“When I win my case,” she told her aunt and uncle, “I’ll pay you back for all you’ve done for me.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Uncle Ted patted her shoulder. “You’ve been through enough. We’re glad to help.”
They were good, good people. The only positive thing in her life as an outcast.
Laura found a lawyer, considered one of the best in cases regarding inheritance. Lou Traxton was in his sixties, gray-haired, thick-jowled and big-bellied. Intimidated by no one. In their first meeting, with Aunt Nicky by Laura’s side, Traxton tried to answer her roiling questions about Tina Fulder’s claim.
“How can she even do this?” Laura had begun the meeting with a notebook and pen in her lap for taking notes. She’d certainly learned how convoluted the law could be, and she didn’t want to miss anything. But now she found no energy to record what her lawyer said. She could barely sit there without crying.
Laura shoved the notebook and pen into her aunt’s hands.
Traxton leaned back in his swivel chair, fingers steepled. “A will contest is generally difficult to prevail on. The applicable law here is a part of the California probate code known as the ‘slayer statute.’ It states that a person who feloniously and intentionally kills the decedent is not entitled to any inheritance from that person. However, there’s a loophole, and that’s what we’ll argue. The statute only bars a convicted murderer from inheriting directly from the victim. It doesn’t address situations such as yours, in which the inheritance is indirect.”
Aunt Nicky was scribbling furiously.
“So how can she claim this, with that loophole?” Laura spread her hands. “Especially when she wasn’t even married to my dad when he died?”
“Well, she’ll argue her side. She has standing to fight this new will because she was treated more favorably in a prior one. She has numerous causes to raise a challenge. In this case she’s claiming your father was under ‘undue influence’ in changing his will.”
“From who?” Laura already knew the answer.
“You. According to the claim, once your father started visiting you in jail, you persuaded him of your innocence—even though the evidence shows otherwise—and as a result, he changed his will and cheated her out of her money.”
Laura leaned forward. “So I’m the bad guy here?”
“According to Tina Fulder Denton.”
Laura winced. She couldn’t stand to hear her own last name attached to that woman.
“Potentially she can also argue based on the ‘clean hands’ doctrine, a different part of the Civil Code that prohibits a person from profiting by his or her own wrongdoing. The general public policy establishes the idea that one should not be unjustly enriched. Under this doctrine she could say it doesn’t matter that your inheritance is indirect. You’d still be profiting from your crime.”
“But I didn’t do it!” Tears bit Laura’s eyes.
Traxton sat forward, resting both elbows on his desk. His voice gentled. “Laura, according to the courts, you were convicted and are guilty. The only way your claims of innocence would ever matter would be if your verdict was overturned.”
Which was never going to happen. Unless she could somehow discover the information about Weiner her father had taken to his death. And Laura didn’t even know where to begin.
Her throat tightened. “So. She’ll win, right? I’ll lose. Again. What’s the point of fighting?”
Traxton lifted a shoulder. “Don’t be so sure about that. Fact is, your father wrote his will after you were convicted. After you’d served the majority of your sentence. That’s a strong presumption in your favor. He purposely chose you to be his heir, despite your criminal record.”
“But I ‘influenced’ him!” Laura’s voice rose. “I cast some sort of magic spell and forced him to take out Tina’s name and put mine in.”
Traxton inclined his head. “See how stupid her argument sounds?”
Aunt Nicky patted Laura’s leg. Laura looked away out the window. Tried to pull herself together.
“How long is all this going to take?” Her voice sounded toneless.
“Hard to say. Two years or more.”
Laura’s heart sank. Two years. After all her time in CYA. The crossing off of days, one by one. Did God expect her to wait forever for her life to begin?
And even if she won, what then?
Sitting in the plush chair in Lou Traxton’s office, Laura looked down the long corridor of her life and saw only one thing—the scarlet red brand of Murderer. No matter what she did, no matter how much money she had, that would always be on her record. She would spend the rest of her life trying to convince people she was innocent. And who would believe her?
By the end of the meeting Laura could barely talk.
She spent the next two days in bed. When she did drag herself up, it was only to stare mindlessly at TV. But what to watch? Channels were filled with either shows about crime or family comedies. Neither of which she could stomach.
Weeks passed.
In time Laura pulled herself out of her lethargy. She had no choice. And she started praying again, reaching out to the God she so needed. Even if she couldn’t feel Him sometimes, wasn’t it enough that she willed herself to believe He was there? But—what was she supposed to do with herself? She had no money and no job. She could go to school—if her aunt and uncle would cover the cost. “I’ll pay you back many times over when I win,” she told them.
But what if she didn’t?
“Laura.” Aunt Nicky gave her a hug. “You know we’ll help you. And if you never can pay us back, that’s okay.”
In some ways, regardless of winning her case, she would never be able to pay these people back for all the love they’d shown her.
Traxton put her parents’ house on the market. Laura never could bring herself to even walk through the door. She couldn’t bear to see what was once her home. Couldn’t bear to see her room so perfectly preserved from the life she once knew. The house sold for $2.6 million. After realtors fees and closing costs, the remaining funds—over $2.4 million—were held as part of the estate.
Laura ended up going to the community college in San Mateo, starting with summer classes. It was a two-year college, one in which she could fulfill all her general education requirements, then transfer the credits to a four-year California university. Laura had no idea what she wanted to major in, so getting the required classes out of the way suited her just fine. She loaded up her schedule, taking as many credits per semester as she could.
She had to take public transportation until she could finish a driver’s education course (for her own piece of mind) and renew her long-expired license. That accomplished, Uncle Ted bought her an old car for a couple thousand dollars. “It’s not much.” He shrugged. “But it’ll get you to class and back.”
She could only hug him, tight-throated.
But paranoia struck as soon as Laura sat behind the wheel. What if Tina saw her, made some excuse to pull her over? Laura drove slowly, like some old person.
The year 2004 gave way to 2005. Laura had fallen into a mind-numbing routine of attending classes and studying. In her free time she cleaned the house and did the grocery shopping and errands for her aunt.
Laura made a few casual friends in college but in general remained aloof. If she became too close to anyone, she’d have to talk about her life. The last thing she wanted was for the other students—and teachers—to know about her record. Besides, she was older than most of the students, who were right out of high school.
In March she turned twenty-six. A full year out of CYA—and little to show for it. How would she ever lead a normal life? She longed to fall in love, get married. Have children. But what man would accept her?
The lawsuit dragged through the courts. And to make matters even worse, some reporter started following the case. Now and then an article about the “convicted killer” after her mother’s inheritance wou
ld appear in the newspaper. Sometimes in class other students would look at Laura strangely, and she’d think, They know, don’t they.
She stopped trying to be friends with anyone.
Occasionally there would be some meeting or hearing about the lawsuit. But Tina and her lawyer would always fight as hard as they could. “Why shouldn’t I just let her have the money, God?” Laura wailed more than once to the heavens. But in reality, she still couldn’t stand the thought of that woman getting her own mother’s money. Such blatant unfairness would be the bitter icing on her already inedible cake.
In the spring of 2006 Laura, then twenty-seven, completed her classes at the community college and graduated with her AA. She had no plans of going on to a university, no plans for her life. The lawsuit against her still had not been settled. She remained penniless. She couldn’t ask her aunt and uncle to continue fronting her education. And once again she fought depression. That last semester she’d barely been able to force herself to study.
Then one day soon after graduating, when she least expected it, Laura found herself face to face with Roger Weiner.
Chapter 32
“Well, look who we have here.”
The voice behind her was male. Not one she recognized. Laura turned from loading groceries into her car. The man stood tall, maybe 6’2”. He had short brown hair and deep set eyes. A hard face. He wore a smug expression as he leaned casually against her car.
Laura took a step back.
He smiled, and it wasn’t friendly. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”
Laura looked around, searching for others in the parking lot.
“You should know. Your attorney spent enough time in the courtroom trying to pin your mother’s murder on me.”
Laura’s mouth creaked open, but no words would come.
“Yeah, that’s right. Good ol’ Roger. Let’s tell everybody he did it.”
Air shoved into Laura’s lungs. “Wh-what do you want?”
He tilted his head. “To see what you looked like up close. Amazing how a killer can look so normal.”
Laura’s nerves vibrated. She slammed the trunk of her car. “Get away from me.”
“Hey, hey.” Weiner straightened. “Don’t get all bent out of shape. I’m nothing to be afraid of.”
What? “Tell that to the woman you attacked in Arizona. Tell that to my mother.” Laura choked on the last word.
“Come on now.” Weiner crossed his arms. “What’s the point in going on with that story? You’ve served your time, it’s all done.”
“Why did you kill her?” Tears bit Laura’s eyes. She wanted to smash this man’s face in. Tear out his heart.
“Last I heard, you did it.”
Laura’s fingers curled into fists. Weiner glanced at them and laughed. “What, you gonna hit me now? Attack me? Come on, take a shot. Get yourself arrested and thrown back in jail.”
Laura went weak. Her body shook.
Weiner leaned in, his face close to hers. “Even if I did kill your mother, there’s no use now trying to pin it on me. It’s over, Laura. Move on.”
Move on. How could she ever do that now, after looking into this man’s eyes? Such evil there. This face, this voice were the last her mom had seen and heard.
This man was a nurse?
“Why are you here?” Clearly he was enjoying torturing her.
He shrugged. “I drove to the grocery store.”
No way. This could not be coincidence. “You followed me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I came here and recognized you. That’s all.”
“Why are you back in the Bay Area?”
“What, I can’t return to the land of my birth?” Weiner spread his arms. “I like it here.”
Laura backed farther away. “Don’t come near me again.”
“Or you’ll what? Call the police?”
For a moment Laura thought she might throw up. She clenched her mouth shut and stumbled toward the car door. Opened it and flung herself inside. Flicked down the locks. She fumbled for the car keys in her purse, hating herself for her own weakness. Here was the man she’d wanted to hunt down, the one responsible for ruining her life—and she was running away.
Weiner moved back from her car and watched, a smirk on his face.
Laura slammed the keys into the ignition and thrust on the engine. She surged her car forward and drove off, back ramrod straight.
Weiner lifted a hand in a mock goodbye.
The rest of that day Laura raged around her aunt and uncle’s house. Nothing they could do proved of any comfort. Her uncle offered to call the police—but to report what? Weiner was right. Laura was the “guilty” one when it came to her mother’s murder. No law enforcement would believe anything different. And Weiner hadn’t so much as touched her.
The next day Laura barely left her bedroom. She hated Weiner. Hated Tina. Why didn’t these people just leave her alone? Hadn’t she been through enough? For two years after leaving CYA she’d fought for some semblance of a life. In two minutes it had been snatched from her. Laura found herself right back where she started—obsessing over Roger Weiner. Dreaming of how to bring him to justice.
When was her life ever going to be normal?
After a day of drowning in her misery, Laura pulled herself together. Maybe she was just too tired of being the victim. Maybe it was the prayer. Whatever the case, Laura felt a calming in her spirit. She had a future, even though she couldn’t see it right now. She had to look forward. She would drive herself crazy looking back.
Whenever the court system finally got in gear and she won her case over Tina—God please let that happen!—Laura would rebuild her life. She’d move far away to some safe, small town where no one knew her background. Where she could start over.
The days slogged on … and still no word about her inheritance trial.
Laura’s aunt and uncle continued to be so kind. But she knew they wanted their house back to themselves. Who could blame them for that?
Once more the wild dreams of bringing Weiner to justice faded. If there was any chance of them becoming a reality, Laura would fight for it. But she had nothing. No evidence to take to the prosecutor. And if she tried to contact Cantor now as her father had done, wouldn’t Tina hear about it and further sandbag her case? The money was the only promise Laura had left. That, she could win. She didn’t dare do anything now to sabotage her chances.
And so Laura waited. Again.
At last in late June Laura heard the news she’d been waiting for. The trial regarding her inheritance was set for the following month.
Once again she counted days.
Chapter 33
“You ready?” Aunt Nicky squeezed Laura’s arm. They stood outside the courtroom with her Uncle Ted. It was time for the three of them to go inside. Laura could hardly feel her body.
She managed a nod.
But how could she get through this? Laura could just imagine Tina’s pointing finger, her righteous indignation at this “murderer” trying to inherit the money that was “rightfully hers.”
“Don’t worry,” Laura’s attorney whispered as she took the seat beside him. “If we don’t prevail here, we’ll appeal.”
Sure. More time waiting, her life on hold. Only to attend another hearing and be dragged through the mud again.
Tina Fulder entered, looking almost dowdy. A plain gray dress, her hair pulled back. Little make-up. Like she was some poor, trampled-on librarian. Laura wanted to smack her. She could hardly stand being in the same room with the woman.
“Don’t give her mean looks.” Traxton kept his voice low.
Laura closed her eyes. Breathe, just breathe …
The probate judge, Nathan Lang, looked past retirement age. Heavily lined face, sparse hair. Small eyes that flicked over the courtroom as if recording every detail.
He hates me already.
The hearing was everything—and more—Laur
a had expected. Tina on the stand, telling the court how her father knew she’d murdered her mother. How he’d mourned over that for years. Until he started visiting her in jail. Somehow Laura had managed to manipulate him—to the point of convincing him to seek a divorce and change his will. His behavior at home became “erratic” after that. Nothing Tina said or did would get through to him. They’d had a “happy home” until he began seeing Laura again. In his last days he was drinking too much—and that ended up costing his life.
The last accusation was a kick in the stomach. Laura was now responsible for the death of both her parents?
Then came her chance to testify. Laura felt like a robot taking the stand. In her mind, her main argument remained that she didn’t kill her mother in the first place. How she wanted to tell them about Roger Weiner’s guilt. That just a month ago he’d confronted Laura in a parking lot and practically admitted to killing her mother. But her attorney had warned her—say nothing about Weiner.
In the attorneys’ final arguments it came down to one roiling issue: did the judge really want to see a young woman who’d murdered her mother now profit from that heinous crime?
The trial took four days. By the time it was done, Laura hardly cared what happened. She was shot down all over again. Worn and raw. No matter where she was—in the courtroom, in the restroom, in bed at night—she felt the untenable weight of her conviction. It was a blazing scarlet letter that would forever define her. Taint all she might accomplish in life.
The probate judge took a week to make his decision. When Laura and her supporters returned to hear the outcome, she felt beyond numb. She’d lost everything. God had somehow decided to deal her His worst hand. And now she would have to face more loss.
Laura was in for another shock. The judge ruled in her favor.
At first his words merely hit the armor around her heart and bounced off. Her aunt and uncle turned to her, joyous.
“You won, Laura.” Traxton grinned. “You won.”
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