Shadow of Doubt (24 page)

If Stan had had more strength, he might have lunged for him, but there was too much truth in the words.

“Look, I know there's evidence. Apparently, there's evidence against me, too, and you're holding two pieces of it in your hands. But I can swear to you that that don't mean a thing. I ain't foolin' around with your wife, she ain't in love with me, she didn't poison you, she didn't set me up, she didn't come here to have a secret rendezvous with me yesterday, none of those things. But somebody wants to kill you, man. And I don't know why, but he wants it to look like Celia did it, and he wants it to look like she did it for me.” He chuckled slightly. “If it weren't so scary, I might be a little flattered.”

“Flattered?”

“Yeah, that the cops would think that somebody could care enough about me to kill her husband over me.”

Stan's eyes narrowed as he tried to process that admission.

“Trust me, detective. There ain't nobody in the world who would do that for me. And nobody in the world I'd go to prison for, either.”

Every instinct in Stan's body told him Barnett was being straight with him. He'd always trusted those instincts. He had no reason not to trust them now. He got to his feet and nodded to T.J. T.J. started across the room to the door.

“I appreciate your time,” Stan said.

“You believe me, don't you?” Barnett asked.

Stan didn't want to commit himself. “I'll think about it all.”

“Think about it hard,” Barnett said. “Look, I ain't in love with your wife, but I don't much like the idea of her sitting in jail for something she didn't do. It just ain't right. I had to go to prison for something I
did
do, and it was bad enough. I can just imagine what it would be like if you were innocent.”

He held the door and turned to T.J. “Hey, do I have to stay in town? I was told I couldn't leave town, but I'd really like to get back to Jackson. I don't know anybody here, and I'm not havin' good luck, and it's not where I want to be.”

“You'd better stick around, buddy, until you're told you can leave.”

“Terrific. At first, I thought it wouldn't hurt, that the apartment was paid for, so who cares? But I don't like it here. It's a hostile environment, and I'm not getting very far. Maybe I oughta take Celia's advice and stay in a hotel or somethin'. I feel like a sittin' duck. I just ain't got any money to pay for nothin' else.”

Stan turned around at the word
hotel
and stared at the man. Hadn't Marabeth Simmons mentioned them talking about a hotel? Maybe it had been in that context.

Stan sighed and started down the stairs.

Barnett stepped outside of his door. “Hey, you take it easy now. That arsenic, it ain't nothin' to play with.”

Stan stopped on the steps and turned around, looked up at him again. “Did she tell you she was pregnant?”

Barnett's eyebrows shot up in mild surprise. “Who? Celia?
Pregnant?”

He studied the man's eyes for some sign of deceit, but again, the most he could find was indifference. “Yeah, Celia.”

“No, is she?”

Stan didn't answer, and finally, he turned away again. He took the remaining steps down, carefully. When he reached the bottom, he looked up. Barnett was leaning against the rail, staring down at him with a slight frown as if worried he might fall. He nodded good-bye and Barnett gave him a half-wave before going back in.

Stan got into the car, and T.J. went around to the driver's side and cranked it up. “So what do you think?” T.J. asked.

“He didn't do it.”

T.J. rolled his eyes. “Then how do you explain all the evidence that says he was involved?”

Stan stared at his friend. “I think he just explained it.”

“And you believe him?”

“I'd stake my whole career on it. And my marriage.”

“Are you sure, Stan?”

“She's innocent.” His mouth twisted. He put his hand over his face and wept into it.

T.J. reached out and touched his shoulder. “You okay, man?”

“No, I'm not okay. My wife is in jail because of something she didn't do, and for a little while, I believed she did it. I can't believe I bought into it. Whoever's doing this, they're evil, and I played right into their hands.”

“Man, don't go off the deep end. You don't know for sure that Celia's innocent.”

“Well, until I know for sure she's guilty, I'm gonna believe she's innocent.”

T.J. sat there for a moment, letting the car idle. “You ready to go home, buddy?” he asked.

Stan shook his head. “I'm not going home.”

“Man, you're sick. You need to be in bed.”

“Take me to the station.”

“The station? What are you gonna do? Go back to work?”

“No,” Stan said. “I'm gonna visit my wife.”

T
he noise in the police department came to an abrupt halt as Stan stepped through the door. All eyes seemed to turn to him, even those of the criminals being booked. Sid Ford got to his feet and began to laugh as his eyes misted over.

“Man,
there
you are! Your folks was worried sick about you. What you doin' here, man? You s'posed to be in bed.”

“They let him out,” T.J. said, “and now he's trying to investigate this crime himself.”

Sid approached Stan and shook his hand as if he were fragile. “Man, you need to be at home in bed. You need to let us take care of this. We're gettin' to the bottom of it. Let me call your mama back and tell her you're here.”

“You're on the wrong track,” Stan said weakly, “but we can talk about that later.” He tried to catch his breath. “Right now I came for another reason.”

“Another reason?” Sid asked. “What?”

T.J. shot Sid a look. “He wants to see Celia.”

“No, man!” Sid took a step back, shaking his head. “You don't wanna do that. That's gon' be too hard on you! You know it is.”

“I want to see my wife,” Stan said. “You can't stop me.”

“Man, there's a court order sayin'—”

“There's not a court order telling
me
to do anything,” Stan said. “If I want to see my wife, I can. Sid, I don't think you want me to pull rank on you.”

Sid held his hands out to stem the threat. “Man, you don't have to go that far. I'm just tryin' to protect you.”

“I'm sick of people trying to protect me in the wrong way. My wife doesn't deserve to be locked up. I want to see her.”

“You ain't gon' talk us into lettin' her out.”

“I know that,” Stan said. “Just take me to the jail.”

Sid rolled his eyes, as if he couldn't believe he was being asked to do such a ludicrous thing. But finally, he led him to the basement.

Stan stepped carefully down the stairs, stopping every few steps to catch his breath. Sid reached the door to the women's jail before he did, so he tried to hurry the rest of the way down.

“Sure you're up to this, man?” Sid asked. “You don't look good.”

“Yeah…I'm fine…”

Sid opened the door and Stan stepped in. He looked from one cell to the next, but didn't see Celia. Then he heard a gut-wrenching sound from behind the partition surrounding her toilet. Celia was throwing up.

Stan stepped up to the bars and looked into the dimly lit cell. A Bible lay open on the cot, and her shoes were beside it. He heard her retching again, then the toilet flushed.

“She throwin' up?” Sid asked.

Stan couldn't answer, for there was a lump of emotion the size of Texas in his throat. Had she been sick like this the whole time? Didn't anyone care? Suddenly, a fierce, protective instinct came over him. “Open the door,” he ordered Sid.

“Stan, don't you think you better talk to her through the bars? I mean, we ain't talkin' about somebody stable.”

“Open it,” he said again.

Sid registered his disapproval with a loud sigh and opened the cell. “I'm waitin' right by the door, man. Holler if you need me.”

But Stan wasn't listening. Weakly, he headed across the cell and stepped around the partition. Celia was on her knees in front of the toilet, and as he stepped up behind her, she began retching again. Stan leaned over her, gathered her hair, and pulled it back out of her way.

As soon as she was able, she looked up to see who had come to her aid. Surprise widened her eyes, and the gray color of her complexion quickly flushed with pink tones. She got to her feet, and as tears flooded her eyes, whispered, “Stan?”

He hadn't expected to be so overcome with love, not after all the doubts, but his eyes filled with tears and he pulled her to her feet. “Are you all right?” he whispered. “Let me help you.”

He led her to the sink and she bent over it to rinse her mouth out, then fell back into his arms. She wept against his shirt, her body shuddering. After a while, she managed to whisper, “I'm fine now.” She pulled back and looked up at him. “What about you? You look terrible, honey. You need to be in bed.” She touched his cheek. “You've lost weight…and you're skin…it's yellow. Why are you here? Why aren't you in bed?”

“I had to see you.” He felt himself wobbling unsteadily, and she led him to the cot and made him sit down. She sat next to him, sideways so she could face him, and he combed his fingers through her hair as remorse and shame welled up inside him and filled his eyes with tears. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“Me?” she asked. “What for?”

“For doubting. They showed me that picture, and told me about Lee Barnett, and the arsenic in the attic, and all the other stuff, and I bought into it, Celia. I'm so sorry.”

Her face twisted and grew redder. “How do you know they're not right?”

“Because…” He wiped his face with a rough hand. “None of it makes any sense. I look at you…and I know who you are…” His voice broke off and he embraced her again. “Please forgive me.”

“I do,” she whispered. “Of course I do.”

“Who did this, Celia?” he asked. “Who could it be?”

“I don't know,” she said. “I've racked my brain for years, even before you were poisoned. I have no idea. I really don't. I suppose it could be Lee Barnett, but it didn't seem like it was, when I went to visit him. I can't understand his motive, if it's him. Why would he do something that would land him right back in prison? It doesn't make any sense.”

He shook his head. “No, I don't think he did it. I just went to see him myself.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You did?”

“Yes. I think he's being used somehow.” His eyes took her in, drinking in her beauty, her sweetness, and he touched her face. “Celia, the other night when you came to the hospital, you said something.”

She smiled slightly. “Yes.”

“About a baby?”

Her tears spilled over again. “Mm-hmm.”

“That's why you were throwing up?”

She nodded.

His mouth trembled. “When did you find out?”

“Remember, I had been nauseated for a few days, even before you were poisoned. That night they took blood samples from me, determined I wasn't poisoned, so I didn't know what it was. But a couple of days later, they called and told me that I was pregnant.”

Stan's face twisted as new tears reddened his eyes. “An answered prayer,” he said. “Funny, I never dreamed it would be answered quite this way.”

“Me, either,” Celia said. “But it's gonna be all right.”

“How can you say that? They think you tried to kill me.”

“But
you
don't think I tried to kill you, and that's the most important thing,” she said. “Stan, God already knows who's doing this. It's gonna be all right. I promise.”

“But I don't want you in here,” he said. “I don't want you in jail. This place was built for criminals, not for my wife.”

“I know how you feel. I'd feel the same way if you were in here. But Stan, it's really okay. I'm spending all my time soaking up the Bible. I needed this time. As long as I'm in here, I'm safe, and maybe you are, too. If somebody's trying to set me up, they can't do it while I'm in jail.”

He breathed in a deep shuddering sigh. “Celia, I would have done anything to keep this from happening.”

“So would I,” she said. “But right now all we can do is try to figure out what's going on. The best thing you can do for me is to get plenty of rest and get well. We're gonna have a lot to do over the next nine months.”

He laughed softly. “Yeah, I guess we are.” He thought of the nursery they were planning to add on to their little house when she got pregnant, how he was going to do most of the work himself. The wallpaper they'd picked out, the little sleigh crib they had their eye on…He thought of all the decisions—pink, or blue, or yellow, or green…He thought of that camcorder he was going to have to buy…and then he thought of the fact that his wife might have to stay in jail until the trial that could take forever to come about. That this baby could come home from the hospital without its mother. He couldn't stand the thought.

“Look at me, Stan,” she whispered. “We've got to trust in the Lord. He gave us this baby. He's not going to forsake us now. David said the timing was all wrong, that it wasn't fair to the child, that I should have an abortion, like that would be more fair—”

“An
abortion?”

“He doesn't understand. He doesn't know that God's timing isn't flawed. But this is our baby, no matter how or when God gave him to us.”

He pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. Again, her simple faith astounded him. He had once believed he had that kind of faith, but now he wasn't so sure. She slid her arms around his neck again, and he held her as tightly as his weakness would allow.

Finally, Sid ambled back to the cell door and rapped on the bars. “Come on, Stan. I can't stand here all day.”

“Then leave us,” Stan said.

“I can't do that, man.”

Reluctantly, Stan got up and kissed his wife, wiped the tears from her face. “I'll be back soon, and I'm gonna have some answers,” he said.

“Remember one thing,” she whispered. “The battle's not ours, but the Lord's. He'll fight it for us.”

Her faith had always been so absolute, and now he found himself grateful for it. She was right, and in the deepest part of his soul, he knew it was true.

Walking away and leaving her in that cell was the hardest thing he had ever done, but he vowed as he did that he would get her out as soon as God permitted.

 

S
id walked Stan and T.J. back out to the car and helped him get in. “You get back on home and rest now.”

Stan knew that he'd pushed the limits of his energy level, and the only thing he could do was go home and collapse in bed for a while. But as he rested his head on the back of his seat, he looked up at Sid. “I'm calling a meeting for tonight.”

Sid frowned. “A meeting? What you mean, man?”

“A meeting,” Stan repeated. “My house, seven o'clock.” His words were heavy, labored.

“Who you want at this meeting?”

“You, Vern, Jim, Jill, Gus, the prosecutor, and whoever else is involved in this case in any way.”

“Man, you can't get involved in this. You're too close. It's too personal.”

“Consider it an interview as part of the investigation,” Stan said. “Your star witness wants to talk. Will you be there, or won't you?”

“Yeah, I'll be there, but I can't speak for nobody else. I mean, Vern…”

“Tell him to bring the rest of the snapshots he got from following Celia yesterday. I want to see every last one of them.”

Sid shrank back. “What you tryin' to do? You tryin' to get in the way of this investigation?”

“Nope. I'm trying to see that it's done right.”

“Man, he was straight.”

“Well, it's funny that he'd pick that one shot out of the entire meeting.”

“What do you think, man, that he's in on some kinda conspiracy to cover up? You suspectin' me, too, now?”

“No.”

“Man, you know we're good cops. You know we're doin' a good job.”

“All I know is my wife is sitting in jail for something she didn't do. My house. Seven o'clock.” With the last bit of energy he had, he pulled the door shut. Sid straightened and stepped back on the curb.

“Home?” T.J. asked.

“Home,” Stan said.

“Man, your parents called the station two or three times to see what you were doing and when you're coming home.”

“I'm a big boy,” Stan said. “They'll get used to it.”

He sank his head back onto the neck rest and thought how weary he was of all these people who didn't have a clue. He only hoped he could set them straight before much more time passed.

 

J
ill was in her office when Stan called. She could hear the weariness in his voice, but he pressed on, nonetheless.

“Jill, I'm calling a meeting at my house for tonight at seven o'clock,” he said.

Jill frowned. “A meeting? What for?”

“I want everybody who's involved in this case to get together. I just came from seeing Celia. I also saw Lee Barnett today.”

“Stan! Aren't you supposed to be in bed?”

“Things have to be done, Jill. They're botching the whole investigation. Can you be there or not?”

“Of course, Stan. Of course I'll be there. You saw Celia? Stan, did you two talk? Do you—?”

“I know she's innocent,” he said. “I want to get her out as soon as possible.”

“So what's this meeting about?”

“We're going to put our heads together and figure out what's going on,” he said. “And then we're going to make a plan.”

“What kind of plan?”

“I don't know yet,” Stan said. “But something to draw the killer out. We've got to figure out who this is before Celia has to suffer anymore.”