Fatal Agreements

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Fatal Agreements Page 32

by Ashley Fontainne


  “Samantha, I gave you enough information that, should you desire to do so, sharing it with the ethics committee and/or the authorities would cost me my law license and have me on the other side of the bench. We’re both battling our own demons, wondering what will happen next. Tonight, we are two souls in pain, reaching out to each other for comfort. Nothing more; nothing less.”

  “We’re also officers of the court, your honor.”

  “Not tonight, and its Nathanial, remember?”

  Biting her lip, Sam said nothing.

  “We’ll leave that particular conversation topic for later. You mentioned earlier I have another grandson living in Memphis. Tell me about him please.”

  Grateful for the topic change, Sam smiled. “His name is Grayson. He’s eight. I met him once. Adorable child. He has your eyes, like Kip.”

  Nathanial took several puffs off the stogie.

  Sam noticed the tremble in his hands. “Want me to turn up the heat?”

  “No, I’m fine. Please, continue.”

  “Kip brought Grayson to my place over the Thanksgiving holiday when he was fixing some lights on the fritz. Your grandson is an inquisitive child. When I told him about the full basement, he couldn’t wait to go explore it. Polite. Boundless energy, but then again, what eight-year-old isn’t full of vim and vigor?”

  “True. I remember trying to keep up with Gregory when he was little. It was quite the chore. The boy played every sport available and excelled at them all.”

  Sam heard the pride in the judge’s voice. “Sounds like you were very proud of him and his athletic achievements.”

  “I was.”

  “It runs in your genes. Kip was an amazing athlete in school.”

  A brief flash of grief and remorse made Nathanial’s chest tighten. “Was it true, what you said to Gregory on the phone? You went to school with Kip?”

  “Yes. Kip and Kathy have been together, off and on, ever since seventh grade.”

  “Sounds like at one time they loved each other.”

  Sam busied herself by scanning the dark road, silently cursing the lack of streetlights on Highway 5.

  “Why were they divorcing?”

  “The same reason most marriages go south—they grew apart.”

  “Their decision to part ways wouldn’t have anything to do with the incident tonight in Little Rock, would it?”

  Sam refused to look at the imploring eyes of the judge. “You know I can’t answer that.”

  “Why? Because you’re holding onto the ol’ attorney/client privilege rules or worried about exposing your culpability in the entire situation?”

  Despite the frigid air swirling around, anger warmed Sam’s cheeks. “Ouch. Low blow.”

  “The truth always stings, which is why most people shy away from it.”

  “Touché.”

  Following Samantha’s gaze to the snowy road, Nathanial sighed. “When I was your age, I was full of piss and vinegar too. The gung-ho attitude we were taught in law school, the desire to change the world, right wrongs, make a real contribution to society, was still fresh. Wielding the sword of justice is a dangerous vocation. If one isn’t careful, the power becomes an addiction because it strokes the ego like nothing else.”

  “For some, yes. I guess it depends upon what type of law practiced. There isn’t much sword wielding in tax law or probate, which is why I chose those niches.”

  “I can see that. You don’t strike me as the cape-wearing crusader.”

  Sam snorted. No, I’m more the antihero.

  “I thought I had the world by the balls. I was young, good looking, and possessed appetites my wife couldn’t quite satiate. The power went to my head, my moral compass skewed numerous times by drink and a wandering eye. My brash behavior came to a crashing halt the day Maria came to my office. In that split second of time, rather than looking at her with lust in my heart as I had in the past, I stared at her with fear and trepidation. She had the power to ruin my future.”

  “Scared you straight, huh?”

  “It did. From that day forward, I never stepped out of the bonds of my marriage again. I spent the remainder of my life attempting to make amends for my transgressions to my wife and son, and by being a fair, sympathetic judge to the plight of our communal human condition.”

  “Best laid plans go awry. Been there, done that, have a closet full of t-shirts to cover the scars.”

  Nathanial laughed. “You’re so much like Stan. Whenever a situation became too intense emotionally, he tended to resort to humor. He was a good man, despite being flawed.”

  “Yeah, he was great. Had he kept his vows to Nana, none of this would’ve happened to my family. None of it. I will never forgive him. Ever.”

  “Please don’t spend the rest of your life angry at him for being human, Samantha, or you’ll end up being a bitter, short-tempered soul like Gregory. We all have made bad choices we’d like to go back and erase. You can’t change the painful actions of others, but you can control your own.”

  “Easy words to spout, damn near impossible to implement.”

  Taking a deep breath, Nathanial gathered the courage to ask the question burning a hole inside the walls of his stomach. “Do you believe what happened at Mr. Benton’s residence pertained in any way to me or my relationship to Kip?”

  Sam arched an eyebrow. “No, yet obviously you do though I can’t fathom why...whoa, wait a minute. Are you saying Richard knew about you?”

  Nathanial didn’t answer.

  “What happened?”

  “The meeting was random. Or fate. Happenstance. Shitting chickens. Whichever term strikes your fancy.”

  “Nothing Richard Benton does could remotely be considered random. Everything he does is plotted out down to the minutest detail.”

  “Perhaps, but I meant Maria, not Richard. We ran into each other one night only a few weeks after she made parole.”

  Tossing out the spent butt from the window, Sam lit another cigarette. “I’m beginning to think my place is cursed. Or haunted.”

  Nathanial took several puffs off the cigar, hoping the nicotine would clear the fog of sadness inside his mind. “When Maria was released, I tried not to worry. After all, she had an abortion over thirty years in the past—or so I thought. My wife and son already knew about our history...”

  “What about her coming after you for false imprisonment?”

  Nathanial’s jaw clenched. “No case file means no evidence. Maria’s was one of several boxes lost during the move to the new sheriff’s building.”

  Sam considered asking whether the loss was deliberate yet didn’t. She already knew the answer.

  “One night on my way home after few hands of poker at the club, I decided to drive by your place to catch a glimpse of the construction. I saw Maria in the parking lot near the back door. I didn’t want her to see me, yet I was concerned about why she was there, so I made a loop around the block, hoping when I passed by again, she would be gone. I was wrong, and she wasn’t alone.”

  “Holy cow! Was it Richard?”

  “I didn’t know it at the time, yet I believe so. He was dressed in all black with a hoodie over his head. They were in the parking lot, fighting over a box. He knocked Maria backward, shoving the box in the trunk and then got into a black Mercedes and left. I waited at the Valero gas station, watching, until he was gone.”

  “You didn’t intervene because you wanted something bad to happen to Maria, didn’t you?”

  Nathanial gave a curt nod. “I decided to get gas before heading home. Maria must have seen me from across the street, or perhaps recognized my car. One minute there was no one around me and the next, she was inches from my face. She told me it was time for me to pay penance for the lifetime of pain I caused her and our child. Said I ruined her only chance to find out more about the baby she gave up because the records she found in the basement were in the box.”

  Now I know how Richard got the files. “Dear Lord.”

  “I tol
d Maria prison drove her to madness and asked her if she recalled the day in my office when I gave her money for the abortion. She laughed. The look on her face when telling me she came to see Dr. Halstead in the dead of night through the underground tunnels to give birth is something I will never forget.”

  “What a nightmare.”

  “Indeed. Maria said a reckoning was coming and I wouldn’t see it until it was too late.”

  Sam’s cell rang. A knot formed in her stomach when she glanced at the number. Checking the rearview mirror, noting they were alone on the highway, she slowed to a stop. Why is he calling me back? Oh, shit! Did Kip regain consciousness and say something? Damn weather!

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Detective Hornsby. I’m sorry to bother you again, ma’am. There’s no easy way to say this, so here it is: Mr. Hale didn’t make it.”

  Sam’s hands shook. “Oh no. I…oh, shit.”

  “We’ll do our best to locate extended family members for his son. Are you on your way up here?”

  “Yes, though I haven’t made it far. The roads are a mess.”

  “Be careful heading back. I’ll be in touch soon.”

  Christ on a cracker! Grayson, I’m so sorry.

  Silence filled the interior. Sam struggled to find the right words. “That was Gregory.”

  Returning the stare, Nathanial swallowed hard. “Kip passed, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  Nathanial stiffened. “I changed my mind. Please, take me home.”

  “Of course.”

  IT TOOK THIRTY minutes to traverse the slick roads back to town. Neither one spoke during the ride, each lost in thought. As they passed a small cemetery two blocks from her building, the judge sniffled.

  Nathanial couldn’t hold his emotions in check any longer. Hanging his head, shoulders bouncing in time with the quiet sobs, he fell apart. “Maria was right. God almighty she was right!”

  Sam’s heart ached while the old judge cried. It didn’t take much to push past the urge to keep her secrets hidden. Easing into the parking lot of her building, she turned off the engine, muted the phone and then encircled her arms around his frail shoulders.

  As soft flakes continued to fall, transforming the entire downtown area into a vision of pristine white, Sam did her best to ease the judge’s guilt and shame by sharing her own.

  EXITING THE SUV, Nathanial stretched. He was emotionally and physically exhausted after the last hour of listening to Samantha share her tale of woe inside the quiet confines of the vehicle. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the facilities then I’m going to call it a night. I believe we both need some shuteye.

  “I won’t argue with you on that point. I’m spent.”

  “Thank you for being so open and honest regarding such a painful portion of your life. Our conversation—though appreciated more than I’ll ever be able to express—never happened.”

  Without responding, Sam nodded while leading the way inside, mulling over their entire conversation. There was a sliver of worry slithering inside her stomach, wondering if she made a mistake by telling him the truth—well, 99% of the truth—she left out the part Nicole Hammonds was still alive.

  Watching Nathanial slip into the downstairs restroom, she held in a sigh. His mannerisms and honest words reminded her of Big Sam. “Not going to think about that,” Sam muttered while snatching the phone from her purse.

  Clicking on the latest text from Resa, she grimaced.

  “Roads are bad. We turned around. Schools are closed again so how about I have Kendal drop me off at your place? About ten minutes out.”

  “Sure! Lot’s to talk about.”

  “No doubt! XXOO.”

  She replied to texts from Suzy, her mother, and Conrad next. He dumped her earlier call, opting to reply with several long texts about how devastated he was at the loss of his “closest friend” from such a “terrible, terrible tragedy” and how he wanted to get together before the end of the week to discuss her coming back to Benton & Baxter to help out with Richard’s cases.

  “Pft! When hell freezes over,” Sam whispered.

  There were several missed calls and texts from friends, former colleagues, classmates, hell, even one from Ms. Townsend. She watched with mild awe and heavy disgust as the number of Facebook notifications went from 150 to 175 in less than two seconds on the screen.

  The thought of trying to respond to them all made her head spin yet to keep up appearances she knew she had no choice.

  Six texts were from Nicole. Her fingers hesitated over the screen, unsure what to type. Deciding it would be better to call rather than peck out a voluminous message, she sent a quick one, assuring Nicole she was fine and would get back with her shortly.

  She had a few things she wanted to investigate first to alleviate her own concerns about Richard’s death before attempting to soothe Nicole’s.

  With a few clicks, she landed on the homepage of Channel 7. The story’s headline: Fire leaves three dead on Chenal Mountain blinked at the top of the page as breaking news, including links to numerous videos. Clicking on the first one, Sam ignored the reporter’s words. Instead, she searched the footage, hoping the cameraman would pan over to the garage.

  Nothing.

  She tried the second video. A sense of uneasiness made her mouth dry.

  Sure enough, about thirty seconds in, she caught a glimpse of what she hoped would make her nerves settle down: The charred remains of Richard’s precious Mercedes.

  She expected the sight would alleviate the strange niggling something else was wrong, poking like an internal finger inside her brain.

  It didn’t.

  She stopped the video then scrolled down to read the report. She made it halfway down the page when it hit her as though a blow to the head. “Sonofabitch! The back door!”

  Racing through the conference room, heart pounding at the colossal mistake, fearing she was about to come face-to-face with the reanimated, bloody, burned corpse of Richard, she made it to the door then turned the lock.

  Breathing heavy, she leaned against the doorframe. Recalling the security equipment would have sent a video to her phone had anyone set foot on the deck, she chuckled to herself for being so paranoid.

  Stepping out of the bathroom, Nathanial asked, “Samantha? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, just chasing ghosts of my past. Like I said before, this place might be haunted.”

  “Excuse me?” Nathanial rounded the corner into the conference room.

  “It’s nothing. I freaked a bit when I remembered I neglected to lock the back door before we left. Old habits die hard.”

  “We need to finish our conversation to exercise the demons of our pasts—though not at this late hour. Tomorrow, after we rest and regroup. I have a lot of things to plan, including how to handle the situation with my grandson.”

  Hands shaking, Sam nodded. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

  “Thank you, but I walked here and will walk back.”

  “In this weather?”

  “I needed to clear my head then and now.”

  “How far is your house?”

  “Behind Country Club Village off Malvern Avenue.”

  “Over two miles away—on foot? No way! I insist. It’s colder and more snow and ice on the ground than when you went on a walkabout earlier.”

  Nathanial’s voice took on the authoritative tone he used in the courtroom. “This is a small town. People talk. If word gets around you dropped me off in the wee hours of the morning, less than 24 hours after my wife passed on...no, no way. I grew up using my feet for transportation. I will be fine.”

  “No. Unlike some members of my family, I don’t give a flying rat’s ass what people think. Come on.”

  “I never could turn down the demands of a beautiful woman.”

  Piling back in the SUV again, Sam drove down the empty streets of Central then on to Malvern. It was eerie being on the roads alone. Since she didn’t have to d
odge other motorists slipping and sliding across the blacktop, she made it to the judge’s subdivision in less than ten minutes.

  “Stop here. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

  Shaking her head, Sam laughed. “Fine, you win. Please be careful.”

  A wry smile tugged at the corners of Nathanial’s lips. He winked while opening the door. “If I were a careful man, I wouldn’t be in the situation I am now.”

  “A phrase a lot of people can relate to.”

  Watching for a few seconds as Nathanial walked down the sidewalk, she made a u-turn, easing up to the stop sign. Her phone beeped with Resa’s message tone.

  “Where are you?”

  Sam grimaced. “Sorry. Had to give a stranded motorist a ride. Be there in ten.”

  “Whew. I was worried. Got my key and remember the code. I’ll fix us some drinks. Hurry.”

  While making her way down the snow-covered road, Sam decided to call Nicole before arriving home, since she suspected the conversation with Resa would last for hours.

  Grimacing at the phone, which had less than 3% power remaining, she called Nicole. The woman answered on the first ring.

  “Thank goodness! I’m wigged out and so is my sister!”

  “Calm down, Nicole. You’re rambling. Take a deep breath then tell me what’s going on.”

  “He called.”

  Sam’s heart thumped. “Who called?”

  “Some detective from Little Rock. Shari didn’t answer but listened to his voicemail.”

  “He wanted information about you, right?”

  “Yes! He asked for Shari to return the call asap. She called me in tears. I told her not to do a thing until I talk to you.”

  “Good. Have her return the call and stick with what we talked about before. Okay? If you do, no one will ever find out the truth. You’re fine. Promise.”

  “I don’t understand—how—why is my name coming up?”

  Blowing out a huff of air as she slid through the intersection of Malvern and Grand, Sam replied, “I’m not 100% sure yet.”

  “Then guess!”

  “Nicole? Breathe.”

  “Sorry. I’m a basket case at the moment.”

  “I’m right there with you yet now’s not the time for hysterics.”

 

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