A Field of Poppies (35 page)

He rested his chin on the crown of her head. “I don’t think anyone has cried for me since I was in the third grade.”

Interested in hearing the rest of the story, she looked up, still wearing the tears she’d just shed.

“
Who cried for you then?” she asked.

He got his handkerchief out of his pocket. It took a great deal of effort on his part not to kiss her as he began wiping her face.

“
Oh, I was running all hell-bent for leather after a line-drive during recess and fell flat on my face on the playground. Busted my nose and drove my top teeth into my bottom lip. Bled all over my best blue shirt. I was too shocked to cry, so Marilee Whitson cried for me. At least I told myself she was crying for me, but it could have been because I also bled all over the front of her dress and the teacher’s shoes, too.”

Poppy blinked. “Are you telling me the truth or is this one of those stories cops make up to get people out of hysterics?”

Mike frowned. “You watch too many cop shows on TV. Yes, it’s the truth and I have the scar to prove it.”

He put the handkerchief back in his pocket then showed her the tiny, thin white scar on the inside of his lower lip.

She nodded. “I see it.” When she suddenly realized how close they were and how blue his eyes were, she quickly stepped back. “Thank you,” she added, swiping at her cheeks in sudden embarrassment, as if he might have missed some tears.

“
You’re welcome. I can’t leave yet to take you home. Do you want to call your brother? I’ll make sure they let him pass.”

Her fingers curled into fists. “Yes. I want to go home.”

Mike nodded. “Then call him.”

“
One more thing.”

“
What is it, Poppy?”

“
I guess you called Justin... I mean, about what happened in there?”

“
Yes.”

“
Is he... did he... I mean-“

“
He didn’t say much, but if I was guessing, I’d say today is probably one of the worst days of his life.”

Poppy chose to ignore the tiny spurt of empathy. “I was just wondering,” she said, and then looked around for her purse. “I need to call Johnny.”

“
And I’ll let the officers know he’s coming after you.” He frowned at the expression on her face and then added. “You had nothing to do with what happened anymore than Justin did. Both of you were collateral damage to other people’s choices, okay?”

****

Justin spent the night at Callie’s bedside watching her sleep. He didn’t know how to tell her what had happened, but he would have to before he left. It would be all over the news. People were going to talk. She was fourteen years old – too old to hide the truth about something as horrific as this.

He’d hired a private investigator to locate Wade Lee Tiller, and made a mental note to call Truman Epperson at the Edison Funeral home tomorrow.

There was an old saying running through his head that he couldn’t shake. He couldn’t remember exactly how it went, but he remembered part of the last line - ‘...
and miles to go before I sleep’
.

That’s how he felt. Maybe there were too many miles between him and rest. The way his heart ached, he might never rest again.

****

It was midnight and Poppy had yet to go to bed. The television was on, but muted. The bowl of popcorn she and Johnny had shared was in the floor near her feet with a few un-popped kernels and two empty Pepsi cans stacked inside. The curtains were closed. The house was locked tight, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling she was standing naked in the world, and when the sun came up tomorrow, everyone would see.

Tomorrow, the news as to who killed Jessup Sadler would spread like wildfire, and it wouldn’t take long for the reason why to follow.

Johnny kept telling her it didn’t matter, that they would always be family – that she was his sister now and forever. But she knew there would be others from Coal Town who would disagree - who would suddenly see her as the bastard child of a rich man. They’d be expecting her to start flashing money and moving away from where she’d grown up, maybe even assume she would quit her job and move across the bridge to the north side of the city. She was so afraid to face tomorrow for fear what it might bring. She hadn’t just lost her parents in this ordeal, she was losing her identity, as well.

And then there was Mike Amblin. This morning he’d been the cop still working her daddy’s case, up until that moment in the van. The moment when they’d all heard Justin throw his mother’s words back in her face - calling Sunny a cur who should have been tied up in a sack and thrown off the bridge into the river like an unwanted litter of pups. The moment when he’d reached for her hand and with a firm, but gentle grip, grounded her pain. That was the moment it hit her - remembering how many times he’d been there for her since this ordeal had begun. The moment when she’d looked past the badge and liked what she saw.

When the gunshots sounded at the Caulfield mansion, they were startling – even unexpected since it was supposed to be an arrest. But when he didn’t come out – and the thought crossed her mind that he could be dead just like Daddy and she would never see him again - that’s when she realized he’d gotten under her skin.

So here she was, unable to sleep, falling for a cop who was just being kind, waiting for sunrise and the next shoe to fall.

****

It was nearly midnight before Mike finished the last report and left the station. It was always a satisfying feeling when a case came together, but this one had blown up in their faces. The only good thing was that it was over. Poppy Sadler would get her car back. She and her brother could bury their father and the world would go on.

At least that’s how it should be, but Mike knew better. When word got around – and it would – that Justin Caulfield was Poppy’s father, she would not know another moment of peace. She lived in Coal Town, but the truth about her birth father was automatically going to separate her from them, even if she didn’t move. He wished he could protect her from that heartache, but he’d just run out of reasons to keep showing up in her life.

Chapter Twenty-One

When Mike arrived for work the next morning, Prophet Jones was sitting on a bench outside the Caulfield police department, perched on the edge of the concrete bench with his hands folded in his lap and his head bowed in prayer.

There was a moment when he thought about going in through a side-entrance then chided himself for being afraid to face a helpless old man and got out of the car. He walked all the way to the entrance without seeing the old man move a muscle then just as he neared the door, Prophet raised his head and looked him square in the eyes.

A slight shudder ran up the back of Mike’s neck.
That was weird.
It was like someone whispered in Prophet’s ear that he was there, only the old man was alone.

Prophet stood. His state of grace disappeared as he came toward Mike in a crooked lope.

“
Is it true?” he asked.

“
Is what true, Prophet?”

“
Is the Devil dead? Did you really kill the ones responsible for Mr. Sadler’s death?”

Mike sighed. This would take a bit of explaining.

“
Sit with me,” he said, pointing to the bench Prophet had just abandoned.

Prophet settled back down then scooted closer. Once again, Mike tried not to imagine the transfer of fleas and lice and began to explain.

“
Yesterday we were in the act of arresting Mrs. Caulfield and her bodyguard for the murder of Jessup Sadler, but we didn’t kill them. The bodyguard shot Mrs. Caulfield then killed himself. It happened so fast we had no way to stop him.”

Prophet was rocking back and forth as he listened. When Mike announced both their deaths, he leaped to his feet and raised his hands to the heavens.

“
Praise the Lord, I have been delivered! The Devil and his minions are dead. My time of penance is at an end!” Tears began running down his face as he grabbed Mike’s hand and shook it fiercely. “No more sackcloth and ashes. No more wandering in the wilderness. Thank you for hearing my words!”

“
Yes, we heard you, Prophet. But now I want you to hear me.”

The old man stilled, focusing on Mike’s face as if he was listening for the voice of God.

Mike gripped Prophet by the shoulders to make his point. “There is no more Devil in Caulfield... at least not the one you’ve been preaching against. I know the Devil takes many forms, but so do God’s angels.”

“
Yes, praise the Lord, yes, that is a fact!”

“
Then hear me out, Prophet, because I don’t want to find out you’re still preaching against a family that no longer exists.”

Prophet frowned. “Not a family. The Devil! The Devil, I say!”

Mike resisted the urge to shake him for fear he’d break the fragile bones beneath the rags.

“
Prophet... you’re not listening to me.”

“
I’m listening, yes, I am.”

“
Justin Caulfield helped us get the evidence we needed to make an arrest. He did it knowing his family might be incriminated and arrested. He did it with his heart breaking because he knew it was the right thing to do.”

Now Prophet was hanging on Mike’s every word.

“
Justin Caulfield is a good man and not responsible for the actions of others, even if they were his parents. So, do we understand each other?”

Prophet put his hand over his heart as if he was about to take an oath.

“
I hear. I understand. I will pray for him to be delivered from his sorrow.”

“
Okay then,” Mike said. “And thank you again for your help. We might never have solved this without you. You are a hero, Prophet.”

The old man blinked, then bowed his head and walked away, one leg dragging, his shoulders slightly stooped from the weight of the world.

****

It was just after daybreak when Justin got up from the chair near Callie’s bed. She was still sleeping and he had calls to make before she woke.

He slipped out of the room and went down the hall to the waiting room to get a cup of coffee from the coffee machine. Thankful that the waiting room was empty, he took his first sip before he sat down to call Frances. He needed to catch her at home to prepare her for the day ahead.

He dialed her number then took another sip of coffee as he waited for her to answer. Just when he thought it was going to go to voicemail, he heard her voice.

“
Hello?”

“
Frances, it’s me. I’m sorry to disturb you at home and so early, but I need to fill you in on what’s coming up today.”

“
Yes sir, let me get a pen.”

“
No, it’s okay. You won’t need to write this down.”

“
Oh, okay. What’s up?”

“
I’m going to need you to cancel all my appointments for the next few days. I’m not sure when I’ll be back in the office. Also, you’ll probably be contacted right and left by newspapers and media. Tell them a statement will be issued later by the family.”

Frances gasped. “You’re scaring me, Mr. Caulfield. What’s happening?”

“
My mother and her driver, Oral Newton, were arrested yesterday for the murder of Jessup Sadler. Before the police could take them both into custody, Newton shot my mother and then himself.”

“
Oh dear God!”

Justin took a slow breath and closed his eyes, making himself focus on her voice and not the pain in his gut.

“
I won’t go into the details. They’ll be public soon enough. But I need you to hold down the fort for me. Can you do that?”

“
Yes sir. You can count on me, and I’m sorry, so sorry.”

“
Yes, Frances, so am I.”

Justin’s hands were shaking when he hung up, but he made himself finish the coffee before he made the other call. It was more of a practical nature, but one that had to be faced. Last night while reading the local paper he’d noticed there were funerals being held today, which meant as long as there were bodies in the funeral home, they would have staff on duty night and day. He didn’t know who would be there, but at least his call would be answered.

“
Edison Funeral Home. Truman speaking.”

Justin was relieved the person on duty was someone he knew.

“
Truman, this is Justin Caulfield. I have a request.”

“
Of course, Mr. Caulfield, how can I help?”

Justin prepared himself to skim through the worst of it again. “This isn’t a pretty story, but everyone will know soon enough.”

Now Truman was anxious. “Please tell me this has nothing to do with your dear daughter?”

“
No, it’s not Callie. It’s my mother and I don’t need condolences. I just need your ear.”

“
I’m listening.”

“
Yesterday, as the police were in the act of arresting my Mother and her bodyguard, Oral Newton for the murder of Jessup Sadler, Newton killed her and then himself. And they were guilty. She confessed as much to me.”