Mary pulled me into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here. Jackie told me not to call anyone, that she’d talk her way out of it, but then she didn’t come out. I waited in the car forever, but I was getting nervous.”
“You should have called anyway,” I chided, sounding more like a mom picking wayward teens up from their night of street racing than the two older women.
When Mary’s face crumpled into tears and she leaned against my shoulder, I knew I was preaching to the wrong party. “I know,” she sobbed into my T-shirt.
I passed her over to Amy. “Why don’t you wait here and I’ll go get Aunt Jackie. Amy can drive her car home and the two of you can ride with me.” Where I can keep an eye out on you was what I didn’t add.
I pulled the big doors open and stopped to drop my purse and clean out my pockets for the metal detector. Security had heightened even in little counties like ours. Although the last time someone had brought a gun into the courthouse, it had more to do with a cheating wife than terrorism. The guard nodded me through and I retrieved my items.
Greg had told me Aunt Jackie would be waiting for me at the county sheriff’s office. I checked the building directory and headed up to the second floor. When I reached the top of the stairs, the waiting room was crowded with women and children. Confused, I walked up to the desk. The officer sitting there must have been in her twenties, her dark hair pulled back into a severe bun. She looked up from her computer. “Sign the log and we’ll be starting visitation in ten minutes. You’re cutting it pretty close. I’m closing out the group right now. Did you bring your license?”
“I’m not here for visiting hours.” No wonder the room was filled. “I came to pick up my aunt? Jackie Ekroth. Greg King from South Cove talked to someone about her release?”
The woman focused on her computer. “Hold on. I’ve got to finish the visitation group, then I’ll get your aunt. I think she’s in the drunk tank.” The officer nodded to the rows of benches near the wall. “Have a seat. It will be a few minutes.”
I turned around and viewed the room. Finally, I spied a spot next to a young woman with a three-year-old at her feet and a crying baby on her lap. No wonder no one wanted to sit next to her.
When she looked at me, I nodded a greeting and smiled. “The baby is pretty.” Although really, all I could see was the red face scrunched up in an Amazonian yell.
The girl laughed. “She is, just not right now. I don’t understand why she always gets so upset when we visit Thom. It’s like she knows her daddy did a bad thing and she’s upset about it.”
“Daddy is in jail,” the little boy repeated. “He did a bad, bad thing.”
I pressed my lips together, trying not to smile. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
The girl held out her hand. “I’m Mary Beth. This is my little boy, Jax, and the princess, Lizzie.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Jill.” I guessed first-name anonymity at jail visitation was the protocol. “You have a beautiful family.”
“Thanks. I’m trying. As soon as Thom gets out, we’re going to move to Oregon and live on a farm. My uncle has already found us a place to live and Thom a job. I think getting him out of the area will help.”
“Sounds like you have a plan.” I smiled at the baby, who had stopped crying and was now staring at me, waving a chubby pink hand.
“It’s a new start.” She pushed her son’s hair out of his eyes and then asked, “What’s your man in for?”
“Oh, I’m not here to visit.” I wondered how much information this woman I’d just met would share with a total stranger. “I’m picking up.”
The girl looked at me, nodding. “You didn’t look like one of us.”
“Line up against the right wall for visitation,” a male guard called out and everyone stood, grabbing their children’s hands and stepping toward the line.
Mary Beth rose and took Jax’s hand. “Good luck with everything.” She smiled and then disappeared into the crowd.
When the room cleared, the woman at the desk waved me toward her. “She’s coming out now. You can meet her over at the left door.”
I stepped toward the steel door and waited. When it opened, Aunt Jackie emerged. She was dressed in black cashmere pants and a black sweater. Her normally poufed hair had been pulled back and she pulled a beanie out of her bag, covering her hair quickly. She was without makeup, and when she saw me, her face paled. “Jill, I didn’t expect you to be here. Where’s Mary?”
“She’s in the car with Amy. Give me your keys, you’re riding home with me so we can talk. Amy can drive your car back to South Cove.” My voice held a hint of displeasure. For the second time in less than a few minutes, I wondered why I was taking the parental role and how long it would be before it happened more often. My aunt was getting older, and I was her only relative. Could this be the start of some type of dementia?
As we walked out of the courthouse, Aunt Jackie dug in her purse for her sunglasses. “Hold up, can’t have the paparazzi recognizing me.”