Helen's quiet gasp was explosive in the pre-dawn silence.
Jess said, “A mother who can't simply sit around and wait for others to take care of things, even if there are people whose jobs are to help her.” She waited a few moments and then continued, “Vivian Ward is one of those women, too. She's a woman who helps herself instead of relying on others to do things for her. That's why I know Vivian knows more than she's told me so far. And why I believe she will tell me the rest, if I can find her.”
Jess thought Helen might reveal what had happened in the past few hours to place the haunted look in her eyes. But she didn't. Jess tried a different tact. “I'm worried about Vivian. If she does know more, then she could be in serious danger. If Tommy Taylor didn't kill Mattie Crawford and Vivian knows that, Mattie's real killer will want her silenced forever.”
Helen's worried gaze met Jess's determined one. “What do you want me to do?”
“Call and find out what's in Arnold Ward's affidavit now. That's the first thing.”
“And then what?”
Jess wasn't used to sharing her plans with anyone. Normally, she figured things out for herself and did what she thought she should do. Sometimes she was right, sometimes not. But this time, she couldn't do everything alone. She'd already tried that, and Tommy Taylor was dead and Vivian Ward was probably the target of Mattie Crawford's killer right now.
“I think Arnold's affidavit is going to reveal Mattie Crawford's real killer. We have to arrest him before he hurts Vivian. Or someone else.” Jess said, realizing she must sound to Helen Sullivan the way Mike often sounded to her: young and enthusiastic, but melodramatic and inexperienced. Jess wouldn't have taken the chance, but she needed Helen's help with Vivian and she didn't know any other way to get it.
Helen rose from her chair and walked to the land line on her desk. She picked up the receiver and dialed a number she knew by heart. “Mac? It's Helen. I'm sorry to call so early. Yes, I knew you'd be awake and on your way over. Have the techs opened the Arnold Ward affidavit yet?”
Helen was silent while she listened to Mac Green's response. “I see. All right. Yes. He'll be here shortly after seven-thirty. Yes. Come right in when you arrive.” She listened a few more moments. Jess watched Helen close her eyes and rub her forehead with the fingers of her left hand, as if she had a serious migraine. “Thanks, Mac. I appreciate it.”
Helen stood lost in her own thoughts for so long that Jess wondered whether she'd been forgotten. Jess coughed a little and Helen glanced over toward her. “Mac says they're not done with the affidavit, but they opened it last night. He's on his way here and bringing a copy with him.”
“What did Arnold say about Crawford's killer?”
Helen sighed. “What you suspected. Tommy Taylor didn't kill Mattie Crawford.”
Despite being prepared for it, Jess's body reacted violently to Helen's words. The ache in her belly doubled her over.
“Jess, are you all right?”
Jess nodded and raised a hand. After a few long seconds, she began to feel a bit better.
Helen watched her from across the room, and when Jess seemed to recover enough to hear the rest of Mac's news, she continued. “Arnold's affidavit was more than a year old. He wrote it just before Taylor was scheduled to be executed last year.”
“Did he say who did kill Mattie?”
“Only that it wasn't Tommy Taylor.” Helen refilled her coffee and carried the mug as she walked to the windows and looked at the slowly emerging landscape.
Jess noticed the sky lightening just enough to make out shadows of the trees and buildings outside the ranch house's large windows. When she thought her legs would function again, she rose and joined the governor.
“Helen?”
Helen turned toward her.
“It's likely that Arnold learned more about Crawford's killer in the past year.”
“It's also possible that Arnold
was
Crawford's killer. Did you consider that? What if that is the thing Vivian knows? Do you really want to force her to tell you such a thing? Who will that help, Jess? Who?”
Since David Manson suggested the possibility that Arnold Ward had killed Mattie Crawford, Jess had thought about it seriously. She'd considered the idea preposterous and offensive at first because Arnold was a decent man and Manson was the worst kind of jerk. But Arnold killing Mattie Crawford was possible. She'd had to admit the possibility to herself, before she could analyze it. She shared her analysis with Helen.
“I don't believe Vivian has that kind of meanness in her heart. God knows, I've been wrong about almost everything in this case. But revealing that Taylor didn't kill their boy after Taylor died will hurt Marilyn and Matthew Crawford because they will feel, as you and I both do, that they helped to kill the wrong man. That's hard to live with, Helen. I don't think Vivian would put that burden on her friends without a damned good reason. Especially if she knew Arnold had killed Mattie. Why wouldn't she simply go to her grave without revealing the evidence that proved her husband a killer? Arnold was already dead before she told me any of this, remember.” The logic seemed flawless to Jess, even if she couldn't prove any of it. Yet.
Helen nodded, but didn't affirm Jess's thinking. Helen's silence emboldened the younger woman to continue her persuasion. “Mattie's killer is still out there, Helen. I feel it. You do, too. If you didn't we wouldn't be having this conversation.”
“Let's say you're right about everything. You've got some sort of plan in mind, don't you? What is it?”
Jess laid out her early morning plotting. Assuming something horrible hadn't happened to Vivian before Tommy Taylor's funeral this afternoon, she would definitely attend, and Jess would be there before Vivian arrived. She planned to approach Vivian and persuade her to tell her the truth.
“I know she'll tell me. That's why she gave me the evidence. She wants me to know.”
Helen sighed again. “And then what?”
Jess bridled at the patronizing tone that she felt more than heard in Helen's words. “I could shoot him myself if you like. I'm perfectly willing to do that.”
Helen seemed startled at first. Then she laughed. “Oh, Jess,” she said. “You remind me so much of myself sometimes it's scary.” She strode back to her desk and sat down, all business. She picked up the receiver and punched a couple of buttons. “Frank, can you come in please?” She replaced the receiver and looked up at Jess, a small smile on her lips. “Let's let the law men do the heavy lifting, okay?”
Jess grinned, too, realizing that Helen had rather skillfully led her to a much more rational solution. “Fine by me.”
They spent the next twenty minutes with Frank Temple outlining the plan they would use to locate Vivian Ward, question her, and bring her into protective custody until they found Matthew Crawford's killer. Jess felt much better about their plan than the one she'd come up with earlier. But she hadn't been kidding when she told Helen she'd be happy to shoot the bastard. Nor was the threat an idle one.
Before she awakened Mike and headed out to the Taylor funeral, Jess took a few moments to relocate her .38 hidden in the back of the SUV, placing it where she could grab it quickly if the need arose. She had a strong feeling that it might.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Dentonville, Florida
Sunday 10:30 a.m.
BEN WALKED INTO TOMMY TAYLOR'S FUNERAL feeling deep satisfaction. Funeral ceremonies reminded him of his younger self, the innocent who'd attended so many funerals as a boy. Often, he would wake up on a bleak, snowy morning warmed by the soothing organ music wafting up from the funeral chapel on the first floor of his parents' home. His mother's work in the kitchen of their upstairs living quarters sent pleasant breakfast aromas his way. Back then, he'd felt like a beloved only child, cherished by parents who served their community with compassionate caring whenever their neighbors were grief-stricken. That feeling of safety and caring at funerals had lingered long after he'd left childhood and bleak landscapes behind.
Ben straightened his tie and smoothed his black jacket, buttoning the center closure as he walked toward Tommy's mother. He had helped Tommy Taylor's mother Sarah through two decades of her son's torturous escapades. Since he'd first met Tommy all those years ago, today was the only time Ben Fleming could recall that Tommy wasn't in trouble or causing trouble.
Impression management and corpse preparation was the essence of the funeral director's art. Tommy, Ben could see, was laid out in a burnished mahogany casket at the front of the funeral home's largest chapel. The open casket revealed a face at peace, perhaps for the first time in his life. His eyes were closed, his mouth relaxed. He wore a navy blue suit with a white shirt and red tie. His hands were crossed at his waist, the left resting over the right. Tommy looked perfect, Ben thought, exactly as he should look for his final appearance.
Sarah Taylor stood at the head of the open casket, accepting condolences alone. Her husband had died six years before. Ben always believed he'd died of a spirit broken by his only son's intractable violence. The parents had tried everything to manage their son, but they'd failed. Ben admired Sarah's resilience in the face of all Tommy had done and found her nothing short of remarkable.
Ben moved to the head of the small line of mourners who had arrived early to support Sarah. Her face brightened when she noticed him. He reached out to her with his left arm and hugged her.
“Hello, Sarah, dear. How are you holding up?” He asked, in his most solemn and supportive tone. Closer, he noticed her red-rimmed eyes and knew she'd been crying, as she always seemed to be when involved with her only son.
“God is taking care of me, Ben, you know that. I'll be fine,” she said. Indeed, she'd told Ben many times that her faith sustained her, but Ben didn't understand a faith that strong when all of her earthly experience with Tommy proved so destructive. Beyond that, Ben knew God had nothing to do with Tommy's funeral today. Without Ben's efforts, Tommy's execution would never have happened. Ben was glad he could help Sarah when her God had failed.
“I'm glad for that, Sarah,” he said. At this point, there was nothing to be gained by thinking about how many children Tommy had tortured and killed. No one knew for sure, anyway. At least four. Probably more. “Did you get any sleep last night? You look tired.”
Another weak smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I'll have plenty of time to sleep after today.”
“Would you like me to stand here with you for a while?”
“That would be nice. Thank you.”
He moved off to her right side and kept his arm around her shoulders as the mourners passed by. Ben's father had taught him that to spend time in homage to the mortal remains that lay before Sarah and to mourn what she really loved is the first step to healing.
After a few moments, Ben's mind wandered back to Tommy Taylor's life. Tommy was twenty-eight years old when he was arrested for Mattie Crawford's murder. At least ten years of opportunity to kill, if he began killing at eighteen. Ben's experience was that serial killers with a perverted sexual bent like Tommy often started killing for sexual release in late adolescence.
However when a killer's motives were
not
sexual, the time of murder's onset varied and was often tied to a triggering event. Sometimes an obscure triggering event, he knew.
Ben stifled his tendency toward reflection at funerals. He had work to do. Essential work. He turned his attention to the mourners, seeking Vivian Ward or, if she weren't present, either of Mattie Crawford's parents, because Marilyn had been with Vivian when she made her surprise call to him last night.
His gaze scanned the smallish crowd. The funeral was scheduled for one o'clock with early viewing for family and friends. People trickled in through the front door. Later, victims' families would arrive. Not only that, but Tommy's death by execution also attracted the usual batch of vultures like crusaders and media and curiosity seekers, all of whom would arrive soon if they weren't already here. The chaos could serve or hinder his mission. He'd made several contingency plans.
Ben gave Sarah's shoulder one last squeeze. He'd stood here long enough to be seen by several witnesses, so he leaned toward her and excused himself. There would be plenty of time to work with Sarah in the days ahead.
A guest book lay open on a book stand at the entrance to the viewing room. Ben walked over and flipped through the pages. He saw many names he recognized, people from Sarah Taylor's community. It was a blessing that Sarah had received so much support from her friends and neighbors. Some people had appropriately blamed the Taylors for their son's crimes. Others offered misplaced compassion for what they assumed was the unjustified horror Tommy's parents had suffered. The balance appealed to Ben, who appreciated the value of contrast.
Ben's experience was that parents were rarely as innocent as they wanted to believe themselves. But no one deserved to suffer forever, either. Both Tommy and his parents had suffered too long. At last, the ordeal was over for them all. Sarah was the only survivor. With Tommy's funeral, she could get on with her purpose in life. Ben had worked with her extensively. With his help, over a period of years, she'd moved from guilt to grief to gratitude. He knew she was ready.