Shadow of Death (18 page)

Troy was done. He let Natalie stand in the doorway talking to Charla. He decided to put away those manufactured pictures of Cheryl and him in case Nate came downstairs. It made sense that someone helped Cheryl with this setup. Cheryl was strong with muscular arms, but she was small, and Troy had wondered how she managed to drug him and get him inside the motel on her own. As Natalie coaxed Charla into going back home, Troy thought of something that Natalie had said to him last night. “Charla, wait!” He ran to the end of the driveway to catch her.

“You got some lunchmeat for me?”

“No, but I do have a question. Natalie said that you saw a lady at our house yesterday.”

Charla started violently shaking her head from side-to-side. “My mom said to stay out of people's business.” Charla pointed her finger and changed her voice trying to imitate that of her mother's. “ 'Don't stick your nose where it don't belong! That's not our business.' ” She snapped out of her trance and looked at Troy. “It's not my business.”

“Listen, Charla, it's very important that you tell me what you saw because I'm a police officer and that lady could have been here to do bad things. I'm here to keep us all safe. So,
please,
tell me what you saw.”

“Can I have a piece of bread?”

“Yes,” Troy relented, thinking he'd get the information from her and then send her on her way, but it was Charla who maintained control.

“Give it to me and I'll tell you.” She held out her hand.

“It's in the house.” Troy looked back at Natalie who was standing in the doorway looking at them. He knew that neither she nor Ann would approve of what he was about to do. “Wait right here.” Troy moved out of Natalie's eyesight and entered the code to open the garage door from the outside. Neither he nor Natalie bothered to use their car alarms when parked at home—his barely worked anyway—and he'd be willing to bet that there were remnants of food in the back of hers. Sure enough, there was a half-eaten cereal bar wedged in the crack of the seat. There was no telling how long it had been in there, but he knew Charla wouldn't care. Troy quickly got it and out of the garage before Natalie came to see what he was doing.

“Come here.” He motioned to Charla.

She ran to him salivating. She tried to snatch the bar from him when she saw it.

“No! Not until you tell me about the lady.” Troy moved it out of her reach like one would a dog being trained to do tricks. Charla zeroed in on the bar with one eye while the other circled in every which way. Troy felt bad about exploiting her condition in order to gain information. This wasn't his finest moment as a detective or a person, but Cheryl had threatened the security of his family and he'd do anything to stop her.

Like someone who had been offered a plea deal in exchange for testimony, Charla rambled off everything she could think of. Troy learned that “the lady,” whom he already knew was Cheryl, had been driven by someone else in a purple car with dark windows. Troy wondered if it was the man who had helped her set him up in the motel photographs. According to Charla, they stopped in front of his home, Cheryl got out and put something in his mailbox and then they drove off.

“Can I have it now?”

Oh crap!
Troy looked up and saw Ann running across the street in her robe. “Here comes your mom,” he whispered.

Charla lunged and snatched the bar so fast that Troy barely had time to let go before she shoved it in her mouth.

“Charla, what are you—” When Ann saw the empty wrapper in her daughter's hand and observed Charla still chewing, she scowled. “Where'd you get this?”

Immediately, Charla threw him under the bus. “Mr. Troy gave it to me. I told him about the lady, Mommy. He's a police officer and he's gonna keep us safe because she could have been doing bad things.”

The anger Ann had at Charla for sneaking out of the house was quickly directed to Troy.
“You gave her food in exchange for information!”

“It was only a cereal bar. I—”

Ann didn't pause long enough to hear an explanation, not that he had a reasonable one to give. Instead, she went off on him. Troy was more shocked than offended. He'd been cussed out before on many occasions by his mother, most recently as of last night. What surprised him about Ann was that he didn't know she had it in her. In the year or so that the Harrows had lived across from them, Ann had always seemed like a docile, stressed-out, single mother who was doing all she could to keep her adult daughter with a child-like mentality out of an institution. Today, Ann's light-skinned face was as red as burning embers and she displayed the rage of a mama bear protecting her cub, calling him all kinds of profane names. Her behavior was so over-the-top that Charla started crying.

“All my fault. I'm sorry…all my fault.”

“No, Charla. It's
my
fault. Your mom's right. I shouldn't have manipulated you with food. I was wrong and I'm sorry,” Troy said to both of them.

“Yeah, you're sorry, all right. You're a sorry excuse for a human being.” Ann still had hold of Charla's arm and stormed away, but not before calling Troy the unedited version of a butthole.

Troy waited until the Harrows were inside their house and then went to check his mailbox. Inside, mixed with mail from over the weekend and yesterday, was an unmarked white envelope.

A
fter Troy and Charla moved out of Natalie's eyesight, she had to go tend to their twins and she missed the whole incident with Ann. Troy filled her in when he came inside and also showed her the contents of the envelope.

“I don't get it. Why would Cheryl leave a picture of a teddy bear in our mailbox?” inquired Natalie. “What does it have to do with anything?”

“It's the one I told you about last night that I won for her at Cedar Point. Cheryl obviously knows the police think I've done something to her, so she's playing games with me. The time I met her at Starbucks when we were working that case, she told me she still had it, but I didn't give it much thought. Shortly after Cedar Point, Elvin and Nicole got engaged,” Troy explained to Natalie. “Cheryl wanted the same, but I already told you how things went down with us.”

“Can't you take this picture to the detective as proof that she's not missing and is harassing you?”

“This picture doesn't prove anything except that she clearly thinks she's in control.”

Later that day, Troy received a text from Richard stating that he'd contacted his attorney friend and that Lawrence would like to meet him that afternoon. Richard had taken the liberty to set the time for the meeting and told Troy that he only needed to call Lawrence if the time wasn't good. Natalie stayed at home with the kids and Troy made her promise not to go out anywhere while he was away. The one good thing about being relieved of his duties was that he had the capability to keep an eye on his family night and day. He wouldn't let them out of his eyesight unless absolutely necessary…not until Cheryl was caught.

Troy pulled up to the northeastern Westerville address he'd been given to a small, brick office that sat next between a real estate company on one side and an upscale hair salon on the other. A few doors down from the salon was a sandwich shop. “Mr. Evans?” The receptionist greeted him upon entering the building. Troy nodded to confirm. “Have a seat and I'll let Lawrence know you're here.” She dialed a few numbers on the phone. “Where's your—Yes, tell him that his one o'clock is here. Okay.” She turned her attention back to Troy. “He'll be out to get you in a few moments. He's wrapping up a conference call.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Troy surveyed the office. It was much bigger on the inside than it had looked. Troy was surprised at how plain the decorations in the waiting room were. The walls were virtually bare except for one large plaque with the words “The truth will set you free.” Though the plaque itself had no biblical reference, Troy knew it was in reference to John 8:32. Troy pondered on it for a moment. He'd learned from his experience with the serial killer, dubbed the Bible Butcher, that scripture was often taken out of context. That nutso thought the first part of Romans 6:23,
“For the wages of sin is death,”
was license to murder people for their transgressions. Troy frequently heard people refer to John 8:32 for one reason or another, but he wanted to take the time and read the passage for himself, so he pulled up the entire chapter on his cell phone while waiting for Mr. Murphy.

The chapter began with the scribes and Pharisees bringing a woman to Jesus who had been caught in the act of adultery. They were testing Him to see if He would command her to be stoned as the Jewish law required. Instead of answering them, Jesus stooped down and began to write on the ground. When they wouldn't relent, He finally said that whoever was without sin should be the first one to cast a stone at the woman. All of her accusers left and when she was alone with Jesus. He told her that He didn't condemn her and that she should go and sin no more.

The passage then addressed Jesus's dialogue with Jews who did not comprehend the meaning of the things He said, such as Him being the light of the world, and that if they didn't believe in Him, they would die in their sins. This went on all the way until verse 30, when Jesus addressed those who were believers.

³¹
Even as he spoke, many believed in him.
³¹
To the Jews who had believed him, Jesus said, “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples.
³²
Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

The chapter continued, but Troy stopped reading for a moment. He wanted to figure out how verse 32 could apply to his life and current situation. Was there some truth he was missing that could set him free from this web in which he found himself entangled? Of course, had he been honest with Natalie in the first place, none of this would even have been an issue. Now that it was, getting to the truth of the matter of why Cheryl held such a grudge against him and wanted to destroy his life wasn't such an easy feat. Who was helping her? Perhaps he…

“Troy?” Startled, he looked up to a hand extending in his direction. “I'm Lawrence. Nice to meet you. Come on back to my office so we can talk and see how I can help with your situation.”

Troy was taken aback by Lawrence Murphy's young age. Since Richard was in his sixties, Troy assumed the defense attorney would be the same, but, dressed in a pair of khakis and a polo, Lawrence was a couple of decades younger than Richard. In fact, Lawrence looked much younger than Troy. He had a head full of blond hair and his face was as clean and smooth as a baby's bottom. He looked like a slightly older version of Justin Bieber when his first album was released. There's no way Richard could have been intimidated by this guy. The ink on his law degree couldn't even have dried yet.

“Stop it!” the receptionist scolded and then looked at Troy. “Mr. Evans, please forgive my son. He's studying law and interning with my husband for the summer. His name is Lawrence
Junior;
we call him Larry. Soon we might call him unemployed if he doesn't act more professionally, especially around new clients.”

“They take everything so serious around here.” Larry shook his head disappointedly to Troy. “My dad just got off of a two-hour conference call and needed to take five real quick. He asked me to come take you back to his office. I didn't mean any harm; just trying to lighten things up a bit.”

“You're cool, man.” Troy wasn't offended; he was relieved. “It's okay,” he said to Mrs. Murphy who continued to give Larry a disapproving look.

Back in Lawrence's office, Troy found Larry to be dutiful. He gave Troy a paper to read and sign, which basically stated that any information Troy shared would be protected by attorney-client privilege with the exception of Troy admitting to a future crime. That, by law, would have to be disclosed. Troy understood all the terms and he signed with confidence.

Troy found Larry to be extremely philosophical. The younger Murphy revealed that he was beginning law school in the fall and hoped to come back to work alongside his father after he graduated. “That is, if he will have me. My father and I have different ideas when it comes to the law. He's too stuffy and believes that everything has to be done by the book. I think the book sometimes has a few pages in it that don't apply, so I'm willing to take my chances and tear them out if it means that truth will prevail in the end. You know what I mean?”

Not really, but Troy nodded anyhow.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” the elder Murphy said as he came in. “I'm Lawrence. You've already met my son, Larry, who I'm told likes to give people the false impression that it's his name on the front of the building.” Like his wife had done, Lawrence gave Larry a look of disapproval. This Lawrence embodied the image that Troy had imagined. He was closer to Richard's age and unlike Larry, Lawrence had on a pin-striped suit, buttoned all the way up to his neck, and a bow-tie. He had a serious look about him. No smile; not even a hint of a lighthearted bone in his body.

“I'm Troy. Thanks for meeting with me.”

“Not a problem. Richard is a good friend of mine. I'm doing this as a favor to him. He's told me a little about your situation, but I want to hear it from you. Do you have any questions about the form Larry had you sign?”

“No.”

“Okay. Good. If you don't mind, Larry's going to sit in with us; the lad has a thing or two to learn about law.”

Lad?
Who says that? Troy thought to himself, beginning to understand why Larry had used the word “stuffy” to describe his father. “I don't mind,” he responded and began his story with the morning Cheryl went missing, including all the details of his talk with the FBI agent and admitting his own actions of becoming physical with her. He'd even brought those embarrassing photographs with him to show that he was being set up.