Chapter 36
"Daddy?" Johnny's head turned back and forth between Iris and the elderly man. He was stunned by what he had just heard, repeating the word when he heard Iris' pitiful cry. He turned back to the elderly man whose face appeared to be masked in emotional torment. He saw the looks that passed between Iris and her father, and his heart broke. While the stunned paramedic's eyes remained locked on the other man, he could feel Lily reaching over to embrace her mother. When he glanced at the younger woman, he saw that she was refusing to look at her maternal grandfather, the man she had believed was dead until just a few years ago. When she had learned the truth, that her maternal grandparents had rejected her because of her mixed-race status, she decided to repay them in like manner.
"C'mon, Mr. Gage. I don't think this'll take too long," the booming voice of Lane Wilson instructed, speaking for Moses Pettway as though he were in charge instead of the district attorney.
Johnny stood up from the long white bench along the wall opposite the conference room. He adjusted the collar of his brown sports coat, running a hand down along his green and gold tie as he headed for the open door.
Lane noticed the reaction the father-daughter reunion was having on Isaac, and he smiled inwardly. He needed the pharmacist to be uncomfortable to ensure that his testimony would be exactly what the defense needed. Having his granddaughter present was a definite bonus. She was a physical reminder of what his daughter had done when she had eloped. "Jus' have a seat on that whi' bench, Isaac," the defense attorney ordered, pointing a pudgy finger at what appeared to be an old church pew that had been painted white, contrasting with the grey walls of the hallway, positioned along the wall just outside the conference room.
Johnny stepped over the threshold of the conference room but felt his entire world tilt when the defense attorney spoke his last sentence. He was jolted back in time to that fateful morning, and the phrase that the unknown assailant had spoken. 'Whi' trash, whi' trash…' "Ohmygod," Johnny mumbled to himself gripping the door facing, leaning into it to steady himself.
Johnny's legs carried him into the large room, but his brain remained in 1965. Images, sounds, feelings and tastes all returned in a rush, like a backdraft consuming an oxygen-deprived room. Choosing not to look at William Waite, or the attorney he now suspected was the unknown third assailant that morning, he locked his brown eyes on the ebony face of the district attorney, accepting his extended hand as if it was a lifeline being offered to a drowning man.
"Moses Pettway, District Attorney. It's nice to meet you in person and I want to thank you for what you've done for this case."
"John Gage... You're, uh, welcome."
"Mr. Gage," Moses said, sweeping his arm to his side. "This is Ms. Julie Pinehurst, our court reporter. She'll be typing the transcripts from your testimony and this is Slim Smitherman, my investigator." He nodded his head in the direction of the defendant. "And this is William Waite, and his attorney, Lane Wilson," the district attorney said, completing the introductions. "You'll be sworn in, then we'll proceed with the questions.
Johnny sat stoically, staring at the district attorney. He could see Waite and Wilson out of the corner of his eye and he began to sweat. He cleared his throat, feeling a rush of heat as the walls of the room seemed to close in on him. More than anything else, he wanted to get away from the defense attorney and his client, but he also wondered what was happening in the hallway with Kizzy, Lily, Iris, and Iris' father.
E!
Kizzy slid over on the bench, wrapping one arm around Iris' side, forming a protective wall between her and her estranged father. "Everything's gonna be a'right, Iris," she mumbled into her daughter-in-law's ear. "You hold your head up high." She turned her face to the pharmacist, realizing that he had taken a seat at the opposite end of the corridor, as far away from the Campbell ladies as possible. His forearms were resting on his knees and his face was hanging towards the floor. Kizzy returned her attention to her weeping daughter-in-law. "God knows what's in your heart, and He's the one that will judge," she said loud enough to be heard down the short hallway, her barbed words aiming straight for the heart of Isaac Jones.
Isaac felt his heart thudding around inside his tightening chest. He began to sweat profusely. He straightened up, leaning his back against the wooden slats of the bench. His head was throbbing in rhythm with his broken heart. He had lost nearly 30 years of his daughter's life, and he had never even met his only grandchild. So many images were whirling around inside his head, but he couldn't form a complete thought, and he certainly couldn't say what he truly wanted to say.
Isaac wanted to stare at his daughter, so much older than he had imagined her to be. To him, she was still the eighteen year-old red-haired teenager, hopelessly in love with a man whom her parents did not approve, but he couldn't bear to see the hurt in her eyes. He wanted to look upon the beauty that was his granddaughter, his only grandchild, to see the perfect mixture of Iris and Jon, the combination of the two races that he had always considered to be an abomination, and yet, her she was sitting before him in all her beauty and grace, but she wouldn't look at him. He knew why, and he felt the burden of what he had done weighing even heavier on his chest. Sensing no other option, he leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and listening to the indistinct sounds of voices coming from inside the conference room. The sense of dread that had been following him from the day before seemed to settle around him like smoke choking off his air supply.
E!
"So, Mr. Gage," the defense attorney began, having waited patiently through Johnny stating his name, address, profession, and his verification that the pictures resting on the table as exhibit A were his handywork. "You're a fireman, huh?"
"Yes, sir… A fireman and paramedic," Johnny commented, shifting in his seat.
"Mmhmm," the overweight man grunted. "And how old are you?"
"Twenty-six."
"So… that'd make ya… oh, 'bout sixteen when Phillip Campbell and Father Mitchell were ALLEGEDLY murdered, right?" he questioned, trying to continue his client's claims of innocence.
"Yes, sir."
"Mmhmm… Jus' a young man… out takin' pictures that mornin'… While most young men your age were sleepin'… Why?"
Questioning brown eyes looked over at Mr. Pettway and he saw the slight nod of the DA's head. "I don't understand the question."
Mr. Wilson allowed a snicker to escape from his throat. "Let me try to explain it so that you can understand it a little better," he commented, sarcastically. His voice was oozing with condemnation. "Why were you out so early on Sunday mornin', takin' pictures of a foggy riverbank, while other boys your age were sleepin' in. Ya see, most sixteen year-old boys stay out kinda late on Saturday nights, chasin' girls… You DO like girls, don't ya, Mr. Gage?"
"Objection… relevance," Moses commented for the record, knowing there was no judge present to sustain it, he merely wanted the transcripts to reflect his concern.
"Oh, ah-ha… My apologies," Lane stated, laughing. "I'm sure a strong fireman like yourself isn't interested in… oh, never mind," he said, waving his hand in dismissal.
Johnny recognized Mr. Wilson's attempt to anger him, and managed to keep his temper in check. After all, he had plenty of experience with harassment, but his fears of the KKK, now that he suspected he knew who Lane Wilson really was, had his heart racing with anxiety.
"Sooo," Wilson drawled out, "you seem to have a fondness of photography; is that right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Mmhmm… Mr. Gage, I jus' have to ask… why were you… a young man of only sixteen years, out takin' pictures of a foggy river that mornin'? I mean, I understand that you were stayin' with the victim while you were visitin' our fine state, so did ya jus' decide to follow him to the river that mornin'? Did ya suspect that somethin' bad was gonna happen to him?" Lane inquired, hoping to confuse Johnny, or to as least offer up a question in the DA's mind about his so-called star witness.
Johnny thought for a long moment. These weren't questions he had anticipated, but he skillfully avoided the attorney's attempt to shift the focus. He cleared his throat and answered the first question. "Ahem… Well… um… The camera was a gift from my parents. I had used it a little on my trip down here, but I really wanted to see what kind of effects I could create with it. I wanted to take pictures of the bridge with the fog underneath it. I thought it would look kinda spooky."
Mr. Wilson looked at the pictures, exaggerating his movements as he appeared to strain his eyes at the images. "Yea… Yea, I do believe they're kind o' spooky. Look how the images in the distance are all blurry… kind o' like you might've photographed a few ghosts," the attorney commented, hoping to place a little doubt in Johnny's mind about whom he had photographed that morning.
"I've never seen a ghost drivin' a new pick-up truck, or one who drove a police car," Johnny stated flatly.
"So are ya sayin' you've seen a ghost?"
Johnny pressed his lips together tightly, his anger beginning to boil over at the patronizing tone of the attorney.
"No, sir."
The attorney handed one of the photographs to Johnny. "Who's that in this picture?"
"I believe it's-"
"I didn't ask ya who ya BELIEVED it to be, Mr. Gage. I'm askin' ya who ya saw on the banks of the river that mornin'? Now if you DID spend time with the victim... Phillip Campbell, then surely you would've recognized 'im when ya looked through your camera lens." He leaned forward on the table. "So why didn't ya help him? Why did ya jus' stand there photographin' a horrible violent act like this instead o' helpin' him out? Aren't firemen s'posed to help people?" He saw the stress on Johnny's face as the paramedic bit the inside of his lip. "Answer carefully, Mr. Gage. Who's in this picture, and why didn't you, at the very least, tell someone about what you saw? 'Cause I've got a witness who will corroborate my client's story that he wasn't anywhere near the river when this egregious act took place."
Johnny felt his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard.
"Let me remind you that you're under oath, Mr. Gage," Lane Wilson quickly interjected.
Johnny wasn't sure which person was which in the black and white photograph. He knew the black man was Phillip – something he hadn't known at the time - and his heart told him that the tall men standing beside the pick-up truck were William Waite and the police chief. And after hearing Mr. Wilson's voice and accent when he spoke to Iris' father earlier, he was thinking that the man standing near the kneeling priest had to be Lane Wilson. But if he was wrong, then the entire case was in jeopardy. He simply couldn't testify to what he wasn't absolutely certain of.
"I… I don't know…"
"Mmhmm," Mr. Wilson grunted again, leaning back in his squeaky chair. "Well, can't you testify to what you saw that mornin'? I mean, did ya see my client beating and hangin' Campbell, or didn't ya?"
Johnny felt his heart leap into his throat. This was the question he had been dreading. "No sir… I can remember hearing the sounds, feeling the cool breeze, and… and some bitter wooden taste in my mouth, but…"
"But?" Wilson repeated, a wicked grin crossing his round face.
Johnny looked at Mr. Pettway, his sad brown eyes apologizing. "But I don't actually remember seein' what happened."
"Ah-haha, ho, ah-haha!" Lane guffawed at Johnny's statement. It seemed that things were going exactly the way he had hoped they would.
As the deposition continued, Johnny began to wring his hands in his lap. He pressed his lips together tightly. He hated being laughed at, especially now that he strongly suspected that the defense attorney was involved in the case a little more intimately than just defending one of the murderers.
"So lemme get this straight," Wilson began, his ruddy face adorned with a wide grin. "You admit that you're the man who took these, um, kinda blurry pictures, but… you can't tell me who you SAW on the bank of the river that mornin'? Is that why you didn't try to help Mr. Campbell? You didn't know it was him, did ya?"
"Um… No, sir... I, uh, I don't remember SEEIN' anything. I, uh, I HEARD it an'… an'… I… I saw the police chief and, uh, Mr. Waite drivin' away a few minutes later," Johnny mumbled.
"I'm not worried 'bout who was out drivin' along the river, doin' a little scoutin' for a good fishin' hole on a Sunday mornin', Mr. Gage. I'm talkin' 'bout who you SAW attackin' Mr. Campbell and…and POSSIBLY attacking Father Mitchell that mornin'."
"Objection," Moses stated. "I believe he's already answered your question, Mr. Wilson."
A knowing smirk, thinly veiled as an understanding smile, escaped the defense attorney's lips. "So he has…" The attorney leaned over to his client, asking him a question in a stage whisper, "Bill… do ya have any questions o' this so-called WITNESS… who didn't witness anything?"
"Nu-uh," came the gruff response. Waite knew that the testimony had gone better than they had anticipated, and now that Isaac Jones was waiting to refute the evidence, he knew the case was about to be closed for good.
Johnny looked over at the district attorney. He wanted to apologize for his poor performance in the deposition, but he had done all he could do. He had told the truth, as he remembered it from that morning.
"Mr. Gage, thank you for your time," Moses said, standing and ushering Johnny to the door. "Please wait outside, in case we need any clarifications after the other witness."
Johnny dipped his head at the DA and walked back into the hallway, his shoulders sagging lower now than they had been before he entered. He passed by Isaac as the older man stood up in response to his name being called.
Johnny saw Iris weeping, and was grateful when Kizzy slid over, allowing him to sit beside the sobbing woman. He held her tightly, allowing her to cry on his shoulder. He looked over at Lily, and the daggers shooting from her eyes at the closing conference room door let him know that she was incensed by her maternal grandfather's presence.
Iris inhaled a ragged breath. "Jo-John… I can't… be-believe he's… after all these years… he's gonna take up for… for that MONSTER!" Iris wailed.
"I'm sorry," he said, rubbing soothing circles along her back. "I'm sorry… I failed…," he looked over at Lily once more, saddened by the look on her face. He then turned to look at Kizzy, noting the firm set of her jaw and the cold expression on the elderly woman's plump ebony features. "I'm… so… sorry," he mumbled, fighting to keep his emotions in check, his throat beginning to feel scratchy and his eyes stinging.
"The good Lord is still in control, Johnny. Don't ya worry none 'bout what happened in there," she said, jutting her chin at the closed conference room door. "You done jus' what the good Lord tol' ya to do. Ya tol' the truth. Now all we can do is let God take it from here," she said, sitting back with her spine stiff.
Kizzy's confident words belied the way she was really feeling - the same flames of bitterness she had been living with for over a decade were burning her soul. No matter how hard she tried to do the right thing, it seemed that her thoughts turned dark when it came to getting justice for her murdered son. She felt her fists clenching and unclenching in anger. She felt the sweat beads popping out across her brow. She understood what it meant to allow rage to overtake one's person, and she was very close to losing all control. The main question at this point was who would be the recipient of her wrath – William Waite, or Isaac Jones. Deciding that Waite had committed a heinous act against her family one time, but Jones had committed the same act over and over again for more than 25 years, she balled her fist, preparing to stand toe to toe with the tall lanky pharmacist and punch him square in the nose as soon as he emerged from the deposition. She couldn't allow herself to unleash her rage on a crippled man, but she had no qualms about allowing it to overtake a healthy man.
Across the conference table, Moses sat watching as the pale elderly pharmacist sat nervously in front of him. Something wasn't right. If Jones was here to tell the truth about what happened that morning, then why was he visibly shaking? As soon as he was sworn in, Moses began the questioning.
"Mr. Jones, please state your full name, address, and place of employment for the record."
Isaac struggled to get the words out, but he managed to identify himself as the owner of Jones Pharmacy for the last thirty-five years, and listed his address as he had been instructed. He removed his handkerchief from his pocket, running it across his sweat-laden face. The tightness in his chest was returning, but he couldn't stop now. He had to get this over with.
"Mr. Jones, what information do you have about the events of the morning of March 7, 1965," Moses inquired with what should have been an easy question to answer, but it seemed to take Isaac an eternity to respond.
"Well… um… not much… I was," he didn't dare look at Waite or Wilson. "I was at home with my wife, gettin' ready to attend church services, and…"
Lane Wilson cleared his throat, his piercing eyes glaring at the witness he had brought in, who was obviously going off-script.
Isaac turned his face away from the defense attorney, trying his best to ignore the silent intimidation tactics. "And three men showed up at my house."
Moses' ears perked up at the sudden turn of events. "Who were these three men?"
"Ahem… Ah… William Waite, Joseph Felder who was the police chief back then, and… Lane Wilson… who was… uh, drivin' his son's patrol car.
"And why were they at your house?" Moses asked, seeing his counterpart shifting in his seat, rapping his fingers on the wooden table, his face morphing from pink to crimson to purple.
"Um…" Isaac rubbed his forehead, his temples throbbing. His brain seemed to be lost in a fog. "Um… could you repeat the… the question, please?"
"Do you need a glass of water?" Moses asked, concerned by the appearance of the witness.
"I'll get him some water," Slim said, darting out of the room before Isaac had a chance to answer. He rushed to the water fountain outside the room, ignoring the stares of the Campbell ladies and Johnny as he sped past them.
Kizzy tried to relax her fists, but found herself clenching them tighter instead. She leaned her head to one side, peeking into the room while the door remained open, and she didn't like what she saw. Isaac was resting his head in his hands, his elbows propped on the table. Bill Waite was glaring at him, not realizing that Kizzy was watching them. Kizzy could have sworn she could see horns and a tail growing from the feeble man's body as he sat in his wheelchair, a shell of the man he had been just ten years ago. Suddenly her view of the man was obstructed by the defense attorney, his face construed by anger, leaning forward to whisper to his client. When the investigator returned, he closed the door behind him, leaving Kizzy wondering what was going on.
"I hate 'im," Iris said, struggling against her emotions.
"Sshhh," Johnny said, still holding her. "That only hurts you, not him."
"How can he… do this? Hasn't he… hurt us… enough?"
Lily remained silent, her stone-cold face hiding her true pain.
Inside the conference room, Wilson waved his hand in the general direction of Isaac as the pharmacist accepted the paper cup. "Now then… jus' take a sip o' that water an' settle down. Then you can tell these fine folks all 'bout our fishin' trip that mornin'."
"I believe the witness has testified that he and his wife were preparing for church services, Mr. Wilson,"
Moses corrected, believing for the first time that he had just trapped the witness for the defense.
Isaac set the empty cup down on the table, staring at it as the details of that morning began to flow from his lips. "Yes… that's right, Mr. Pettway. We were about to leave… for our church service when Bill and Joe… um, showed up in Bill's pick-up truck. I could… see blood in the back of the truck bed… I knew then that something terrible had happened."
"But didn't ya jus' say that all three of us came over to your house, Mr. Jones?" the defense attorney interjected, sarcastically, imposing his question into the district attorney's time with the witness.
Moses, anticipating an imminent explosion, glanced to his right to see that the stenographer's fingers were busy flying across the keys taking down every word, and he sat back, allowing the unorthodox line of questioning to continue.
"Yea… I did… 'cause you… you showed up later in the… in your son's deputy car. That's when you told me that you'd killed the priest and used MY boat," he said pointing at his own chest, his voice raising in volume. "MY boat that I'd left tied to a stump on Saturday… You used MY boat to dump the body down river!"
"What the hell?" Wilson questioned, his voice breaking, momentarily forgetting that there was a woman present. "That's a lie!"
"No," Isaac responded, his anxiety level from earlier increasing, but his chest pain was abating – something the pharmacist knew was unusual. "Father Mitchell must've been alive when you threw him into the boat 'cause…," he exhaled a cleansing breath. "Um, 'cause later... I …," he pinched the bridge of his nose as he contemplated what must have happened to Father Mitchell in his last moments. "I found some indentions on the side o' the boat, along the rim, that… that looked like teeth marks."
Moses opened his eyes wide, remembering the odd comment about a bitter wooden taste that John Gage had mentioned during his deposition. Had he been hiding in the boat during the assault? For the first time, the two witnesses' statements began to line up and Mr. Pettway began to quickly piece together the testimony, finally having an idea of exactly what may have occurred on that morning.
"Mr. Jones, do you still own the boat, the one you said was used that morning?" Moses asked.
"Yes, I do."
"Would you allow us to examine it?" Moses continued.
"It's jus' an old boat. A few marks on it don't prove nothin'!" Lane spoke up, his voice sounding frantic.
"It'll prove that what I'm sayin' is true," Isaac spat out.
"How's that? And 'member that you're under oath," the belligerent attorney reminded him, spittle flying from his angry mouth. His glaring eyes were reminiscent of the previous day during his after-hours visit at the pharmacy.
"Oh, I remember… I remember everything!" Isaac began, pointing his finger at the defense attorney. "I remember how you threatened me yesterday if I didn't tell the story the way YOU wanted it told! YOU killed Phillip Campbell," he said pointing his wrinkled index finger in the direction of Waite before pointing it directly at the defense attorney. "And YOU killed Father Mitchell!"
"OBJECTION!" Wilson screamed, his face bright red, his hand slamming down on the table with a thundering clap.
"He's YOUR witness," Moses pointed out, aiming his hand at the struggling pharmacist. "Besides, you can't object to your own question!" He couldn't believe how quickly the case was unraveling for the defense.
Wilson, his face darkening, pointed a stubby finger in the face of his own witness. "What the hell kind o' stunt are ya tryin' to pull, Isaac? This ain't funny!"
"No one's laughin', Lane," the pharmacist replied calmly.
Wilson narrowed his eyes at the other man. "You're a liar," he grunted through gritted teeth.
"No… I'm tellin' the truth," Isaac stated softly, struggling to find his voice. "I've kept your secret long enough… And I no longer have a secret that you can use to blackmail me."
The frustrated defense attorney hesitated, then smiled at his witness. "I see what's goin' on, Isaac," he commented. "You're tryin' to cover your own ass," he said, spinning around to face the stenographer. "Pardon me, ma'am."
"I know what you're goin' to say, Lane." Isaac looked around the room. "I have somethin' to declare, but it isn't a confession of assault, or murder. That young woman out there, the one who's biracial… She's my granddaughter. Jonathan Campbell, the older brother of Phillip Campbell, is her late father… and my daughter, Iris Jones Campbell, who is out there sittin' with her and Kizzy Campbell, is her mother. Iris ran off with Jon after she graduated from high school. They got married and lived in California until he died in an accident a few years after Lily was born."
Lane Wilson gave a smug grin. "And that gives you motive to kill the younger brother, and lie about us bein' involved," he said, waving his hand back and forth between himself and his client.
"I've lived most of the last 30 years regretting that I turned my back on my daughter because of who she chose to love." The pharmacist stood up on wobbly legs, leaned over the table, and pointed his own finger directly at Wilson's chest. "But I'll be damned if I'm gonna stand before God one day with the blood of two innocent men on my hands. YOU… and YOU," he said, pointing at the two men sitting across the table from him. "YOU two did the killin' and you used my boat… to dump Father Mitchell into the river… and left Phillip hangin' by the neck!"
Lane used the back of his hand to wipe the saliva pooling at the corner of his mouth, his dark eyes leveling his witness. "Go to hell!"
"I've been livin' in hell for almost three decades," the pharmacist responded, staring at the defense attorney. "And maybe I deserve to live there for an eternity for what I've done, but at least I won't arrive there guilty of murder. I've got to live with what I've done… and I've been payin' for it for a long time… Now it's your turn to pay for what you've done!"
Moses decided to interject, to end this verbal sparring match before additional blood was shed. "Before anyone around here goes to Hades they've got to go through the Dallas County Judicial System." He looked over at his investigator, giving the tall thin man a knowing nod.
Slim Smitherman stood up, stepping over to the place where Lane Wilson remained standing, staring at his witness. "Lane Wilson, you're under arrest for the murder of Father Mitchell…"
Isaac Jones felt weary, his chest aching, but his feet felt lighter than they had in years. "Mr. Pettway… may I… may I be excused for a moment?" he asked, feeling the need to splash his face with cool water.
"Just don't go far. I need to talk to you and Mr. Gage for a moment," Moses consented.
Outside the conference room, Kizzy had been pacing back and forth in front of the door. She felt as if her body were being pierced with needles. Her feet were swollen and aching, and she knew her blood pressure was elevated, but she only had one thing on her mind. She had heard the yelling going on inside the conference room, but hadn't been able to determine what was being said. She felt her knuckles cracking as she stretched her fingers then tightened them up again into tight balls, spinning around quickly when she heard the door open.
Isaac felt like his knees might buckle as he rushed through the door on his way to the bathroom, but was stopped in his tracks when a fist connected with his left cheek, sending him stumbling, grabbing onto the door frame to keep from falling to the floor. Feeling the sting on his chin, he covered it with one hand, reaching out towards the conference table with the other as he somehow managed to stagger to the edge of the long piece of furniture, holding onto it with one hand.
Iris screamed, drowning out the sound of her daughter's loud gasp as they both watched Kizzy's attack. Kizzy's anger at the pharmacist had spent far too many years coiling up inside her until what she perceived to be his ultimate betrayal caused her to release her venomous strike.
"Umph!" Isaac grunted, rubbing his face and grimacing at the metallic-tasting warm liquid that was quickly filling his mouth.
"Kizzy, NO!" Johnny yelled, grabbing the trembling woman's arms and pulling her away from the open doorway.
Inside the conference room, Johnny saw Isaac leaning on the table on his forearm, patting his free hand against his mouth and looking down at the bloody mess the action left behind. Even more stunning was the sight of the defense attorney being handcuffed, his face a reddened mixture of surprise, frustration, and outright fury.
"Mr. Jones? Are you okay?" Moses asked, quickly rushing to the aid of his newest witness in the murder cases, rushing past the shocked court clerk who had pressed her back tightly into the farthest corner away from the melee.
"Yea… uh… I reckon I've had that one comin' for a real long time," he said, pushing himself back up off the table.
Moses helped ease him into a nearby chair, looking worriedly at the fuming black woman Johnny was struggling to calm her down. He knew her reaction was purely emotional, but she had no way of knowing that she had just assaulted the man whose testimony would likely give her the justice she had so long sought.
"Um… Mr. Jones… Please take a seat," Moses suggested, passing him a box of tissue to slow the bleeding from his cut lip.
As soon as the pharmacist had placed pressure on his wound, the district attorney continued. "Um… I have to ask you… Do you want to press charges against her?" the DA asked, hoping the answer was a negative one.
Isaac glanced at the heaving woman he had known for a very long time. She was refusing to look at him and he understood why. His eyes then looked through the open doorway at the bench across the hallway, finding his daughter and granddaughter hugging each other, both were crying and neither one was looking at him. He knew that their forgiveness was too much to hope for, but for him to forgive Kizzy was within his control and she deserved it. He looked up at the district attorney who was waiting for his answer.
"No… No, I don't want to press charges," he said softly.
Johnny and Kizzy were surprised by his answer, but they didn't have time to react to it as the scuffling sound of Investigator Smitherman escorting the handcuffed defense attorney through the doorway and down the hall interfered with their thoughts. Kizzy was stunned, confused by what she was seeing happening around her, but Johnny was hopeful that the truth had finally been revealed.
In the hallway, Lily and Iris looked around at those involved in the ruckus. Their eyes shifted back and forth between Kizzy and Isaac, and Slim and Lane Wilson, unable to make sense of it all. "Wha-what's going on?" Iris asked.
Moses, realizing that he still had a defendant present, turned to his stenographer. "Julie, do you feel comfortable rolling Mr. Waite to the Sheriff's Office in the east wing, and telling the Sheriff that I'll be down to explain everything to him shortly? I need to meet with the family," he said, waving his arm at the stunned group remaining.
"No problem," the stenographer stated, quickly stepping behind the seething disabled man and pushing his wheelchair out of the room. She was disgusted by what she had heard he had done, and had he been healthy, she would have been tempted to trip him, sending him falling down the stairs. But William Waite wasn't healthy, and she felt as if she were helping the case in some small way.
Moses looked around at the faces of the five people who remained. "Would you all join me inside, please? We've had a major turn of events in this case that you all need to know about."
Lily felt the bile rising in the back of her throat. "I won't go in a room with him," she said, nodding disdainfully at her grandfather.
"You're going to want to hear this, Miss Campbell. I assure you of that," the DA replied, knowing why the young woman felt the way she did, but he had to share the truth with her – her uncle's tormentors and murderers had just been positively identified by the man she loathed.
E!
In his Los Angeles apartment, Mike poured two cups of coffee, carrying both to his living room and taking a seat beside Lexi on his sofa. He set one cup of the steaming liquid on the coffee table in front of her. Lexi, whose attention was focused on the study guide opened in front of her, reached forward and picked up the mug. "I don't know if I'll ever pass the GED."
"Hmm?" Mike asked, blowing a cooling breath across the java before taking a sip.
Lexi looked up, smiling at him as she lifted her cup to her mouth. "Are you tired, or are you worried about Johnny?" she asked, then tested the temperature of the coffee with a tiny sip.
"Both," the quiet engineer responded.
She set the cup down beside her book on the coffee table and leaned back onto the sofa, reaching for his hand. "Well, a nap will help with your sleep deprivation, but…"
"But Johnny's on his own," he replied, filling in when she hesitated.
"He's a grown man, Michael."
"I know, but… We're brothers, Lexi. We're there for each other; we've always got each others' back… Johnny is always there for the rest of us, especially this past year, but now… Now we aren't there for him."
"He knows you would be there if you could. Besides, some things just have to be done alone."
"No… We've got to do something for him… He's got to know that… that we're here for him, you know?" He looked at his girlfriend, searching for understanding. He felt relieved when she reached out for him, both of them holding each other for a long moment.
Lexi broke the embrace when she heard him yawning. "You really ARE sleepy, aren't you?"
"Maybe a little," he said with a snicker. "I got about three solid hours before we got called out for that bus accident. By the time we got back to the station, it was almost five o'clock. I knew that if I tried to sleep any more then I'd be exhausted when wake-up tones sounded," he explained. Besides, anytime one of the guys has a substitute, it just isn't the same."
"Who subbed for Johnny?"
Mike rolled his eyes. "Brice," he sighed. "And it's hard to rest when you figure the nutcase is going to say you laid out your bunkers wrong."
"So it sounds like you might need a nap in a little while," she responded; she was in no hurry to return her attention to the math equations on the page in front of her. She was finding it difficult to concentrate with the handsome engineer sitting beside her.
"Yea… Maybe after lunch we can do a little snuggling," he suggested, hiding his grin behind his cup as he took another drink. "I promise to be a gentleman."
Lexi looked up again; the desire she had been feeling since he had picked her up earlier seemed to be reflected in his own deep blue eyes. She closed the book, turning slightly to her side. "You don't have to be."
Mike swallowed hard, feeling his lower anatomy responding to her remark. Unsure of what to say, he decided to borrow one of his favorite movie quotes. "Why Miss Lopez, you're trying to seduce me… aren't you?"
Lexi sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, slowly nodding her head in affirmation.
Mike turned his body towards her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a slow soft kiss. As the kiss deepened, he used his tongue to lightly lick her lips, enjoying the feeling of her acquiescing to his nonverbal request for entrance. Their tongues danced as he pulled her closer, feeling her bosom pressing into his firm chest. He felt her reaching up, carding her fingers through his brown hair and he felt a shiver run down his spine. He wanted her so badly, but was she ready to take their relationship to the next level? Would he be able to face Marco if he and Lexi began having a sexual relationship?
When the kiss ended, Lexi pulled back away from Mike, seeing that his eyes remained closed but his lips were swollen from the passionate kiss. She wondered what he was thinking and was about to ask him when he opened his eyes, dilated with need.
Mike reached out his hand, caressing the side of her face, enjoying the sensation as she leaned into his touch. "I love you, baby."
"I love you, too, Michael… Please… make love to me," she rasped in a throaty whisper.
Mike continued to stroke her cheek, running his thumb across her lower lip. "Are you sure, Lexi? I don't want you to have any regrets, and I don't want you to think that-"
"Sshhh," Lexi protested, placing an index finger in front of his lips. "I know what you're going to say and I don't… I promise, I don't think that you brought me here for sex, Michael. I don't think that's why you're dating me. You've proven that over and over again."
She allowed her fingers to drift from his lips, across his chin, and down to the top button of his pale blue shirt. Slowly she began to unbutton the garment, exposing his white undershirt beneath. She ran her fingers lightly across the cotton material, feeling his breathing rate increasing.
Mike felt as if he had fallen asleep and was dreaming. Her touch was amazing, heightening his desire for her. He felt the coolness of the air as she pulled open his button-down shirt, removing one layer of clothing that separated her touch from his naked chest. He tried to lick his lips but found that his mouth was going dry. He wanted to touch her, to cover her body with his own as he slowly brought them both to their climax, but he knew he had to go slowly with her; their first time had to be absolutely perfect.
"Ba-ahem, baby… if you're sure about this… then I think we'd be a lot more comfortable in my bedroom," he responded, his voice nearly choked off by his overcharged libido.
Encouraged, and more than a little nervous, Lexi began to stand. This was what she wanted; it was what she needed. She just hoped that he would still feel the same way about her afterwards.
E!
Inside the conference room in Selma, Kizzy Campbell sat with her injured hand resting on the table while Johnny inspected the damage. "I think it might be broken. You really should have it x-rayed."
"Would an ice pack help?" Slim asked, having transferred his prisoner into the capable hands of the Dallas County Sheriff.
Johnny looked up at the tall man who was standing in the doorway. He glanced at the swelling lip and the blood oozing through the tissue pressed tightly against Isaac's injury.
"Um, yea… better make it two ice packs, Slim," he replied.
"Will you two try not to hurt each other while I'm gone?" Slim asked, worried about leaving the opposing parties in a room together with only Johnny to separate them since the DA had walked out into the hallway to speak to the younger Campbell ladies.
"Yea…," Kizzy said, wincing as Johnny continued to examine her rapidly swelling hand.
"Mmhmm," Isaac mumbled around his puffy lip, struggling to look past the thin investigator to see what was happening in the hallway.
Slim exited the room, leaving the door open. Isaac craned his neck to see the place where his daughter, granddaughter, and the DA were having a very serious conversation.
"NO!" Lily wept, covering her face with her hands as she sat down on the bench again. "I ca-can't… I just can't be… near him!"
"Lily, I know how you feel about him, but not only is he your biological grandfather, he's also going to be the witness whose testimony will identify the murderers, AND he's going to testify against them in court," the DA explained. "He'll get the Campbell family the justice y'all have been waiting for."
"Humph… about twenty-six years too late," she spat out.
Iris was more stunned than anyone by Moses' words. She sat down beside her daughter, her arms trembling as she reached out for her. Had she heard correctly? She looked up into the dark eyes of the district attorney.
"You can't be… serious."
"Yes, ma'am… I am. He was supposed to come here to provide an alibi for Waite, but… he didn't perjure himself… He told the truth, although it seems he might've been threatened for doing so," Moses explained, glancing over his shoulder into the conference room, hoping that the situation had calmed down between Kizzy and Isaac.
Iris felt like she was being drawn and quartered. She found her heartstrings being pulled between her father and her mother-in-law. Would she be expected to choose sides? Her own parents had turned their back on her when she needed them most, and Kizzy had supported her for all these years, although reluctantly at first. Now her father might have risked his own life and the life of Iris' mother by testifying against the killers. She stared at the two opponents sitting on either side of Johnny in the conference room.
"Does…," Iris began, slowly rising to her feet, but unable to take a step forward. Her eyes were focused on her mother-in-law. "Does she know?"
Slim Smitherman rounded the corner, two ice packs in his hands, and locked eyes with Moses. "Comin' in?"
Moses looked back down at Lily who remained sitting, seemingly glued to her seat. "Yea…," he said, reaching his hand down to Lily. "Won't you join us?"
Lily looked up at her mother, seeing the flushed look on her face. "Ohmygod! You… You're going in there, aren't you?"
"Yes, Lily. Yes, I'm going in there because I want to know the truth." She looked over at the DA then back down at her daughter. "We can't change what has happened in the past, but the future hasn't yet been written. I've always been told that the winners write the history books, giving the record a slant in the winner's direction," she said, running her hand down her daughter's hair. "I want to write the history for Phillip," she said, cryptically, hoping Lily understood what she meant – that the truth needed to be told, whether she liked it, or not.
"I... I just... can't," the younger woman replied.
Disappointed, but understanding the response, Iris squeezed her daughter's shoulder then stepped away from the bench, heading for the conference room. Before entering, she turned around to face Lily. "Please... Lily... We'll be out in a few minutes." She hesitated, hoping that Lily would change her mind, but Lily sat staring at the floor, brushing away the tears that had begun to stain her cheeks.
Lily heard the door close, continuing to stare at the floor. As the tears continued to burn her face, her body tensed, hardening against the memories that this town held for her. She stood up, walking to the end of the hallway, looking out the window. In the distance, she could see the steel girders of the Edmund Pettus bridge and the memory of the shouts, singing, screaming, and the barking of police dogs assaulted her. She shuttered, shaking her head to remove the images from her mind. She looked down at the street below, noting with confusion as a couple of children, one black and one white, walked together down the sidewalk, laughing. Were things really that different now?
The chiming of the church bells down the street surprised her. Instinctively she looked at her watch, surprised by how much time had passed by. It was already one o'clock in the afternoon. She looked back at the closed conference room door, wondering what information was being shared with those who had chosen to go inside. Slowly she walked back to the conference room and quietly twisted the door knob. The door squeaked when she opened it, causing those inside to turn and look at her. She felt the heat of their stares, but it was where they were sitting that broke her heart.
Kizzy sat beside Johnny who was still holding an ice pack on her injured hand. Her eyes were swollen and her free hand was busy drying her face with a tissue. Beside her was Iris, whose hand was slowly rubbing Isaac's back. The elderly man had obviously been crying, his eyes swollen and red. A bloody ice pack rested on the table in front of him and his lip and cheek were bruised and puffy. Lily slipped into a chair beside the door.
"Isaac, we're going to need your testimony at the trial," Moses stated.
The elderly man nodded his head, grimacing when he tried to speak. "Yea… I… I wanna do it. I've done… so much wrong in my life… I wanna do this."
"It'll be risky for ya," Kizzy stated.
"I know… and I don't care. You've taken such good care of… of my baby girl and," his eyes shifted from Iris to Lily. "And of our beautiful granddaughter… I failed them both… I failed you… and I failed your family, Kizzy. I failed Father Mitchell… I've… I've failed everyone… I know I'm years too late, but I wanna do this now."
"What about mom?" Iris asked, reaching for his hand. The man who had raised her, who had ultimately turned his back on her, was obviously filled with remorse. He had apologized for every mistake he had made during her lifetime and she was filled with conflicting emotions.
Isaac cleared his throat, realizing that his wife really should be hearing this conversation. "She's been encouraging me to tell the truth. She loves you and Lily, Iris. I'm… ahem," he cleared his throat trying to push the words past the lump in his throat. "I'm to blame here… not Colleen."
"Lily, I'm glad you decided to join us. Your grandfather will be the key witness against the two surviving men who killed your uncle and the priest," Moses commented, encouraged by Lily's presence.
"So I hear," she stated flatly. "That doesn't change what he's done. It doesn't make him some kind of hero."
"That's your granddaddy you're talkin' about," Kizzy cautioned her. "He's doin' what's right now… That's all that matters."
"THAT'S ALL THAT MATTERS?" Lily shouted, stunned by how quickly everyone seemed to be forgiving the man she hated most. "I guess I don't matter at all then, huh? I'm just some half-breed; I'm just a mistake, right?"
"LILY!" Iris yelled back. "Stop it! I know you're angry, but things have changed."
"Not enough!" she huffed, rushing back out the door.
"Lily?" Johnny called after her.
"Please, John. Please go talk to her," Iris begged, fearing she couldn't reach her own daughter.
"I'll take care of her," the paramedic exclaimed, but… both of you need to see a doctor," he said, looking at both Isaac and Kizzy.
"I'll take care of them… you take care of Lily."
E!
Lexi snuggled closer to Mike, curling her body against his in his large bed. She listened to his soft gentle snores, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and she smiled to herself. Unsure of how long they had been sleeping, she slowly raised her head to peer at the bedside clock on his nightstand.
"Mmm," Mike moaned, peeling one eye open to look down at the top of her head. "Where're you going?" he sighed, pulling her tightly against him. He loved the feel of her warm soft body against his, his entire body feeling relaxed and rejuvenated.
"We've been asleep for over an hour. I need to get up and let you sleep a little longer," she suggested, shifting her position, pulling the sheet up to cover her nakedness.
Mike rolled over onto his side, propping up on one elbow. He looked lovingly into her brown eyes, searching for any signs of regret. He used his free hand to brush her hair away from her face. "Tell me the truth, baby… Are you okay?"
Lexi snickered, reaching out to push the rogue tuft of hair above his ear back into place. "I've never felt better. That was… amazing, Michael. I never…." The lump in her throat began to grow, but she pushed her words around it. "I never imagined that love could be… like this. It's… it's beautiful… Thank you."
Mike, unable to find his own voice, licked his lips as he lowered his face to hers. He kissed her lightly on her lips. "It was beautiful… It feels so good… to really… make love," he said, repeatedly kissing her.
Nervously, Lexi asked him the question she had been so worried about. "How are YOU feeling?"
"Ahhh, satisfied!" he said, laying back down and pulling her into an embrace. "So… so… satiated. Thank you, Lex."
She began to run her fingers through the hair on his chest. He hadn't understood her question. "I'm glad, but… I mean… How do you feel… about me, Michael?"
He kissed the top of her head, knowing that she was filled with self-doubt. "I feel like the luckiest man on earth right now. I'm holding the most beautiful woman who ever lived in my arms, after making passionate love to her and… and I love her and… and she loves me."
Lexi rolled over on top of him, planting a passionate kiss on his lips. When she pulled back, she looked into his dreamy blue eyes. "I sure do." She snuggled back into the crook of his arm. "Um… I've been thinking about Johnny."
"Ouch!" Mike said in a raised voice. "I just opened my heart to you, we have the most amazing sexual experience of my life and… and you're thinking of JOHNNY?"
Lexi cringed, knowing that he was only joking, but she knew her timing was awful. "I'm sorry, baby. I promise I was NOT thinking of him in THAT way."
"Whew!" Mike said, pretending to be relieved by the information.
"I was just thinking about…." She sat up, pulling the sheet with her and sitting cross-legged beside him. "Remember the party at Mama's house, the one for me? All of you guys from 51's were there."
"Of course I remember," Mike said, moving his pillow against the headboard and leaning against it. "What's that got to do with….," he flashed her a bright smile. "I think I know what you're thinking."
"He kind of seems to like being the center of attention, so I was thinking that maybe… maybe we could throw him a party when he gets back. You know, just to let him know how proud we are of him and… and how much we're supporting him… He's having to do something difficult, a long way from home, and... and without his brothers... his support system." She stretched one curvaceous leg out, running her foot seductively down Mike's leg. "I know what it's like to be alone in a tough situation... and now I know what it's like to... to have others helping me. I just want him to know that... that we're still here for him, you know? What do you think?"
E!
At Montgomery Regional Airport, Roddy Gage stood with his wife, Sharon, watching the conveyor belt carrying luggage around in a semi-circle. As soon as their suitcases appeared, he reached for them, carrying them away from the baggage claim area, heading for the car rental counter.
"Feels good to stretch my legs," Sharon said, seeing the stern expression on his face. She knew he was stressed about the upcoming surprise meeting with their son, but she was hopeful that the chasm that had separated them for far too long was about to be bridged.
"Iris said the drive would take about an hour," he replied, accepting the keys from the gray-haired gentleman at the rental counter. He pocketed the keys, passed the yellow receipt to his wife, then reached down for the two suitcases. "But I still don't know what I'm going to say, Sharon."
Sharon reached for his elbow as they headed for the automatic glass doors at the exit. "Whatever needs to be said to make things right. He's our son, Roddy, and your heart will know what to say when we see him."
A/N: Thank you all for reading this story. We've only got one more chapter to go. I appreciate you all for sticking with this one as it turned out to be much longer than anticipated. Sometimes the characters take over the story - LOL.
If you're looking for the sex scene between Mike and Lexi, you can find it on WWOMB and AO3.