Justifiable Means

  Larry put his car in park and let it idle as he stared up at the apartment where a rapist slept. Had he been out prowling all night? Was he sleeping now? Some part of him—some uncharacteristic part that he didn’t recognize—made him want to kick down the man’s door, grab him out of bed, and beat him to a pulp.

  But he couldn’t do that. He had no grounds, no warrant, no just cause.

  He drove to a convenience store on the corner and found a pay phone at the end of the small building. He picked up the receiver and held it for a moment, letting his forehead rest against the phone. What would he tell Melissa? That she was off the hook? That he would lie for her?

  His stomach played queasy games with him as he went over the words in his mind. Finally, he dialed Lynda’s number. After a few rings, Jake answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Jake? Larry here. Has Melissa left for work yet?”

  “Maybe,” Jake said. “She and Lynda are both gone. They weren’t even here when I came over for breakfast. Maybe they went out for breakfast.”

  Out for breakfast. His heart sank. He had been up all night, struggling with the decision to lie for her, and she had hopped out of bed and gone out to eat?

  It didn’t matter, he told himself. He had to stick to his decision to protect her.

  His face was tired and somber when he reached the police station. As usual, it was an acoustical nightmare. Even at this hour, voices were deafening as burglary suspects and joyriders brought in hours ago waited to be booked. Printers were printing, phones were ringing. Tony’s computer was on, but his chair was empty. “Where’s Tony?” Larry asked one of the other officers.

  The officer held a telephone between his ear and shoulder and nodded distractedly toward the interrogation room.

  Larry frowned. Who would he be interrogating this early?

  He walked around the wall, to the two-way mirror that allowed him to look into the room.

  And his heart plummeted.

  Tony sat at the table across from two women: Lynda Barrett . . . and Melissa.

  “Oh, no,” he whispered.

  Melissa was talking nonstop, and Tony was taking notes. He saw as she turned back to look at Lynda that she was crying, and Lynda was crying, too. Lynda reached out and took her hand, and he saw her tell Melissa to go on.

  She’s confessing! he thought. But why? She hadn’t given him the chance. Had she believed he was going to turn her in? Had she been afraid of what he might do?

  He bolted around the corner and burst into the room. “What’s going on here?”

  Melissa averted her eyes, but Tony and Lynda looked up. “Larry, sit down,” Tony said gently.

  “No,” he said. “I want to know what’s going on.”

  Tony looked genuinely sorry as he got to his feet. “Melissa called me early this morning, Larry. She wanted to meet with me. She had something to say.”

  Finally, Melissa looked up, her red, wet eyes locking with Larry’s, and he could see in her expression that she had told everything.

  “I’m sorry, Larry.”

  He breathed out a sad, exasperated laugh. “For what?”

  Floundering, she looked back at Tony. “Tony, can I have a minute alone with Larry? Just a minute?”

  Tony seemed a little more humble than he had the last time Larry had seen him, and he closed his notes and took them with him.

  “Do you want me to leave you alone, too, Melissa?” Lynda asked.

  Melissa nodded. “It won’t take long.”

  The two left, and for a moment Larry just stood there, staring at her. “You told him.”

  “I had to.”

  “Why?” he asked, pulling a chair to face her and dropping into it. “Last night, I told you I was going to think about it—”

  “That’s why. To keep you from having to.”

  The words came out on an overpowering wave of emotion. “But I wasn’t going to!”

  Her face twisted, and she touched his face as tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “I never meant to put you in that position,” she whispered. “God’s been dealing with me, Larry.”

  He covered her hand with his, holding it against his cheek. “But I was going to protect you. I could have, if you’d just waited.”

  “And what would that have cost you?”

  It had already cost him, but he didn’t tell her that. “Melissa, what’s it going to cost you?”

  She tried to look stronger. “Lynda said there’s a possibility that there won’t be any jail time. It’s my first felony, so there’s a chance I could get probation, maybe some community service. And if I do get jail time, it may not be prison.” Her voice cracked, and she lifted her chin. “Just the county jail for women.”

  He pulled her into his arms and laid his forehead on her shoulder. “I can’t stand that thought,” he said.

  “I’ll be all right,” she whispered. “I have to trust God in this, like I should have from the first.”

  Larry wept harder, but he couldn’t tell her that it was because he had chosen not to trust God, had in fact deliberately turned away from him, deliberately disobeyed. The fact that he hadn’t actually committed the act didn’t matter. He had made the choice.

  “I want to thank you, Larry.”

  “For what?”

  “For reminding me who’s in control.”

  “But Pendergrast is still out there!” Larry cried.

  “I know,” she whispered. “But I finally realized last night that Pendergrast can’t hide his sins from God. Anymore than I can.”

  Larry gazed at her, his face twisted and reddening. “You can live with that?”

  “I have to,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Either I believe in God’s power or I don’t. Sandy didn’t. Maybe it wasn’t her fault. Maybe she had just gotten too weak—too tired. But I do, Larry.”

  He crushed her against him and held her so long that he thought he might never let her go. “I love you, you know.”

  She smiled through her tears. “Yeah, I think I’ve known that for some time.”

  Outside the door in the noisy precinct room where people came and went, Tony leaned against the wall, a baffled look on his face. “I’m amazed,” he said. “I mean, I suspected things weren’t right all along, but I never dreamed she’d just walk in and confess. Why did she?”

  “I suspect it had something to do with Larry,” Lynda said.

  “But she could have told half the truth and gotten away with it.”

  Lynda studied his face. “You seem almost troubled that she confessed.”

  “Well,” he said, shaking his head. “I have to admit that I wanted to get to the bottom of it. But now, when I think that she’ll be punished, and that thug is going to go free . . . It almost makes me wish I didn’t know anything about the law.”

  Lynda sighed wearily. “I know what you mean. When she told me, I came so close to telling her to stay quiet. But that wouldn’t have been right, for either of us. This is between Melissa and God. And she feels she’s doing the right thing.”

  “You see?” Tony said, grimacing. “That’s what kills me. All these things you guys do in the name of God. Does she realize she’ll go to jail in the name of God?”

  “She won’t be going in the name of God. She’ll be going because of her own wrong decisions,” she whispered. “Besides, the state may decide not to prosecute.”

  “But if they do, she’ll probably go to jail. The people in that place—” He looked around the huge room and waved his hand toward some of the criminals being charged with crimes for which they deserved punishment they probably wouldn’t get. “She may not even survive it.”

  “She just has to trust, Tony. If she had trusted God in the beginning, instead of taking things into her own hands, none of this would have happened.”

  Tony had to agree with at least part of that. His gaze shifting to the interrogation room, he asked, “Did he know?”

  Lynda shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. She
didn’t tell me, and I didn’t want to know. I don’t think you really do, either. It’s between them.”

  He moaned and looked up at the ceiling.

  “But I do know this much,” Lynda said. “She didn’t want him to be the one to turn her in.”

  “Or to cover for her.” Tony crossed his arms and leaned his head back against the wall. “Under normal circumstances, nothing on earth would have made Larry lie about a case. But this is different. Something about that woman. Larry hasn’t been himself lately.”

  “Maybe he’s in love with her.”

  “Yeah,” Tony said quietly. “Maybe he is.” He looked back at Lynda, who looked as tired as he felt. He wondered whether she’d gotten any sleep last night. “Sometimes I wish I’d listened to my mother and become a dentist.”

  She smiled. “You, too?”

  The door opened, and Larry stepped out, his eyes red and glassy. Tony pushed off from the wall, and for a moment, just stood looking at his friend.

  “You okay?” he asked finally.

  “Yeah.”

  “You want me to book her, or do you want to?”

  Larry struggled with the emotion so clear on his face and rubbed his jaw with rough fingertips. “You do it. But go easy, okay? Don’t make a spectacle out of her.”

  “You know I won’t, buddy.”

  Larry touched Lynda’s arm, making her look up at him. “Do what you can for her, Lynda. Don’t let her go to jail.”

  “I’ll do my very best.”

  His face was losing its battle with the feelings coursing through him, so he started briskly across the room.

  “Larry?”

  Larry turned at Tony’s call. “Yeah?”

  “Where are you going?”

  His mouth trembled as he tried to get the words out. “Out. Something I need to take care of. I’ll be back.”

  “All right, buddy.”

  And Tony and Lynda watched as Larry fairly ran through the precinct and out the back door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The pain raging inside Larry was inescapable and constant. His habitual instinct to turn to God for help, for peace, seemed foreign to him now. He was angry, and there was nowhere to turn.

  The bell warning that his gas tank was dangerously T low kept ringing until he finally pulled over into a small parking area along a beach. He didn’t know how long he’d been driving, but he figured he was somewhere in St. Petersburg. The beach was bare, for the day was overcast, just as his heart seemed to be. He left his car and walked across the sand, staring furiously out at the clouds billowing over the farthest reaches of the Gulf.

  She won’t survive jail, his mind railed. She’ll never make it. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.

  He reached a long pier that stretched over the water and started walking toward the seagulls perched on the railing at the end.

  It’s too much—she’ll be punished, and he’ll go free.

  He walked faster, his sneakers making little sound on the wooden planks. The cool wind whipped harshly through his hair and flapped at his jacket. Overhead, he heard the rustle of wings as a flock of egrets settled on the railing behind him.

  He reached the end of the pier, scattering the seagulls, and looked across the water to the clouds beyond. It was majestic, beautiful, but it looked like anger coming home to settle on the water.

  God’s anger.

  Larry’s anger.

  He began to weep, hard and loud, his anguish catching on the wind and flying off to some unknown place where it wouldn’t be heeded. “Why?” he shouted. “Why?”

  But there was no answer, just the loud drumming of the waves against the shore, and the ruthless caw of the seagulls soaring overhead.

  He ran back down the pier, across the sand, and back to the car. He slammed the door and collapsed against the wheel, his head resting on his arms.

  Forsaken. That was the word. He had been forsaken. His refuge was gone, and his peace had been shattered. He was alone, by his own choice.

  Gritting his teeth against the rage that it had come to this, he started the car and pulled out into traffic, pushing his car to the speed limit and beyond.

  But it would never be fast enough.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  It was no surprise that the state decided to prosecute, nor was it a surprise that Melissa appeared for her arraignment that afternoon with a guilty plea. The judge wasn’t interested, at this point, in why she’d done what she had done. All that mattered was that a crime had been committed. He ordered a presentence investigation by the Department of Corrections, then set the sentencing for a little over two weeks away.

  All of the charges against Pendergrast were dropped.

  As Melissa rode home from the arraignment with Lynda, she was quiet, preoccupied. “What are you thinking?” Lynda asked. “You’re not having regrets, are you?”

  Melissa thought that over for a moment. “Not about confessing. But I wish I’d found another way to get him.” Her eyes strayed out the window as they drove through downtown, past the Ritz cinema and the hardware store and the newspaper office, all part of the town she had never really gotten a chance to know. “He’s out there. He’s going to hurt more women. Maybe even kill somebody.”

  “You’re scared, aren’t you?”

  She moved her eyes back to Lynda. “Wouldn’t you be?”

  “Absolutely,” Lynda said. She reached across the seat and patted Melissa’s hand. “I’ve been there, remember?”

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “I just keep thinking how much rage he must feel toward me, knowing I lied about him and set him up. A man like him—he won’t just sit still for that. He’ll get revenge somehow.”

  “Well, you’re more than welcome to stay with me as long as you want. Maybe he’ll just let the court system get revenge.”

  “The court system,” she muttered. “I’ll go to jail, won’t I?”

  “Not if there’s any way I can convince the judge not to send you there. But I have to tell you. This judge, L. B. Summerfield, is the toughest one I’ve ever dealt with. When the DOC interviews you for the presentence investigation, you need to tell them everything. Everything about Sandy’s rape, how he continued to terrorize her, how he terrorized your family—”

  “Does any of that really matter?” Melissa asked. “Everybody acts like it’s only what I’ve done that matters.” She looked thoughtfully at Lynda. “Won’t the fact that I recanted and confessed have any bearing on his decision? Wouldn’t he be more lenient because of that?”

  Lynda sighed. “I wish I could say he would. But by law, you can’t use recantation as a defense—at least, not in your case. There are some cases where you can—like if you recant during the same official proceeding where you lied—but it won’t work for us now. The best we can hope is that your story will be enough.”

  “Will the DOC be interviewing Pendergrast, too?”

  “Yes, thank God. And if they have any sense at all, they’ll see him for what he is.”

  “No, they won’t,” Melissa said quietly, looking out the window again. “He’s too smart. Too convincing. He’ll make them think he’s the victim.”

  “They’ll look at more than his story, Melissa. They’ll look at his history, too. You just have to have faith.” She glanced at Melissa as they rounded a corner. “Are you going to call your parents?”

  For a moment, Melissa couldn’t answer. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to. I mean, I can’t very well go to jail and keep it from them. Part of me wants to just wait and see how the hearing comes out. But if I’m sentenced to jail time, I might not get the chance to explain it all to them, to make them understand . . .”

  “Tell them before the hearing,” Lynda said. “Don’t leave them out of this. You’re their only child. They need to know.”

  Melissa wiped her tears away. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good.” They reached the outskirts of her neighborhood. “Are you going to see Larry tonight?” br />
  Melissa’s mouth twisted, and she shrugged. “I doubt I’ll be seeing him anymore. I mean, I don’t blame him. It’s not real good for a cop’s reputation to be involved with a known felon.”

  “Melissa, the man cares about you. He’s not just going to cut you off because of this. You saw how upset he was this morning.”

  “Exactly my point.”

  “Well, if I were a gambler, I’d bet that you’re wrong about him. If I know Larry Millsaps, this isn’t the end.”

  She turned down her long street, past the two houses on the corner. When her house, set alone at the end of the dead-end street, came into view, there was a small black Chevy parked in the driveway, and Lynda smiled slowly. “As a matter of fact . . .”

  Melissa only frowned, afraid to get her hopes up as they pulled into the driveway next to Larry’s car. She got out, looking for him, and in a moment, the door to Jake’s apartment opened, and the two men walked out.

  It had been a hard day for Larry, Melissa thought. His eyes were red, like hers, and she knew he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. He’d probably been up all night struggling with the decision she had given him to make. And this afternoon, in the courtroom, he had seemed to be in worse shape than she was.

  She hated herself for putting him through this. If he’d never met her, if she’d never lied, he’d still be out there doing his job, arresting people and locking them up, going to his church, and enjoying his friends—rather than suffering because of something she had done. Yes, she hated herself.

  But Larry cut across the driveway without a word and pulled her into a hug that crushed life back into her.

  “It’ll be all right,” he whispered. “Somehow, it’s gonna be all right.”

  She began to cry against his shoulder, and she saw Lynda and Jake disappear into the house, leaving them alone.

  “We have to talk,” she said finally, looking up at him. “See—you don’t owe me anything. What I deserve is to have you just forget you ever knew me. I would be all right. Really.”