Chapter 18 - The Visitor in Holding
Two days later, my phone buzzed while I was sitting in the sunny kitchen of my new condo on the northern edge of Columbus.
Pickles, my orange tabby cat, was stretched out on the warm hardwood floor beneath the balcony slider, purring softly as the morning sun illuminated the clean, clutter-free space. There were no stacks of past-due bills on my counter. No demanding text messages from Evelyn demanding money for country club dues. No condescending emails from Arthur questioning my expense reports.
The screen showed the direct line for the Franklin County Prosecutor’s Office.
"Hannah," Bradley Vance said when I answered. "Evelyn’s defense counsel just contacted us. She’s refusing to sign the conflict waiver for her joint defense with Arthur."
I set my coffee mug down. "She’s breaking rank?"
"She wants to talk to you," Vance said. "The defense attorney says she’s willing to sign a full proffer agreement detailing Arthur’s financial schemes going back twenty years—including the offshore trusts in Belize and the kickback network with the county zoning board—on one condition."
"What condition?"
"She wants thirty minutes with you in the holding facility consultation room. No lawyers. Just you and her."
I looked across the bright living room at Pickles, who blinked lazily at me, entirely undisturbed by the ghosts of the past.
"Tell them I’ll be there in an hour," I said.
The visitation room at the county jail was small, sterile, and divided by a thick panel of scratch-resistant plexiglass.
When Evelyn was brought in, she looked like an entirely different human being. The expensive blowouts, the Botox, the couture jewelry, and the imperious posture had all vanished. Her graying hair was pulled back in a severe, messy bun. Her skin was sallow beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, and her orange uniform hung loosely over her sunken shoulders.
She sat down, her cuffed hands resting awkwardly on the small metal shelf beneath the glass. She reached for the heavy black telephone receiver with trembling fingers.
I picked up the receiver on my side and held it to my ear. I didn't say hello. I just waited.
"Hannah," Evelyn’s voice sounded thin, reedy, like dried leaves scraping across pavement. "You came."
"I came because Vance said you wanted to sign a proffer," I replied, keeping my voice even. "What do you want, Evelyn?"
She winced at the use of her first name. For twenty-six years, I had called her Mom, even when she made me feel like an unwelcome tenant in her life.
"I didn't give him those patches to kill him, Hannah," she said, her voice cracking, her eyes pleading through the scratched plastic. "You have to believe me. Arthur told me it was just to keep him comfortable. He said David was suffering, that the pain was driving him mad. He told me that if we let him sign that revised will in his state of mind, the lawyers would take everything and leave us destitute."
"You did it for money, Evelyn," I said quietly. "Don't insult my intelligence by pretending it was mercy."
"I was terrified!" she cried, pressing her face closer to the glass. "You don't know what Arthur was like behind closed doors. He controlled every bank account. He controlled the deed to the house. He told me that if I ever crossed him, he would leave me with nothing, just like David did. I was trying to survive!"
"By helping him murder my father?"
Evelyn closed her eyes, tears spilling over her wrinkled cheeks. "I know what I did is unforgivable. I know I’m going to die in prison, Hannah. I accept that. The lawyers told me I’m looking at twenty-five to life. At my age, that's a death sentence."
"Then why did you ask me here?"
Evelyn opened her eyes, looking directly into mine with a sudden, sharp clarity that startled me.
"Because Arthur isn't planning on going to trial," she whispered.
I frowned. "What are you talking about? His bond was denied after the murder indictment. He's in maximum security holding."
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"Arthur has a second passport," Evelyn said, leaning as close to the microphone as the wire would allow. "And he has eighty thousand dollars in cash hidden in the framework of his Mercedes—the one currently impounded at the Franklin County Sheriff's fleet lot."
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