I got back out of bed an hour later and told Grace I was going to visit my mother’s grave. She mumbled something and went right back to sleep. It was a cold Sunday morning, and the sky was bleak. Dark-gray clouds hung low over the mountains. I drove over to Woodlawn Cemetery, which was a place I’d heard my mother say she wanted to be buried many times in the past. There was very little left of her after the blast, so I’d had the remains cremated and the ashes placed in a lacquered mahogany box. The box was buried at Woodlawn in a plot on the west end of the property near a maple tree. Grace had helped me pick out a headstone, and Mom had purchased enough life insurance to cover the expenses and have a little left over.
She’d also been to see a lawyer and had him draft a will that I’d known nothing about. It left her estate to me, and I was also the executor. The estate was going through probate, but when it was all said and done in about three months, I was going to wind up with about $400,000. I’d had no idea she’d stashed that kind of money. Her homeowner’s insurance company, on the advice of their adjuster and their lawyer, had refused to pay the claim I filed for the destruction of her home. They classified the bombing as a “terrorist act,” and there was an exclusion in the contract on which they were relying. I’d considered hiring a lawyer and taking them to court, but had ultimately decided against it. I’d thought about building a house on her property someday, but I knew I’d more than likely just wind up selling it at some point.
I parked my car just a little ways from her grave and walked over. The wind was blowing, and I pulled my coat up tight around my neck. As I stood there in front of the stone, I tried to feel her presence.
“I need to know you’re okay with what I did,” I said. “I killed the men who killed you. I did it in a public place. It was messy and bloody, and I suppose it was awful, but I don’t regret it one single bit. After what they did to you, they deserved what they got.”
I stood there looking at the stone. Tears began to well in my eyes as I thought of the magnitude of both the act I’d committed and the fact that it didn’t change anything. She was still gone, still dead. The stone went out of focus for a minute. I fought the tears back and went on.
“I’ve changed, Mom. Something snapped in me when they killed you, and I don’t think I’ll ever be the same. All I know is that the rules seem to have changed for me. I didn’t deserve what happened to me when Ben Clancy railroaded me into prison. He just went on trial and got acquitted, so once again, he’s managed to dodge justice.
“I didn’t deserve the things that happened to me while I was in prison. I didn’t deserve losing all that time with you and with Sean. The only good thing that came out of it was my relationship with Grace, and now I’m not so sure where we’re going to wind up. You didn’t deserve to die, and I didn’t deserve losing you. You died because of me, because of something that happened while I was in prison, and I’m so very sorry for that. But I tried to make it right, and I hope I have. From now on, I’m going to rely on myself. I’m not going to rely on the police or the courts for justice. I’ll see to it myself that justice is done.”
I looked up at the dark clouds rolling by like angry monsters. They reflected the way I’d been feeling, full of anger and destructive force and being blown by the winds of destiny to some unknown destination.
“Where are you?” I yelled. “Where are you? Am I standing out here in the cold, talking to a stone? Are you just gone? Give me some kind of sign!”
I looked back at the marker and sighed. I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and tried, once again, to imagine her face. I missed her smile, her laugh, her advice. I missed the feeling of knowing I had someone in my life who shared my blood and knew me better than anyone else in the world. I missed her love.
“I hope you’re not gone, but I’ve never seen any real evidence that there’s life or existence beyond the one we have here,” I said. “Maybe I’m wrong. I want to be wrong, but I don’t think I am. I’m going to go now. I just wanted to tell you that I killed them. I killed the men who killed you. I set things right. I’d do it again tomorrow.”
I walked back to my car and got in. Just before I started the engine, a bolt of lightning ripped across the sky in front of me, earthshaking thunder exploded like a cannon, and the skies opened up.
CHAPTER 21
Grace Alexander awoke to the chirping of her cell phone. She didn’t recognize the number, but the caller ID said “Knoxville Police Department.” She answered the phone.
“Miss Alexander, this is Dawn Rule. I’m a detective with the Knoxville PD, and we’re investigating a homicide. We were at your home earlier and spoke to Darren. Did he tell you we were there?”
Grace was still half-asleep.
“Miss Alexander? Are you there?”
“I’m here,” Grace said. “You woke me up. What did you say about Darren?”
“Is he there right now?”
“No. Why are you asking about Darren?”
“He’s a suspect in a double murder that was committed in Cowen, West Virginia, Friday night. The two men who were killed were our primary suspects in his mother’s murder. Do you have any idea where he was Friday night?”
Grace sat up in bed, suddenly on alert. Darren a suspect in a double murder? Could it be possible? He said he’d gone fishing, but he’d come back so . . . so . . . different. His sexual appetite was suddenly off the charts, and he seemed almost strangely empowered. Could those two phenomena be related to his having killed two men? No, it wasn’t possible. He was getting better, and now the police were, once again, trying to ruin Darren’s life. Hadn’t he been through enough?
“I’m going to hang up now,” Grace said.
“Don’t do that,” Detective Rule said. “You’re not a suspect. All I’m asking is whether you know where Darren was on Friday night.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything about Darren.”
“I’ll subpoena you and put you in front of a grand jury and make you answer under oath,” Rule said.
Grace needed more time to digest this news. She wasn’t going to be pressured by a cop. Besides, she knew the local cops didn’t use the grand jury as an investigative tool. Only the feds did that. “No, you won’t. You can’t intimidate me.”
“Would you mind coming down to the police station and giving us a written statement to that effect?”
“I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not giving you anything,” Grace said. “You are aware that I’m a defense attorney, correct?”
“Then we’ll come to you. When would be most convenient?”
“I don’t want you here. Leave me alone. Whatever you suspect Darren of doing, he didn’t do it. He’s been falsely accused before, you know. I’m not going to help you frame him again. He was with me Friday. All night.”
“If you aren’t being truthful with me, you’re committing a felony.”
“That’s a load of crap, and you know it,” Grace said. “I know the law, Detective Rule. If I make a false statement to you concerning a material fact in an investigation and it prevents you from apprehending or locating a suspect, then I’ve committed a felony. I’m not preventing you from apprehending or locating anyone. You probably know exactly where Darren is.”
“As a matter of fact, we do. He’s visiting his mother’s grave. Does he do that often?”