Only the Truth (12 page)

I look up questioningly at Mr. Stanley.

His gaze was steady. "We found this hidden away under a loose tile in
Kristen's..." he nodded at me, "Charlene's… jail cell. She must have
had it with her the day she came in after her arrest.

"You
ever seen
this photo before?"

I shook my head no.

"Never saw it at your house?"

"No."

"And you never met Kristen, Charlene, whatever, before she came to
town?"

"No."

"And you don't know this Rubin Covey from Tennessee?"

"No."

Mr. Stanley pursed his lips.

"Then, why, Billy Ray, would she have a picture of Rubin Covey with
your name scribbled on the back of it? Written, not by Kristen, because we
checked that out, but seems like it might have been written by Rubin himself.
At least it is pretty likely it’s his writing. Why would Rubin write your name
down if he didn't even know you? And why would Kristen end up coming to you,
Billy Ray? There has to be some logical answer, wouldn't you say?"

I finally raised my eyes to meet his.

"I don't know, Mr. Stanley. I don't know no Rubin Covey and I don't
understand
nothing
except I don't believe the Charlene
I knew would kill little children and her Mama and Papa. In two years of living
with her, I don't know how I couldn't see she would be that kind of evil."

"Then again you didn't even know her name or that she was a whore or
that she would kill a man either,
did
you, Billy
Ray?"

I hung my head. I hadn't known any of that nor that she would lie to me over
and over again.

"How come the police never caught her?
And what about
this Mr. Covey?
Did they get him?"

Mr. Stanley pulled out a handkerchief and wiped at his forehead. "Damn
hot in this room." He stuffed it back in his pants' pocket. "The
police had an APB on them for a long time but no one ever saw the couple. Seems
they must have separated at some point and Kristen ended up prostituting along
a bunch of truck stops. She must have blended in with the other girls and no
one ever figured out who she was. If the newspaper hadn't printed the story Mr.
Green gave them about the poor pregnant woman who murdered her rapist, the
Sheriff would never have gotten the tip that Charlene was really Kristen
Stoddard."

He stopped talking and it got quiet in the room. It was dark outside and all
the visitors had left for the day.

"Why would Charlene do such a thing?" I whispered.

Mr. Stanley took a deep breath and let it out.

"Some things you just can't explain, Billy Ray, even if you wished you
could. Maybe she wanted her freedom - got sick of them kids and her parents -
or maybe she just likes killing people. Maybe she thought she was in love with
this Mr. Covey and her kids and his wife kept them apart. I don't know."
He had a look on his face like he had seen this all before and said the same
words to somebody else who was sitting in the visiting room at a jail.

"So," I said slowly. "You aren't going to do nothing to
defend Charlene?"

"Like I said before, no jury is going to have sympathy for her any
more. It wouldn't matter how much work I put into this case, anyhow, because if
she isn't convicted here, she will just be sent back to Tennessee and they got
the death penalty there as well." He grunted. "Besides," he
reached back in his briefcase and pulled out a shiny 8 by 11 photo. He looked
at it and then carefully placed it in front of me.

I closed my eyes before I could see what it was.

"Open your eyes, Billy Ray," Mr. Stanley commanded.

I knew I was going to see something bad.

"Open them."

I slowly lifted my eyelids up a little and I felt my stomach heave again. It
was a picture of the old man, what was left of the old man, charred, with his
skeleton face and his empty eye sockets and grinning fake teeth, two sets of
white and gray squares, still in their perfect rows except for the one chipped
one under where his right cheek would have been. I felt the room reel. I had to
look away.

"Not a pretty sight is it," Mr. Stanley said in a somewhat mocking
tone. "Can you imagine how the jury will feel when they see what Charlene
did to that poor old man, cooking him better than a well-done steak? I guess
she had lots of practice charring her family to death."

The chair screeched against the floor as Mr. Stanley got up to leave. He
picked up the big photo and slid it back into his briefcase. He started to
reach for the small photo on the table, but for some reason I snatched it to
myself before he could touch it.

"I want to keep this."

Mr. Stanley cocked his head to one side and looked at me kind of funny. He
shrugged. "What the hell.
Doesn't matter to me.
No one ever told me it was evidence."

"Can I have the newspaper story too?"

The lawyer reached into his briefcase, pulled it out, and tossed it across
the table to me.

"Knock yourself out."

Then he spoke once more before he opened the door.

"Take my advice, Billy Ray. Just let her go. She's poison. Go
home."

I heard the door slam and I sat and stared at the pictures in front of me. I
couldn't deny that this Kristen was Charlene and that Charlene was Kristen. I
picked up the picture and brought it closer to my eyes. The man, this Mr.
Covey, seemed somewhat familiar. I couldn't figure out why because I never been
in Tennessee and I never heard of him.

I got up slowly and walked through the door Mr. Stanley had left open and
went up to the reception desk. I knew the officer there pretty well by now.

"What can I do for you, Billy Ray?" he asked over his shoulder as
he moved some piles of paper around on his desk.

"I need to see Charlene. I won't be but a minute. Please."

Ed looked up and signaled me over to the door which opened into the hall
leading to Charlene's cell. I limped behind him until we got to the last one in
the row. Charlene was curled up on her cot facing the wall.

"You got a visitor, Charlene," he called out and he let me in and
disappeared back down the hall.

I went over to the cot and sat down on the edge and touched Charlene's arm.
She tensed up her shoulders and didn't move or turn over towards me.

"I heard about everything, Charlene," I told her, my voice
trembling. "I heard everything. Charlene, I need to hear the truth.
From you.
The truth.
Only the truth."

She didn't answer or make a sound.

"Did you kill your family, Charlene?
Your kids?"
I almost choked on the words.

I felt her move just slightly. Then she rolled over and looked up at me with
those clear blue eyes.

I held her gaze.
"Only the truth, Charlene, only the
truth."

She looked at me a long time.

"I love you."

And then she turned back toward the wall.

********************

I stood by the door to the jail with Ed, staring blindly out at the street.
What now? Do I go home and pretend Charlene never happened? How could she just
kill her little children, why would she kill her little children? Was she that
evil, as bad as everyone keeps telling me? I had questions that no one could
seem to answer, that Charlene refused to answer. Maybe I would have to go find
the truth myself, even if it was a bad truth, just so I could know, so I could
stop believing Charlene loved me, so I could stop loving her.

I turned to Ed.

"Could you lend me $20, Ed?" I asked him.

Ed looked a bit taken aback.
"Twenty bucks?
What for?"

I couldn't quite look him in the eye.

"I
gotta
go to Charlene's town."

Ed groaned and ran his big hand through his shaggy brown hair.

"Billy Ray! Are you a masochist or something?"

I didn't know what masochist was, but I figured I was probably it.

"Geez Louise, give it up already. She's not worth it."

I shuffled my feet, kicking my left shoe against the wall, trying to knock
off a piece of mud stuck to it, then felt guilty for dirtying the place.

Ed was reaching for his wallet.

"
Here.
Take it." He pushed a green bill
toward me.

I reached out and took it from his hand and shoved it down in my back pocket

Ed looked at me solemnly.

"You even know where to go?"

I shook my head.

Ed sighed.

"Hold on." He walked across the room and disappeared into an
office. When he came back, he handed me a piece of lined paper, folded up.

I opened it up and looked at the two words scrawled across the paper.
Something and something.

I looked up at him.

"Oh, shit. I forgot. Sorry." He pointed to each word.
"Jenkins. Tennessee."

Then he grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me toward the east.

"Route 40, cross the Mississippi, and about one hundred fifty miles
more."

"Okay." I turned and stuck out my hand.

He gave me a strong shake, slapped me on the back, shook his head and sighed
again.

"Good luck to you, Billy Ray. I don't know what the point is but I hope
you get
what ever
you need from going there."

"Thanks, Ed. I'll get you your money back as soon as I can."

"It's okay. Go on."

He opened the door for me and I stepped out onto the dark street. I turned
to the spot where I left New Big Dog but there was just empty space there. My
walking stick was gone, too.

I scanned the street to the left and then the right and back to the left
again.

"New Big Dog!"
I yelled."
New Big Dog?"

I heard the door click behind me.

The street was silent.

"New Big Dog!
Where are you?" I started
running, as best I could with my messed up foot, looking down between the
buildings, each one, until I got to the end of the street.
Nothing.
Nothing.

I turned around and now my foot was really hurting and I was only half-running
back down the other way.

"New Big Dog!"
My voice bounced off the
walls of the jail and then sounded quieter each time I yelled out as the
buildings got farther apart and I arrived where it dead-ended at the railroad
tracks. I squinted as I tried to see as far down the tracks as I could,
searching for any shape that moved. All I saw was the shiny rails disappearing
into the hills.

"New Big Dog?"
My voice didn't have much
in it any more. I knew he had gone away, given up on me when I didn't come out
of the jail for so long.

I felt empty. I started walking slowly toward the highway, hoping that I
would see him somewhere before I left town. I felt like a dog myself, failing
Charlene, leaving New Big Dog. I was glad I was alone and no one could see me.
I wasn't worth nothing. I had nobody. I had no friend. I didn't even know why I
was going to Tennessee except something in my head told me I had to go.

********************

VI

It took me until near midnight before I got a ride. I guess I wouldn't have
wanted to pick me up neither, looking like some bum in the dark, maybe someone
dangerous. But, then Mickey stopped.

"
You needing
a lift?" He was in a big
rig, a shiny red one, and he was so high up he seemed like he was in the second
story of a building looking down from a window.

He pushed the door open and signaled me up. I have short legs and it was a
big climb. I had to grab hold of his hand and let him pull me up. I settled down
on a big red seat with a rip in it held closed by gray duct tape. It scratched
my hand. I hauled the door closed behind me.

Mickey was a big, big man.
Flaming red hair to match the
truck and a big beard that looked like I could use it to scour my pots.
Friendly looking, though.

The truck roared off onto the road and I felt like I was watching a picture
show beneath me.

He started laughing at me looking down.

He had a loud voice.

"Never been in a rig like this, buddy?"

"No, never."
I grinned because, in spite
of my situation, it was pretty cool to be riding in the truck.

"I'm Mickey.
You?"

"Billy Ray."

"Billy Ray!
So, where you heading, Billy Ray?"
He reached with his right hand into his shirt pocket and pulled out a box of
Marlboro Reds. He must really like the color red. He shook the pack.
grabbed
a cigarette with his teeth, and pulled it out. He
shoved them at me and I pulled one out of the box.

He put the pack back into his pocket and grabbed a lighter off the seat. He
lit his and then handed me the lighter to light mine.

He inhaled and exhaled. I did the same; the cigarette calmed me a bit.

"I'm going to Jenkins in Tennessee," I told him.

"Jenkins?"

"Yeah."
I looked at him hopefully. "
You going
anywhere near there?"

He grinned. "I'll be going by there, so you're in luck."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Family?"

I didn't know quite what to say.
"Sort of."

"You
ever been
there?"

"No."

"Someone expecting you?"

"No."

Mickey honked his horn as a white car swung in front of him. "Asshole,"
he muttered.

He looked over at me. "You just
gonna
show up
and surprise '
em
?"

I didn't say anything.

He eyed me, suspiciously, looking at my shirt and pants and shoes.