Chapter Sixty-Five
Calvin McMillan
Calvin McMillan’s phone rang. Again. If it’s Hampton, I swear I’ll scream.
“Hello?”
“McMillan, it’s me.”
“Hampton, I’m on my lunch break.”
“Good, so you have time to talk. It’s really important.”
“It was important the last eighteen times you’ve called me, man. Listen, if there was anything I could do for you I would. I’ve examined Ms. Moss’ body over and over. There is nothing pinning her to the crimes. No DNA from the victims, no wounds that couldn’t be attributed back to the car crash. Your best bet is going to be to wait until the husband is able to talk, ask for a retrial, and let him testify.”
Hampton scoffed. “A head wound victim, who’s already slandered his wife will have no credibility in court and you know it. Even if I could get a retrial, it’ll be months, maybe years. There has to be something you missed.”
“No. Hampton, I don’t think there is. I know you want to help your client, and I admit the twin does make things interesting, but she was caught red-handed. You had to know how this would end. I wish I had better news.”
“Yeah, she was caught red-handed all right, they just weren’t her hands.” Hampton cursed under his breath. “Why couldn’t her birthmark be on her arm, rather than her leg?”
“Wait a second, you’re right.”
“Huh?”
“Well, I mean, if you’re right, you could still be wrong. But if you’re right, it wasn’t her hands that committed the crime. They were the twin’s hands. Elise’s hands. You could be right. We may be able to prove it.”
“Okay, I haven’t slept in way too long, so I may not be at my sharpest, but you’ve lost me.”
“They’re identical twins, Hamp. Identical. Everything’s the same: DNA, hair, eyes, and everything.”
“Right.”
“Wrong.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Everything is the same except their birthmarks and their hands.”
“Their hands?”
McMillan tossed his sandwich in the trash and grabbed his lab coat. He rushed out of the break room. “That’s right. More specifically, their fingerprints. Rachael Abbott’s fingerprints weren’t found on the murder weapon for the Underwood murder, right?”
“Right.”
“So, I’ll bet you anything Elise Moss’ are.”
“You’re saying we could prove she’s innocent?”
“If the twin’s fingerprints are the murder weapon then yes.”
“How long will it take?”
“Well, I’ll have to fingerprint the body and run it against all the prints on the murder weapon. Depending on how many prints there were…” he trailed off, trying to think.
“How long?”
“A few hours, maybe? Possibly a day. I’m not promising anything. If we’re wrong, or if she wore gloves, we’re back to square one.”
“Just run the damn prints. I’m going to see the judge.”
***
Judge Crafton
“Hampton, this is the last time I’ll tell you to drop it,” he announced as Hampton made his way into his chambers. “Good God, man, you’re a mess. When is the last time you slept? Or showered for that matter?”
“I don’t remember,” Hampton answered honestly, walking closer to the desk. “There’s something you should know.”
“Hampton.” The judge sighed, taking off his reading glasses. “I didn’t give her the death penalty. I could have, but I didn’t. She’s alive. I don’t know what else you want from me. I’ve got other cases now. I’m sorry it didn’t go how you had hoped but there’s nothing else we need to discuss.”
“No, I know that. I’ve found something else. Something we overlooked before.”
The judge stood up. “Hampton, let it go. The trial is over. I don’t want to hear any more evidence. You’re all out of chances. Just let it go, let the families grieve.”
“What about Rachael? What about her family? Her children are without a mother. What if we were wrong, judge? What if we were really, really wrong and an innocent woman is paying the price?”
“I’m sorry. I know you grew to care for her. I’ve been there, but facts are facts Hampton. You agreed you’d drop it if I granted the continuance, I did. Please just stick to your word and excuse yourself.”
“That was before we found out about her twin. Your honor, you have to know—”
“I said enough,” the judge bellowed. “You need to leave.”
Hampton bowed his head. “Twins don’t share fingerprints,” he blurted out.
“What?”
“I said twins don’t share fingerprints. Rachael’s fingerprints weren’t on Blaire Underwood’s murder weapon. What if Elise Moss’ were?”
The judge sat back down in his chair, twirling his glasses.
“If Ms. Moss’ fingerprints are on the murder weapon it will prove that she, not Rachael, was the one who killed Blaire Underwood, most likely Audrey Hagen too. If I can get you that proof, then will you listen? Will you hear me out?”
“Do you have someone testing your theory now?”
“The medical examiner should be calling me back any minute with the results.”
The judge laughed. “Hampton, you sure are one bullheaded man.”
“So, you’ll listen to me?”
“Have the results sent over. If you can show me that Elise Moss’ fingerprints were on the murder weapon, I’ll send word to the state prison to have Rachael Abbott released.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Hampton turned to walk away.
“Oh, and Hampton?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I’d suggest getting some sleep before you see her. You’re kind of disgusting.”
***
Rachael
Elise. Her name was Elise. My sister’s name was Elise. Saying it over and over again didn’t help it to feel more real. People talk. Someone told someone who told Rachael that her name was Elise. Her body was being turned over to the state for cremation, since no one had come to claim her. Should she feel bad about that? That no one loved her sister enough to claim her body? That she’d never have a funeral? Maybe. Maybe deep down she did feel bad. Way deep down. On the surface, she felt only hate. Hatred for the woman who had killed the only person who had ever felt like a true sister to her.
Rachael held eight little white pills in her hand. “Don’t take more than two,” Wanda had warned her. She hadn’t said what would happen but Rachael didn’t care. Tonight, she had waited long enough. No more unanswered questions, no more regrets, no more hate, no more pain. Tonight, Rachael Abbott would take these eight pills as she lay down for bed. She’d pray that her children would be taken care of and that someday Argus’ pain would ease. Then she’d drift off to sleep and leave this awful world behind.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Caide
Caide awoke from a morphine-coated slumber to a nurse standing above him.
“Mr. Abbott, can you hear me? It’ll hurt to move so just blink once for yes, twice for no.”
Blink.
“Good, I’m Kyleigh, one of the doctors on your case. You had a few head injuries but we believe you’re going to be just fine. You’ve probably noticed your jaw is wired shut. We had to put stitches in your left cheek and we wired you shut so you wouldn’t rip the stitches trying to talk. We’re going to have to keep it that way until you’re completely healed. Do you understand?”
Blink.
“Is there anything you need?”
Blink.
She handed him a piece of paper and a pen. “Can you write it down for me?”
Wife Kids
She looked at the paper. “Mr. Abbott, I’m sorry to tell you this but your wife was convicted of Blaire Underwood’s murder. She’s in prison.”
No. No. He shook his head frantically, pulling wires and IV’s out.
“Mr. Abbott
, please calm down. Please. Calm down or we’ll have to sedate you again.” She lunged across him, reattaching wires. He tapped the word ‘kids’ sharply. “Your kids are staying with a very nice family, just until you’re better.”
No. No, none of this was right. Caide jerked, pulling himself up from the bed, despite the immediate pain he felt. His head felt heavy.
“Mr. Abbott.” The doctor tried to restrain him as he flailed and shook, trying to get up. Suddenly, a nurse came in, rushing to her side. She had an injection in her hand. He wasn’t able to see where she stuck it before everything went fuzzy.
***
Rachael
Rachael prayed in between pills. Her pillow was now soaked from tears as she continued to gag on each pill. She had nothing to help them go down. Her cellmate was snoring above her. Please help my children. Let their new family love them more than anyone else. Let them be smart. Let them be kind. A loud buzzing interrupted her prayer. The lights flickered on.
“You can’t just barge in here. It’s after hours.”
“Rachael? Rachael Abbott?”
She recognized that voice. Argus? Could it be Argus? She stood from her bed, letting the pills fall from her hand. “Argus?” She shouted, rushing toward the door. She squeezed the bars, tears rolling down her face.
“Stop. I said stop. You can’t be here.”
“Rachael?” His voice grew closer.
“Argus, I’m here,” she yelled, her heart pounding.
And then there he was, standing in front of her, his hair disheveled and his clothing rumpled. There were tears in his usually stone-cold eyes.
The guard finally caught up to him, grabbing his arm. “Sir, you can’t be here. Visiting hours are over.”
“I’m not visiting,” Argus said, not taking his eyes off Rachael. He thrust a paper into the man’s hand. “Read it. You should’ve gotten a call.”
The buzzer sounded again, another officer approached the group. “Simmons, he’s fine. They called earlier, I was on the phone when I let him in.”
The officer released Argus’ arm, his eyes examining the paper.
“What is going on?” Rachael begged.
Simmons looked up at her from the paper. “Rachael Abbot, you are no longer in the custody of the state of North Carolina. Your conviction has been overturned due to new evidence.” He slid the cell door open. “You are free to go.”
Rachael stood in disbelief, staring at the open doorway. Argus scooped her up into his arms, kissing her firmly. Their tear soaked faces rubbed together as he held her hair. They pulled apart finally, her feeling dizzy from a combination of the pills and his kiss.
The second officer spoke up. “The court was arranging transport for her, by the way. She would’ve been sent home in the morning.”
Hampton shook his head, still holding her close, his eyes never left hers. “She didn’t deserve a single moment here. I wasn’t going to let her spend another second, let alone another night. Let’s go home.” He held her hand, their fingers intertwined. She felt safer than she had felt in months. Home. She felt at home.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Rachael
Three Months Later
Rachael stood at the door to Caide’s hospital room. He was being released today. She opened the door. He sat on the edge of his bed. “Rach.” He held his arms out, seeing her.
She hugged him.
“You didn’t bring the kids with you?”
“They’re with Corie. We needed to talk.”
Caide grabbed her hand. “I agree. Over dinner?”
“No, Caide, now.”
“Okay.” He patted the bed beside him.
She shook her head. “I’ll stand. These past few months, I’ve been here daily. I’ve watched you heal and I’ve taken care of you. I’ve been your wife. Today, that ends. I allowed you to heal in peace, a courtesy that was never extended to me.”
“Rach, please don’t. I know where you’re going with this. I cheated on you. I hurt you. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through because of me. But, we can move past this. We can be better. When I was in that car, I thought I was going to die and all I could think of was you: how much I love you, how sorry I am, how if I ever got the chance to make it better I’d never stop trying.” He rubbed her cheek, pulling her to him.
She pushed his hand away. “Screw you. Screw you for cheating on me, screw you for reducing it for the word ‘cheating’ like you lied during a game of cards. I was the one on trial for murder, Caide, but as far as I’m concerned it’s you who’s the killer. You killed this family. You killed this marriage. Everything we’ve worked for, everything we’ve built is gone and that’s on you.”
“Rachael, please—”
“No. It’s my turn to talk. When my best friend was being murdered, I was somewhere believing she may have been the one who killed Blaire. I believed she framed me. I was somewhere hating her, while she needed me. I was so angry with her, while she was dying just for knowing me. I have to live with that. Every day for the rest of my life I have to wake up and know that. I sat in jail for so long wondering what went wrong, wondering how you could’ve done what you did. I grieved for our marriage publicly and humiliatingly. I watched you defile our marriage in front of a crowded room and had to maintain my composure when all I wanted to do was rip your head off. I know I’m not perfect in this. It takes two and maybe I quit giving us my all, but I could never do what you did, Caide. And then to go on TV and say what you said.” She trailed off.
“Rachael.” Tears streamed down his cheeks.
“No, let me finish.” She wiped a single tear from her face. “See, I’ve spent so much time hating you and being mad at you, but it’s exhausting.” She exhaled exuberantly. “I’m exhausted. So, I’m done with it. That’s what I came here to tell you. I’m done arguing. I’m done fighting. I am done hurting. We have two beautiful little kids who depend on us and who look up to us. They need us. You know, I always swore that I would never let my kids be from a broken home, but I’m starting to realize that we are more broken together than we could ever be apart.” She handed him the yellow envelope.
“Divorce papers?” he asked, his jaw dropping.
“I love you, Caide. You gave me the two best gifts I’ve ever gotten. Now, I’m giving you one.”
“This is not what I want. I want you. I want us. I want our family.” He stood up, towering above her.
She stood firm. “Maybe this isn’t what you want right now, but once the dust settles you’ll realize it is. It’s what you’ve always wanted. I think we stayed together for the wrong reasons: because it was easy, because it seemed right, because the kids deserved a whole family, but the truth is that sometimes marriage brings out the worst in people. Our marriage brought out the very worst in us and we deserve better.”
He sat back down, his face devastated. She wiped a tear from his cheek and he wrapped his arms around her stomach, pressing his head to her chest. “How can this be right if I love you so much?”
“Maybe it’s right because we love each other so much. I want us to end on good terms. I want us to move on and live the lives we deserve. That doesn’t mean that I’ll ever stop loving you, or that I’ll ever stop wanting you to be happy.”
“Rachael, I’m so sorry. Please don’t do this. Please. You’re so good. You didn’t deserve what I did to you. You’re good, Rachael. Bad things always happen to good people. I did such a bad thing. God, I’m so sorry.”
She pulled his head from her chest, looking into his eyes. She thought of Abby then, her words of wisdom that Rachael had held onto.
“No. I’m not a good person. I’m not a bad person, either. Neither are you. There aren’t good or bad things happening to good or bad people. We’re just people. We’re just people and we have this one life and things happen. You deal with it and you move on and life goes on and the world keeps turning. You just keep living because…because not everyone gets to do that. Not everyone keeps living.”
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Caide sighed, wiping his eyes. She kissed the top of his head and stepped back. “I have to go.” She left the room, without looking back. She had more living to do.
***
They pulled up to the cemetery. Rachael held the flowers in one hand and the urn in the other. The urn was plastic, generic. It was the kind of urn that the state gives to people who don’t matter too much. She sat it down and walked to the freshly dug grave where her best friend lay. She laid the flowers on Audrey’s headstone and sat down on the dirt mound.
“Hey, Aud.” Tears filled her eyes before she could even speak. She hugged her knees to her chest.
“It’s spring. I picked you some tulips from your garden. The yellow ones didn’t bloom this year but I brought you some of the pink.” She sighed, choking back tears. “I just want you to know that I forgive you. You know, for the whole sleeping with Caide thing. Of course, I forgive you. I wish you were here so I could tell you that. And I’d tell you that I miss you. God, I miss you so much. You’re my best friend, Audrey Marie, a little bit of death doesn’t change that.” She tried to laugh. “I’ll bring the kids by to see you soon, they don’t really understand any of it yet. Oh, and John visited me yesterday. He’s doing well, considering. I thought you’d want to know that.” She kissed her hand, placing it on the stone. “I love you, Aud. I love you so much. I’ll miss you every single day.” She laid her head down on the dirt, feeling a tear run down the side of her nose. She heard approaching footsteps. She didn’t have to look back to know it was Argus’ hand who rubbed her back until the tears stopped falling.
If It Walks Like A Killer (The Carolina Killer Files #1) Page 31