Don't Turn Around

by Jessica Barry

  Even if they didn’t have her prints, if they had enough evidence to arrest Rebecca, surely they would have enough to arrest her, too. They’d been driving in the same car, and any witnesses would have seen the two of them together.

  It just didn’t add up.

  Again and again, the same question circled in her head: why had Rebecca been arrested while Cait was still free?

  Yoakum County Jail, Plains, Texas—72 Miles from Lubbock

  Rebecca stared at the man’s head through the screen. It was her first time riding in a police car, and she was struck by the smell: Armor All mixed with sweat.

  She knew she should be more frightened, but it all seemed so inevitable. This was what Rich had warned her about when he’d come to the house that morning. It was what Patrick had hinted at, too, though he hadn’t had the guts to say it outright. As soon as the man had dropped the summons into her hands, she’d known the clock was ticking. Now it looked like she’d run out of time. If she’d been the type to find irony funny, the fact that she was being arrested for making a decision that was supposed to be legal when she’d helped commit a murder not even twelve hours earlier would be enough to make her laugh. As it was, all she felt was a dull sort of anger.

  It all felt like such a waste. Rebecca and Cait nearly dying, all the miles they had driven together, all the plans she had made for her baby. It had all come down to this: a man in a uniform driving her through a one-horse town on the way to the county jail. And her baby still alive inside her, inching toward inevitable suffering.

  The jail was a two-story brick box lined with rows of tiny, darkened windows, brutal and austere. A lick of fear went up her spine as the officer came around the side of the cruiser and opened the door. He held out a hand and she took it, making sure to look him in the eye and smile. She wanted him to like her. She needed all the friends she could get.

  He caught her elbow when she stumbled slightly on the lip of the curb, her hair blowing across her face. “Careful, now,” he said, and steered her gently through the glass double doors of the jail. He nodded to a man behind a large wooden desk. “Hey, Bill,” the officer said. “Can you process her for me?”

  Bill looked up and gave her a long, cold once-over. She knew at once that she wouldn’t be able to get him on her side, no matter how many smiles she offered. “Bring her out back,” he grumbled.

  The officer led her down a long corridor to a windowless room at the end. There was nothing there but an ancient Formica table and a few folding chairs. “Do you want water or anything?” he asked before closing the door behind him, but she declined. She didn’t want to waste a favor on a glass of water.

  She sat down on one of the chairs and stared up at the flickering fluorescent light. She wondered if Cait had arrived yet. If she had, she was probably giving the gruff man behind the desk an earful. That thought was enough to make her smile, if only for a moment.

  The officer came back into the room, joined by a second officer, who introduced himself as Lieutenant Walker. “You’ve already met my colleague Sergeant Bakerson,” he said, nodding toward the officer who’d brought her in.

  She smiled at them both. The lieutenant was older than Sergeant Bakerson—she guessed mid-fifties—with a head of close-cropped gray hair. He didn’t smile back.

  “Mrs. McRae—”

  “Please, call me Rebecca.”

  “Mrs. McRae, do you understand why you’ve been arrested?”

  She widened her eyes. “No, I don’t.”

  “You were served a summons to appear in Lubbock County Court. Is that correct?”

  She was silent.

  “And you understand that the hearing went ahead this morning at eleven a.m. in your absence?”

  Silence.

  “Ma’am, do you understand that failure to appear in court following an official summons is a criminal offense?” She said nothing. The officer shifted his weight onto his other foot. “Mrs. McRae, can you tell us what you were doing in New Mexico?”

  “I was on a trip with a friend.”

  “Yes, we’ve had the pleasure of meeting your friend.” The two men exchanged glances. So Cait had arrived. “Was your husband aware of your trip?”

  She shook her head. “It was a last-minute thing. He was away on business, so I didn’t want to bother him.”

  “Mrs. McRae, I understand that you’re with child. Is that correct?”

  “I’m pregnant, yes.”

  “Mrs. McRae”—she wished to God he would stop saying her name like that—“your husband has filed an injunction preventing you from crossing state lines with his unborn child. That was the subject of the hearing this morning. The judge granted the injunction, and you are now in violation of it, which is why we brought you in.” He fixed his eyes on her. “Did you travel to New Mexico with the intention of terminating your pregnancy?”

  A fizz of anger traveled through her. “I don’t see why that’s any of your business. Abortion is legal in this country, you know.”

  “Ma’am, the judge also granted an injunction preventing you from seeking an abortion, which means that any attempt to do so would be in violation of the court order, and therefore a criminal offense.”

  She gripped the table with both hands. She knew that Patrick was desperate, but she hadn’t anticipated that he would have sunk so low. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Am I to understand that you’ve terminated the pregnancy?”

  She was silent. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she had failed.

  He shook his head. “I’m not here to debate the morality of your actions,” he said, though it was crystal-clear from the look on his face that he had already made his judgment. “I’m here as an officer of the law, and in that capacity, I am informing you that you have violated at least one of the terms of the injunction, and therefore you have been arrested accordingly. You will spend the night here in Yoakum before being transferred to Lubbock, where you are scheduled to appear in court tomorrow morning. Do you have any questions?”

  “Can I see my friend?”

  He shook his head. “Visitors aren’t allowed until tomorrow morning.”

  “What about a phone call? I’m entitled to a phone call, aren’t I?”

  The lieutenant ran a hand across his stubble. “Phone’s down the hall. Make it quick, though. It’s lights-out in an hour.”

  Sergeant Bakerson led her to a cubicle with a single pay phone at the end of the hallway. Through the double doors beyond, she could hear the faint din of the other prisoners. “Dinnertime,” he said, nodding toward the noise. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they save you a plate.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  He tilted his head toward her. “You’re going to need your strength,” he said, more gently than she would have expected. “Anyway, here you go.” He gestured toward the phone. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

  She held out a hand to stop him. “I—I want to call my friend, the one who followed us here.”

  He hid a smile. “The one with the mouth.”

  She nodded. “I don’t know her number off the top of my head. I know it’s a big thing to ask, but do you think there’s any chance you could give me the number for the pay phone in the lobby?”

  He stared at her for a moment, then sighed. “Wait here.”

  “Thank you!”

  “Just don’t say anything to my boss,” he muttered as he disappeared down the hall. He came back a few minutes later holding a scrap of paper in his clenched fist. He pushed it toward her. “Make it quick,” he said. “You heard what Walker said about lights-out.”

  “I will,” she said, unfolding the scrap of paper and punching the number on the keypad. “Thank you again. I really appreciate it.” The small kindness was enough to make her want to cry.

  The officer shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I think what they’re doing to you is criminal. I hope that husband of yours gets what’s coming to him.”

/>   “Me, too,” she said, gripping the phone tight in her fist. “Me, too.”

  Yoakum County Jail, Plains, Texas—72 Miles from Lubbock

  Cait ignored the pay phone that was ringing next to her head until the police officer who’d led Rebecca away poked his head around the door and motioned toward it. “It’s for you.”

  She jumped off the plastic bench and lifted the receiver from the cradle. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Rebecca was trying her best to sound strong, but Cait could tell that she was scared. “They’re taking me to Lubbock tomorrow.”

  “Is it”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“is it about Adam?”

  “No, it’s nothing to do with that. It’s my husband and his snake of a campaign manager.”

  Cait was hit with a mixture of relief and confusion. “What are you talking about? How did Patrick manage to get you arrested? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Tell that to the judge in Lubbock.” An official-sounding voice was shouting something in the background. “Listen,” Rebecca said hurriedly, “I don’t have much time. I need you to do me a favor.”

  Cait straightened up. “Anything.”

  “I need a lawyer—a good one—by tomorrow morning.”

  “Leave it to me. Are you going to be okay in there for the night?”

  “After last night?” Cait could hear the laughter in Rebecca’s voice and felt a bit better. Maybe she really was okay. “Yeah, I think I’ll be okay. Where are you going to stay?”

  “There’s a motel down the street.” A dusty-looking place she’d spotted on the drive to the station. “I’ll get a room there. Do you know what time they’re taking you to Lubbock tomorrow?”

  “They haven’t said.”

  “Okay, well, I’ll be back here as soon as the sun comes up. Take care of yourself until then, okay?”

  “You, too. And, Cait?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for sticking by me on this.”

  Cait allowed herself a smile. “That’s what I’m here for, right?”

  She hung up the pay phone and fished around in her bag for her cell. The screen flashed in her hand: thirteen missed calls, all from the same number. There was only one person she knew would be able to help, but first she had to face the music. She hit the call button and waited.

  Lisa picked up on the second ring. “What the fuck, Cait? Where are you?” The anger in her voice made Cait flinch.

  “I’m at the Texas border. Somewhere called Plains.”

  “Is Rebecca with you? Is she okay?”

  “She’s here and she’s okay. Look, Lisa, I know what I did was—”

  “Stupid? Dangerous? Irresponsible? Illegal?”

  “Yeah, all of those things, and I’m sorry. I know it was a shitty thing to do.”

  “I don’t want to hear it. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’ve jeopardized the entire organization. I told you specifically to stay away from Rebecca, but you couldn’t do it. Instead, you tricked poor Pat, who feels terrible, by the way, because she’s not some psychopath like you.”

  “Look, you can yell at me all you want when I get back to Austin, and trust me, I know I deserve it. But right now I need your help. Actually, it’s Rebecca who needs your help.”

  “I thought you said she was okay.”

  “She is, physically, at least. But”—Cait took a deep breath; now came the hard part—“she’s been arrested.”

  “Shit. I thought we’d have more time.”

  “You knew about this?” Cait asked, incredulous.

  “It’s all over the news here. Rebecca’s husband has filed an injunction preventing her from getting an abortion. He went down the personhood route, and the judge was stupid—or attention-seeking—enough to buy it. I just didn’t think they’d get to her this quickly.”

  Suddenly, it all clicked into place. Rebecca must have known this was waiting for her—that was why she’d said what she had, when they were waiting for the Jeep to be repaired, about running out of time. “Did Rebecca say anything about this when she made the appointment?”

  “Nothing. She must have known, though—the press is saying she ignored a summons to appear in court.” Lisa took a sharp breath. “She could be in deep shit, Cait.”

  “That’s why she needs us to find her a good lawyer. They’re taking her to Lubbock tomorrow. She’s scheduled to appear in court.”

  “They move quick when it’s a big politician pulling the strings, don’t they?” Lisa didn’t bother to hide her disgust. “I’m on it. I’ll call Cathy Rebuck and see if she’s available. They’re keeping her overnight?”

  “Yeah, at Yoakum County Jail in Plains. I’ll follow them to Lubbock tomorrow.”

  “Good. I’ll meet you at the Lubbock courthouse and let you know the plan. You did the right thing by calling me. We’re going to figure this out, okay?”

  Cait drove to the motel, a low-slung stucco affair with a cardboard sign tacked out front announcing vacancies. She parked in the lot and rang the bell outside the reception door. A tall, rangy man in a button-down and jeans appeared. “Can I help you?”

  “I’d like a room for the night, please,” Cait said, trying her best to sound respectable. She knew how she must look—like she’d been dragged backward through a hedge—and she knew that if the man turned her away, she’d be screwed. She fumbled for her wallet. “I can pay up front, in cash.”

  He waved her away. “There’s no need for that. You can pay tomorrow morning; I don’t think you’ll be skipping out in the middle of the night. Rooms are basic, no frills or anything, but you’ll get a hot shower and a warm bed.”

  She smiled at him. “That’s all I need.”

  The place wasn’t so much a motel as a couple of rooms at the back of the man’s house. He led her through his living room past the kitchen, where his wife was making supper, to a small, tidy bedroom. “The bathroom’s down the hall,” he said, pointing toward it. “You hungry?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to impose . . .”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if you weren’t welcome. Terry always makes too much anyways. Dinner’ll be ready in about twenty minutes or so. Make yourself comfortable and holler if you need anything.”

  Cait took a shower in the green-and-pink-tiled bathroom, watching as the dirt and blood sluiced off her skin and down the drain. She was careful to wipe down the tub and the floor afterward—she could tell they kept things clean, and she didn’t want them to think she was dirty—and then pulled on the same leggings and sweatshirt and headed into the kitchen.

  The smell of frying onions and garlic and spices hit her as soon as she walked in, and all at once she realized her hunger. She thought of Rebecca in a jail cell and felt a pang of guilt as she was ushered to the dinner table. Would they give Rebecca something to eat that night? Would they lock her up with a bunch of criminals, or would she be all alone? Would she get any sleep? Was she terrified?

  The man’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “You’re not one of those vegetarians, are you?” he asked as he picked up her plate and moved toward the stove.

  She laughed. “Nope. I’ll eat just about anything.”

  “Good. I’m Jim, by the way, and this is my wife, Terry.”

  The woman at the stove gave her a wave. “Nice to have you here. Tonight’s chili night—I hope you came hungry.”

  “Cait. And chili sounds great, thank you.”

  The three of them sat down to dinner and ate in companionable silence. They asked her a few questions—where she was from, what she was doing out here—and she answered them as politely and vaguely as she could muster. The chili was good—spicy and warming—and by the end of the meal, she felt a little stronger. She insisted on doing the dishes. They invited her to watch TV with them, but she begged off as tired and went straight to her room.

  She lay in bed, listening to the faint murmur from the TV in the next room, and stared up at the ceiling fan. She was
bone-tired, but now that she finally had the opportunity to sleep, she was wide awake and jittery. All she could think about was Rebecca in her jail cell across town and what she might be facing the next day.

  Cait pulled her phone out of her bag. Lisa had mentioned that the story had been in the news. She wondered now if she could find something about it. She pulled up the Internet—a strong signal, finally—and typed Rebecca’s name into the search engine.

  There were three dozen news hits from the last twelve hours alone.

  “Senate Hopeful Hailed as Pro-Life Hero After Suing Wife”

  “Rebecca McRae Arrested Following Injunction Order Preventing Abortion”

  “Antiabortion Activists Make Gains in Texas”

  “Is This the End of Roe v. Wade?”

  “McRae Rises in Polls Following Legal Action”

  “Ten Things to Know About Rebecca McRae”

  As Cait scrolled through the sound bites and hot takes, the sick feeling that had come over her began to deepen. Rebecca wasn’t just facing a judge tomorrow morning; she was facing the public. And Cait knew better than most that the public had the power to act as judge, jury, and executioner far more than a court of law.

  She needed to do everything in her power to make sure Rebecca was prepared.

  She jumped out of bed and ran down the hall to the living room, where Jim and Terry were watching a repeat of Law & Order. They looked up as she came through the door. “You need something, hon?” Terry asked, hitting the mute button.

  “This is going to sound like a weird question,” she said, “but is there anywhere around here where I can buy clothes tomorrow morning?”

  “There’s a Family Dollar on Cowboy Way. They usually have a few things. You suddenly struck with the shopping bug?”

  Cait smiled at her. “Something like that. Do you know what time they open tomorrow?”