Magic hour: a novel (44 page)

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ellie said.

“Talking won’t help.”

Thinking will.

She took a deep breath. “I need information on his case.”

“He gave me this.” Ellie pushed a stack of papers across the desk.

Julia took the papers and tried to read. Her hands were trembling so badly that the letters shimmied on the white pages.

“Jules—”

“Give me a minute,” Julia said, hearing the desperate edge in her voice. It was taking every scrap of self-control she had to not start screaming or crying, and looking into her sister’s sad eyes or hearing comforting words might push her into despair. “Please.”

She focused on the documents. They represented the bare bones of the procedural history. The original Motion to Dismiss the case, made by Azelle’s attorney at the close of the state’s case in chief; the denial of that motion; the Appellate Court’s reversal and the State Supreme Court’s agreement with the reversal and dismissal. Of all of them, the one that mattered most to Julia was the original certification for determination of probable cause, which outlined the facts of the state’s case.

On April 13, 2002, at approximately 9:30 in the morning, George Azelle placed a call to the King County Police Department to report that his wife, Zoë Azelle, and his two-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Brittany, were missing and had been missing for more than twenty-four hours. The Seattle Police Department responded immediately, sending officers to the Azelle residence at 16402 Lakeside Drive on Mercer Island. A countywide, then statewide search ensued. Community groups responded to the call and organized extensive search parties and midnight vigils.

Investigations conducted throughout this period revealed that Mrs. Azelle was having an affair at the time of her disappearance and had requested a divorce. Azelle was also engaged in an affair with his personal assistant, Corinn Johns.

Pursuant to their investigation, police learned the following facts:

On or about November 2001, police responded to a domestic disturbance call at the Azelle home. Officers observed bruising on Mrs. Azelle and arrested Mr. Azelle. This complaint was dismissed when Mrs. Azelle refused to testify against her husband.

On the evening of April 11, 2002, neighbor Stanley Seaman reported another disturbance at the Azelle home, although he made no call to police. He stated to his wife that the Azelles were “at it again.” Seaman noted the time of the fight as 11:15
P.M.

At almost noon on Sunday, April 12, 2002, neighbor Stanley Seaman witnessed Azelle loading a large trunk and a smaller “sacklike” canvas duffel bag onto his seaplane.

Azelle asserts that he took off from Lake Washington in his seaplane, with no passengers, on or about one o’clock on April 12. According to family witness testimony, he arrived at his sister’s home on Shaw Island nearly two hours later. Experts confirmed to police that the ordinary flight time for that distance would be slightly less than an hour. Azelle returned to his Lake Washington residence at 7:00 that same evening.

A local flower delivery man, Mark Ulio, arrived at the Azelle home at 4:45 on Sunday to deliver flowers which had been ordered by Azelle, via phone, at one o’clock that day. At the time of their delivery, no one answered at the Azelle house. Ulio reported seeing a Caucasian male in his mid-thirties wearing a yellow rain slicker and a Batman baseball cap getting into a white van that was parked across the street from the Azelle residence.

On Monday morning, Azelle called several friends and family members to ask if they knew where his wife and daughter were. He told several witnesses that Zoë Azelle had “run off again.” At 10:30
A.M.,
when Brittany did not show up at day care and Zoë missed a meeting with her therapist, Azelle called police and reported them missing.

Upon identifying Azelle as a suspect, police arrived at his home with a search warrant. On a rug in the living room, they found traces of blood. Additionally, hair samples found in the couple’s bedroom—determined to be Mrs. Azelle’s—had the roots attached, indicating a struggle. A lamp on the dresser had a cracked base.

Throughout the search period, officers repeatedly noted that George Azelle was either inexplicably missing during the searches or seemingly unconcerned about his family’s disappearance. Such behavior led police to consider Azelle a suspect.

Based on the information obtained, Sergeant Gerald Reeves placed Azelle under arrest for the murder of his wife and daughter and advised him of his Miranda rights. State requests that no bail be granted in this case. This was a brutal and carefully planned and executed crime. Azelle’s considerable personal wealth, in addition to his pilot’s license, makes him a serious flight risk.

Under penalty of perjury, under the laws of the State of Washington, I certify that the foregoing is true and correct.

It was signed by the detective and dated.

When she finished, she sighed and set the papers back on the desk.

Footsteps thundered in the hallway.

Peanut and Cal fought to get through the door. Peanut was first. “Well?”

“He’s a scum,” Julia said. “An adulterer and almost certainly a wife beater. But according to the courts, he’s not a murderer. He can’t be retried for it, either. Double jeopardy.” She looked at the worried faces around her. “He’s also her father. The DNA is conclusive on that: she’s Brittany Azelle. Washington State courts—”

“I don’t give a shit about state law,” Peanut said, looking down at Julia. “What do we do to protect her?”

“We need a plan,” Cal said.

“I’d stand in front of a bus for her,” Julia said, and at that, she felt herself go calm.

The trembling in her hands stopped.

I’d stand in front of a bus for her.

It was true.

“Time to step into traffic,” she said, and though she couldn’t force a smile, couldn’t in fact imagine ever smiling again, she was okay. She wouldn’t think about
what if;
that would destroy her. She’d think only about Alice and how to protect her.

“Hire a detective,” she said to Ellie. “Go through Azelle’s records back to second grade. Somewhere, sometime, this son of a bitch hit someone or sold drugs or drove drunk. Find it. We don’t have to prove he’s a murderer, just an unfit parent.”

I
T WAS JUST PAST FIVE O’CLOCK WHEN THEY GOT HOME, BUT IT FELT LIKE
the middle of the night. Clouds darkened the sky. An inch of snow frosted everything—the lawn, the roof, the porch railing. The house seemed to glow amidst all that whiteness.

Ellie parked close to the house. Neither of them made a move to get out of the car.

“I’m not going to tell her,” Julia finally said, staring straight ahead.

Ellie sighed. “How will you
ever
tell her? She hates it when you leave to make breakfast.”

Julia couldn’t go there. Not to the imagining it place.

No leave Girl, Jewlee.

She opened the car door and stepped out into the falling snow, barely feeling the cold.

She walked up the steps, going from snow to wet wood, and opened the front door. The light and warmth hit her first. Then she saw Alice, curled up in Max’s lap. At Julia’s entrance, she looked up and grinned.

“Jewlee!” she squealed, sliding out of Max’s arms and running for Julia.

She picked the little girl up, held her tightly. “Hey, little one.” She tried to smile. Hopefully it didn’t look as brittle as it felt.

Alice frowned up at her. “Sad?”

“Happy to be home,” Julia said.

Relief shone in Alice’s eyes. She hugged Julia again and kissed her neck.

Ellie came up behind them and smoothed Alice’s hair. “Hey girlie-girl.”

“Hi Lellie,” she said in a muffled, happy voice.

Max was standing now. Firelight backlit him; the brightness made his face appear shadowed. “Julia?” he said. There was no mistaking the concern in his voice.

It almost undid her. She sidestepped his touch, trying to make it look like an accident, but she saw that he wasn’t fooled. Of course he wasn’t. She didn’t know much about Max, but she knew this: he recognized heartache, understood its taste and feel and texture. And he saw it now on her face. There was no way for her to hide it, not with Alice in her arms and George Azelle’s envelope in her coat pocket.

If Max touched her now, she’d cry, and she didn’t want that. God knew, she would need strength for what was to come.

“He wants her back.”

The sad understanding in Max’s eyes was almost more than she could bear. He moved slowly toward her. For a second she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead he said, “I’ll wait up for you.”

“But—”

“It doesn’t matter when. Come over when you can. You’ll need me.”

She couldn’t deny that.

“I’ll wait up for you,” he said again; this time he didn’t wait for a response. He said good-bye to each of them and left.

Silence swept in behind him.

“Max bye-bye,” Alice said. “No Jewlee leave?”

Julia swallowed hard, feeling the sting of tears. She clung fiercely to Alice. “I won’t leave you, Alice,” she said, praying it would be true.

F
OR THE REST OF THE EVENING
J
ULIA MOVED IN A FOG.
A
LICE SEEMED TO
sense that something was wrong. She shadowed Julia even more closely than usual.

By nine o’clock they were both exhausted. Julia gave the little girl a bath, braided her hair, and tucked her into bed. Snuggling in close on the narrow mattress, she tried to read a bedtime story, but the words kept blurring before her eyes.

“Jewlee sad?” Alice said repeatedly, her small face scrunched into a frown.

“I’m fine,” Julia said, closing the book and kissing the girl good-night. “I love you,” she whispered against the soft baby-scented cheek.

“Stay,” Alice murmured, her eyes heavy.

“No. It’s nighttime. Alice sleeps now.”

Alice nodded and popped her thumb in her mouth.

Julia stared down at the girl.

My girl.

An ache blossomed in her chest. She turned away from the bed and went downstairs.

Ellie sat at the kitchen table, reading through a stack of papers. The dogs lay on the floor beside her, uncharacteristically docile. “The court said—”

Julia lifted a hand as if to ward off a blow. “I can’t talk about it right now. I need some . . . time. Will you watch her?”

“Of course.”

Julia went to the kitchen, grabbed the car keys and her purse. Every step seemed to jostle her bones. It felt as if she were held together with old Scotch tape. “Good-bye. I’ll be back soon.”

Outside, she drew in a deep, shaky breath. The night smelled of wet wood and new snow and the coming night. It wasn’t until she was almost to the car that she realized she’d forgotten her coat.

Freezing, she drove to Max’s house. The heat came on just as she turned into his driveway.

By the time she crossed the white yard and reached the porch steps, he was there, on the deck, waiting for her. Pale light spilled through an open window and cast him in a beautiful golden glow.

She felt a powerful jolt at the sight of him. It came from somewhere deep inside of her, past muscle and bone, a place that was normally still. Coming home; that was how it felt.

She climbed the steps toward him. He started to say something else, but she didn’t want to hear his words, his voice, his questions. They would be concrete, somehow, too heavy. She couldn’t carry any more weight right now.

She touched a finger to his lips. “Take me to bed, Max.”

He stared down at her, and for a moment—just that—she saw the man behind the smile, the man who knew a thing or two about loss. “Are you sure?”

“You’re wasting time. Alice—” Her voice broke this time. She had to force a smile. “. . . might have a nightmare. I can’t be gone long.”

He swept her into his arms and carried her up the stairs. She clung to him, her face buried in the crook of his neck. Seconds later they were in his room. She slid out of his arms and took a step backward. Though distance was the last thing she wanted right now, she felt awkward. Undone somehow.

She unbuttoned her shirt, let it fall to the floor. Her bra followed.

They stood there, separated by inches and yet worlds apart, undressing. Finally, both naked, they looked at each other.

When he reached for her, she said nothing, barely even breathed. He circled his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to him. Off balance, she stumbled a bit, fell into his chest.

He kissed her slowly, with a gentleness that was both surprising and short-lived. She reached up for him, coiled her arms around him, stroking his skin, wanting him closer, closer.

It flashed through her mind to push him away, to change her mind, say,
Stop; I was wrong, you’ll break my heart,
but her fear lasted no longer than an instant. Passion twisted it into something else. They moved to the bed. In a distant part of her mind she saw that he was pushing his clothes aside, making a bower of rumpled white sheeting for their bodies, and then she was on the bed with him, beneath him, her hands desperate against his bare, hot skin. She was breathing so hard and fast she felt dizzy; his name slipped from her mouth to his. Neither one of them heard it. His hands pushed past her defenses, drove her down, past pleasure and into a kind of pain and back to pleasure again. As if from far away, she heard him rip open a condom package; then her hands were on him, stroking it into place.