by Erin Wade
Wrongly Accused
By Erin Wade
Copyright 11/2018
Edited by Susan Hughes
Erin Wade
©11/2018 Erin Wade
www.erinwade.us
Wrongly Accused is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright 2018 Erin Wade
All Rights Reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—mechanical, photocopy, electronic, recording, or any other, except for brief quotations in printed reviews—without prior permission of the author.
DEDICATION
To the one who has always supported me in everything I have ever undertaken. You have encouraged me and have always been my biggest fan. Life is sweeter with you. Erin
To Valerie who gave me the idea for this book. I hope this is what you had in mind and enjoy reading it. It took several turns I didn’t anticipate, but all my books seem to leave me wondering what is going to happen next. Love you bunches.
Acknowledgements
A special “Thank You” to my wonderful and witty “Beta Master,” Julie Versoi. She makes me a better storyteller.
A heartfelt “Thank You” to Laure Dherbécourt for agreeing to beta read for me. She has added insight and an incredible knack for catching incorrect homophones.
She Is
She is the softness in my life
The whisper in my night.
I believe in her and she
Makes me believe in me.
Erin Wade
Wrongly Accused
Chapter 1
“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me!” Richard Wynn screamed at his now-ex-fiancée. “Two years I’ve invested in you, and now you tell me you don’t love me. Give me the damn ring. At least I can get my money back on it.”
Doctor Dawn Fairchild removed the engagement ring from her slender finger and dropped it into his hand.
“Please, Richard, I’ve tried. I just don’t love you like I should. You deserve more than a loveless marriage.”
Richard downed his scotch and motioned to the waiter for another one.
“You’re getting drunk,” Dawn mumbled.
“You’re damn right I’m getting drunk. My world just went up in smoke. It’s someone else, isn’t it? You’ve fallen in love with that Latin Lothario in the emergency room. I saw the way he can’t keep his eyes off you. Are you letting him put his hands on you too?”
Richard tossed down his sixth scotch of the night and ordered another one. “You’re just like all the other doctors who think they’re God. You think you can control life and death, break hearts or mend them, whichever strikes your fancy. You think you’re the judge and jury. You’ll pay for this, Dawn. If it’s the last thing I ever do, I’ll make you pay for this.”
“Richard, there’s no one else in my life. You know I can’t condone what you’re doing at the hospital. I think it borders on illegal.”
He staggered to his feet. “Come on, I’ll take you home. I’m sick of being with you.”
“I should drive you home,” she said. “You’re too drunk to drive.”
Dawn paid the check and then supported Richard as he weaved his way to the valet. His car was one of the last left on the lot as the restaurant prepared to close for the night.
“Dr. Wynn, I’ve already brought up your car.” The smiling valet held out Richard’s key fob.
“I’m driving,” Dawn said as she grabbed the fob. “Dr. Wynn isn’t feeling well.” She maneuvered Richard into the passenger’s seat, fastened his seatbelt, and slid behind the wheel of the Mercedes.
She tried to tune out the tirade Richard was launching at her. She was certain he had invented some of the profanities he was spewing.
“Pull over,” Richard yelled. “Pull over now. I’m going to puke all over my car.”
Dawn pulled to the curb and watched as Richard bolted from the car and vomited all over the sidewalk in front of an elite men’s apparel shop. He threw up until he began to dry heave, then slid to the sidewalk, resting his back against the store’s wall. He massaged his temples.
She got out of the car and tiptoed through the trail of stomach contents Richard had regurgitated. When she stood in front of him, he looked up at her and burst into tears.
“Please don’t do this to me, Dawn. I love you.”
She held out her hand to help him stand. He got to his feet and leaned against the wall. “Feel better now?” she asked.
He took a deep breath and then exhaled loudly. “Much. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go off on you like that. I know you’re just trying to be honest with me. I’ve known for a long time that things weren’t right between us.” He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his suit jacket and walked to the car.
She watched as he slid into the driver’s seat. “Are you certain you can drive?” she asked as she settled into the passenger seat.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
He pulled the car away from the curb and accelerated to make it through the intersection before the light turned red. The squealing of brakes and the screeching of metal against metal were the last sounds Dawn heard before sinking into total darkness.
##
“Please help me! Please, someone help me,” a woman’s voice cried out in the darkness.
Dawn heard the plea for help through the fog and pounding in her head. She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the car door. She stumbled toward the voice. The woman was on her knees, bent over another woman lying on her back. She was crying into her cell phone. Dawn knew without touching the prone woman that she was already dead.
Dawn placed her hand on the other woman’s shoulder. The wail of an ambulance told her the woman had called 911.
“Where did you come from?” the woman asked, brown eyes peering up at Dawn.
“The other car,” Dawn replied.
The ambulance and police arrived at the same time. Dawn was hustled into the emergency vehicle as another ambulance arrived at the scene.
So sleepy, she thought as she stretched out on the ambulance cot. The attendant pulled a sheet over her.
Chapter 2
Valerie Davis pulled the collar of her coat tighter around her neck to ward off the bitter November wind. The priest handed her a single rose and nodded toward the coffin that filled the gaping hole in the ground.
“Toss it on the coffin,” Val’s mother whispered. Val obeyed and watched the red petals separate and cover her sister’s casket just as Mary’s blood had covered the pavement.
She spent the rest of the day consoling her parents and accepting condolences from relatives and friends. She wanted to get back to work to get her mind off the incidents of the past week.
“Val, look who’s here,” her mother said as she dragged Val’s high school boyfriend toward her.
“I’m so sorry about Mary,” Detective Bobby Joe Jones mumbled as he shook her hand. “I wish I could do something to make it easier for you.”
“Just make sure the person who did this pays,” Val hissed.
The next person to console her was her secretary, Lillian Cribs. “I’m so sorry about your sister.”
Lillian was an excellent secretary, but she left a lot to be desired in the tact department. “Boss, we’ve got an influenza outbreak. When are you returning to work?”
Val cocked her head and glared at Lillian.
“I’m just asking,” Lillian snorted. “How else will I find out?”
##
Dawn Fairchild awoke in a room that wa
s very familiar to her—the intensive care unit of All Saints Hospital where she practiced.
“About time you woke up, Dr. Fairchild.” Martina, a friendly Spanish nurse, smiled at her. “You’ve been in la-la land for a few days.”
“What am I doing here? What’s wrong with me?”
“You’re here because we have no empty rooms,” the nurse said, “and there’s nothing wrong with you but a concussion.”
Dawn struggled to sit up and almost fainted, the nausea and pain between her eyes forcing her to lie down again.
“May I see my chart?” Dawn motioned toward the laptop Martina was using to enter information.
“Sure.” Martina turned the rolling table so Dawn could see the report.
Dawn studied the information attached to her name. “I see no reason for me to be here,” she said, smiling. “I’m discharging myself.”
“I’ll take care of the paperwork,” Martina said. “I’ll leave it at the nurse’s station. Don’t forget to sign it.”
Before the door closed behind the nurse, a man dressed in a neatly pressed suit stepped into the room.
“Dr. Dawn Fairchild?”
“Yes,” Dawn replied as she continued to search for her civilian clothes.
“I’m Detective Bobby Joe Jones,” the man said. “I’m investigating the death of Mary Davis.”
“Mary Davis?” Dawn processed the name and could find nothing familiar in her mental data banks. “I’m afraid I don’t know a Mary Davis.”
“She was the young woman involved in the accident you were in seven days ago.”
Dawn swayed and lowered herself onto the hospital bed, trying to stop her head from spinning. The memory returned like the reoccurrence of a horrible nightmare. Fog, dizziness, blood everywhere, and a gorgeous brunette calling for help as she sobbed over a dead girl.
“Yes, yes! I remember.” Dawn took a drink of water to alleviate the dryness in her mouth. “That was awful. I . . . I couldn’t help her.”
Detective Jones gave the blonde doctor time to gather her composure and then pulled his notebook from the inside front pocket of his jacket.
“According to the traffic report, you were the driver of the other vehicle involved in the accident.”
“No.” Dawn shook her head as if clearing the cobwebs. “Dr. Richard Wynn was driving. We were in his car.”
Jones studied his notes and flipped the page. “According to Dr. Wynn, you were driving. He said he’d had too much to drink and that you drove him home and took his car to your place.”
“That isn’t true.” Dawn sighed. “I was driving when we left the restaurant, because Richard was inebriated. But he became ill and demanded I pull over so he could throw up. After he vomited he forced his way behind the wheel and took over driving the car.”
“The car belonged to Dr. Wynn?” Jones started writing in his notebook.
“Yes.”
“The valet at the restaurant said you took Dr. Wynn’s keys and insisted on driving.”
Dawn took a long time to answer. She was beginning to have a bad feeling about the detective’s questions. “Yes.”
“Dr. Wynn says you dropped him off at his home and took his car. He says he was not even in the car at the time of the fatal accident.”
And there it is, Dawn thought. Fatal accident.
“I was in the passenger’s seat. Richard was driving. Surely someone at the scene of the accident must have seen him.”
“The only people at the scene of the accident were you and the two women in the other car. One of them was dead on arrival, and the other said you were the only one in the car that T-boned them.”
Dawn closed her eyes. And just like that, Richard has made me pay. He killed a woman then ran away, leaving me to pay for his crime.
“There must be some way to prove Richard was driving,” Dawn sobbed. “Security cameras at the scene . . . his fingerprints on the steering wheel? Someone must have seen him returning home on foot.”
“I’ve run down everything you just mentioned.” Jones frowned. He didn’t like the idea of the beautiful, blue-eyed blonde being incarcerated with hardened criminals. “I found nothing to support your story. Only two security cameras on the corner were working, and they didn’t record the accident. Fingerprints belonging to you and Dr. Wynn were lifted from the steering wheel. That only proves that both of you had driven the car. The best thing you have going for you is there was no alcohol in your system at the time of the accident.”
“The most damning information comes from the valet, who heard you insist on driving and witnessed you drive away, and the sister of the victim who swears you were the only one in the car.
“You ran a red light and broadsided the passenger side of the car, killing Mary Davis.”
Detective Jones pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. “Dr. Dawn Fairchild, you’re under arrest for vehicular manslaughter. You have the right to remain . . . .”
Dawn stared in horror at Bobby Joe as he Mirandized her. Then her mind began to work. “May I change from this flimsy hospital gown before you take me to jail?”
Bobby Joe nodded, and she pulled her clothes from the cabinet. She laid them on top of her cell phone and prayed it had a charge.
“I’ll just be a minute.” She faked a smile, scooped up her clothes and cell phone, and headed for the bathroom. She locked the bathroom door, dropped her clothes on the floor, and called Libby.
“Libby, I can’t talk long. I’m being arrested by a Detective Bobby Joe Jones. Please be there when he brings me in.”
“I’ll be waiting for you at booking,” Libby promised. Dawn’s mind raced as she considered her options. She wasn’t even sure she had options. This can’t be happening. How could the gods be on Richard’s side?
##
True to her word, Attorney Libby Howe was waiting when Bobby Joe Jones led his prisoner through the door. She had already spoken to someone and arranged for Dawn to be released into her custody. She didn’t want her friend to go through the dehumanizing process of being booked into jail.
“In Texas the penalty for vehicular manslaughter is two to twenty years,” Libby informed her best friend and client as they got into her car. “We can go to trial or plead guilty and throw yourself on the mercy of the court.”
“I can’t plead guilty, Libby. I could lose my license to practice medicine.”
“I can probably get it reduced to a misdemeanor,” Libby thought out loud. “You could lose your license if the judge declares it a felony, but you’re okay if it’s treated as a misdemeanor. I’m pretty sure I can make that happen.”
“Libby, I won’t plead guilty. I’m innocent. I didn’t kill that woman. I don’t care what her crazy sister says. I’ve been wrongly accused.”
##
Valerie Davis watched her sister’s killer as she followed her attorney into the courtroom. Val could tell the blonde doctor was nervous. Who wouldn’t be?
The trial lasted two days. Two days to destroy a woman’s life. The prosecuting attorney presented his witnesses in chronological order, leading jurors to the death of Mary Davis.
The valet testified that Dawn was the one driving Richard Wynn’s car. Richard swore Dawn had dropped him at his home before continuing to her house. Valerie Davis was the most convincing of them all as she described Dawn getting out of the other car.
Before giving closing remarks, attorney Libby Howe recalled Valerie to the witness stand.
“Remember, you are still under oath, Miss Davis,” Libby reminded her. “On the night your sister was killed in the automobile accident, are you positive, beyond a doubt, that you saw Dr. Dawn Fairchild get out of the driver’s side of the vehicle that struck your car?”
Val locked eyes with the beautiful blonde doctor and hesitated before answering. For one split second, she admitted to herself that she had only become aware of the other woman when Dawn had placed her hand on Val’s shoulder. “Yes, I am positive,” she said.
The jury returned a guilty verdict.
“Court will reconvene at eight in the morning for sentencing,” the judge declared.
Dawn fought back the hot tears that threatened to run down her face. Anger flooded her body as she stood and screamed, “Valerie Davis, you are a liar.”
Val’s gaze locked with Dawn’s. She had never seen such loathing in anyone’s eyes in her life. Dawn Fairchild hated her with a passion.
The bailiff slapped the handcuffs on Dawn and led her from the courtroom.
##
Dawn paced in her holding cell. She was still traumatized by the booking process. The matron had instructed her to strip, and then she’d searched every orifice of Dawn’s body. Dawn shuddered as she recalled the invasive search. She had never been so humiliated in her life. The icing on the cake had been the delousing spray. She had given thanks when she was shoved into a communal shower with a handful of shampoo. She had scrubbed her body as long as possible before the matron instructed her to move on. A tan, two-piece prison uniform had been shoved into her arms while she was still wet from the shower.
She was terrified of prison. How could this happen to her? She’d been raised by a loving Christian family. Her parents and older brother, Flint, doted on her. She had been the perfect daughter, the perfect scholar, graduating at the top of her class in high school, college, and med school.
She was the epitome of prim and proper. She picked her friends based on perceived cleanliness, socially accepted conversation, and character. Prison was so far out of her realm that it was like a foreign universe.
God, she prayed, please help me.
##
Dawn surveyed the prison that was to be her home for the next two years. Federal Medical Center, FMC Carswell was a U.S. federal prison in Fort Worth, Texas, for female inmates of all security levels with medical and mental health problems. It also housed 600 minimum-security female inmates.
The facility sprawled across eighty acres near the southeast corner of Lake Worth and was home to over 1,400 prisoners.
As a teenager, Dawn had heard horror stories about the prison. It was Fort Worth’s dirty little secret. Women inmates were often raped by prison guards and denied medical treatment. Belligerent prisoners committed suicide under questionable circumstances.