Aftermath (43 page)

It’d be best to remember that. Get to the heart of their visit. “How’d you put Kimberly and Denise together, Beth?”

“Same way I’m doing here. Common sense.” She moved a blonde girl to a separate pile, but on the opposite side of Paige. “Just because I took out some buildings—”

“And people.”

Hazel eyes flicked to her. As if the words didn’t make sense, she squinted. “Doesn’t mean I know anything about these girls.”

“Why send the letter, then?”

Beth went back to work. Moved Tara’s picture between Kimberly and Denise like a puzzle coming together. “Why bring Saint Lilly?”

“Why not? Seems fitting, right?”

Beth didn’t look up. “Only if they let her inject me.”

“If this were truly one last laugh, boredom or any other name you can come up with, you wouldn’t be shifting those girls around as if life depended on it. Why bother? They’re just kids. Replaceable. Won’t be missed. Someone else’s problem.”

The sentence tasted bitter on Amanda’s tongue.

The other woman stilled. The nail of her thumb abraded the edge of her pointer finger in rapid succession.

“What makes this girl,” she pointed to Denise. “More than a runaway?” Then she moved her finger to Paige.

Beth followed the progression as if Amanda were administering a vision test. Gave a harsh swallow.

“And this one not?”

“My opinion hardly matters.”

Amanda clenched her teeth together. Had expected this. She pulled the copied diary from her inside jacket pocket. Smoothed it on the table and flipped to the first entry with the numbers at the bottom.

“If you won’t give me answers about these girls, tell me what this is.”

Beth’s movements stilled. Her gaze locked on Amanda, dark and glittering. “Don’t patronize me.” Her jaw worked. “You know it’s a math problem.”

“What does it mean? I’ve already got someone translating it, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

Silence reigned a beat.

No one moved. Not even Lilly.

A pale hue crept over Beth’s face. Sweat dotted her upper lip. “It’s just a stupid equation.” She started to stand. “Goodbye, Amanda. Lilly, it’s been a pleasure.”

Robinson’s sister stood. “That’s it? You send Jonas and Baker Jackson cryptic clues and then when asked for clarification, you choke?”

“I don’t know these girls. Not my problem.”

“Maybe, instead of blaming the past or other people for your actions—labeling yourself the victim of crappy circumstance and therefore right in every venture—you stand up and fight.”

The two CO’s in the room worked to fasten Beth’s leg shackles.

“For the right things.” Lilly jabbed the table with her pointer finger. Didn’t take her eyes from the inmate. “For these girls.”

Beth’s gaze locked on Robinson’s sister as if she could see into her mind. Into their world for the past year. “Gone back to work, Lilly? Deliver any more babies to mothers who won’t be keeping them? Watch grandmothers rip children from their mother’s arms?”

A sickening spiral replaced the sadness.

Lilly didn’t move. Didn’t blink. “You could have told her to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine. Never let her sign those papers.”

“Right back at you, doll face.” Beth leaned toward them. “Your husband would have never lasted the long haul.” Her voice was whisper soft.

“While your dad and brother and daughter came every day and described the life you were missing, brought flowers and stuffed animals, he hung back. Bleary-eyed. Flask on the ready. Believing he’d already killed you. Never hoping for your return. Unable to forgive himself. Believing redemption, for an accident that hadn’t been his fault, was out of reach. You can’t understand how that eats a person.”

Beth straightened. “There are no
could-haves,
only history. And it repeats itself like a broken record, Lilly. Just spins round and round while the world goes on its merry way.”

___

ROBINSON’S CHILDHOOD FRIEND watched the interchange through the dayroom window. As if he had a vested interest in the outcome. And, knowing Dexter, it probably wasn’t far off.

He and Amanda were very alike on that point. Would befriend the least deserving. Try to save even the most bent on destruction. Regardless of outcome or personal danger.

Add an innocent life to the list and neither would back away.

Reason three-thousand-five-hundred why he still wasn’t onboard with this venture. And that was before he’d seen his friend’s tight stance. Intent gaze. Envisioned the wheels turning in that do or die brain. To anyone who didn’t know him, he appeared calm and in control.

Robinson knew better. Had seen Dexter in a lot of risky situations. Especially, after the explosion that had almost taken his life.

“What are you doing, Dex?”

“My job.” He didn’t take his gaze from the room. “What are
you
doing?”

“Wondering when I can turn around and go home. And what kind of fallout today will bring.” Amanda could promise this was a simple venture and quest for knowledge, but he knew better.

Dexter shifted his jaw, then clenched it tight. “I messed up. I know better than to let anger and frustration get the best of me. Sort of insinuated I couldn’t care less about her salvation.”

Wow. Robinson rocked back on his heels. Watched the interchange in the room beyond them. Amanda paced the space and then sat. “Do you really believe there’s redemption for her?”

One eyebrow raised higher on the other man’s forehead. “This a trick question? You know my profession. My work. Where I stand in faith.”

Sure. He shared the faith part. It took a lot for him to admit he had a hard time forgiving and moving past what Beth had done. Still continued to do so. Witnessing Amanda try to accomplish the same only amplified the situation. “Do
you
believe it?”

His gaze flicked to the people around them. A CO stood ten feet down. Dexter opened his mouth. Shut it, then he sighed.

And Robinson couldn’t help preparing himself for the same old speech everyone gave. Hate the sin, love the sinner. Some variation on striving for perfection—unattainable as it was.

“The truth?”

Robinson shifted. “It’d be nice.”

“I’m human. Most days I’m pretty content with helping others.”

And, here we go.

“And some days, I want to be able to go to the beach and take off my shirt. Not worry about magnetic fields. Have no idea when it will rain. Not catch sympathetic looks from those who know even a smidgen of the ordeal. Or a biweekly call from one of my parents, as if I’m sixteen and in college.”

Robinson released a breath. “Does she have any idea?” He lowered his voice, turned toward him. “Does your boss?”

He shook his head. “This isn’t about me. There is no reason for her to know. And, yes, the warden and I have had many conversations about the accident. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

The bomb that shredded Dexter’s torso had been anything but an accident. It had come six months before Lilly’s actual
accident
. And neither of them had thought their friend would make it.

As if the other man knew his thoughts, he held up a hand, his gaze centered on the room in front of them. Amanda’s mouth was moving as Beth flipped through and reorganized photographs.

Lilly watched the interchange. The CO to their right itched the bridge of his nose, his eyes never leaving the inmate. The CO on the left watched the trio with rapt attention. Amanda stopped mid-sentence, it seemed. Then she continued on.

“I try really hard not to get distracted around here. It’s unsafe in the best of situations.” The other man used the edge of his thumb to itch the corner of his chin. “Beth thwarted a coup. If she hadn’t dove across the table and taken out another inmate, things might have gotten messy. Found four toothbrushes carved into shivs.”

“I’d ask if you’re joking, but I’m not even surprised.”

“One of them had my name written all over it.”

And she’d probably orchestrated it. Dexter wasn’t stupid. He had to suspect it.

“I know what you’re thinking. I thought it too. She was questioned for hours, same as the others.”

Robinson shook his head. Once trust was lost, it took a heck of a lot to get it back. “You’re working with a manipulator. You could question her for three days and she’d stick to the same story.”

Dexter didn’t move. Didn’t say anything.

“Say I buy into her innocence. One valiant act doesn’t erase a lifetime of hatred. I may be grateful, but I’m not going to put all my eggs there.”

The other man shrugged as if they disagreed on if beef was better than pork. “Don’t go putting words in my mouth, Baker Jackson. This isn’t about either of us. It’s bigger than that. God is bigger than that.”

“That doesn’t mean you put yourself in harm’s way. Over and over again.”

“Doesn’t it?” A smirk played across his face. “Have you ever thought it might really be about loving people, regardless? Showing love without beating them over the head with words meant to be guidelines, not stones. Seeing past actions that are often horrible and beyond destructive to what is beneath.”

God, forgive him, but he couldn’t do any of that right now. Maybe never. And he couldn’t sit here and pretend it was possible. Not even with a friend. “So, have you seen anything, oh wise one? Any secrets jumping out at you?”

Dexter tucked his hands in his pockets. “I’m just a man interested in the truth.”

A typical angry Bethany solar-flare sprung inside his chest. “Here’s one. She didn’t care about who was inside that rehab center when she set that bomb. Didn’t stop to think about who would die. How much damage it would cause. How great the aftermath would be. A ripple that will continue for decades.”

“Or a desperate cry for help.”

Robinson rubbed a hand down his face. Swallowed back a healthy dose of bile. Held back a barrage of ugly words. “Sure.”

“It was wrong. Unconscionable. Heartless. All of her behavior suggests—”

“So, you’ve forgiven her?”

“Wouldn’t it be perfect if I did? And hypocritical if I didn’t.”

He snapped his lips shut. Took in a healthy breath of stale prison air. “That’s so helpful.”

Blue eyes rested on him. “I’m not the enemy.”

Robinson released a breath. Clapped him on the shoulder. None of this was Dexter’s fault. “I know. I’m sorry, man.”

“When are you and Amanda going to let everybody in on your little secret?”

“Lilly told you?”

He nodded. “She called me after the wedding. Explained what happened. Didn’t leave out one thing.”

That sounded like something Lilly would do. “It’s in the past.”

And everyone would figure it out eventually.

If he and Amanda could get over the newest hurdle. Finding some time not riddled with problems, so they could talk. She’d spent most of last night reading and working on code.

Mostly, memorizing that stupid journal.

He’d seen her intense work ethic before, but this was something else. Something beyond personal. As if she were committing herself to penance.

Beyond the glass, Beth stood. As if he could read her mind, Dexter monitored her progress. A CO adjusted Beth’s cuffs and led her toward the door.

“That’s easy when the gift is all wrapped up with a neat bow. Things being in the past, I mean.” Dexter shifted. “You got the girl. The happy ending. A family that’s finally settling. You deserve that.”

Right now, everything was the farthest from settled. “Your point?”

“Anger’s a funny thing. Sneaks up on the least suspecting. Ruins everything in its path. Even worse. Fear.”

The CO nearby opened the door, so Beth could pass through, flanked by the other officer. One in front and one behind. Her eyes connected with his before they bounced back to the floor, at her feet.

A heavy weight settled on his shoulders. Still inside the day room, Amanda organized the photos, on the table, into one neat stack as if they would shatter if she moved any faster.

Beth stopped in front of him, her gaze a firm probing, now. “The girl is a message. One he’ll keep sending over and over.”

While everything inside Robinson begged him to flay this woman in a way she’d never forget, he held back. Tucked the sneak-thief of anger to the side. “How do you figure?”

“In nineteen-eighty-seven, a friend went missing in broad daylight. No evidence of foul play. Recent trouble in school. Disciplinary action taken. So, the cops ruled the case a runaway. Shuffled it along.”

He knew all of this already and then some. Details that had come to him little more than thirty minutes ago. Dana Carter had never been missing, but had gone into WITSEC fifteen years ago.

The real question the Marshals couldn’t answer was why. Even if the kid had witnessed his parent’s murder, it was hardly Witness Protection worthy.

And when paperwork on a juvenile, without living relatives, should have been kept up to date and secure, neither of those things had happened. They didn’t even have a current name.