Consequence (20 page)

No way would she admit any of it to Alec
Boone. “I was in a hurry this morning,” she said. “Didn’t see
Robert.”

Katrina asked Boone more questions, writing
all of his responses in her own brand of shorthand. “Well, I guess
that’s it for now. I’m going to head downtown and see if I can
catch up with Robert and Mrs. Fontenelle. And the granddaughter.
What did you say her name was?” Katrina flipped through pages of
her small reporter’s notebook. “Oh, never mind. Diana
Larouche.”

“Diara,” Boone said.

Katrina raised a brow, turned back to her
notes and scribbled again. “Great. Thanks a lot Boone. By the way,
I hear you’re getting married.”

He hesitated, marveling at how fast news
traveled in the small town.

Nothing much escaped Katrina. “Well, aren’t
you?”

“Yes.”

She rolled her eyes and strode towards the
rack. She shoved her arms into her coat and wound her scarf around
her neck. “Well, congratulations. See you.” She opened the door and
another cold blast scattered paperwork.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Ethel slept throughout the morning, not
waking up until after lunch. She’d had a shower the night before
and wore clean, warm pajamas. The bed was comfortable and the room
dim. She could have slept longer, but when she opened tired eyes
she saw the fuzzy outline of someone sitting next to the bed. As
her vision cleared, she saw it was Diara. Dressed in a gray T-shirt
and jeans, hair gathered into a ponytail, Diara looked years
younger.

“Granny,” she whispered. “How are you? Are
you hungry?”

Ethel nodded once, her curious eyes resting
on Diara’s face. “You’re different,” she pronounced. “What’s
happened to you?”

Diara cocked her head and scrunched her nose.
“Different? No, I’m the same me,” she said.

Ethel shook her head. “No, no you’re not. You
seem calm. You’re happy.”

Diara laughed, casting her eyes down. Long
lashes swept her flushed cheeks. “Don’t be silly, Granny.”

A light knock on the door interrupted them
and Robert Hall poked his head through the gap. “Excuse me,” he
said softly, looking at Diara. “Is your grandmother awake yet?”

Instead of answering, Diara turned towards
her grandmother. Ethel lifted her head. “Is it the nice young man
from last night? Mr. Hall? Come in, please.”

As she struggled to rise, Diara lifted the
hospital bed remote and pressed the incline button. Soon Ethel was
sitting up in bed. “There, that’s much better. Thank you, honey,”
she said.

Robert greeted the women. “I hope you’re
doing well today, ma’am,” he said to Ethel, his eyes flitting to
Diara.

Ethel responded affirmatively and as they
chatted, she noticed the frequent glances the two younger people
shared. The longer Robert stayed in the room, the pinker Diara’s
cheeks became, the brighter her eyes. The two smiled often as they
exchanged small talk.

“Why don’t we order your lunch now and then
we can discuss tomorrow’s arraignment,” Robert suggested.

The nursing staff brought three trays and the
small group ate together. Robert explained the Pennsylvania
judicial system and told Ethel what to expect during the
proceedings. After speaking with Diara and hearing Ethel’s tale, he
understood why his client felt the need to plead guilty. He
couldn’t recommend she do it, however, but he supported her
choice.

“This is between God and me,” Ethel said.
“For too long, I’ve been weak and fearful. I trust the Lord will
watch over me.”

Robert tried one final time. “You do
understand if you are convicted, a murder charge carries a life
sentence? You’ll be incarcerated.”

Ethel laughed at that, tossing her head back
and chuckling loudly. “Son, how much longer do you think I’ll live?
Every day is a gift. Incarcerated? I voluntarily moved into a
nursing facility, which in Lowell we call ‘God’s Waiting Room.’
I’ve been living in limbo for fifty years. The good Lord has given
me this opportunity to redeem my soul. Finally, I can make peace
and be in His good graces again. I welcome the opportunity.”

Robert bowed his head, overwhelmed by the
radiance in her face, the joy in her voice. Ethel Fontenelle knew
what she needed to do and he would fight Heaven and Hell for her
right to do it. The old woman’s spirit was infectious, touching him
with light and love.

Diara reached out and squeezed his hand. He
saw the tears sparkle in her eyes. “You see what I mean?” she
asked. “Granny needs to do this, and we have to help her.”

He nodded, swallowing the lump in his
throat.

Katrina called Bridget’s house several more
times, but voice mail kept picking up. She called Robert, but his
phone also went to voice mail. She located him when she stopped at
the Eaton Nursing Home reception desk. She asked to speak with
Ethel Fontenelle and the receptionist called the room. Robert
answered, and told the clerk to allow the visit. He waited for
Katrina in the hallway. As his sister approached, Robert frowned.
They didn’t communicate about cases because of his attorney-client
confidentiality clause, but Ethel’s case was public record. He was
acting as a temporary public defender and was obligated to speak
with the media.

Katrina slowed, recognizing his stubborn
stance. “I only want a few minutes with her,” she said, trying to
ease her way into his confidence. “I promise I’ll keep it short and
sweet.”

He raised an unbelieving brow. “Katrina,
you’re anything but sweet,” he said, taking her by the elbow and
walking her back to the lobby. “Let’s talk first.”

They sat huddled together, speaking low and
long. Katrina listened with unexpected patience. As Robert filled
in the voids, it dawned on her he was acting strange. Normally calm
and cool, he spoke with increasing passion, not only about Ethel,
but also about Cerise and her emergency surgery. And about Diara,
who accompanied her aged grandmother. He spoke as if he knew them
well, as if they were family.

“She’s remarkable,” he said, glancing over
his shoulder as if he expected to see someone. “I know we’ve only
just met, but she’s special.”

Katrina scowled. “Who? Ethel Fontenelle? What
are you talking about?”

Robert shook his head, waving a hand in
dismissal. “Diara.”

“Diara? I thought we were talking about the
old lady, who by the way is a murderer.”

Robert’s jaw tightened as he considered his
sister’s abrasive remark. “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve
said.”

“Yes, of course I have. So, do I get to talk
to Ethel?”

“It’s always about you, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s about the story,” she retorted.
“It’s my job to get it and I’m damn good at it.”

Robert stood up, his hands lightly fisted at
his side. “Wait right here and I’ll speak with Ethel. Only if she
agrees.”

Ethel did agree, and when she learned Katrina
and Robert were siblings, she warmly received the journalist,
inviting her to “sit awhile and visit.” Ethel shooed Robert and
Diara from the room, and when Robert took the young woman’s hand to
leave, Katrina watched the couple. Ethel noticed also.

“That brother of yours is a true gentleman,”
Ethel said. “Pretty is as pretty does, and he is about the
prettiest man I’ve ever seen. You’re right pretty, yourself.”

The old woman’s charm made Katrina smile.
“Thank you,” she said, graciously accepting the compliment. She
received them often. They meant little to her, but she did
appreciate compliments about Robert.

Katrina needed confirmation of the story
Robert had told her, and the story she’d read in Bridget’s
research. She launched into her questions.

At first, Ethel answered in short sentences,
primarily “yes” and “no,” but then she started asking questions.
She wanted to know more about Gaumer’s remains, who found them and
how the police found her.

Katrina had no qualms about talking about
Bridget. She said the young woman fancied herself a “history
detective.” As Ethel’s curiosity grew, Katrina shared the folder
with her.

Ethel was amazed at the amount of information
Bridget amassed and was tickled to read about Cerise and Diara’s
life as cataloged by the Internet.

“My word, I never knew such a thing existed,”
Ethel said as she paged through the ancestry software printouts.
“You mean you can look up entire family trees? On the computer? I
think I’ll get me one of these things,” she said, her face
glowing.

Katrina had never seen such light-heartedness
in an alleged criminal before. The woman acted as if a murder
charge and life sentence were not hanging over her head.

“I don’t get it,” she admitted. “How can you
be so carefree? So unconcerned?”

Ethel explained how she appreciated the
opportunity to unburden her soul, how she’d allowed herself to
suffer as a Christian by not confessing her guilt fifty years
ago.

“You can’t imagine how grateful I am to the
young men who found Roy Gaumer’s bones, to the police officer who
investigated it, or how indebted I am to the young woman who found
me and made it possible for me to ask forgiveness,” Ethel said.
“It’s important that I confess my sins before I die and to pay
retribution. I’ve lived in the shadow for too long.”

“Sooooo, you’re grateful you were arrested,”
Katrina asked, trying one more time to get a handle on Ethel’s true
feelings.

“Infinitely.”

“And you don’t mind telling me this, on the
record. You do realize, I’m a reporter and I work for a newspaper.
I intend to write an article about the murder of Roy Gaumer and
your arrest.”

“It is the truth and the only way I will be
set free.”

Katrina was puzzled. “But you’re not free.
You’re a prisoner and if you plead guilty tomorrow, you’ll most
likely go to jail.”

“My soul will be liberated. That’s the only
freedom I need.”

Katrina walked into the lobby, a bemused
expression on her face. She caught sight of Robert and Diara
sitting on a sofa, still holding hands. Their heads were bent close
and their voices low. They hadn’t seen her yet. It gave her a
moment to observe them.

Robert didn’t seem in “counselor mode.” He
seemed excited. For the first time that day, she noticed his
clothing. He’d left the designer suit at home and wore a pair of
jeans and a simple shirt. How unusual. Robert was never excited and
never casually dressed.

Katrina frowned, worried the change in his
demeanor had more to do with Diara, than with the old woman. He’d
made a connection with strangers and it could take him away from
Eaton. Away from her.

She plastered a smile on her flawless face as
she approached the couple, but myriad thoughts flew through her
mind. Most centered on herself and what it would be like without
him around. They were two of a kind, different from the others.
Together, they struggled through difficult childhoods, foreigners
in a small American town. Jealous of the Hall’s striking looks and
brilliant minds, the other children would tease and taunt them.

The taunts eased in high school. By then,
everyone wanted to be like the Halls. The more the other kids clung
and admired, the more aloof the Halls became. They didn’t trust
many people and their true friends were few and far between.

Katrina bit her lip. She did understand, in a
way, how Robert felt. She’d been feeling something unusual, too.
Jack DeSoto, another reporter at the Daily News, had been pursuing
her for months and their relationship escalated in December when
they traveled to Key West on a news assignment. She still refused
to admit it, but Jack got under her skin.

“Thank you, Robert,” she said, announcing her
presence. As they looked at her, she added, “I’m finished here, but
I would like to speak with you, Miss Larouche.”

Robert stood, pulling Diara to her feet,
their hands entwined.

The young woman smiled graciously. “Please,
call me Diara,” she said, tugging her hand out of Robert’s and
offering it to Katrina.

Katrina’s eyes flitted from Diara’s face to
her hand and back again, then she grasped it in a firm handshake.
“Only if you call me Katrina. That’s one determined woman,” she
said, sliding her hand from Diara’s and lifting it to her shoulder,
thumb pointed backwards.

“She is,” Diara replied, adding in a grave
tone, “How can I help you?”

Katrina took a minute to tuck her reporter’s
notebook and pen into her handbag, then looked at Diara with
mischief in her eyes. “One question and then I’m hoping you and
Robert will join me at Beano’s for a cup of coffee.”

Diara nodded.

Katrina slid her hands into her jacket pocket
and smirked. “Did you really date Derek Jeter?”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Disheartened, Boone dropped the note on the
kitchen table. When he parked in the driveway, he saw all of the
house lights were out and Bridget’s car was missing. She hadn’t
answered her cell phone earlier in the day, and her message said
not to expect her before nine. She was at the library, working on
an article.

Classic avoidance tactics, Boone thought. He
glanced at the two dogs, both sitting in front of him, waiting for
their dinner. In a few short weeks, they had trained him and they
appreciated Boone sticking to the routine.

Boone hung up his coat and belt, then opened
the refrigerator. “What would you guys like tonight? Let’s
splurge,” he said, reaching into a drawer for a bag of sliced deli
ham. At the sound of crinkling plastic wrap, Morty began to dance.
Squirt stood up, resting her paws on the counter and nosed Boone’s
wrist. He chuckled. “Don’t worry, missy. I’m not impressed with the
dancing monkey. I’ll make sure you get the lion’s share.”

He divvied up the contents of the bag, making
sure Squirt’s bowl was full, then placed them on the floor. The
dogs scrambled for the treat, their tails wagging.