ELEVEN
“So that was a sizeable pile of nothing.”
“Like the family Easter basket of 2013,” Angela agreed. All jelly beans but no Peeps or Cadbury eggs. It had been a living nightmare.
They were trudging out to ICC’s parking lot, and a glum group they were. Angela could just make out Archer’s car; her spirits were so low, it looked miles away.
“I can’t believe that was the first time I’ve seen my dad in years and . . . and it was just a whole lot of blah.”
Angela winced. “At least now you see you haven’t missed anything. I know you were down about it for a long time.”
“Oh, the ‘I forbid you to visit me, cherished eldest child’ edict? Yeah, gotta admit, it was hard not to take that personally.”
Angela had to muffle a giggle. Trust Archer to find a way to make the horrible seem almost hilarious. “Thanks for coming with me, anyway.”
“Of course,” Leah replied. “We were glad you called.”
Archer coughed. “Um.”
“And we were glad to come.”
“Um— Ow!”
“Weren’t we?”
“Oh, yeah.” Archer rubbed the fleshy part of his arm where Leah had gently pinched the bejeezus out of him. “Super-duper glad. No question. Tons of gladness.”
“And while the visit didn’t have the desired effect,” Leah continued, “we did learn a few things.”
“Yeah: Pathological stubbornness is a Drake genetic defect.”
Angela snorted. “No, cuz, we already knew that.”
“This is just from my experience talking to people who are hiding horrible secrets,” Leah admitted, “but I think Dennis Drake is hiding a horrible secret.”
Archer nodded. “Oh, yeah. Did you see how fast he got out of there when Detective Chambers implied he was protecting somebody? That was it, that was the end of the interview, right then, just . . . whoosh! ‘G’bye, don’t call, don’t write.’”
From behind them, quietly: “He’s got guilty knowledge of someone.”
“Ack!” From Archer, who had stopped short and then turned. “Sorry, Detective. You were so quiet. I might’ve forgotten you were still there.”
“He gets that a lot,” Angela piped up. She’d seen it before. Jason Chambers was so unassuming, people engaged in conversation with him forgot he was there. Cops—trained observers—forgot he was there.
And that’s goddamned catnip to me. Nobody ever forgets a Drake is in the room. Though they probably want to. Why do I keep comparing him to catnip? I don’t have a cat. Or nip.
“He lied, for one thing,” Jason continued. He’d sped up a bit so he was now walking beside them. “And not for the first time. He claimed we were his last allotted visit for the month. But I checked when I logged us in . . . he had plenty of hours left for the month. He got rid of us simply to get rid of us. In fact, he still couldn’t get rid of you fast enough.”
“You, too,” Archer said, but Jason shook his head.
“That’s typical. That’s normal. Nobody wants to talk to cops at the best of times, never mind when they’re in prison. It looks bad. I’d expect him to want to keep away from me. But again, he wanted the whole group gone, especially you.” He pointed to Angela. “And you.” To Archer. “And that’s very curious. Often longtimers will . . . Their lack of contact with the outside world is lessened by . . .”
When he paused again, Angela spoke up. “You’re not going to offend us by pointing out something we all know. Usually longtimers can’t get enough family visits. According to the ones I’ve spoken to, anyway.” At Leah’s sideways glance and Chambers’s sigh, she shrugged. “What? Sometimes Uncle Dennis would change his mind and not see me. I’m there, I already made the trip, but I should instantly turn around and go home?”
“Yes, Angela. Those would be the actions of someone who isn’t obsessed.”
“Cram it, Archer. Anyway, sometimes I talk to the other prisoners, or their families. I ended up with a really good recipe for risotto that way . . .”
“Which is why,” Chambers put in, “you’re no longer allowed to clear Intake Processing unless ICC personnel and your uncle and someone working the case concur.”
They’d reached the car by now, and Angela looked down at her feet and scuffed a toe along the white line on the pavement. You almost accidentally let one measly arsonist out and suddenly you’re slapped with a lifetime label: SECURITY RISK. The world was a cruel and unfair place. “It was one time,” she muttered. “But anyway. That whole ‘only the first year of your sentence is hard time, after that you adjust’ myth is bullshit. You spend your first year, and a couple after, in deep, deep denial.”
“It’s all a mistake,” Chambers said.
“My lawyer’s going to fix this,” Leah added.
“The judge will realize he was too hard on me and will reduce my sentence any day now,” Archer finished.
“Right, we all know the drill. But Uncle Dennis . . . he never had that. He couldn’t indulge in the luxury of denial because he went out of his way to make damned sure he was going to be locked up. And he went further out of his way to make sure he stayed locked up. So you’d think he’d grab for any chance to see any of us. But he never did. Does, I mean.” Of course, that could simply mean her uncle wanted less chaos in his life, which was understandable. Or that he wasn’t especially fond of any of them, which was cold, but also understandable. “But,” she finished, “that still leaves us nowhere.”
“Maybe,” Jason said, nibbling on his lower lip. But instead of sounding discouraged, it almost sounded like he was . . . hopeful? Like he’d thought of something?
No, she was reading him wrong. Actually, she shouldn’t be reading him at all. If her uncle could have taken the gold medal for stubborn, she could have for grasping at straws. Any straws. Even dirty ones. Why am I thinking about dirty straws now? She gave herself a mental shake and looked up to say good-bye to the detective, but he was already climbing into his own car, a practical and forgettable Ford Focus. Gray, of course. She didn’t even get a last glimpse of his Van Gogh socks.
Archer had it right. All we’ve got is a sizeable pile of nothing.
She slumped into Archer’s back seat and got ready to endure the two-hour drive back home. She was too downhearted to even give Archer shit for his habit of driving slowly through stop signs. Which was pretty downhearted.