Oh?” The thought never occurred to her. Margaret didn't live in his house.

  “I came home one day and found Margaret had used my bathroom.”

  “Your bathroom?”

  “Yeah, I guess she took a bath. Her unit only has a stall shower.”

  Somehow, it didn't seem surprising that Margaret would do something like that. So why hadn't Joe locked his doors. He was famous for leaving his car and home open. With the former Margaret's attitude of owning the world, as she gained back some memory, perhaps old mannerisms would surface as well. She may not hesitate to take advantage of anything or anyone. Then Abi reminded herself to stick to the facts and not pass judgment. The woman needed all the help she could get. “She felt it was okay to just walk in and use the facilities?”

  “Evidently so, but I've asked her to confine herself to the apartment back there.” Joe seemed bottled up and cautious about what he had to say.

  “What was her reaction?”

  “Like I'd insulted her.”

  “You're kidding, of course.”

  “No, I'm not. Later I found a few things she'd left behind.”

  He certainly would have cleaned up after Margaret. “Why are you telling me this?” She intuition peaked.

  “I don't want you to be surprised if you find something of hers in the house.”

  “What might there be?” She seemed suddenly suspecting the worst.

  “Well, later that day I found a book she was reading. She left it in the living room.”

  “Made herself at home, didn't she?”

  “Oh, yes.” He almost chuckled. “Even fixed herself some lunch.”

  “And brought it over and ate in your house?”

  “No, fixed it out of my fridge.” He flashed a most ridiculous grin, as if he couldn't believe it either. He kept shaking his head.

  Joe having found that torn picture and now hearing this, Abi was sure Margaret was remembering more than she let on. “She's remembering the two of you going together and she's starting to play it—”

  “What the…?” Joe asked as they headed up his long driveway. Through a thin haze of fog, a slit of light beamed from under the closed garage door. “I must have left the light on.” He tapped the remote.

  Chapter 31

  As the garage door rose, boxes along the wall stood out of line. Joe kept containers of equipment and photography paraphernalia and favored keepsakes stored in the garage. The boxes never stood helter-skelter. He glanced at her sideways before jumping out of the vehicle. “I hope she's not rifling through my stuff.”

  Abi followed. “Why would she if you've talked to her?”

  “Well, you know the homeless. They'll take anything they can sell in order to eat.”

  “Maybe she's trying to verify who you are?”

  “I think she'd ask, not take things, and I've already stocked the kitchen back there.”

  “Maybe it wasn't Margaret.”

  “Well, it certainly wasn't me.” He put a knee against a carton, pushing it back into place against the wall. “You might be right though. I thought I saw that DeWitt guy and another woman with Margaret when I left earlier today.”

  Abi smirked. “You'd better hope she didn't take them inside your house,”

  “No chance. I lock the doors now. The entrance to her area is around that way.” He motioned to the outer side of the garage. “It wouldn't be good to have the homeless hanging around. My neighbors would run me out of town.”

  “Can't see why.” Abi surprised herself, feeling in a playful mood. “You've got this sprawling front yard, would easily accommodate half a dozen good sized tents.”

  “Abi!”

  “Talk to her again then.”

  “I'll have to.” He opened the flap of a large opened box with the word College scrawled near a top corner. “What could she have wanted in here?”

  “What's stored in there?”

  “Just some old books and… Oh-oh, two of my college yearbooks are missing.”

  “I told you. It's all coming back to her.”

  “Good, then we can get this over with.”

  “If she's remembering that far back, maybe she's remembering the part where you and she were having your affair. What if she remembers nothing more?”

  “Highly unlikely, Abi.”

  “Suppose it's true? How do you think she'll react when she sees me spending the night?”

  “Is this the first night you've stayed since—”

  “Yes.”

  “Guess we're about to find out.” He folded the top of the box closed and shoved another flush against it.

  A surge of panic welled up in Abi's throat. “I hope she's asleep already.”

  “I've never seen you like this.”

  “I-I guess I've picked up a worry streak somewhere.”

  “That's normal, I suppose, when you're waiting for the outcome of the most major issue of your life.” He hugged her and held on. “I'm not Margaret's puppet anymore. Remember that. Most of all, I'm not about to heap more problems on top of what you've yet to face.”

  Earlier, they stopped out on the highway for a light dinner. The hour was late now and they went directly to the bedroom, bypassing the living room with its mixture of masculine furnishings and lustrous blond oak hardwood floors. The Margaret that Joe described would not approve of his eclectic decorating tastes, especially with tripods standing about, and cameras and cases sitting on every available surface, ready for use.

  In the bedroom closet, as Abi hung her change of clothing for the next morning, she found a gray sweater hanging on the rack near the door. Strange that Joe never hung his sweaters but folded them neatly and placed them in the drawers inside the armoire. In the dressing room, she opened a drawer to insert her makeup bag and found a bright yellow woman's comb and a lipstick. “Joe, look at this.” She couldn't help wondering how much time Margaret had spent inside the house and if Joe had actually invited her. She couldn't bear the thought.

  “What is it?”

  She poked her head out of the dressing room and motioned for him to come and see. He didn't look surprised, but sighed heavily. “I guess I missed that.”

  “What about the gray pullover?”

  “You mean my gray cardigan? What about it?”

  “No, a pullover.”

  “I don't own a gray pullover.” He stared questioningly into her eyes as she pointed toward the closet. He went to see and pulled the sweater off the hanger. “Hers.” He flung it into a nearby chair.

  “Of course it is.” Abi clenched her teeth. She turned away, but he came to her immediately and put his hands on her shoulders.

  “Abi, don't do this.”

  “Don't do what? Is she trying to tell me something? Or are you?”


  “Honey, there's nothing going on between her and me.”

  “When's the last time she was in this room?”

  “Only once, as far as I know. Those things, I just missed them, that's all.”

  “Well, what was she trying to do, move in?” Abi's mind filled with negative thoughts. She knew the feeling of desertion well and had been forced to live her life with a constant reminder. She feared losing again, and losing Joe, especially to Margaret. She felt justified in her suspicions. What would happen if Joe and Margaret's obsession with one another flared up again? She turned to face him. “Joe…” She could only whisper sadly.

  “You've got to trust me. Please, Abi, trust me.”

  They did not make love. They had not spoken a word after turning out the lights. Joe simply rolled away from her and went to sleep. She glanced to the nightstand where her little bottle of nitro tablets stood in the dim light. She had to rest but didn't want to be in Joe's bed tonight. The thought that Margaret might have laid in the same spot made her heart beat erratically. Abi ached for the intimacy she and Joe shared after having made love. Now she could only wonder if he had been that way with Margaret.

  Chapter 32

  Precious days slipped by with no word about when the DNA tests would be completed.

  Joe wore only his under shorts. He call out as he shaved in her bathroom. “You're in over your head by helping Yates.”

  “It's for Becky.” She came out of the dressing room to make sure he heard. “I'll sacrifice anything to give her the rest of her life.”

  “But a second mortgage on this house? You've already sold off some of your stocks. Why couldn't I at least loan—”

  “Nothing else matters.” She watched his reaction in the mirror. He knew she still felt uncertain about the identity. But without certainty, she wasn't about to force herself to change her opinion. “Without Becky—”

  “Ouch!” He had nicked his chin and pressed a fingertip against the cut. “What if this Yates jerk doesn't come through?” He bent down to splash cold water against his face.

  “He will. We'll see to it, won't we?”

  He patted his face dry. “We'll do our best, honey.” Something in the way he looked at her held a glint of disappointment.

  “You'll stand by us, Becky and me, won't you?”

  “Only if I'm not included in that part where nothing else matters.” He looked hopeful. Then he hugged her.

  The smell of his clean skin comforted. “I'm surprised Yates showed up for all those doctor's appointments.”

  “Hazel had something to do with it.”

  “I'm thankful for her.”

  “And for the fact Yates's problems are only behind the eyeballs and not in his feeble brain.”

  Joe tucked his shirt and zipped his fly. He wore his clothes well. The sight of him made her tingle as thoughts and emotions mixed.

  Several days later, Joe and Abi went to pick up Stan Yates and his sister and drive them to the hospital for the surgery. Again, thanks to Hazel who still looked haggard, her brother wore clean clothes, but that same stench lingered.

  “I ain't never had attention like this in a long time.” He climbed into the back seat.

  “You hush, brother. This is something you shoulda' done a long time ago.”

  “But I done looked at them pictures.”

  “Your eyes, fixed those eyes. Shoulda' done this long time ago and then looked at them pictures again just to be sure.”

  “I reckon I'm sure as I'll ever be.” He always sounded like a know-it-all. “But havin' someone to pay to get your sight back? Guess I done convinced myself I couldn't throw away no opportunity.” He slapped his knee. “No, siree.”

  Abi and Joe rode in silence listening to the distorted exchange between two people who knew no better.

  At the hospital, nearly four hours passed when, finally, the doctor walked through the double doors. They stood. He smiled and snapped his fingers. “All done.”

  Hazel whimpered. “Is he a-gonna see?”

  “We removed some blockages, scar tissue. The damage was more extensive than we anticipated.” He motioned for them to sit down again and produced some blown-up photos of an eyeball labeled Cryotherapy of Retinal Tear.

  The doctor explained that with the extensive retinal damage, which had been left untreated all those years, he decided to attach a Scleral Buckle to secure the retina to the eyeball in the left eye. He next showed them a picture of the ring-like device. “Something like this was permanently attached around the eyeball,” He offered the pictures to Hazel as he explained the procedure.

  She looked at the photos with a blank expression. “How can he wear that ring-thing? Is everybody gonna see it?”

  The doctor stared at the floor, poker-faced. “It doesn't show outside the eye.” He looked at her again. “Your brother won't even know it's in there. It was a minor procedure once we decided on the Buckle.”

  Abi and Joe studied the photos together.

  When this physician was chosen to perform the surgery, they learned he was aware of the Winnaker case and Stan Yates's dubious role. He had listened objectively and refrained from personal input. His coolness to the situation hid his opinion as to the guilt or innocence of the inmate.

  Joe stood. “What's the prognosis, doctor?”

  “He should begin to regain his sight in a few days.” He turned to Hazel again. “Normally he could go home tomorrow. But because you told us he likes to drink, we don't want him falling down and hurting himself and then having to do the surgery all over again.” He forced a smile. “We'll know more when we remove the bandages.”

  Surely if Yates got drunk and fell, or worse, got into a fight, the surgery will have been for naught. Further damage might be irreparable.

  “A few days?” Abi sighed with relief. “Thank goodness.”

  “One more thing. If it's a matter of him being able to focus to look at those photos, he should see perfectly through his right eye. Have him cover the left eye like in an eye exam.” Suddenly, he turned to Abi, smiled warmly and offered his hand. “Good luck.” Relief flooded her as she clung to the handshake.

  Three days later, the same doctor carefully removed Yates's eye patches. Surely feeling awkward, the doctor treated him like one might treat a child. Again, Yates thought he was receiving special attention, but three days of ragged beard and whisker stubble only exemplified his immature mind.

  “Good grief, is that you, Hazel?” Yates reached toward something that must have looked vague to him. “For bein' my ol' sister, you sure kept yer shape.”

  Joe stepped in front of Abi. “That's not your sister.”

  Abi stepped away from the bedside as Yates sniffed the air. This man sickened her.

  “I'm over here, brother.”

  “So ya' are.” He continued sniffing. “Move so's I can see ya'.” He was practiced at playing the victim and waited till she placed herself in his line of sight. He squinted and strained his head forward.

  Hazel, wearing brown clothes, must have seemed nothing more than a dark shadow. “I'm over here.”

  “Lean close.” She did. “Nope.” He felt her withered face with coarse cracked fingertips. “Nope, doc. It ain't comin' through.”

  “Give it time, Stan. Give yourself time to learn to focus again. We'll monitor your progress.”

  “Sorta' like being a baby agin, ain't it?”

  “Something like that.” The doctor moved his hand slowly across Yates's line of vision. “See anything now?”

  Yates strained. “See somethin' movin'.”

  As the doctor sat on the edge of the bed and proceeded with the examination, they watched with contained expectation. “He'll have more and more sight as the days pass. There's some minor difficulty with the left eye, as I mentioned before. We'll know more real soon.”

  “What's wrong with my left eye, doc? Ain't I a-gonna see?”

  “Stan, you waited too long to get this done. Your left retina had some deterioration. Sig
ht in that eye may be a little blurred.”

  “Ya' mean, I still can't see right? After all this pain and trouble?”

  The doctor hid his revulsion. “Nothing a good pair of glasses won't fix.”

  “Wha-at? After all this, I gotta wear them things now?”

  The doctor patted Yates's arm. “Stan, do you think it's better to see with glasses or remain blinded for the rest of your life?”

  Yates either couldn't or wouldn't answer. Finally, he said, “I'm a-waitin'. I'm a-waitin' now.”

  Yates's eyesight improved over the next couple of days. After his vision stabilized somewhat, he was taken downstairs to the ophthalmologist's office in the adjacent clinic and fitted with a temporary pair of corrective eyeglasses, pending further evaluation.

  The following morning, Abi waited anxiously with Joe at his studio for the call from the doctor that would tell them Yates's sight was good enough to view Joe's photos again. Hazel would bring her brother, and Abi and Joe, along with Emery would meet them at the police station. Det. Britto insisted the viewing take place at the precinct to make it a matter of record.

  Joe's cell phone rang. “Morning, Britto.” Then Joe's expression soured. “He what?” He yelled at his cell phone. “Where'd he go?”

  Abi's nerves went raw. “What is it?”

  Joe signaled for her to wait. “Who checked him out?” There was another moment of silence as Joe listened. Then he said thanks and hung up and turned to face her and seemed in shock.

  Abi began shaking all over. “He's gone?”

  “The doctor said one of the nurses found his hospital gown on the floor and his street clothes were missing.” Joe slammed a fist into his palm and paced. “He left a newspaper lying on the bed with your picture on the front.”

  “Joe, that means he can see!”

  Chapter 33

  “Oh crap!” Joe pounded Hazel's number into the phone and paced as he waited but got no answer. “Someone better find him.”

  “Maybe she took him.”