“What difference does that make?” he said.
“Will, she’s trying to help,” Lucinda said.
“Yeah, and what’ll this help cost? Because I’m thinking that in my situation, a public defender would do as well.”
“For right now, Will, let me represent you. It’s what Lucinda’s asked. And I’ll let you know when I’m ready to begin charging for my services, which is not yet, okay?”
He thought it over and agreed with a slight nod.
“Can he come home?” Lucinda said.
“No, Lucinda. They haven’t charged him yet, but they’re going to hold him. Because it’s the weekend, they have until Monday to make a decision. Then they’ll have to charge him or let him go.”
Lucinda looked deeply into her husband’s eyes. As always, it was like staring into a starless night sky. Where is the light, Will? she wondered. He seemed not to care what was ahead for him. But she cared.
“I’ll bring you something if you’d like,” she said. “Is there something, Will?”
“Nothing. I don’t want anything, Luci. Who’s watching Misty?”
“Uly. I called him at his friend’s house and asked him to come home.”
“You told him about me?”
“Yes.”
“Did he say anything?”
“No.” Then, “Yes. He said the man deserved it.”
“Will,” Jo O’Connor said, “I don’t want you talking to anyone unless I’m present, is that understood?”
“Yeah.”
She looked at Lucinda. “We should go.”
“May I kiss him good-bye?”
“Of course.”
Lucinda walked around the table to Will. He held himself rigid, and when she kissed his cheek made no sign that he’d felt it.
Jo signaled the deputy, who came in and escorted Will away. The sheriff was waiting outside. She said to them, “Could we talk in my office?”
Lucinda followed the sheriff through the department. No one looked at her oddly, looked at her like a woman whose husband had killed one of their citizens. And Jo O’Connor walked gracefully, as if it was natural for her to be in this place, and that helped Lucinda not to feel so helpless.
When they were inside the office, the sheriff closed the door. “Please, have a seat. Would you like some coffee?”
“No, thank you,” Lucinda said.
“No thanks, Marsha.”
The sheriff sat at her desk. Outside the window behind her, the sky was almost dark. Along the edge of the western horizon lay a pretty blue-green afterglow that reminded Lucinda of the color of a dress she’d once owned, long ago. The memory had a happy feel, though she couldn’t say why. It gave her a much needed sense of hope.
“Mrs. Kingbird, I’m Sheriff Dross.”
“I know.”
“Your husband is in serious trouble.”
“I understand.”
“He’s confessed to murder, but all of us here who’ve spoken with him are a little confused.”
“Why?” Jo asked.
“We weren’t really looking at him for the crime. Because of the possible connection between Reinhardt and the murders of Alexander and Rayette Kingbird, he was a person of interest to us, of course. Still, I’m at a loss to understand why he came forward on his own.” She looked to Lucinda. “Can you help me?”
The woman didn’t wear a badge or a uniform. She had a powder blue turtleneck sweater with the sleeves bunched just below her elbows. Her hands were large and bony, not pretty hands, though the nails were carefully manicured. She wore no makeup, and Lucinda saw lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes that told her the woman often smiled. This was someone, Lucinda thought, who might understand. But she couldn’t say what was in her heart, not to this woman, not to Jo, who was her friend, not to anyone.
“I don’t know why he would do such a thing,” she said.
The sheriff seemed disappointed. She turned her attention to Jo. “His confession may be enough to charge him. He certainly had motive and opportunity, and from his background we know he had the ability. It’s in the county attorney’s hands now, but there are things about all this that, frankly, trouble me. I’d like to talk with him some more.”
Jo said, “I’ll need to be there when you do.”
“Of course.”
“Is that all, Marsha?”
The sheriff looked again to Lucinda, who could tell she was being given one more chance to open her heart. Lucinda stared beyond her, out the window to the west, where the blue-green afterglow had faded away, replaced by the dark of night.
“All right,” the sheriff said with a note of resignation. “I’ll be in touch.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
We need to talk, Luci.”
They stood in the parking lot of the sheriff’s office under the glare of a halogen lamp high above them. Jo O’Connor’s face was an odd color, a kind of pale violet, and she looked troubled.
“Are you hungry?” Lucinda asked.
“I haven’t eaten since lunch.”
“Let me make you something at my house and we can talk.”
“Thanks. That would be great.”
When she pulled into the driveway, Lucinda saw Ulysses standing at the picture window, watching for her. She parked in the garage, waited until Jo arrived, and the two women walked together into the house.
“What’s up with Dad?” Uly asked as soon as they’d passed through the door.
“They’re keeping him,” Lucinda replied.
Uly gave Jo a pleading look. “It’s got to be, like, you know, justifiable homicide or something, right?”
“They haven’t charged him yet, Uly. Maybe they won’t.”
“They shouldn’t. I mean talk about justice.”
“Your father will be fine,” Lucinda said, trying her best to sound reassuring. “He’s safe and Mrs. O’Connor will help us get him out.”
“Sure,” Uly said. “Yeah, he’ll be fine. Thanks, Mrs. O’Connor.”
“Misty?” Lucinda asked.
“I put her down, Mom. She cried for a little while but went to sleep, maybe half an hour ago. Can I go back to Darrell’s?” He looked at Jo O’Connor. “We’re in the middle of this awesome online video game. It’s called Kings of Chaos.”
“Will you be late?” Lucinda asked.
“Maybe.”
“Is it all right with Mr. Gallagher?”
“Yeah. He likes Darrell to have company.”
“I suppose it will be all right then.”
He went to the closet and grabbed his jacket from a hanger.
“Good night, Ulysses. Be good,” Lucinda said.
“I wish you wouldn’t say that.”
