Justifiable Means

  When would she stop listening? When would she be able to go back to school, or work, or anywhere, without looking over her shoulder?

  Not until the man was caught, Larry had said. And he wouldn’t be caught if Karen didn’t help. Not until he picked another girl to attack—assuming that the police hadn’t given up trying to catch him by then.

  She went into her mother’s room and stood in the doorway, feeling like a little girl who’d had a nightmare and needed her mother. Only the nightmare wasn’t a dream—it was real. And her mother couldn’t help her.

  She thought of the woman who was in jail because she’d tried to get this man put away. And she thought of the woman who had killed herself. She could almost understand getting that desperate.

  She went back to bed, climbed under the covers, and tried hard to go to sleep. But even with her eyes closed she saw the shadowy, mystic figure of a man who wanted to hurt her. He was still out there, even if he couldn’t find her. One of these days, if he wanted to badly enough, he would. And then, just as she let her guard down, just as the police did, he would make his move. And there wouldn’t be anywhere to turn.

  Feeling sick, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. But it was impossible to sleep when you were listening, waiting . . .

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  The steam of the showers hung in the air, wetting the concrete floor. Still in her stall, Melissa dressed quickly, her jumpsuit clinging to her damp skin. The thought of dressing in front of some of these violent women didn’t appeal to her, so she tolerated a little discomfort for her privacy.

  Hanging her towel over her arm, she pulled back the curtain and stepped out, her flip-flops squeaking as they slipped across the floor. She couldn’t get out fast enough, she thought. Even though the showers were closely guarded, this was the most threatening room in the prison. She’d seen two fights break out here, for which several inmates—even the ones who’d been victims—had gotten isolation. It seemed that the high temperatures and the steam added up to boiling tempers.

  She had just dropped her towel in its designated tub and headed for the door when she heard someone running toward her from behind. Before she could turn around, something walloped the back of her head, knocking her to the floor, facedown. Someone was on her instantly, her weight crushing her. She screamed as someone wrenched her arm behind her back, threatening to break it. The other inmates began to laugh and shout encouragement. “Let me go!” Melissa screamed.

  “Not until you learn who’s in charge around here.”

  “What do you want?” Melissa asked through her teeth.

  “Respect. And I ain’t been sensin’ any from you.”

  The woman lifted Melissa’s head by her hair, then banged it back into the concrete, bloodying Melissa’s nose and scraping the skin off her forehead. She yelled again, but the guards weren’t there.

  She heard another set of footsteps coming, and suddenly the weight of the woman was jerked off of her.

  She turned over, wiping the blood from her nose. Chloe was holding Red against the wall with her hand at her throat. Other inmates stood around, suddenly quiet.

  “This is my cellmate, understand?” the big woman asked each of them. “Nobody touches her, or they answer to me. Any questions?” She looked around at each face in the room. When no one protested, she shook Red. “And you—I’d take great pleasure in cleanin’ out the toilets with your head. If there’s somethin’ about what I’m sayin’ that you don’t understand, feel free to speak up any time.”

  Red didn’t answer. It was clear that she feared Chloe.

  Chloe let her go. “Get out of here now!” The woman leered at Melissa, silently promising to get her later, and headed out of the room.

  When Chloe was satisfied that no one was going to attempt anything else, she turned on the water in the sink and began to brush her teeth, ignoring Melissa, who still lay on the floor. Melissa got to her feet and looked around at the others who were staring at her. Some of them snickered quietly. Others found other things to do. No one wanted to be the target of Chloe’s wrath.

  Bending over one of the sinks, Melissa washed the blood off of her nose. She fought back the tears as she looked up in the mirror. Chloe stood next to her, drying her mouth. “Thank you, Chloe,” she whispered.

  Chloe grunted and handed her a towel to stop the bleeding. “If it don’t stop, you could go to the infirmary. Get out of a day’s work.”

  “No, it’s okay.”

  As she washed the rest of the blood off of her face, she wondered if God had provided this huge hulk of a woman to be the guardian angel who would protect her.

  His grace amazed her. As she went back to her cell, she thanked him for disguised blessings like Chloe.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  The light on his answering machine was blinking when Larry got home at four o’clock Tuesday morning, exhausted and agitated from watching Pendergrast watch Karen Anderson’s empty apartment. A couple of times he’d seen another petite blonde get out of her car and trot up to another apartment, and he’d tensed up, expecting Pendergrast to go after her. But it seemed that he was waiting for Karen. For now, no one else would do.

  Pendergrast had finally given up and gone back to his apartment at about 3:30. How he existed on as little sleep as he was getting, Larry couldn’t imagine. He knew it was killing him.

  He pulled off his shoes, sat down on the bed, and punched the button on the machine.

  “Uh, Larry, this is Mrs. Nelson—Melissa’s mother? We just wanted to talk to you and see how you think Melissa is doing. Please call us tomorrow if you get time.”

  He fell back on the bed in frustration as it beeped. What would he tell them? They wanted reassurances that she was all right, but he wasn’t sure himself.

  As a message from one of the guys at his church played, he tried to remember what day it was. Tuesday, he thought. Wednesday was the midweek visitation day at the jail. He could see Melissa tomorrow night. But first he had to make it through this day and the next.

  The line beeped again, and the third message began to play. “Detective Millsaps,” a woman’s voice said. “This is Karen. Karen Anderson.”

  Larry sat up and lunged for the machine to turn it up.

  “I—I need to talk to you. I’ve changed my mind. Please—no matter what time it is, call me at this number.”

  He grabbed the phone and dialed as she called it out. She answered on the first ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Karen? This is Larry Millsaps.”

  “Thank goodness.” She breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. “I’ve been so scared.”

  “Why? Has something happened?”

  “No,” she said. “But I keep thinking something’s going to. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat . . . If I help you, if I do what you ask, will this all be over soon? Will I be able to go back to my life?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Karen, it’s really the only way to put this all to rest.”

  “All right, then,” she whispered. “What do I have to do?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  It was the first time Melissa had found the pay phone in her cellblock not in use, and she hurried to it, jabbed her quarter in, and quickly dialed Larry’s number.

  His machine answered, and she left a tentative message that she was sorry she’d missed him, then hung I up, feeling like an idiot. What made me think he’d be at home? she asked herself. Did I really believe he’d just sit around grieving over me?

  Feeling that old anxiety and despair creeping in, she pulled another quarter out of her pocket and dialed the operator. “Collect to Pensacola,” she said. “James Nelson. From Melissa.” She wondered if the operator could tell that the call was coming from jail, if she was judging her . . .

  Her mother answered the phone and accepted the call, and Melissa felt instant relief. Just to touch base with someone she loved, just to hear the voice of someone who loved her.

  Her mother was telling her abou
t the prayer chain she’d started, when Red rushed around the corner, making a beeline for the phone.

  “Get off,” she said. “Now!”

  Melissa hesitated. Chloe wasn’t around, and she knew better than to cross the woman without her. But her mother was talking, and she didn’t want to frighten her by hanging up suddenly. Trying to compromise, she raised one finger, promising to get off in a minute, but Red didn’t back down.

  “It’s an emergency,” Red said. “I have to call my kid.”

  Melissa doubted that there was an emergency, even though she had seen emergency messages occasionally brought to the inmates. Still, there was an anxiety in Red’s eyes that she didn’t want to provoke. “Uh—Mom? I’ll call you back in a few minutes, okay? Somebody needs to use the phone.”

  Melissa hung up, retrieved the quarter that had come back after the operator connected them, and turned around.

  Red shoved her away from the phone, almost knocking her down, and grabbed the phone. “Give me a quarter,” she said.

  “I only have one,” Melissa said. “I need to use it.”

  “I said give me the quarter!” she shouted. “Now!”

  Gritting her teeth, Melissa handed her the quarter.

  Red snatched it and shoved it into the machine, and Melissa thought about leaving. But something, some stoic, stubborn pride, made her stay. Maybe she was making a collect call, too, she thought, and the quarter would come back. Maybe she could still get it and call her mother back.

  “This is Jean,” the woman barked into the phone. “I got a message to call. Where’s Johnny?”

  She waited, then said, “I don’t care. I want to talk to him. No, I don’t want to talk to Carol. Where’s my kid?”

  Again, she waited, and her face began to redden. “What do you mean, an accident? Put Carol on the phone. Now!”

  Something was wrong. Melissa looked up at her.

  “Carol, where’s Johnny?” Red yelled louder. “I want to talk to him! Put him on the phone!”

  She cursed, then kicked the brick wall behind the phone, and let another curse fly. “You’re lying. This is just some sick joke, isn’t it? Put my kid on the phone!”

  Melissa took a step forward. Red’s face was twisted, and tears came to her eyes.

  “He wouldn’t do that! He knows to look both ways. I did teach him that!” Her voice broke and she began to sob. Letting go of the phone, she slid down the wall. The receiver dangled on its cord as Red buried her face in her knees and wailed.

  Melissa stooped down next to her and took the phone. “Uh . . . they’re still talking. Do you want to . . .”

  Red just shook her head. “Hang up!” she sobbed. “They’re liars.”

  Melissa slowly brought the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Where’s Jean?” a brusque woman’s voice asked.

  “She’s—she can’t talk. She asked me to hang up.”

  “She thinks I’m lyin’,” the woman said. “But I wouldn’t lie about a thing like this. Her kid’s dead. She’s got to accept it.”

  “Dead?” Melissa looked back at the woman sitting huddled on the floor. “What happened?”

  “He ran out in front of a car. It was bound to happen. He never listened to nobody. Wouldn’t do nothin’ I said. It wasn’t my fault. And I can’t pay for no funeral.”

  “I’ll tell her to call you back when she’s able.” She hung up the phone, heard the quarter roll into the coin-return slot. Sitting down on the floor beside her, she tried to find the words to help her. It was strange, she thought, that until now she hadn’t even known the woman’s name.

  “That witch. I never should have let her keep him. I should have let the state take him! He’s not dead. She’s a liar. Always has been.”

  Melissa looked around, wishing someone would come and rescue her from having to extend any compassion at all. But she was the only one here. Finally, as the woman’s sobs grew deeper, she touched her shoulder. “You could have the warden find out for sure.”

  “No,” she said. “I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know.” Her voice got higher in pitch as she went on, until it was just a hoarse squeak.

  “How old is Johnny?”

  “Seven,” she cried. “He’s just seven. He can’t be dead. He wouldn’t be dead.”

  “If it is true, you could probably get out to go to the funeral.”

  “There’s not gonna be any funeral for my baby!” she cried, getting to her feet. “He’s not dead!” She looked at Melissa suspiciously. “You’d like it, though, wouldn’t you, if he was! You’d think I deserved that!”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” Melissa said. “I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.”

  “Well, he’s not! He’s probably asleep in bed, and my sister just got drunk and thought she’d see if she could pull my string. He’s a weapon she uses against me. She’s always been like that.”

  She wanted to ask why Red was crying so hard, if that was what she believed. Instead, she watched as the woman ran back to her cell and closed herself in.

  Melissa heard the soulful wailing late into the night, and when Chloe asked if she knew who it was, she didn’t tell. Even Red deserved a chance to grieve her dead son.

  By the next morning, word around the cellblock was that the news was true: Red was getting out that afternoon for the funeral but would be brought back right afterward.

  Before she went to work that morning, Melissa wrote her a note and slipped it under her door. It said, “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. I’m so sorry about your son. Melissa.”

  Red didn’t respond.

  Melissa prayed for her all that day as she worked, and that evening, when Red came back to her cell, she saw the red swelling in her eyes, the purple tint to her lips, the pale cast to her cheeks. Her heart ached for her.

  Again, before supper, she stuck a note under her door. “We’re having a Bible study tomorrow at 4:00 in the chapel. Please come. It may be comforting to you. Melissa.”

  All that night, she listened to Red’s wailing again, but the next morning, when she encountered the redhead at breakfast, she did nothing to acknowledge either of the notes she’d sent. Instead, she sat with the group of malcontents she usually sat with, her eyes cast down at her plate. She ate little and didn’t speak at all.

  That afternoon, when Melissa started to leave her cell to go to the chapel, Chloe looked up from a letter she was reading. “Where you goin’?”

  “To the chapel. We’ve started a Bible study group. It meets at four.”

  “You gon’ miss visitation?”

  “No,” Melissa said. “It’ll be over by five.”

  “You ain’t goin’ by yourself, are you?”

  “Well, there’s another woman, Sonja, who’s going from our cellblock.”

  “Sonja?” Chloe asked, astounded. “Goin’ with her is like hangin’ a rib-eye steak around your neck to swim through a school of sharks. They’ll eat you alive.”

  “I’m going anyway,” Melissa said.

  Groaning, Chloe pulled her big body off the bunk. “Well, then, I guess I’ll have to go with you. If I don’t, you’ll wind up mincemeat and I’ll be stuck with another roommate. Probably one who’s worse than you.”

  Melissa smiled. “You’re welcome to come, Chloe, for whatever reason.”

  “I ain’t got no Bible, though.”

  “You can look on with me.”

  “Whatever.”

  The woman followed Melissa out into the corridor, past the bubble—which wasn’t really a bubble, but a booth where the guards sat—out of the cellblock and toward the chapel.

  There were already three others waiting when they got there.

  One of them was Red, sitting slouched in a chair with her arms crossed across her stomach.

  Chloe took one look at her and said, “I’ll handle this.”

  Melissa stopped her. “No, Chloe. I invited her.”

  “What? Are you crazy?”

  ??
?Her son died. She’s in pain. I told her to come.”

  “Well, you’re gon’ be the one in pain, if you don’t watch out. Abomination, it’s a good thing I came.”

  Red looked up as they walked in, then quickly averted her eyes.

  Both she and Chloe sat stiff and disinterested, not offering anything to the conversation about the book of John. But the group went on, each of the core members aware that a witness was being made here, that the two women, each here for different reasons, were hearing at least some of what was being said.

  Red left before the meeting had entirely broken up, but as Melissa and Chloe went back to their cell, Melissa silently thanked God that progress had been made. She didn’t fear the red-haired woman anymore. She’d had a glimpse into her heart, seen a little of her pain. Now she had compassion for her, and she knew that was a miracle. But she expected more miracles.

  The next time she was able to get to the phone, Larry still wasn’t home, and this time she left a message that she had called to see if he was coming to visitation tonight.

  It was frustrating hanging up without talking to him, and she wondered again where he was. Was he still following Pendergrast? Was he getting any rest at all? Had anything happened?

  When she started back to her cell, she saw Red hovering in the corridor. She tensed, wondering if Red had overcome her grief enough to go back to her old, threatening ways. Was she waiting for an opportunity?

  Melissa kept walking until she was a few feet away from her.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  Red’s words were clipped and angry, and Melissa was apprehensive. Choking back her fear, she said, “Okay.”

  Red stepped back into her cell, and Melissa tentatively followed, wishing Chloe were nearby, instead of in the TV room. She stayed near the door, but watched as Red sat down on her bunk.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Red just looked down at her feet and shook her head. “I was just thinkin’. You know, about hell. Wonderin’ if there’s one for little kids.”