Miscarriage Of Justice (12 page)

Then came the articles on the ill effects of prison life. For some inexplicable reason, Mariana dutifully read each of them. At last, she began to get a glimpse of Ethan’s motive and gain a little insight into his rationale; to see the grief and misery he’d gone through. The realization came with no remorse for having caused the situation, just a better understanding of the man’s way of thinking, which she vainly tried to analyze.

But that still didn’t answer the scores of questions on her mind. What was Ethan after? Revenge? Did he want to punish her? Would he go that far? Was it money? Was the idea to make her pay for his suffering? Was any of this on his mind? Or did he simply want to demonstrate what she’d put him through in some sorry attempt to make her feel bad?

Good luck on that
. Mariana tossed her head with a cavalier arrogance. One steadfast rule of attorneys, particularly prosecuting attorneys, was to never allow guilt or remorse to settle in. Never feel bad for the bad guy. “Although,” she mused. “Ethan isn’t really the bad guy.” At least he hadn’t been, until recently. Still, that didn’t answer the burning questions as to what his motives might be.

Digging out the previous packages she’d received, Mariana began to re-examine them, noting the underlying theme. The subject matter seemed to be slowly progressing towards something, leading to a significant and salient point no doubt, but what?

The vague uncertainty weighed heavily on her consciousness. What previously had been only a mild concern regarding Ethan and his proclivity for tormenting her had escalated to the beginning whispers of paranoia. No matter where she went, the gas station, grocery store and even in court, she found herself constantly looking over her shoulder, watching for suspicious behavior from anyone she encountered and always wondering if she were being followed. The whispers had grown, becoming more prominent until she had become a walking manifestation of paranoia. She was fearful, but it was a healthy fear she told herself. A wary and cautious fear. The kind of fear that prevents reckless behavior and keeps a person alive!

And the phone calls continued. Not only every morning, but now also every evening, though never at the same time as the day before. As always, Ethan never said a word. Mariana knew it would have been smarter to just not answer, but she couldn’t help herself. Part of the responsibility of a District Attorney was to be available when needed. In the past, she’d tried to use the answering machine to screen her calls, but inevitably, she picked up too late. After a couple of weeks of calling colleagues back, and offering a litany of lame excuses, they had let her know they were not impressed. So, she answered the phone every time it rang. Usually, the eerie silence told her immediately if the caller was Ethan, and though part of her desperately wanted to talk to him, to ask her own questions and hear his answers, she’d recently taken to simply hanging up. As the days and weeks wore on, she found it harder to relax even for a moment.

Sleep was also becoming a rare commodity. The few hours she did manage to get, after forcing herself to the brink of exhaustion, were not exactly restful. It wasn’t merely a fear of Ethan that kept her awake, but the sheer agony of knowing that at any time the man could render her position as the D.A., and quite possibly her whole life, utterly meaningless. The central theme in the articles he’d sent on life in prison could become very real to her if he started talking.

She’d maintained her earlier fear was a healthy fear; clearly, it was becoming something more. Now, she was a little worried. Worried that the phone calls and packages arriving through the mail would escalate to something worse. Violently worse perhaps. Still, she was determined not to let the man’s antics affect her behavior. And yet, it already had.

Lately, the edgy concern was also beginning to affect her job. It had been just insignificant things at first, and then branched out to more crucial areas. She was finding it increasingly difficult to stay focused in court, and two days ago, she’d completely spaced out an important meeting—with a judge of all people! Then, the very next morning, she’d forgotten the name of the defendant, while court was in session; something she’d never done in all of her career!

On Friday, Ethan’s next installment came in the mail. Mariana was looking forward to a weekend of resting up, in hopes of clearing her mind. Arriving home from work, she was sort of expecting another of Ethan’s packages and seeing it in the mailbox didn’t surprise her. “What has he sent this time?” she mumbled, walking into the house. Slicing open the envelope, she was slightly taken aback by the article on top bearing the bold headline of the death of some District Attorney.

Wrinkling her brow, she shook her head with a puzzled frown, “What is this? I don’t even know this guy!”

Flipping through the clippings, she saw they were all the same—a dozen chilling accounts of the death of a D.A. Was Ethan trying to send her a message? The implication seemed to be this is what he had in mind for her. That was rather obvious. But did he really? Or was that merely what he wanted her to think? Was he, as she’d previously supposed, just trying to scare her? On the other hand, this could be a very real threat; the first indications of a sick mind of a man who had visions of her soon demise. Mariana shrugged, the questions were numerous, but she always came back to the single most important one. If Ethan really wanted her dead, why go to all the trouble of sending the packages? Why not just kill her?

Under any other circumstances, she would’ve had the person responsible for sending the packages and making the harassing phone calls in jail so fast they wouldn’t have known what had hit them. But her hands were tied. Though Ethan so far hadn’t acted on, or even made an actual threat, the mere fact he was terrorizing her, especially since she was the District Attorney, made what he was doing illegal. That was enough to have him arrested. Any judge would certainly agree with her, given the man’s history. She could have him locked away, back in prison, inside of a week.

But she couldn’t risk the possibility of Ethan spilling his guts and having a judge take him seriously. If there was even the slightest hint of plausibility to his story, she knew any judge would doubtlessly order an investigation. She would never be able to withstand a serious probe into the details of the case. If Ethan had those pictures, as he claimed, it would be all over for her.

True, even if Ethan convinced a judge to look into his case, he’d more than likely wind up back in prison himself, but the downside was, she’d be right there beside him, figuratively speaking anyway. And a prison is the last place a successful D.A. wants to be. Even supposing she’d had no hand in sending any of her fellow inmates there, which was highly unlikely, that would be a small consolation and insignificant detail to the convicts, of that she was profoundly certain. No love was lost by the inmates on any member of the court. She didn’t want to think about the outcome of such a situation. So, while normally none of this would have been a problem, the situation was far from normal.

Mariana spent the entire weekend trying to figure out a viable solution to her predicament, with no luck. This nonsense with Ethan was maddening. The knowledge that this was precisely his intent only added to her frustration.

By Monday morning, she was feeling no better and was no closer to coming up with a solution. For the first time in sixteen years, she called in sick, canceling her entire schedule. She offered Miss Gooten no explanation other than she didn’t feel well.

When the mail arrived, at ten o’clock that morning, Mariana met the postman at the road. True to Ethan’s well-established pattern of a package arriving every other day, a new envelope with the familiar handwritten address emblazoned across the front was in the bundle of mail the mailman handed to her. Though she desperately wanted to see what was inside, for the first time, she was leery and uncertain about opening one of Ethan’s packages.

Making a beeline for door, Mariana hurried to the den, sitting down at her desk. Ripping open the long envelope, in shock she read the headline. The news account of her own death, fabricated though it may be, was eerily surreal and downright bizarre. But the picture of her gravestone, with the date of her death was even more disturbing. Just looking at it created a dark and morbid fear. Mariana felt a sudden cold chill and shivered. Then she shuddered at the thought of it all. This wasn’t the best way to start off her day.

Now, finally she knew where Ethan was heading with all this. From the very first set of articles, which had only casually mentioned her, each new package had grown increasingly ominous and vicious with their implied overtones, moving closer, becoming more personal, until at last, there was a very real threat. Suddenly, she knew undeniably the genuine peril she was in. It was all clear now. Ethan definitely wanted to kill her. And though she’d finished the security renovations, that was of little comfort. With the way things were, she still felt defenseless, all alone in a secluded house with virtually nothing and no one around to offer protection.

Truth be told, she’d known it all along, but had stubbornly refused to accept it, or even admit it to herself. With this latest development, the intent was perfectly plain and something she could no longer ignore. Ethan Rafferty’s pattern of behavior was that of a psychopath, with her as his focus of attention. She knew all too well how a psychopath’s object of affection ended up—dead!

“I’ve got to get out of here,” she suddenly exclaimed, voicing the alarming thought she’d silently contemplated the last several minutes.

But where would she go? A motel wouldn’t be much safer than her house. Although other people would be close by, they wouldn’t be in her room, which still left her vulnerable. That’s why she wanted, or needed, to get away. To leave while she was still able. Who knew if Ethan were already looming outside, biding his time, waiting to make his move?

Most certainly, she didn’t want to be alone, not in the house, a motel, or anywhere. Regrettably, that didn’t leave many choices. Her parents were no longer living, she had no other family within a thousand miles, and knew no one in town she trusted enough to burden with her problems. That left only one possibility; Jessi, her former college roommate.

“Maybe I could visit her for a few days,” Mariana said to herself. “But I’d have tell her what’s going on.” She grimaced at the thought. Not that Jessi would care necessarily, at least not enough to turn her in or do anything else about it, but it’d be better to not get anyone else involved.

The ringing of the telephone interrupted her thoughts. Mariana jumped and then stared at the phone, frozen to her chair. She sat unable to move, imagining all sorts of scenarios, none of them good and each involving Ethan. Was he finally ready to make his move?

The phone was still ringing and finally Mariana mustered the courage to lift the receiver. “Hello?” she said, trying to sound relaxed and confident.

“Mariana?” came a familiar voice, a female voice.

“Jessi!” Mariana whispered with obvious relief.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” Mariana was quick to assert. Then, almost in the same breath, she admitted, “Well, sort of.”

“You sound a little uptight, and worried. Are you okay?” Jessi was obviously concerned.

“I’m fine,” Mariana said. “It’s just,” she hesitated, still leery about confessing her misdeeds, even to her best friend, and especially over the phone. “Could I come visit you?” she suddenly asked. “And maybe stay for a few days?”

“Um, yeah I guess.” Jessi seemed surprised by the request. “I mean sure. You know you can come anytime. But are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Yeah,” Mariana said slowly. “I’ll tell you when I get there. What time do you get home from work?”

“Usually, about four.”

Glancing at her watch Mariana said, “All right. It’s almost one now, so I should make it by then.”

Jessi lived in Kilroy, a small town, roughly one hundred miles from Cedar Springs. Like Mariana, she wasn’t married, and lived alone. It would make the perfect retreat.

“Okay,” Jessi answered. “I’ll see you at four.”

Mariana was ready to hang up when she remembered Jessi was the one who called. “What did you call for?”

“Oh nothing,” Jessi replied. “I was on my lunch break, and I just wondered what you were up to, so I called.”

After they’d said their goodbyes, Mariana yanked the telephone cord out of the wall. She wanted no sinister messages to greet her when she returned. Then she went to pack. Not sure how long she’d be away, the restless D.A. crammed her one small suitcase full. Throwing several pairs of shoes into an overnight bag, she grabbed her toothbrush, and a few other personal necessities, and loaded the whole mess into her car. Taking one last look around, she set the burglar alarm and locked the door.

Pulling from the driveway, Mariana watched the house disappear in the rearview mirror. Ethan might have seen her leave, and might not have. She shrugged, “Let him come and do whatever he wants. I won’t be here.”

CHAPTER TEN

Ethan was ready. Ready for the mailing of the final package. The most crucial and essential package. This one contained no articles, no letter or pictures, no message of any kind. What it did have was something more disturbing, more sinister and evil than even the trumped up news of the woman’s death.

This envelope, the culmination of his mailing extravaganza, was meant to instill a consummate fear in the woman who had caused him so much grief and misery. Using a single prop, an inoculate substance, he meant to utterly terrify the woman.

Knowing the U.S. Postal Service took such things seriously, and relentlessly pursued those who used the Post Office to transport hazardous materials or materials perceived to be hazardous; he’d taken a week to tediously prepare a plasticized envelope. If he’d done it right, the rigged envelope would pass through the automated mail sorters undetected.

Bemoaning the fact he wouldn’t be there to see Mariana’s face when she opened it, he grinned, if he listened real closely, he just might be able to hear her scream! Driving to Cedar Springs on Monday, a day earlier than his well-established two-day interval, he dropped the “letter” into the mailbox.