Poison Town Read online

  Pam pretended to faint, and they chuckled softly.

  “You know it’s going to be like that,” she said. “You better get used to it.”

  “What do you think happened at the funeral?”

  Pam shook her head. “She hasn’t slept hardly at all since Daddy died. She’s frazzled. She’s barely eaten anything …”

  But she has found a way to drink, Jack thought.

  Pam looked around the corner for her mom.

  “I think I heard her go upstairs,” Jack said.

  “Thanks for helping me get her room made up. She usually has a light on all night. She reads or watches TV. She’s afraid to go to sleep.”

  “It’s sad.”

  “I’ve talked to her about God. She says, ‘Oh, I know, I pray …’ But there’s nothing beyond that. I’ve encouraged her to take comfort in the Bible—she just never does. It’s right there for her …”

  “Hey.” Jack covered Pam’s hand in his. “You never know what kind of impact you’re having on her. She knows what you’ve been through, and she sees you shining through it. She knows where you get your peace. You just keep being you.”

  Pam put her other hand on top of Jack’s. “Thanks.”

  He nodded. “I don’t deserve you. I’m so thankful you’re the mother of my girls. They wouldn’t be anything like they are without you.”

  They examined each other.

  The kitchen was quiet.

  “I love you so much, Pam.”

  They reached for each other.

  Jack embraced her, looked down into her beautiful face, and kissed her warmly, deeply.

  Pam pulled back and looked into his eyes. “I have something to tell you.”

  Jack raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”

  “It’s a good something, if you ask me.”

  Jack heard footsteps upstairs—one of the girls running.

  “Daddy, Mommy!” It was Rebecca, flying down the stairs in her nightgown.

  “What is it, baby?” They knelt to greet her in the kitchen.

  “MawMaw came in my room and did something to my window. She said something about strangers. Is that Granger man coming back? She scared me.” Rebecca threw herself into Jack’s arms. “Now she’s in Faye’s room …”

  They found Margaret peering out the blinds in Faye’s room, and Jack escorted her back to her room, where the smell of alcohol was heavy in the air. He made sure she got in bed and turned out all the lights but one. Then he and Pam checked on the girls again and went to bed.

  In Jack’s dream, there were only three people in the enormous white room: Evan McDaniel, wearing black, seated behind a glass desk; Granger Meade, wearing white, seated in a wood chair to Evan’s left; and Jack, dressed in red, strapped to an electric chair to Evan’s right.

  Although Jack could sense that the room was freezing, he was sweating profusely, and his neck hurt from craning to see Evan and Granger from the ominous electric chair. His arms and legs were numb, the circulation cut off by the thick leather belts that pinned him down.

  “I never like these cases,” Evan sighed. “They really are backward.” His voice echoed crisply off the fifty-foot ceiling, and he spoke with great emotion. “But when you think about it, Christ’s case was backward. All He did was come to pardon our transgressions. Oh … but we didn’t want to admit we had any! We loved our own appetites. And what did we do instead of accepting His gift? Spit. Mock. Whip. Curse. Bruise. And what did He do in return? Extended His arms and legs to take the nails. Said, ‘Forgive them. They don’t realize what they are doing.’”

  Granger’s head was bowed.

  “Forgive your enemies.” Evan threw an arm toward Granger. “Forgive them, seventy times seven. Give them a gift and a prayer instead. Trust God with their judgment. But that is not normal, is it? That is not natural.”

  Guilt engulfed Jack as he sat pinned in the electric chair, the hard, black bowl jiggling against his sweaty head.

  “You know who didn’t get the message about forgiveness?” Evan stood, came around, and sat on the front of the glass desk with his arms crossed. “It was the proud, self-righteous hypocrites who decided they were too good to forgive.”

  He turned his back and walked slowly toward Granger. “The extent to which you forgive others, that is the extent to which you will be forgiven.” He rounded behind Granger, stopped, put his hands on the man’s massive shoulders, and locked eyes with Jack. “People through the ages have forgiven much more heinous crimes than those committed against your wife, Mr. Crittendon. They may not have wanted to, but they did it—by faith, because that’s what God’s children do. But not you! Not you …”

  Evan inhaled deeply through flared nostrils and exhaled in silence. He shook his head. “No, I never like these cases. They are a shame. A shame because good people like you, Mr. Crittendon, squelch your fruitfulness. You’re like salt that’s lost its flavor. What are you good for? Nothing more than to be thrown out and trampled underfoot. Why? Because you chose to be the judge. You chose to be the holder of the keys.

  “Didn’t this man come to you—more than once?” Evan slapped Granger hard on the shoulders with both hands. “Attempting to undo the bad things he’d done?” He slapped Granger’s shoulders again. “To give back what he took?” Slap. “To plead your forgiveness?” Slap. “Well, Mr. Crittendon, you made the wrong move when you decided to play gatekeeper over God.”

  Evan walked to the wall behind the glass desk and stopped next to a large lever that was painted white and blended in with the wall; Jack hadn’t noticed it before. The second Evan put his hand on the lever, Jack’s stomach imploded, and his entire body felt as if it was being devoured by burning worms.

  “I am sorry, Jack …” Evan shook his head, pursed his lips, and began to throw the switch.

  “No!” Jack ripped out of bed, drenched in sweat.

  Pam was out of bed in an instant. “Jack, what is it? What is it, honey?”

  He stood frozen in the dark, holding sheets and blankets, heart pounding. He couldn’t speak, trying to get his bearings.

  “Was it a bad dream?”

  He nodded, feeling like a scared animal. His arms and legs were numb.

  “It’s okay,” Pam assured him. “Everything’s fine. We’re all here. Everyone’s safe.”

  Pam guided him toward the bed, one hand on the back of his perspiration-soaked T-shirt.

  “Sit here. Let me get you another shirt.” She went to his dresser. He dropped his head, wide awake, the dream blazing in his mind.

  The floor squeaked in the hallway.

  “Mom?” Pam left the room. “What are you doing?”

  Jack had probably startled her when he woke up.

  He opened and closed his fingers and shook his hands, trying to get the circulation going.

  Pam returned quietly, offered him a shirt, and sat next to him on the bed.

  “Is she okay?” Jack mumbled.

  “Yes, what about you?”

  He looked at Pam’s silhouette in the dark. He peeled off the soaked shirt, threw it in the corner, and stood to go wash his face.

  “I’m fine. Just a really bad dream.”

  “What about?”

  “I’ll tell you in the morning. Go back to sleep. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  He shut the door of the bathroom, turned on the light, and leaned over the sink. His hair was a mess, his eyes bloodshot.

  The extent to which you forgive others, that is the extent to which you will be forgiven.

  He turned on the cold water and splashed his face over and over, trying to wash away the white room and the electric chair.

  • • •

  Pamela got up early Monday morning, turned up the heat, made a cup of tea, and snuggled up with her Bible before Jack and the girls came down. She knew her mom nev
er got any fitful sleep until the first light of day; then she would finally let her guard down and snooze for an hour or two.

  As she reviewed several passages their pastor had read Sunday, Pamela determined she would use the upcoming days to make up for lost time with her mother. She had long harbored bitterness toward Margaret for her chronic paranoia and how it had threatened to rub off on Pamela. But having been kidnapped herself, Pamela was now better able to understand Margaret’s fears, to overlook her issues and simply offer mercy and hope.

  As she stood in the kitchen, cooking eggs and slicing fruit onto plates for everyone, Pamela still couldn’t face the reality that her dad was gone. No more hugs, no more talks, no more knowing he was always there—her safety net. He would never get to see the baby that she was almost certain she was carrying.

  She still hadn’t been able to tell Jack about missing her period. That was a clear indicator of the precarious state of their relationship; she used to be able to approach him about anything, any time. She’d picked up a home pregnancy test kit a few days before and was hoping they could be together that morning when she tested, after the girls went to school.

  Before she knew it the kitchen was teeming with activity as the girls scurried about gathering books, sweaters, and backpacks. Jack lumbered directly to the coffeemaker. They exchanged a kiss, as always.

  “What was that dream about?” Pamela said.

  Jack loaded the filter and began scooping coffee. “Oh wow, I forgot about that.”

  “You jumped out of bed; it scared me to death. Remember?”

  “Yeah, kind of …”

  “Did you dream you heard something?”

  “No.” He made sure the girls were out of earshot. “Granger and Evan were in it.”

  “Oh boy.”

  “Yeah.” He filled the carafe with water.

  “Well, what happened?”

  He rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. “We were in this huge white room. It was so weird …”

  “Was I in it?”

  “No.”

  “The girls?”

  “No. Just me, Evan, and him.” He poured the water into the coffeemaker and switched it on. “It was some kind of trial. Evan was the judge … I can’t remember much. I’m sure it’ll come back to me. Any sign of your mom this morning?”

  Maybe he just didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Not yet.”

  “What was she doing up—when I had the dream?”

  Pamela recalled the thick smell of alcohol on her mom’s breath in the hallway. “She couldn’t sleep. She was going downstairs to read.”

  “Mommy, have you seen my language book?” Rebecca asked.

  “It was on the table in the living room last I saw it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Jack leaned with his back to the counter and thumb-scrolled through his phone.

  Pamela planned to address the drinking with her mom when they were alone that morning. She didn’t know exactly what she was going to say but thought it best to get it out in the open and talk about some house ground rules.

  “I almost forgot.” Jack put the phone to his ear. “I gotta call Derrick. He texted me like ten times really late last night.”

  “Breakfast is almost ready …”

  “Okay.” He headed out of the room.

  It seemed like he was constantly checking his emails, texts, and whatever else he did on that phone.

  “Mommy, did you forget Pop-Tarts?” Faye stared up at her.

  “Did you put them on the list when you finished the last box?”

  “Yes, I sure did. You want me to show you?”

  “Well, I guess I forgot them. Those are too much sugar first thing in the morning, anyway. There’re bagels in the fridge.”

  The smell of the eggs made a wave of nausea linger at the base of Pamela’s throat. Suddenly, the acidity of the fruit didn’t appeal either. “Come on, girls, time to eat.” She put a piece of bread in the toaster and went to the table. “Daddy’s on the phone. Faye, would you pray for our day?”

  Faye bowed her head and began to pray.

  Pamela closed her eyes but was preoccupied with the notion that Jack was going to be in a hurry, that there would be no time to share the news budding within her.

  Chapter 16

  At Derrick’s instruction, Jack quickly opened his laptop and read the Facebook conversation from the night before between Derrick and Brendon Sheets. Then he called Derrick back.

  “Dude, what did he mean, Amy’s made mistakes?” Jack said. “It sounds like they’re covering something up—more than her pregnancy.”

  “Hold up, hold up, dude,” Derrick said. “After I talked to Brendon, I got online and really did some digging. Get this: Amy’s parents recently moved from a $140,000 house to a $260,000 dollar house; I found the real-estate transaction.”

  “When?”

  “Seven months ago. From what I can tell, Amy’s dad does the same thing he’s always done—heating and air. Blue collar all the way. I don’t think the mom works.”

  “There was a windfall.”

  “Apparently … Who knows, he may have hit the lotto, but I didn’t see anything about it online. I kept reading my chat with Brendon over and over. That part where he said he knew this day was coming, that he warned the family there were no shortcuts? It sounds like he was against something the family did. He and Amy don’t speak.”

  “By his choice.”

  “It sounds like there was something he didn’t approve of. He de-friended me right after we chatted.”

  “He said it was a lie that the parents don’t know where Amy is. Is she with them, do you think?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Too bad we can’t just drive over there and confront them,” Jack said.

  “It’s only an hour. We could knock it out in a morning or afternoon.”

  “Cecil would never go for it. We’re not even supposed to be pursuing Amy.”

  “I was thinking maybe one of us could go,” Derrick said. “Call in sick one day.”

  “Brendon said you know who the real criminal is …”

  “I know, dog! Right? He sounded like a mind reader, like he knew we were investigating Demler-Vargus.”

  Jack buried his head in his hands. The girls were calling him to come to breakfast; he didn’t want to miss them. Yet the gears were clicking, clicking, clicking in his head.

  “I mean, let’s just brainstorm,” Derrick said. “What if Amy found some heavy dirt on Demler-Vargus? Let’s say she told her family …”

  “Daaa-ddy.” Faye came around the corner. She reached out and tugged Jack’s hand. “Eggs are ready. Mommy says hurry up, we have to leave soon or we’ll miss the bus and then you’ll have to drive us.”

  He didn’t have time for that. “Derrick, hold that thought. Keep running with it.” Jack went with Faye. “I’ve got to see the kids off. I’ll get back to you.”

  They hung up, and Jack and Faye took their seats at the kitchen table. Pamela and the girls were almost finished eating. “Sorry about that,” Jack said. “Derrick found some new info he had to share.” Jack dug into the eggs.

  “Daddy, you didn’t pray,” Faye said.

  Rebecca stared at him. Pamela flashed one of her patented forced smiles that always made him feel like a terrible husband, father, and human being.

  He closed his eyes and bowed his head, but all he could think about was Amy Sheets. God, thanks for everything. Help Derrick and me figure this thing out. “Amen!” he said.

  “Excuse me.” Rebecca cleared her dishes. Pam did the same. Faye gave him a sympathetic frown and followed suit.

  Jack ate quickly, finishing on the way to the sink.

  He always tried to keep things light and fun before school. “Now, I want you girls t
o have a wonderful day,” he said as they got on their heavy winter coats. “Be alert. Pay attention. Stay on top of your game.”

  Like a well-oiled machine, Jack handed them lunches and water bottles from the fridge. Pam was acting cold toward him, probably because he had taken the call from Derrick and missed breakfast.

  Jack checked the thermometer outside the kitchen window. “Thirty-four degrees,” he announced. “Hats and gloves. Scarves and mittens.” He clapped his hands. “Bundle up. It’s gonna be coldy, coldy.”

  * * *

  Jack was so moody. Pamela longed for the consistency and stability they once had. Yes, he was funny now, but what about ten minutes from now, or ten hours? Couldn’t that call with Derrick have waited until he got to work? She threw on her winter coat. “Let’s go, girls.”

  She appreciated what a hard worker Jack was, but it certainly hadn’t helped lately, as emotionally detached as they were. Rebecca helped hoist Faye’s pack onto her back, and the girls quietly followed Pamela to the front door. Jack had disappeared again.

  “We’re leaving,” Pamela yelled.

  After the Granger episode, she had phoned the school district and requested that the girls’ bus stop be moved from around the corner, out of sight of the house, to the end of the street, where she could see them. After much ado, the request had been granted. But ever since they found out Granger had been released from prison, Pamela and Jack walked the girls to the bus stop.

  Before heading out the front door, Pamela took one last glance at the top of the steps and froze; the girls bumped into her from behind. Jack was bending over, adjusting the gun and ankle holster. Their eyes met. “Coming.” He stood and shook his leg. “Coming, coming, coming.”

  Pamela unlatched the bolt lock and headed into the cold, hoping the girls hadn’t seen the gun. “I don’t think we’re going to see much sunshine today,” she said to them. “It’s going to stay pretty cold, and we might get some more snow.”

  “Mommy, Maggie Hebert just wears a skimpy little pink windbreaker, even on cold days like this,” Rebecca said as they walked down the sidewalk toward the end of the street. “Maybe we could give her one of our coats.”