Criminal (20 page)

He was finished with me before I expected. And, like that, it was over. The judge was telling me I could go. I stood up, afraid for a second I wouldn't be able to, but then I found my legs and began to walk.

I didn't even look at Dee. I didn't need to. Instead I focused on Hampton as I passed by. The files all over the table, and what she needed next, took most of her concentration, but she did look up. It wasn't a smile she gave me, exactly, but I knew enough about her and what I'd just done to see that she was proud.

DOUG CALLED ME EVERY DAY AFTER THAT TO TELL ME HOW
the case was going. It took three more days to deliver all the evidence. “The judge likes to take a lot of breaks,” he explained. “The going is slow.”

But even after the case was finished, there was more agonizing waiting. Doug expected the jury to make a quick verdict, but instead they deliberated for two whole days. He phoned after each time they came in with a question, and each time his voice was just as tight and anxious as I felt. Doug had decided we'd wait until Dee's trial was over before we thought about changing my plea. And maybe we could. But whatever was happening in there, it was going to affect me too, in more ways than one. I could hear the doubt chipping away at Doug the same way it was
me. If the jury was unsure whether Dee really did it, what was going to happen? Would all of this—the whole horrible thing—come to nothing? Would he walk free, just like that? I had been doing this for myself, yes, and for Bird and the people Dee had hurt, but I'd also done it to show him he wasn't as all-powerful as he thought. I'd done it to correct a wrong. So if the jury didn't back me up? What the hell was I supposed to learn from that?

The last call came on a Thursday. We'd just had commissary stuff delivered, and I'd gotten a fresh, clean notepad.

Someone called from the guard booth: “Phone call, Dougherty.”

I was surprised to hear Hampton's voice on the line: wet and trembling. “Nikki?”

My entire body went cold at the sound of her. Numb. “We didn't get it, did we?”

She cleared her throat. Almost a little girl sound. “They convicted him, Nikki. Denarius Pavon was found guilty.”

I slid to the floor and wept with relief.

• •

They gave him life plus twenty. There'd be an appeal, Hampton said. It could be another year, two, before he really started his sentence, and I might have to testify again. There was still my own trial to finally focus on now too. But I knew we'd done it. I knew without a doubt, no matter how long it took, that Dee was
finished. Even if he got off for good behavior one day—even if he never felt sorry for what he'd done—he had no more power over me. He could peacock it around prison all he wanted. Outside of it, even. But he would know and I would know and every person in that courtroom would know that he'd thought he was a god. And this girl he'd treated like dirt—this girl he'd tossed around like a toy he didn't even want—had helped bring him back down to earth.

THE DAY AFTER DEE'S VERDICT, I GOT A NEW CELL MATE,
Maude. I spent the next few days showing her the ropes, introducing her to people, learning her story. Priscilla would laugh if she saw it—me, some kind of leader—and it made me miss her.

I was in the common room doing Maude's hair. We were both talking to Cam, who was getting amped up about her own trial, when one of the guards hollered, “Dougherty, you got a visitor.”

I hadn't had a visitor in I didn't know how long. Not outside of the lawyers. Cherry could be in jail herself for all I knew, and Gary still had a lot more time to serve. There was no one left outside who wanted to see me. I'd come to grips with that
months ago. Had Dee's mom come to scream curses? Was it one of his friends, vowing revenge?

But as soon as I saw her waiting in the visitor's booth, all these thoughts melted behind me. My face collapsed into whatever it does when you feel—all over—a grateful and honest love.

“Bird.”

She was dressed up again, like for church, and she had Jamelee on her lap. She smiled, and it was the warmest, most spreading thing over me.

“We saw on the news. Congratulations, I guess.”

“Thanks.”

Jamelee was grabbing for the cord of Bird's phone. Bird had to bobble a bit to get her out of the way.

“She's bigger,” I said. “Getting to be like a real little girl.”

“She's fat is what she is, but that's what you want on a baby, so.”

I had so much to say, so much to ask. But I had so much to listen for, too.

“Thank you for coming,” I started. “It's good to see you.”

She smiled again, this time shyer. “I thought a lot about what I would say to you.”

“I've thought about you too. Every day.”

Her face darkened just a bit. I'd already said too much.

“Do you know what's going to happen next?” she asked.

“No,” I told her, honest. “My own trial, I guess, and then . . .” I shrugged.

“Are you scared?”

I looked at her. “I was. And maybe I will be again. But I'm not right now.”

“You told them the whole thing, didn't you? I mean . . .” Her eyebrows went down as she tried to find the words. “They're putting him away because of what you said?”

“It wasn't just me. The lawyers worked really hard on the case. The police. Detective DuPree. Everyone. But I know my testimony helped.”

She nodded at that.

“I'm proud of you,” she said, soft.

All the tears I still hadn't cried for her came pouring out. I bowed my head, not wanting her to see. Not because I was ashamed, but because she'd already borne so much. And it was my turn to bear some things for her.

“I'm so sorry, Bird,” I was finally able to say.

“I know you are.”

“And I miss you and Jamelee, and Kenyetta and everybody. I wish you knew me now, the way I am. I would be a real friend to you, Bird. So much better than before. I wish I could meet you all over again and we could—”

But she stopped me, shaking her head. “Things can't go
back the way they were, Nikki. Not you and me. Not like that.”

She looked away.

“There's a feeling in me for you that's just . . . broken. I've prayed about it nearly every Sunday, knowing I should forgive you. I do feel sorry for you, and I know in large part you couldn't help it, but there's just something . . . wrong in me now about the whole thing. And about you. I'm proud, and I hope things will be better for you now. But you and me . . .”

Tears dripped onto my chin when I shook my head. “I really messed things up.”

She didn't say anything. Her face was sorry, but firm.

I sucked in a deep breath, tried to wipe my face. “Well, can I write you? Sometime? Tell you how things are going?”

She looked at Jamelee. “You can write.”

“Okay.” I sighed. “I will, then.”

I didn't want her to go. I didn't want her to walk away with my face full of tears and this strangeness between us being the last thing we might remember of each other, so I asked her how she was. I asked her to tell me about work, our friends, and the things Jamelee had learned how to do. I could see, at first, it was hard for her, trying to talk like things were normal. Like this was a friendly visit. I could see she didn't want me to think, just because she was telling me about getting promoted to assistant manager at KFC and that
she was thinking about hiring some inexpensive college kid to help her with the bookkeeping part of her dress work, that things were better between us. I could see she didn't want me to mistake this kindness on her part for anything more than that. And I tried to show her—asking her but not asking too much—that I really understood.

We talked for the entire half hour the guards allowed, and it went far too fast.

“I guess we gotta go,” she said, smoothing down Jamelee's dress and straightening herself up.

“I'm glad you came.” New tears were pricking. “It means a lot to me.”

“You're not a bad person,” she said, her eyes meeting mine. “You never were.”

“Just one who made a lot of bad mistakes.” My voice was half laugh, half cry.

“And is working to fix them.”

“Trying.” But I was getting too shuddery, thinking of her leaving me. And maybe never coming back.

She stood up, keeping the receiver tucked under her chin while she balanced Jamelee. “Say bye-bye, little girl.”

Jamelee looked at me, big, round eyes in a big, round face. Darling bow mouth like something on the best present you would ever get.

“Bah-bah.” She smiled, very proud of herself.

Bird smiled too. At her daughter, then at me.

“Take care of yourself, Nikki.”

I managed to smile a little back. “It's all there's left for me to do.”

A WEEK OR SO LATER, DOUG CAME TO SEE ME, ALL IN A
flurry.

“They want to settle,” he said, unable to conceal his glee. He slid some papers across the table between us. “In my opinion, it's because of his appeals and the amount of resources this case is already taking, but it's also clearly because of your cooperation.”

The world was rushing around me. I wouldn't have to go on trial? It was almost—all of it—truly over? “I don't understand.”

“They're asking for more time than I think you should have to do at all, considering the time you've served already, but it's relatively fair. I don't want to rush you because there's a lot to think about here on both sides—the pros and the cons—but, Nikki, this could really be a golden ticket for you. If you decided to take it.”

I looked at the papers in front of me. I would have to go down to the law library, try to get one of the women who hung out there to explain everything to me—even after I heard all of what Doug had to say. It would cost me an elaborate hairdo, maybe a few other things, but I knew I could get help in wrapping my head around it.

“Gimme a day or two,” I told him. “I'll call you.”

DOUG AND I BOTH PROBABLY KNEW I WAS GOING TO
accept their offer. I just wanted a little more time for the shock to wear off and a chance to talk to my friends. Cam was elated and told me to take it immediately. I'd already been through one trial, she pointed out. Rae also thought I should avoid court altogether, if for no other reason than to not have to wait around here for another stretch of forever.

The day of my sentencing, I didn't know how to feel. After Dee's verdict, I'd finally been able to let go of this giant rock I'd been carrying around. I hardly knew how to stand up, move my arms, walk around without that weight on me. My brain didn't know how not to have his trial on my mind. It was freeing, but it
was also strange. I had, once again, thought only about him. My own trial had disappeared behind his.

Now, maybe not having to go through my own trial either, another weight was lifted. One I'd gotten so used to, I didn't even know I'd been carrying it. Without it holding me down, I thought I might just lift off the ground, float out into space. It was a happy feeling, but a scary one too. Who was I going to be out there, when I was rid of Dee and truly done with being the girl I was with him?

Standing next to Doug, facing the judge, my insides were liquid.

The judge spoke. Such a heavy weight: “Nicola Dougherty, after consideration of your case and your voluntary cooperation with the state in the case against Mr. Denarius Pavon, for the crimes against which you have been charged, you are hereby sentenced to a continued eighteen months at the county jail, followed by three years of probation, during which you will also perform community service.”

There was more. Doug said something. The judge said something else. I said a few things too. But it was over quickly. We stood. The judge left the room and then it was Doug hugging me and me hugging him and my entire spirit floating, floating, floating off into I didn't know where. I didn't know what was going to happen next. I didn't know quite how I was going to get
through another year and a half of jail, and I didn't know how I was going to feel or where I was going to go whenever I got out. Cherry's, I guessed, at first, but I wouldn't stay there ever again. Maybe I would try to find Bindi. Visit Priscilla. Get my old job back. Or find a new salon and start again from scratch. Maybe I'd get an apartment and my own car, and maybe—just maybe, after enough time—I'd find a way to go back to Bird, to rebuild the friendship I'd shattered. There was so much whirling in me, so much I didn't know. There was so much to think about, and try, and discover.

One thing I did know, and I knew it deep in my core. As we left the courtroom—Doug clapping me again on the back—I knew wherever I went, whatever happened next, I was finally, truly going to be free.

As always, with a book, there are so many people to thank. For this one, I must first acknowledge those who helped me get all the details straight: Jill Polster, Jeanne Canavan, Jan Hankins, Ingrid McGauhey, Karlyn Skall, Jennifer Mann, Muffy Blue, and Will Price of Muckraker—thanks for your honesty and your generous support.

Next up, as per usual, my editor, Anica Rissi, deserves a ton of thanks, mainly for believing in this project. I will never forget the Brooklyn Bridge walk wherein I told you this whole story and we figured out what this book should be. Thanks for all the encouragement and enthusiasm ever since then.

Scott, you deserve my thanks every day. But in this case, if for no other reason than helping me get through that terrible February that was the inspiration for this entire thing.

The team at Simon Pulse always earns my gratitude, and
this time is no exception. Thanks to
all
of you for making this a reality!

Lastly, I want to thank all of my readers and enthusiasts. To every blogger, every librarian, every fellow author, every teacher, every reader, every bookseller, and every individual person who ever picked up a book of mine and felt it might be worth examining beyond the cover—thank you so unbelievably much. I can have no career, can do nothing in this writing life, without you, and there would be no new book, no new endeavor of mine, without you there supporting it.