Dying Declaration (21 page)

32

CHARLES ARNOLD
couldn’t believe he was doing
this
.

He had wanted to meet the kids and get their take on things. They would be the best sources for what had really happened. Plus he would have to determine what kind of witnesses they would make. It was always dangerous to put kids on the stand,
especially when they would be subject to the cross-examination of someone as lethal as the Barracuda. It was imperative that Charles get a read on how well these kids would hold up, how prone they were to be tricked by leading questions.

He also wanted some time with Nikki. She was obnoxious but very bright. He needed to pick her brain for a while about the details of the case. He had a few investigative assignments for her as well and wanted to bounce a legal strategy off her. Bottom line—he needed several hours with Nikki and the kids before the preliminary hearing on Wednesday.

Nikki agreed and promised to give him all day Saturday on one condition: that Charles meet them at the Busch Gardens amusement park in Williamsburg.
“It will give you time with the kids on an informal basis,”
she had argued.
“It will help you build rapport. We’ll be standing in lines all day, and you can pick my brain clean about every aspect of the case.”

Charles was certain it wouldn’t take all day to pick Nikki’s brain clean. And he didn’t relish the thought of spending a Saturday in the blazing sun waiting in line for rides designed to make you sick. But the offer from Nikki was nonnegotiable. Saturday at Busch Gardens or nothing. She was rewarding the kids for finishing the school year on Friday. She couldn’t cancel this trip, she said. And so he had agreed. But he had his own condition. He would drive separately. That way he could leave whenever he gained the information he needed for the case.

Charles had been sworn to secrecy by Nikki. Under no circumstances could Thomas and Theresa Hammond know about this. After all, Busch Gardens was run by a beer company, and the Hammonds would certainly disapprove. They would find out later, because Stinky and Tiger would eventually let it slip. But Nikki had postponed telling the kids about their excellent adventure until after they had finished school and visited Thomas in jail on Friday afternoon. It was easier to ask forgiveness than permission,
she said.

So now Charles Arnold waited outside the entrance to Busch Gardens at ten o’clock on Saturday morning, inhaling the pungent odor of the nearby brewery and listening to the bagpipe music blaring over the speakers designed to make you feel like you were stepping into medieval Europe. He watched the families roll in with grins on their faces and a spring in their steps—dads and moms as excited as the kids.

And then it came. The fog of memories rolling in: the face of Denita, her slurred and painful words on the night he first left her. She had been out late after work, not answering her cell phone. The dinner Charles had planned—just the two of them,
badly needed time alone together—never materialized. And when she came home giddy, with booze on her breath and her blouse unbuttoned partway, it was more than he could take.

He had lashed out at her lifestyle, her “sinful” selfishness. She called him “judgmental” and a “hypocrite.”

He could see the rage on her face even now, could smell the mix of stale vodka and perfume, could feel the fist clench around his heart. He followed her around the house and demanded to talk. He told her that he still loved
her
, but he hated the things she
did
. “Can’t you see what you’re doing to yourself? to our marriage?” he demanded. “Look at you,” he sneered, “strutting your stuff. Who are trying to impress? What happened to the woman I married?”

“Me?!”
she screamed. “What happened to
me
?! I don’t even know you
“
anymore.” The tears started flowing, and Denita tried to stalk away, but Charles grabbed her arm. “Let go of me!” she demanded.

“Not until you listen to me,” he said between clenched teeth. “You’re still my wife. And I won’t ever let you go.” She struggled,
but he squeezed the arm tighter until she stilled. She winced, and a wave of shame swept over him. He had hurt her. Maybe just a little, but still, in his anger he had hurt her. It was something he had promised himself he would never do. Things had spun out of control.

Charles took a deep breath and dropped her arm. “You can fight me all you want, Denita, but I’m not giving up on us. I want to grow old with you, raise a family with you . . .”

She laughed. Even as Charles recalled it now, it was the most painful sound he had ever heard. Just a short laugh, a mocking tone from deep in Denita’s throat. Then her eyes narrowed, and she put the dagger in his heart.

“A family,” she said, sneering at the thought. “Look at us ready to kill each other, and you want a family.” She looked down as she said the next sentence, a certain sadness shadowing her eyes. She nearly whispered. “I aborted our family six months ago.”

The rest of the night was still a blur to Charles. Disbelief. Condemnation. Demanding details. Eventually it all came out. Denita unleashed a bitter narrative that made Charles feel like he had caused it. Though the RU-486 pill had not yet been approved in the United States, Denita had used her connections with some corporate clients to obtain the drug. She couldn’t bear the thought of a clinic, she said. And she certainly couldn’t discuss it with Charles. “Look at you,” she said. “Even now you’re judging me for it, convicting me with your eyes.”

The self-induced miscarriage had been painful, personal, and something she had to endure alone because she couldn’t even talk with her husband about it. She described flushing the fetus as well as the feelings of guilt and then anger at a husband who would never understand. She talked about it matter-of-factly, without a single tear, as if every ounce of emotion had already been drained from her body. She did it for both of them. They weren’t ready for kids. Not even close. And she knew he would never understand.

Charles remembered listening, questioning, and riding a roller coaster of emotion. An abortion! An illegal abortion! Of his child!

To this day he couldn’t remember what he said. He remembered trying to control his rage and expressing his own disappointment. The blunt force of his words landed even harder when delivered with a detached monotone. He remembered aching to hold her,
but her body language said to leave her
alone
. Like everything else in life, she could handle it
alone
. Most vividly of all, he remembered the cold finality of her response: “You’ll thank me one day.” Then she turned and headed up the stairs, shutting the door of their bedroom behind her.

He went to his study and wrestled with his emotions. He typed out a note on his computer. He read it twice, the monitor blurred by his tears.
I forgive you,
he wrote,
but I’ll never understand. We need some time apart.

He left the note on the kitchen counter, then quietly entered his bedroom. Denita had fallen asleep with the television on,
the light from the screen partially illuminating her face. Charles quietly packed a gym bag, then knelt beside Denita, brushed some hair away from her face, and kissed her on the forehead.

He said a prayer, a silent one, asking God for forgiveness for Denita, and begging God to draw Denita to Himself. As he stood to leave, a fresh wave of grief overwhelmed him. His lip started trembling, and he felt the tears pooling in his eyes as he mourned his shattered marriage and a precious child he would never know.

33

FOUR YEARS LATER
the wound was still raw, and it still had the power to summon fresh tears. And so, as he saw Nikki and the kids hop off the tram and start running down the hill toward the gates, he found himself wiping at his eyes and putting on a forced smile.

Tiger led the way, wide-eyed—no, wild-eyed—with excitement. Stinky ran close behind, and Nikki called out for the kids to slow down. “You don’t have to run; we don’t even have our tickets yet.”

Charles’s small grin turned into a full-fledged smile. His own little family for the day.

Nikki had exposed as much of her skin to the sun as the occasion would allow, revealing the small tattoo on her ankle and the larger one on her shoulder. She wore a bright tie-dyed halter top, short khaki shorts, and sandals. She had pulled her thick black hair into a tight braid and shielded her eyes with a pair of sleek Ray-Bans. She surveyed the landscape and finally spotted Charles. Her whole face smiled behind the shades.

She could have been a movie star.

She called the kids over and introduced them to “Mr. Charles.” Stinky politely shook his hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said properly. Tiger shook his hand too but just stared up at Charles for a few long seconds, squinting and wrinkling up his little nose.

“Do you ever get sunburned?” he finally asked.

Nikki laughed out loud, throwing her head back as she chuckled. Charles suppressed his own grin.

“Not as bad as you crackers do,” he replied.

The little boy sure was cute. And Nikki was going to keep things interesting.
Maybe I’ll stay a little longer than I first thought.

But still, Charles couldn’t believe he was doing this.

The Loch Ness Monster.

They hadn’t been inside the park for ten minutes, and they were already standing in front of the biggest and baddest roller coaster in the world’at least as far as Tiger was concerned. It was huge and it was fast and it was noisy.

It seemed to Tiger that it stretched miles into the sky. So close to the sun that you would probably get burned. And it made this terrible rattling noise, so loud he could barely hear his own teeth chattering. It was a miracle the cars even stayed on; the thing sounded like it would fall apart any minute. And the screams! People screamed every time they came down that first huge hill. They screamed like they were dying or at least being tortured. And then they almost hit the water in the pond below, went around this curve and through a big upside-down loop and disappeared into a dark tunnel where the Loch Ness Monster himself actually lived.

On the other side of the tunnel,
if
they came out alive, they would go up and down some more hills and—get this—through a second loop, where they would scream some more and actually go upside down again. No kidding. Completely upside down. Two times.

Tiger watched the ride without blinking while holding tight to Mr. Charles’s hand. A full five minutes passed before he took another step toward the line. As far as he could tell, during those five minutes not one person had fallen out, not even on the loops. But it would be just his luck to be the first. He carefully studied every person who stepped off the ride and headed back out to the park. They all looked okay. Some were even smiling.

The Loch Ness Monster.

Tiger Hammond couldn’t believe
he
was doing
this
.

But he had come this far, and there was no turning back now. Mr. Charles gently pulled on his hand, and they started walking slowly and cautiously toward the line. Stinky and Ms. Nikki followed a step behind. Tiger was still not convinced that he should do the Loch Ness Monster this early in the day. Maybe they should save it till last or at least after lunch. But he kept walking. Right up to the big covered building where the line snaked in and out, guided by chains strung from one post to another.

He got stopped by a guy wearing a funny-looking outfit and holding a long stick in his right hand. “We’ll have to measure this one,” the guy said.

He held the stick next to Tiger.

“Stand up straight,” Mr. Charles said. “You’ve got to be as tall as this pole to ride the ride.”

“It’s too dangerous for anyone shorter,” said the helpful guy with the stick.

Tiger stood up as straight as he could. He stretched his legs, his back, and his neck. He even stood on tippytoe, at which point Miss Nikki insisted he was close enough. The guy with the stick was shaking his head, and Tiger felt the tears forming in his eyes. This wasn’t fair. Stinky would get to ride the Loch Ness, and he would have to settle for the merry-go-round.

But Miss Nikki wasn’t through. She wiggled up to the guy, wedged herself between him and Tiger, and put a hand on her hip. She spoke in low tones, so low that Tiger couldn’t hear. But she seemed really into it, her arms flying around as she talked. And then she inched even closer to the guy and gently reached out and touched the measuring guy’s arm, leaving her hand there,
and Tiger heard her say something about his daddy being in jail. After a few more seconds Miss Nikki apparently achieved a breakthrough and gave the guy a quick and vicious hug. “You’re a lifesaver,” she gushed, and Tiger could see the guy’s face turn red. Then Charles grabbed Tiger’s hand again, and they were off to wait in a long line to ride the Loch Ness Monster.

If you’re too short, does that mean the seat belt things won’t be able to hold you in?
Tiger wondered.
“It’s too dangerous,” the guy in the uniform had said.
And if anyone should know, he should know.

Tiger fretted for the next half hour surrounded by the sweaty legs of hundreds of strangers, each one taller than he. Mr. Charles, Miss Nikki, and Stinky each tried valiantly to engage him in conversation, but to no avail. He would utter an occasional
“yes, ma’am” or “no, sir” or even an “uh-huh” or “huh-uh” to Stinky, but he was not in the mood to talk. He just couldn’t stop thinking about that huge first hill, the big monster in the cave, and the very real possibility that he would slip right out from under the shoulder restraints—given the fact that he was an illegally short rider who had snuck onto the ride against all the park rules.

“Don’t bite your nails, Tiger.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As he approached the front of the line, he said a final prayer. He confessed every sin he could remember and asked for forgiveness one more time, just to make sure he had a clean slate if something happened to him on the ride. He was now ready for the Loch Ness and to meet his Maker, if it came to that.

He sat next to Mr. Charles in one of the shiny green cars. Mr. Charles held his hand as the roller coaster took off and began climbing that first humongous hill. The rattling chain sounded even louder in the car than it did on the ground, the incredible noise drowning out Tiger’s pleas to stop the ride so he could get off. Mr. Charles was yelling some kind of encouragement at him, but Tiger couldn’t hear a word he was saying.

He stole a peek over the side of the car and almost puked. He was way up above the trees, above the buildings. Pretty soon they would be above the clouds. And the stupid ride just kept climbing and climbing. And climbing.

He wanted off; he missed his mommy and daddy; he hated this park; he was too young to die; he . . .
“Whoaaaa!”

The thing must have come loose ’cause it was hurtling straight for the ground. A total free fall. Little Tiger’s stomach was up in his throat, and his breakfast was right there with it.

“Aieeeee!”
the other riders screamed.

Tiger opened his mouth as well and screamed at the top of his lungs, but nothing came out. He was too scared. He couldn’t breathe. He gripped the shoulder restraints in a death grip. The idiots in front of him had their hands in the air. They were surely goners.

Just when they were ready to crash into the pond, everyone together, the tracks lurched upward and headed for the first loop.
Yikes!
The whole world was upside down . . . and then it wasn’t. Tiger closed his eyes and prayed the ride would end. Then he opened
’em, but it was still dark. Maybe he was dead! No, wait, he was in the cave, lights flashing on and off, the monster lunging out at them.

A bright light—the sun—another loop. He was upside down again and surely slipping out of his seat. He sat tall, hoping against hope that the shoulder restraints would somehow work, somehow keep his short, little, illegal body in the car for a few more seconds. More screams, a sudden stop, and they were back where they started.

Tiger gingerly touched his legs and face. Everything seemed to be in place. He took a deep breath and heard his heart pounding in his ears.

“How’d you like it?” Mr. Charles asked.

“Please exit to your left,” a voice boomed from the roof of the building. “Thanks for riding the Loch Ness Monster and enjoy the rest of your day here at Busch Gardens—
the Old Country
.”

Tiger grabbed Mr. Charles’s hand and stepped out of the car. His feet hit solid ground. His knees nearly buckled. He had done it. Against all odds, he had survived. He had conquered the Loch Ness Monster.

“Can we go again,
please
?” Tiger begged.

The Festhaus was a huge building in the back of the park designed to look like an old German beer hall. The outside of the wooden building was lavishly decorated with carvings, balconies, and columns in the German gothic style. The inside consisted of a spacious dance hall with a wooden floor, massive ceiling beams, and hundreds of long wooden picnic tables arranged in rows around the outside of the dance floor.

At the center of the building was a festive little white pavilion decorated with ribbons and flowers to commemorate the Oktoberfest celebration. Every hour, right on schedule, an orchestra paraded out of the back doors of the Festhaus, took their seats inside the pavilion, and then began playing German folk songs. The floor of the pavilion would magically rise and take the orchestra up to the top of the pavilion so the lush melodies could float down to the dance floor and echo throughout the dance hall.

The rising orchestra would be followed by a group of sixteen young blond-haired, blue-eyed performers, the Festhaus dancers,
who would entertain the masses with the polka and other classic German dances for the next thirty minutes. The girls were all decked out in frilly light blue and white hoop skirts and puffy white blouses. The guys wore matching outfits: white shirts,
blue bow ties, light blue lederhosen, and tall white socks. They were a festive group, smiling all the time and getting the crowd to sing along to songs that nobody knew.

Charles didn’t have to be here. He had debriefed Nikki and the kids hours ago, and it was now dinnertime. He was even missing his Saturday night Bible study at the jail. But somehow he couldn’t leave this motley little bunch to fend for themselves in this massive park. Besides, who would ride the rides with Tiger?

Okay, he would admit it, if only to himself. He was actually having fun. The amazement he saw in the eyes of Tiger and Stinky at every new adventure, the looks their little “family” would draw from strangers—the “blond hair is a recessive gene,” he would tell them—and the way he felt like a hero when he finally put the basketball through that tiny little rim on the fifth try, despite unmerciful heckling by Nikki. It all added up to a marvelous day at Busch Gardens.

And now, having endured eight hours of park madness, he was sitting at one of the front tables in the Festhaus, eating pizza,
and watching the kids watch the German dancers.

“You need to eat something, kids. Don’t just watch the show,” Nikki suggested.

Neither Tiger nor Stinky moved. They were both slumped on the picnic bench, mouths wide open, eyes half-shut, following every synchronized move of the dance team. The kids were not even facing their plates. Charles noticed that each time Tiger blinked,
the little guy’s eyes seemed to open a little more slowly. He was running on empty.

A song finished, and the frisky German dancers started heading out toward the crowd. It was time for some audience involvement,
time for the guests of the park to learn a little polka. One of the pairs looked at Tiger and Stinky and headed straight for their table. Tiger’s eyes flew open as the girl grabbed his arm and asked if he wanted to dance. Tiger looked at Charles,
pleading for a bailout.