Chapter 35
Why wasn’t Roy Timmons dead or a revered or small town hero? At the very least, he could’ve been a father with a family that loved him so much that Charlene couldn’t break their hearts. Glancing out the window, Charlene peered past the morning haze as the driver of the rented Lincoln handed papers to a gun-clad officer. The tight-lipped guard scanned documents from Stork before waving them in. Raven sat beside her and took her hand as the bars closed behind their car. They were locked inside the pits of hell.
Stork had given specific instructions for her private meeting due to Charlene’s celebrity status.
Stork’s words were a never-ending recorder, embedded in her soul: “Royland Timothy Alder, alias Roy Timmons is incarcerated in maximum security, separated from the general population; indicted on fourteen counts of rape, kidnapping, murder in the first degree. Attempted murder—one of his victims was buried alive and luckily found—and that’s only what’s been pinned on him. He’s a sociopath, diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder. Royland’s outwardly charming, charismatic, even. His attentiveness captivates you before your brain registers his true colors. He’s a member of the Aryan Brotherhood, dubbed ‘The Black Beauty Murderer’ in the 90s by the media in the South for targeting young African-American females. Remember, he’s as sly as a fox …”
Unsure of which—Stork’s monotone or the true Royland Alder—Charlene felt a chill travel up her spine as she watched a gentle shower begin to beat on the vehicle’s windows. As instructed, the driver parked and opened the back door. He stood to the side with an umbrella, and Charlene got out first.
“Are you sure you want to come?” She glanced inside at Raven. Her voice held a flair of leadership. She’d used the same take-charge stance while being Meagan on Deceptive Desires and during her action flicks.
“Yes, Mom.” Raven scooted out after her, and the driver shut the door.
Cold stung, making Charlene’s lambskin-gloved fingers wriggle. She dipped them inside her cashmere jacket. They walked through a cement structure with multiple iron fences.
Finally, her daughter seemed to spring to life. Raven patted her back. “You can do it, Mom.”
A prison guard stood at a station just inside the entrance. His tone drummed so powerfully that it knocked on Charlene’s chest cavity. She didn’t know whether to get down and give him twenty push-ups or nod. She dared not open her mouth or ask a question. His voice ended with a much slower, yet still strong, “… do y’all understand?”
“Yes,” Raven replied.
Charlene nodded for the hundredth time, and placed her purse on the rolling table. She watched his bugged eyes staring at the machine X-raying the contents of her purse as she walked through the body scanner. Raven did the same routine, but the body scanner beeped as she passed through.
The guard gave Raven a look of irritation as he pulled out a wand before turning to Charlene. “You need to continue walking, ma’am. You cannot stand here.”
“But, I …” I can’t see Royland all by myself! The look on the guard’s face as he pointed to a sign which indicated it was a no-stopping-zone made her rigid legs move. She scurried to the bus that would take her to the maximum security section.
The second set of Stork’s words slithered through her mind. “It is important that you be prompt. The warden will only close the visiting section for fifteen minutes for your private meeting with Alder. Whatever you have to say, make it quick.”
Counseled by Stork, she knew exactly what to expect when stepping into a cement-walled, empty visiting room with tables and chairs bolted to the floor. One-way windows were on one side and the grey October sky peeked through barred windows at the opposite side. Then her breath caught.
Roy … Royland Alder sat in the middle of the room in an orange jumpsuit. Dirty-blond, wavy hair with a silver streak neatly combed back. Face freshly shaven. He was handsome. It instantly dissolved her tension. She pictured this as the setting of a movie with an attractive yet villainous costar. Royland’s elbows were planted on the table, his hands clasped together, eyes closed, almost as if he were praying. The shackles holding his arms together met at a chain draping down on the table and underneath to his shackled feet.
She sank onto the hard bench on the opposite side.
Eyes the color of a field of Texas bluebonnets opened, and he smiled so charismatically. Charismatic! Stork’s words came back in a flash. She felt ashamed by being temporarily plunged back into her fifteen-year-old self. Naïve.
“Hello, Charlene.” His voice enveloped her, hugging softly. As hard as she tried, her eyes were glued to his. Her body went numb with fear when Royland reached across the table. “Yes, I remember you all. You've finally come to see me.”
One of the guards tapped his Billy Club. “Don’t go there, Alder!”
His hands recoiled. She read the tattoo on his knuckles “K-I-L-L” and “C-O-O-N.” There were skull heads on his thumbs.
“I’ve missed you, Charlene. Did you miss me?” His baby-blues glazed over with lust.
Squaring her shoulders, Charlene said, “Roy, uh, Royland, I’m here to understand why you—”
“All you bitches ever want to know is why. Why this? Why that? I thought you came to see me!” Like a dog with rabies, Royland shouted through gritted teeth. With his forearm, he wiped spittle from his chin and mouth. Speechless, she watched as he stood and grabbed his penis. “I thought you wanted more.”
“Sit down, Alder!” the guards yelled.
“You want to know why?” Smirking at the guards, he sat. The dog was gone. The evil glare abandoned. As if a temporary exorcism had made the devil flee his body, Royland’s eyes were once again cloudless summer skies. “Simply because I can. I had to show y’all little bitches that you were nothing!”
“You’re sick, pathetic.” She cut through his arrogance. “The pain you put me through didn’t stop me. I continued on. You’re nothing but the devil!”
He yanked the necklace from under his shirt and kissed the pendant, the very same Jesus cross that haunted her dreams.
“You’re evil!” She started backing away from this useless conversation. It was way past the new millennium, and he still made her stomach turn. Royland had empty eyes. He would enjoy arguing with her forever, if given the chance. My time is worth more than this. Rearing on her heels to leave, she paused when he spoke.
“Oh, yeah? Don’t nobody want your old ass.” His tormenting eyes stopped piercing her soul, as if arguing with her was of no importance. For a moment, Charlene’s head tilted in confusion. He’d stared into her mind, body, soul. Now, lust returned, but his gaze stayed just past her.
“I want her!” Royland pointed with his hands close together. The chains around his wrists clinked off the tabletop. “She’s a tad old. Heck, I’ll make an exception. Conjugal visit time!”
Charlene whipped around, and her eyes bugged out. My God, what have I done? She opened her mouth to speak, to say something, anything, but couldn’t. She couldn’t alter this dire situation.
Raven stood at the door. She had the same piercing blue eyes as her father. Other than that, she was void of emotion.