“Hey, Mark. What are you doing here?”
Mark turned. Jimmy Scarbrough was walking his bike toward him. Mark managed a smile for the former sheriff's son. “Hi, Jimmy. I could ask you the same thing.”
Jimmy just shrugged, but his gaze strayed to the trees where Beth was found. “I just keep thinking about her.”
Mark messed up the fourteen-year-old's hair. “Yeah, me too.”
“The last time I saw her was right here. I said something stupid about her haircut and she started crying.”
Mark turned fully to the boy now. He vaguely remembered hearing about that. “When was that, exactly?”
Jimmy shrugged as though he couldn't remember. “After the banks opened. Sometime before … it happened. I followed her to tell her I was sorry, and she kept crying and telling me about the lady whose husband died. She said she heard the lady sitting here in the park talking about how her husband had disappeared, and she felt bad for her.”
Mark looked back at the Tomlins' house. So Melissa had been here when Beth was here. He turned and stepped toward the boy. “Jimmy, did she say if she talked to the lady?”
“I don't think so.”
“Please, try to think. Could the lady have found out her name that day?”
Jimmy thought for a moment. “Well, I yelled her name when I saw her. She probably heard that. After I asked Beth what she did to her hair, I saw her look at them, like I'd embarrassed her.”
Or like he'd just written her death warrant. Mark wiped the beads of perspiration from his lip. He tried to imagine what had happened that day. If Melissa was Clay Tharpe's accomplice in the murder, then Clay would have told her about his witness.
“She seemed scared, and said she couldn't talk because someone might get hurt. Then we got off the subject and started talking about Craig. I wish I'd listened better.”
Mark's mind ran through the facts. Somehow the killer had learned her name and told his accomplice. If Melissa heard Beth identified in the park that day, she could have told Clay how she'd altered her appearance, and where he could find her. “Jimmy, you've helped me a lot today.”
“Really, how?”
“Never mind that. I'll tell you all about it later. Right now, I need you to come with me to the sheriff's department to fill out an affidavit, with everything you can remember about that day.”
Jimmy's chest puffed out a little. “Sure, I can do that.”
At the station, Mark got the affidavit, then raced to Brad Caldwell's office. “I need a warrant so I can go arrest them both while they're still together, Brad. We've got probable cause. We've got Melissa Tomlin having an affair with Ned Emory. Melissa's husband was abusive. She and Ned could have planned his murder and hired Tharpe, who worked for Ned. Ned lied about having a relationship with her, and she lied about knowing Clay. And now Jimmy can connect Melissa to Beth and prove she could have been aware of Beth coming to the park every day at the same time.”
Brad read the affidavit. “This is all soft, Mark. These things are all circumstantial. We need a smoking gun if we're going to get a conviction. And just because Ned is having an affair with her doesn't mean he's a murderer. I know the man. He doesn't strike me as a killer.”
“If we wait for a smoking gun, it might be after they've turned it on the next person they want dead. Come on, Brad. Don't tell me they've committed the perfect crime. That they're going to get away with it. It's Beth we're talking about. Melissa set her up, and Ned's her lover. We have to catch them while they're together. We have to go now.”
Brad studied the affidavit again. Finally, he let out a long sigh. “I hope I'm not gonna regret this.” He wrote up the warrants. “Arrest Melissa for conspiracy to commit murder. We don't have anything solid on Ned right now, except that he lied to police, so bring him in on perjury. It'll buy us time to get evidence that either clears him or implicates him.”
That was good enough for now. Mark's burden was a little lighter as he hurried away.
M
ARK STOPPED BY THE SHERIFF'S DEPARTMENT TO GATHER SOME
backup. Sheriff Wheaton and two other deputies joined him in the van. They parked at Magnolia Park, so that Melissa and Ned wouldn't be tipped off by the sound of their engine. Using the same technique they'd used when they arrested Clay Tharpe, London went to the back to catch Ned when he made his escape. Wheaton banged on the door, hard enough to give anyone inside a heart attack. “Po-lice! Open up or we'll kick it in!”
The door swung open. Fear bleached the color from Melissa's face as they bolted inside and clamped the handcuffs on her wrists. “You're under arrest for conspiracy to commit the murders of your husband and Beth Branning. You have the right to remain silent—”
“What? Why would I do that? I didn't even know that girl!”
The back door opened and London pushed a very agitated Ned Emory in. He, too, was cuffed. His shirt was unbuttoned, his face burning. “Sheriff, I'm not involved. You don't understand!”
“You lied to a police officer, Ned!” Mark bit out. “Doug asked you point blank if you had a relationship with Melissa Tomlin and you said no.”
“I'm a married man!” he cried. “I didn't want to admit to an affair!”
“We haven't broken any laws!” Melissa said. “You won't hold us fifteen minutes when my lawyer hears this! I never saw that girl in my life. And I was babysitting neighborhood kids the day my husband was killed. I can prove it.”
Getting in her face, he said, “You hired Clay Tharpe! He gave you half the money he got from your husband.” His teeth came together. “And you saw Beth at the park. You heard her name. You knew she came every day to load her newspaper boxes. You helped Tharpe plan her attack!”
“I didn't!” she screamed. “I'm innocent!”
Ned jerked out of London's grip and came toward them, his cuffed hands behind his back. “I didn't know anything about all this. All I did was cheat on my wife. I wouldn't have a relationship with someone who could come up with a scheme like that, especially against Beth.”
The very utterance of her name sent Mark over the top. “We'll see if a judge and jury buy that.”
“I'm telling you,” Ned said. “I'm a father. I've sat in the ICU next to my son struggling for his life. I wouldn't put another family through that, believe me.” He tossed his head toward Melissa. “She came up to the conversion plant every day, flirting with whoever would show her attention.”
“Shut up, you moron!” she shouted.
Ignoring her, he went on. “She did have a thing with Clay, but she started coming on to me too. I figured, why not? After the stuff with Clay, I wouldn't have kept seeing her if I thought she was to blame. But she didn't mean enough to me to murder someone over her. She's a fling, that's all. A meaningless diversion.”
Melissa's face went rabid. “A fling?” she cried. “You told me you loved me! You
should
have wanted Blake dead! He terrorized me and abused me! If you were half a man, you would have stepped up to the plate like Clay did, instead of making me come up with a solution of my own.
He
loved me enough to help me! You were just a coward!”
Mark's chest hurt as Melissa condemned herself in a fit of rage. Ironically, her ranting seemed to clear Ned. Maybe he hadn't been involved after all.
By the time they'd loaded the two of them into the van, neighbors were standing out in their yards. The affair had been exposed, along with Melissa's deadly schemes.
“My son!” Melissa cried. “I want to see my little boy!” She was sobbing, trying to get out of the van. She turned to Sharon, the next-door neighbor who stood on the edge of her lawn. “Sharon, please go to my mom's house and tell her what's going on. Tell her to get me a lawyer. Tell her to take care of Danny until I get out.”
Mark's heart went out to Melissa's mother, who'd lost so much. Her husband, who had obviously been trying to save their murdering daughter. And now this.
Wisely, Ned was silent as they rode to the sheriff's department. Melissa didn't shut up, and every word she shouted would be used against her in court. Brad would recommend that the judge refuse to set bond. She'd be held in the county women's facility in Birmingham. Mark hoped she'd come to learn what real fear felt like—the kind that Beth had felt before she died.
one hundred two
O
CTOBER USHERED COLOR INTO THE DARKNESS OF
Kay's life, and she found herself still among the living. Civilization slowly bought back what it lost. Three television stations returned to the airwaves. Families who could afford it replaced their flat screens with old vacuum-tubed TVs—awaiting the day when solid-state sets would be manufactured again.
Kay and her family didn't join the television rush. They merely observed their neighbors' frenzy with a comfortable detachment. Filling their lives back up with noise and chatter didn't aid in their healing. Spending time with each other did, even when that time was passed in hard work.
The charges against Ned were dropped, since there was no evidence he'd been a part of the murder scheme. Surprisingly, his wife took him back. The Brannings sat through the trial of Melissa Tomlin from the first gavel to the verdict. She was found guilty of two of the three counts of conspiracy to commit murder and sentenced to spend thirty years in prison. Melissa's father, Scott Anthony, was given a life sentence without parole. After each verdict, Kay found herself unable to celebrate. So many lives had been trashed by greed and selfishness. She took no pleasure in seeing two more destroyed.
Doug decided not to return to his job as a stockbroker when Wall Street reopened, and as they replaced the force at the sheriff's department, his volunteer hours fell off. Instead, he and Mark began work on their solar energy store for the thousands who wanted to avoid dependence on the power grid.
Meanwhile, Doug was ordained by his former church, so he continued to preach, working through his grief fully exposed to their growing church body. It was after one of those sermons in late October that Brad's wife, Judith, took Kay aside.
“Kay, I don't know how you'll feel about this, but I wanted you to know. The neighborhood kids have been working on the last play Beth wrote. They're performing it Saturday night.”
Kay stared at her. “How did they get the script?”
“Apparently Beth gave a draft of it to Cher and told her she could direct it. They quit working on it when she died. But a few weeks ago, Cher got the kids back together and they decided to do the play in honor of Beth. It made them feel better and helped them grieve.”
That debilitating sadness raised its head again. But Kay was growing weary of it. The energy to maintain it was draining her. And the children hadn't done this out of dishonor or malicious intent—they wanted to feel closer to Beth.
“What a surprise. I don't know what to say.”
“I was told to ask if you'd like to come.”
“I don't know, Judith. I really don't think I can.” They could have the play and perform it when they wanted, but they couldn't expect her to sit there on public display while they did.
Judith didn't press. “I understand. And so does everyone else. But if you change your mind, they'd like for you and your family to be the guests of honor.” A slow grin crept across her face. “Kay, just so you know, Beth's title is
The History of the World
.”
Kay laughed. “Is it really? She named it that?”
“Girl, she had to,” Judith said. “That's exactly what it's about.”
That night, Kay shared the news with the family and told them they could go if they wanted to, but she planned to stay home.
“I'm going,” Logan announced.
“Me too,” Jeff said. “They went to all that trouble. We should at least show up.”
Deni was more sensitive. “Mom, I know it would be hard. But they'll be saying Beth's words. I want to hear them. She would want us there. Don't you want to see what she considered to be the history of the world?” She chuckled softly. “Mom, the
entire world
!”
Kay had to admit that the title intrigued her. Still, her heart was a bruised and bleeding thing, and she wasn't sure she could hold herself together long enough to watch the play. But part of her yearned to see Beth's sense of humor and insight played out through the children who recited her words.
Maybe it was time to pull her attention from death to life and embrace the memories that Beth had left behind.
one hundred three
T
HE MOMENT
M
ARK HEARD ABOUT THE PLAY, HE OFFERED
to help the children with the stage and props, as he'd done with each of Beth's productions. The children were secretive about the contents of the play, but Cher, Beth's best friend, told him they would need Mark to paint three backdrops. One of a garden, one of an open field with trees, and another of stone walls.
The day before the play, he rushed to get it completed. Craig, who'd been working around the clock to get telephone service restored, took the day off to help. Mark and his nemesis worked side by side, painting and hammering and setting things up on the assembly lot by the lake. When they had the stage together and hung the three backdrops, the children were bouncing with glee.
“Good job, man.” Mark raised his hand to slap Craig's. “You didn't have to help, but I appreciate it.”
“No problem,” Craig said. “I did it for Beth.”
K
AY BRACED HERSELF FOR A CRYING JAG THE DAY OF THE
play, but she found herself laughing instead. The children had reserved a front row just for the family, and as they arrived, Kay struggled to keep her emotions in check.
The play began with a mother and daughter in a loveseat on a lower part of the stage. Chris Horton played the mother, her hair pulled up to make her look older than twenty-two. Eight-year-old Olivia Huckabee, Hank and Stella's granddaughter, played the child curled up against her mother, listening as she read to her.
Kay's heart tightened as Beth's words came to life.
“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. And then he created the man and the woman. Life was wonderful, and then they mucked the whole thing up.”