Chapter 36

Sunday, June 21, 1987 - Morning

Julie reserved her strength over the next two days, resting and giving her body and lungs much needed time to heal. She tried not to think about work, trusting Steve would soon make their monthly trip to Seattle without her. She knew if she didn't turn over the files, he wouldn't have much else to do.

Just as promised, Ham showed up at Donovan's Sunday morning to look after Julie while Donovan visited Sean. Ham took the recliner, his eyes glued to the business section of the Sunday paper. Julie wondered how his security firm faired. He'd not shared with her about his company in a long time.

"How's business?" she asked.

He glanced up from the paper. "Good."

Ham never was one to make in-depth conversation unless he needed information.

He turned the newspaper page. Julie wondered if he was deliberately ignoring her.

"I guess you've been pretty… busy," she said, pursing her lips into a frown. "That's why you never came to see… me at the hospital."

"I figured you were receiving plenty attention from Gooder and your other little friend."

She ignored the remark.

"Mike said you and he took care of some business together while I was in the hospital." She held his gaze. "He also said that you've been avoiding him."

Ham folded the paper then laid it on the coffee table. "What did he tell you?"

"I'm sure everything he knows… But that's the thing; He doesn't really know everything, does he?"

"What do you want, Julie?" he snapped. "Did you get my presents?"

"If you mean the data… disks, yes, I got… them and thank you. I'd like for you to tell me…how Pico died in your care."

Setting his jaw he said, "Doesn't matter. He's dead. You're alive."

"You don't trust me?" She swallowed. "Even if… you are responsible, how could I blame you? But I don't get… why you guys didn't turn… him over to the police."

"Didn't you ask Gooder?"

Ham's never going to admit to Pico's murder, she realized. Does he really think I'll turn him in?

"He said you wanted to question Pico, that you were… rough."

"Look, Julie. I didn't come here to get into it with you. Gooder instructed me to make you rest."

"He knew why I asked you to come, and it wasn't to… babysit me." Feeling a tug in her chest, she coughed then reached for a glass of ice water.

"Should I leave?"

"No, Ham… I want to know if you killed Pico. I swear I won't turn you in." She coughed some more, then took a sip.

Settling back into his chair, Ham kept silent for a few minutes. Julie stared at him, assuming he'd either cave in or abruptly excuse himself. After a while, he addressed her.

"Pico said some things about you. I lost my cool."

"Mike said Pico hardly spoke at all."

"I got him to… talk."

"What did he tell you?"

"It's not important."

"Oh, c'mon! If the situation were … reversed, you would want to know … what was said about you."

"You'd never hurt anyone to get it out of them!"

"Maybe I would." She thought about the methods of torture she and Donovan imposed on prisoners during the last war. Bright lights and blindfolds were nothing compared to what Ham was capable of. She realized it would've been quicker for Ham to just shoot Pico and get it over with. Knowing Ham, he'd been cruel and took pleasure in the deed.

"Pico had a lot to say about you and Bates," Ham said. "He talked about the news interview you and Gooder did with Bates."

Julie remembered the interview like it had happened yesterday, feeling Nathan Bate's hand move up the small of her back as he told viewers that he had a "very special working relationship" with her.

Pico was jealous. He thought Bates and I were lovers. So did many other people, including Mike…

Frowning, Julie said, "Thank you for your honesty, Ham."

#

Donovan glared at the mean woman sitting behind the Plexiglas. Due to a curfew violation, Sean wasn't allowed outside O'Brien Center today, and Donovan's visit would be shortened by a half hour.

On Father's Day, unbelievable!

Even more questionable was the ridiculous charge against Sean. He'd been caught in the restroom after bedtime.

Apparently, they think he can control when he has to use the john, Donovan thought.

"You'll need to meet with our billing director afterwards, Mr. Donovan," the attendant said. "There's been some issue with your payment."

Yeah, I haven't sent it.

Nodding, he headed for the double doors and passed through a security checkpoint. He removed his wallet and keys then placed them on the conveyer. A chunky guard patted him down.

After passing the security point, Donovan walked into a large cafeteria where he found Sean at a table and sat across from him.

"How ya doin' there, Kiddo?"

With a sincere expression Sean said, "I'm sorry about today, Dad."

"Don't worry about it. You'll be out of here in a few weeks. We'll go wherever we want." Donovan noticed a small wooden box sitting in front of Sean. "What's that?"

"I made it for you." Sean pushed the box toward him.

Donovan opened the lid. There was nothing inside, not that he expected anything. It was the best that a son without any resources could afford.

"I figured you could put baseball cards in it or something," Sean explained.

Donovan hadn't been to a baseball game or collected cards in years.

"It's beautiful. I'll cherish it always."

"How's Julie doing?"

Wondering about Sean's motive for asking, Donovan made a so-so motion with his hand.

"How are you getting along with her?"

Donovan repeated the motion then let out a chuckle.

"You still like her?"

"That's not what I came to discuss."

"If my old man's dating," Sean smiled, "I have a right to know."

If you call running her back and forth to appointments and being her personal nurse, dating. He refrained from saying anything more.

"I want to talk about what you plan to do when you get out of here."

"Go home and play my guitar. Will Julie still be there?"

"No." Donovan was starting to get annoyed, but it made him wonder if Sean was okay with her being around. He didn't seem angry. "You plan on going back to school in the fall?"

"Have to, don't I?"

Donovan knew the terms of Sean's probation required he attend public school or earn a GED. At seventeen-years-old, and having spent nearly two years in Visitor custody, Sean was behind in his education. He wouldn't graduate at eighteen.

"I think you should study at home like we talked about. I'll help you," Donovan said.

"You suck at algebra too."

"Thanks for the reminder. I'll find someone to help you."

"Maybe Julie will help me. She's a scientist. They're supposed to be good at math."

"I'll ask her," he lied, assuming she planned to return to work as soon as she could, he'd seldom see her, if at all.

It'll be better that way, he reasoned. Then I can devote myself to Sean and stop worrying about her.

Unlike last time, his meeting with Sean went smoothly. He felt a glimmer of hope. After the visit, Donovan met with the billing director and wrote out a check, giving her a load of excuses as to why the payment was late. He refrained from telling her what he really thought, how unfair it was the state could keep his child incarcerated, and demand financial support.