Evidence Not Seen (Love Is Book 9)

by Carlene Havel

Despite the cold, Jeff found Rosemary waiting outside. “Is everything all right?” he asked as soon as he stepped from the rental car.

  “Yes,” she replied, pulling her coat tighter. “That place was getting to me.”

  “You, too? I thought it was just me.”

  They spread their food on a weather-beaten picnic table and ate in silence. Remembering Rosemary’s fear that listening devices and cameras were everywhere on prison property, Jeff was careful to avoid anything but the most trivial conversation. He looked up and down the building, searching for some basis for Rosemary’s concern about surveillance. “Good barbecue,” he commented.

  “Uh, huh,” she agreed.

  A damp chill drove Jeff and Rosemary inside before long. She sat, while he paced. At eight p.m., the guard left. Within a few minutes, another unformed attendant arrived and took his place. Jeff resisted questioning the guard for a half hour. When he couldn’t stand the waiting any longer, he approached the desk. “Keith Galloway is being released today, is he not?”

  The gray-haired man raised his eyes, took a sheet of paper from a folder, and said, “He’s on the list.”

  “When can we take him home?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” the guard replied.

  “This is unreasonable,” Jeff said. “My mother has been sitting here all day. Can’t you give us a ballpark estimate?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Ridiculous,” Jeff muttered, taking a seat by Rosemary.

  “Have patience,” she murmured. “He has endured twenty-seven years. We can be calm for one day.”

  It was almost midnight when the telephone on the guard’s desk rang. As soon as he hung up, the man said, “Galloway is waiting,” without looking toward Jeff and Rosemary.

  In the dim light, Jeff spotted someone standing alone just outside the gate to the prison farm.

  “Keith!” Rosemary shouted. The shadowy figure turned to the sound, while Rosemary sprinted into his arms.

  Jeff walked to where his parents stood, planning to shake his father’s hand. Instead, Keith pulled him into a bear hug Jeff thought would never end. “Jeff. Look how tall you are. You’re a man now. I’m so proud of you,” Keith said.

  As soon as he could step back, Jeff asked, “Do we want to find a motel and get an early start tomorrow?”

  “No,” Rosemary and Keith said at the same time.

  “Not unless you’re too tired to drive,” Keith added.

  “Keith, you sit up front with Jeff,” Rosemary said. “The two of you need a chance to get acquainted with each other.”

  Jeff slid into the driver’s seat. If he lived to be sixty, this was how he’d look. Identical build, same face and hair. Mom always said he was the spitting image of his father.

  “Going home at last,” Keith said, with a stretch of his arms. “It seems like a dream.”

  Relieved to escape the ugliness of the prison farm, Jeff said, “Good to have that place in the rearview mirror.”

  “Yeah,” Keith agreed, glancing backward. “I’m glad it’s all over with.” He turned to face the front windshield. “Although I’ll miss some parts of it.”

  “Like what?” Jeff asked.

  “I left behind a few good friends,” Keith answered. “Along with several other men I hope never to see again. All in all, I can’t recommend prison life.”

  Wondering why Rosemary wasn’t joining in the conversation, Jeff glanced toward the back seat. Fine time for Mom to take a nap. What were they going to talk about for the next four hours? “Pretty rough?”

  “I’ve spent time in worse places. At least the prison farm was never bombed or strafed.”

  Some possible neutral ground? “Mom said you fought in Europe.”

  “I was in the Third Army.”

  “One of General Patton’s men.”

  “Well, I saw ‘Old Blood and Guts’ a time or two, from a distance,” Keith said. “I doubt my name is mentioned in any of his biographies.”

  “So, were you in the Battle of the Bulge?” Jeff turned onto the highway, delighted to leave the prison farm even further behind.

  Keith adjusted the heater vents on the passenger side. “I spent a little time in and around Bastogne. There may be a bit of rust on the memories. I haven’t talked about what happened over there much.” After a pause, he said, “I want to hear about you, Jeff. Why don’t you catch me up on your life? What made you decide to practice law?”

  Chapter Nine

  The following Monday morning, Jeff stacked manila folders into the low filing cabinet next to his desk. Occasionally, he opened a folder to stare at notes from the mountain of data he’d accumulated on Evelyn Meeker vs. Buffalo Nickel Energy Consortium. Absorbed in his task, he hardly noticed when George Riley sauntered into the office.

  “Miss Wilcox wants me to help you find someone,” George said in his whispery voice. He settled into the leather side chair.

  “Yeah. Thanks for coming by so quickly.” Taking a folder from the middle of a foot-high stack, Jeff thrust it toward George. “I have an assessment of mineral deposits on the Meeker land, done in nineteen seventy-five by a petroleum engineer by the name of Romeo Munoz. He quit his job not long afterward and dropped out of sight. The report is solid, just what we need for an exhibit. No doubt the Buffalo Nickel attorneys will bring in someone to attack the validity of the document. I think we’d be in a stronger position if you can find this guy and get him to appear as an expert witness.”

  “Romeo, wherefore art thou?” George asked, gazing at a black and white photograph. “Nice looking fellow.” He replaced the picture in the folder and leafed through some typewritten pages. “All of these are copies for me to keep, right?”

  “Yes,” Jeff replied. “We’ve looked for Munoz before, but I want to give it one last attempt. How soon can you start searching for him?”

  George grinned. “Immediately.”

  “Let’s say right after staff meeting?”

  “There won’t be a staff meeting today,” George said, tucking papers into his briefcase and standing. “The boss is sick.”

  “Are you kidding me? Mr. Wilcox hasn’t missed a day of work in years,” Jeff said.

  At that precise moment, Gretchen Wilcox leaned through the doorway. “No meeting this afternoon. Jeff, I need a couple of minutes of your time as soon as I finish letting everyone know staff is canceled.”

  “Like I said.” George winked. “I’ll get started on this right away. If Romeo Munoz is still alive and kicking, this old bloodhound will sniff him out.”

  A few minutes after George left, Gretchen returned. Placing her hands on the back of Jeff’s side chair, she leaned forward. “We have a minor problem,” she said.

  Gretchen’s presence brought Melanie to Jeff’s mind. Gretchen’s stern face melted into Mel’s. Jeff smiled at the thought of her. Why couldn’t he quit daydreaming about Melanie Clark?

  “Jeff? Are you with me?” Gretchen knit her pencil-thin brows.

  “Oh, sorry,” he replied. “You were saying something about a problem?”

  “I’m dividing up Pop Wilcox’s calendar. He’s a little under the weather. You drew the Valentine’s Day Sweetheart Charity Ball, this Thursday night, seven o’clock, formal.”

  Jeff leaned his office chair back, folding his hands behind his head. “This is only Monday. Maybe Mr. Wilcox will be better by Thursday.”

  “He’s quarantined with a rip roaring case of chickenpox.”

  “Chickenpox?” Jeff repeated. “How in the world—?”

  “The doctor thinks he picked them up when he went to an elementary school to present our Teacher of the Year award.” She looked over her glasses. “I hope you’ve already had them.”

  “Yes, years ago.” Sorting through the pages of his desk calendar, he said, “Thursday’s clear. I’ll be there.”

  “Thank you.” Gretchen turned as if to go. “Oh, of course, you’ll be taking a sweetheart.”

  Jeff smiled. “Short notice, but I’ll do
my best to find a date. By the way, thanks for loaning George Riley to me.”

  “Anything you need for Mrs. Meeker, I’m sure Pop is in favor of it.” At the doorway, she turned toward Jeff. “Thank you for not giving me a hard time for having to get dressed up and go to a formal event.”

  “Happy to help,” Jeff replied.

  “Also, I appreciate your keeping quiet about what happened at the Christmas party. I’ve spoken with William, and he has assured me he will never embarrass the firm again with public drunkenness.”

  Jeff waited for the clacking sound of Gretchen’s high heels to fade before reaching for the phone. Resting a hand on the receiver, he realized he did not have Melanie’s number. He took a telephone book from the bookcase behind him, but found the extensive listings for county offices were nondescript and confusing. After three futile calls trying to locate someone who knew Melanie, he walked to the window, drew open the blinds, and looked down on city traffic.

  The county office building sat between Jeff’s vantage point and the courthouse. Perhaps two blocks from the Wilcox-Meyer offices? Definitely no more than three. With the sun out and no wind, not a bad walk. Jeff continued staring for a moment, and turned and took his topcoat from the coatrack. “I’ll be back in an hour or so,” he announced in the direction of the receptionist, not slowing down to reveal his destination.

  Stepping quickly from the elevator, Jeff turned up his collar and strode through the glass front doors. He caught himself whistling a tune as he crossed the street. For the first time he noticed a small flower shop at the next corner. This isn’t like me, he thought, making an impulse purchase.

  With the florist’s assistance, Jeff selected a dozen blossoms to be arranged into a bouquet. He resisted the urge to buy Melanie an armful of roses, but made sure a few were added to the mix. “I’ll bet these flowers are for a very special lady,” the woman said as she rang up the bill.

  Jeff couldn’t help smiling. “As a matter of fact, they are.” What if Melanie isn’t at work? He was the one who always insisted on having plan B, just in case. Today he didn’t even have plan A firmed up. He should be worried, but he felt magnificent. Light-hearted, without a care in the world.

  The county office building was anything but imposing. The exterior was covered with gray stone, dotted with narrow windows. The small lobby had unadorned walls painted beige, with brown vinyl tile covering the floor. Near an overcrowded bulletin board, a gray-haired woman sitting at a metal desk peered expectantly at Jeff. “May I help you, sir?” she asked.

  Jeff smiled. “Thank you. I’m trying to locate Miss Melanie Clark. She’s a social worker.” He cast about for more information. “She’s approximately this tall.” He used his free hand to indicate Mel’s height. “Blue eyes, blond hair, very pretty.”

  “Which Department does she work for?” the woman asked, her eyes on the flowers in Jeff’s grasp.

  “I’m not sure.”

  The receptionist frowned. “Try Family Services, second floor.” She pointed to her right. “Take the stairs at the end of the hallway.”

  “Thank you.” Jeff bounded up the flight of steps, excited at the prospect of seeing Melanie. At the head of the stairs, he studied the directory. Small plastic letters were pushed into a pleated black background to spell out the names and room numbers of various services. He decided the child welfare division was a possibility, and turned to search for room 221.

  “Jeff? Is that you?” Melanie stood a few feet away, outside an open doorway. She was stunning, wearing a royal blue suit, her hair loose around her shoulders. It was as if she was a splash of color on an otherwise blank canvas.

  “Melanie!” The urge to sweep her into his arms was so strong he didn’t trust himself to move. “I brought you flowers,” he said at last. He half expected a smart aleck response.

  Instead, her brilliant smile made his knees turn to jelly. This can’t be happening. Is this what it’s like to fall in love?

  Chapter Ten

  “What do you think of my office?” Melanie asked. “I’m sure it’s a lot like yours.”

  Jeff threw his head back and laughed aloud. “I see some similarity. We both have four walls, a door, and a bookcase. However I have windows, while you are blessed with an extra desk.”

  “That one’s Bernie’s.” Melanie nodded toward a molded plastic chair. “Make yourself at home while I get some water for these beautiful flowers.”

  Sitting in the cramped, colorless office, Jeff felt a strange mixture of emotions. What had he gotten myself into? Was she starting to care for him as he did her? Despite the questions bubbling through his mind, he was almost giddy when Melanie returned with her bouquet arranged in a tall glass vase.

  “This is a nice surprise,” she said.

  “Me, or the flowers?”

  “Both.” She smiled and sat behind her desk. “How did you find me? And what’s the occasion?”

  “You said you work for the county. This is their office building. Elementary, my dear Watson. As for the occasion.” He hesitated. It was too early to ask her to be his valentine. “The flowers are just because.”

  Melanie put an elbow on her desk and rested her chin on her fist. With the other hand, she touched a rose petal. “Just because. How nice.”

  “I was on my way over here to ask you to go to the Sweetheart Charity Ball with me Thursday evening.” Jeff paused. His words were coming out more businesslike than romantic. “On the way, I noticed a florist. The blossoms were so bright and pretty, they reminded me of you.” When she continued to caress the red rose, he added, “Will you let me take you to the ball?”

  “The Sweetheart Charity Ball is the event with all the pictures in the society column the next day, isn’t it?” Melanie glanced at Jeff, and then looked at the papers on her desk. “I don’t know if I have anything fancy enough to wear to a bash like that.”

  “You look glamorous in whatever you wear,” Jeff said before he could catch himself. “What you have on would be fine.”

  Melanie laughed. “Thank you. I appreciate the kind words, but I’m not wearing work clothes to the biggest party of the year.”

  “Meaning you will go with me?”

  “Yes. I’ll come up with something to wear.” She gave Jeff a smile that melted his heart. “Now will you go somewhere with me?”

  Anywhere, Melanie. “Sure,” he said. “Where?”

  “I’m getting ready to go to Children’s Hospital and see Keenan.” She checked her watch. “Leaving in about, oh, five minutes or so. Since you were the one who got him to talk in the first place, I think he might really open up if you visit him again.”

  “I’d love to see that little guy.” Jeff stood. “It will take me at least fifteen minutes to get back to my office on foot. Then I’ll have to sign my car out of the Wilcox-Meyer garage. I should be able to meet you—”

  Melanie shook her head. “I can’t stay at the hospital long because I have another appointment back here at the office. So we need to get going right way. Ride with me.”

  “I guess I could do that,” Jeff said. “Is it okay for me to use this phone to call my office and let them know I’ll be out longer than I planned?”

  “Sure.” Melanie retrieved her handbag from a desk drawer while Jeff had a quick conversation with the Wilcox-Meyer receptionist.

  As they walked down the stairs, Jeff asked, “How long did it take to get your car out of the shop?”

  “It wasn’t worth fixing,” Melanie replied. “The mechanic said it didn’t make any sense to put a new transmission into a ten-year-old car.”

  “So you got a new one? What kind?”

  “New to me, but not this year’s model. This way.” Melanie gestured to the left as they exited the building. “I wanted something I can pay for without eating packaged noodles for dinner every night.” Upon entering the parking garage, she pointed toward a line of parked cars. “The last one on this row.”

  Jeff ducked to pass under a low concrete beam.
“Do my eyes deceive me or are you driving a pickup?”

  “A little one,” she said, giving him a sidelong glance. “Four years old, but Dad checked it out and thinks it will go another hundred thousand miles or so if I take care of it. Plus, it gets pretty good gas mileage.”

  Going to the passenger side of the pickup, Jeff did a double take. Once inside, he buckled his seat belt. “I’m compelled to ask, Melanie, did you happen to notice your little white truck has a red front fender?”

  “I got a good deal because the front end was smashed up,” she explained. “My dad’s friend owns a junk yard. We hunted through some wrecked cars and found an intact quarter panel. The color doesn’t match, but the price was right.”

  “You could have the whole car repainted,” Jeff suggested.

  She shifted gears and accelerated. “Or, I can drive it like it is and still be able to buy myself some cute shoes now and then.”

  “Stylish shoes are that important?”

  “Essential for morale,” Melanie answered, checking her rearview mirror before changing lanes. “Look at it this way, it’s not likely anyone will steal my truck.” While stopped at a traffic light, she turned toward Jeff. “You probably think I’m a nut.”

  “No, I think you’re sweet and pretty.”

  She blushed bright pink. Fixing her eyes back on the road, she said, “You shouldn’t flatter me like that.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because I might get used to it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  It wasn’t until he pressed the elevator button that Jeff remembered he was in a hospital. Some of the old dread challenged him, but it was overcome by Melanie’s delightful presence. Besides, in comparison to a prison, this place wasn’t so bad.

  “Tell me about your stay in the hospital when you were a kid,” she said, as if she could tune in to his thoughts.

  “There’s not much to tell.” Jeff held out a hand to indicate Melanie should precede him into the elevator. “I was born with atrial septal defect, what’s commonly called a hole in the heart. Mine was pretty bad, I guess. It’s easily repaired now, but in nineteen fifty-three, surgical repair was still new.”