Buried Evidence (25 page)

“No,” Shana shouted, wrenching away. “Why would you say it’s your fault? I hate it when you do that, make yourself responsible for everything that goes wrong.” She flung her arms in the air. “It’s his fault! Why did he have to rape us? And the stupid courts should have never let him out of prison. I don’t care what the law says. People who do things like that should never get out of prison. Never! Did you hear me? Never!”

“Please, calm down,” Lily said, cupping her hand over her mouth, then letting her arms fall limp at her sides.

“I don’t want to calm down!” Shana shrieked, as if she had no choice but to release the pent up rage inside her. She walked over to her mother and seized a handful of her bathrobe in her hand, a wild, out-of-control look in her eyes. “I’d like to hurt someone right now, do you hear me? I’d like to break something, kick some guy in the balls, maybe smash something over his head!” Suddenly she started walking backward, the tempest past, appalled that such terrible words had poured out of her own mouth. “I’m sorry,” she told Lily. “I don’t know what made me say those things.”

“I do,” Lily answered, taking her hand.

“Where are we going?”

“For a really fast ride,” her mother told her. “There’s a place about fifteen minutes from here. Once you feel the speedometer hit a hundred, I guarantee you’ll feel better.”

Shana stared at her as if she were insane. “I can’t believe you’d suggest something like this after what happened with Dad.”

“Your father was drunk.” Lily opened the screen door, stepping
out into the fresh air. “About ten years ago the county sent me to a defensive driving school. I scored higher than all the men. This place I’m taking you to used to be a racetrack. A former investigator for the Santa Barbara D.A.’s office who races cars as a hobby told me about it. He gave me a special code to get inside the gate. When I occasionally feel like I’m going to explode, this is how I let off steam.”

N
ot long after Lily and Shana returned from their drive, Richard called, inviting them to have dinner with him at the Plow & Angel restaurant, located at the San Ysidro Ranch in Montecito. Even though the establishment was referred to in local circles as simply the “Ranch,” it had been in existence for over a hundred years and was considered one of the most elite resorts in the country. Since it had once been a working ranch, guests stayed in bungalows, each with its own distinctive decor. The bungalows also differed in size and amenities. Many had fenced-in backyards with Jacuzzi tubs and numerous bedrooms, and some of the newer bungalows were so elaborate, the guests even had the use of their own private swimming pool, making them feel as if they were staying in a luxurious home.

“I thought you said he wasn’t coming up until eight.”

“His last client of the day got sick and canceled,” Lily told her, excited at the prospect of seeing Richard and hoping it would lift both of their spirits. She had to trust in her belief that John would suffer the consequences of his actions, and that no matter what he did or said, the police would never reopen the Hernandez case. Shana might have to transfer to U.C. Santa Barbara, yet Lily didn’t think it would have a serious impact on her future. They could always make arrangements for her to attend another university the following year. The only thing that really mattered in the long run was her name on a diploma. Of greater concern was the fact that Shana would have to accept her father going to prison. She was strong, though, and Lily had faith in her ability to once again overcome adversity and move forward with her life.

“Do I have to get dressed up?”

“This is a
very
nice place,” her mother told her. “I’ve only been there one time since I moved here because it’s pricey. The
history is fascinating, though, and I feel certain you’ll enjoy the meal.”

“What do you mean by history?” Shana asked, sorting through her mother’s closet for something to wear.

“I can’t recall
all
the famous people who they say have stayed there,” Lily answered, tossing her robe on the bed. “Let’s see, John and Jackie Kennedy spent part of their honeymoon at the ranch, all kinds of legendary actors, musicians, writers, and artists. They have pictures on the walls in one of the buildings in case you’re interested.”

“Why do they call it the Plow & Angel?” Shana asked, pulling out a black knit dress and holding it up to her body, then glancing at herself in the dresser mirror. “That’s kind of a peculiar name. I mean, I wouldn’t associate the word
plow
with a fancy restaurant.”

“If I remember correctly,” Lily said, “the ranch was named after a Spanish farmhand who used to arrive late to work every day because he spent his mornings praying. I’ll show you the statue when we get to the restaurant. The plaque claims he was able to plow as many fields during the afternoon as the rest of the workers could in an entire day. He told the owners of the ranch that he was able to accomplish so much because he had an angel on his shoulder. He was canonized by the Catholic Church.”

“Does that mean he was made a saint?”

“Yes,” Lily told her. “If I’m not mistaken, they made him the patron saint of husbandry.”

“What does he do?” She laughed. “Find you a husband?”

“Not exactly,” Lily answered. “Husbandry has something to do with agriculture. That’s not a bad idea, though.”

“What?”

“You know,” Lily said, “a saint that finds single ladies husbands.”

“Saints are dead people.” Shana looked as if her mother had tipped over the edge.

Lily wanted to inquire if she ever went to church. Better to leave that conversation for another day, she decided. She’d been lax, however, when it came to insisting that her daughter be raised
in the Catholic Church. John’s family had been Presbyterian; therefore, like many couples who married outside their faith, they had reached an impasse, remaining detached from any specific religion for most of their married life. Lily had managed to convince John that her daughter should be baptized as a Catholic, but Shana had never gone through the confirmation process. “If you want,” she added tentatively, “I can take you to visit the mission, or we can stop by the parish church I joined up the road.”

Shana was surprised, as her mother had never mentioned anything along these lines. “You really joined a church?”

Lily felt her face flush in embarrassment. “Yeah,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “I don’t go every Sunday, but when things get me down, I drop by the church or go to a service. Lately I’ve been trying to attend mass on important days. I guess when you get older, you get more serious. Either that, or I feel I have a lot of atoning to do.”

“Wow,” the girl said, her eyes widening. “I’m impressed.”

Lily’s wardrobe consisted mainly of suits, as she felt they suited her profession. Out of the few dresses she owned, one of her favorites was already in her daughter’s hands. She settled for a black jacket with red velvet patches on the shoulders and a fairly short skirt to show off her long legs. Years before, Richard had remarked on numerous occasions that her legs were one of her more alluring features. “Do you need nylons? I have a new pair.”

Shana was in the bathroom, fiddling with her mother’s cosmetics. “We don’t wear the same size shoes,” she said, glancing down at her black flats. “Will I look out of place in these? Is the restaurant that fancy?”

“Not really,” Lily said, joining her in the bathroom. “We’re not eating in the main restaurant. The Plow & Angel is more casual. Those shoes will be fine, and you can forget about the nylons.”

Richard had said he would meet them at the restaurant at seven o’clock. She assumed he felt uncomfortable coming to the house because of Shana, or maybe due to the fact that Lily had
asked him to act as the girl’s attorney if the police decided to question her again.

Once they were both dressed, they drove the short distance to the San Ysidro Ranch in Lily’s black Audi, the engine sputtering a bit from their tension-relieving spin around the abandoned racetrack. They stopped a moment in front of the old stone structure. Lily showed Shana the bronze statue and plaque she had mentioned. The individual that the church had canonized was depicted hard at work behind a horse and plow, with what appeared to be a creature with wings sitting on his right shoulder.

Through the open doorway Lily saw a man with Richard’s build and hair coloring sitting at the bar. He turned around, almost as if he could sense Lily’s presence the moment she stepped into the room. Wearing a dark suit, white shirt, and a red tie with small yellow flowers on it, he looked incredibly handsome. Lily kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I really appreciate you driving up tonight, Richard. How was the traffic?”

“Not bad at all,” he said, smiling. “I was happy to get away.”

“Nice to see you again,” Shana said, shaking his hand. “How’s Greg?”

“Great,” Richard said. “He was asking about you just the other day. Your mother tells me you’re going to UCLA.”

Shana looked down at her shoes, sad that she might have to change schools. “Is Greg a marine biologist now?”

“Almost,” he said, glancing over at Lily. “He works at Sea World in San Diego. He takes care of the dolphins.”

Shana had first met Richard’s son only a short time after the rape. Greg had taken on the role of an older brother, spending time with her, comforting her, trying to help her remain rational during a time when her world had crashed down around her. An avid surfer, she remembered how the young man had loved the ocean. His father had wanted him to become an attorney, and Shana sensed a lingering residue of disappointment. She couldn’t recall when she had first decided to follow in her mother’s footsteps. Being a victim and witnessing the criminal justice system firsthand had played a major part in her decision.

Not many of Shana’s peers had realistic plans for their futures.
Some of them hadn’t even declared a major. She recalled how she’d once yearned to be a model, particularly since her mother had modeled when she was young. But Lily had been dead-set against Shana getting involved in the modeling profession, although everyone who saw her thought she possessed tremendous potential. Her height and willowy frame in itself could have taken her a long way, let alone her beautiful face and the fluid manner in which she moved her body. Thoughts about becoming a model had vanished after the rape, however, whisked away by the same wicked wind that had stolen her innocence.

Shana had long ago stopped confiding in John. Her father had disappeared into an alcohol-induced fantasy where he imagined her becoming a famous defense attorney who would support him in his old age. Any recent attempts to engage in serious discussions with him hadn’t seemed worth the effort. She also knew John would never encourage her to become a prosecutor like her mother, which was the first step toward achieving her ultimate goal. Just as Lily had before the rape, Shana aspired to be a judge. She also fantasized about winning an appointment to the Supreme Court. Her dreams seemed so lofty and unobtainable that she’d been embarrassed to mention them even to her mother. “Tell Greg I’m happy for him,” she said, a slight catch in her voice. “Not many people get the chance to do what they want in life.”

“He’s not quite where he wants to be
yet,”
Richard told her, his eyes roaming around the room for the waiter. “He’s still got another two years left.”

“I don’t understand,” Shana said. “I thought he graduated last year.”

“He did,” Richard told her. “He’s still working on his doctorate.”

“So what does he do at Sea World? I thought you said he took care of the dolphins.”

Seeing the waiter gesturing toward their table in a secluded section in the back of the restaurant, Richard placed a hand on Shana’s back to guide her. “For the time being,” he said, “Greg feeds the dolphins and cleans out their tank. He gets to use his scuba gear, though, so he enjoys that aspect of his job. His salary
is a problem. I keep reminding him that eventually he’ll be able to pull down a decent income.”

“Everyone has to start somewhere,” Lily interjected, stepping in front of them to take her seat at the table. She knew what Richard meant about kids wanting their lives to come together instantly, then becoming disenchanted when they realized they had a longer road ahead of them than they thought. During the time she had attended law school, she’d juggled a husband and a child in addition to a part-time job. Otherwise, they could have never survived, and even then they had lived from month to month. Even though Shana was determined and bright, Lily couldn’t imagine her bearing up under the weight of so many responsibilities.

Richard ordered a steak, Lily a Cornish hen with wild rice stuffing. Shana said she wanted only a salad, then picked at it most of the evening, telling them that she was saving her appetite for dessert. After they finished their main course, Shana leaned over and whispered in her mother’s ear. “Aren’t we going to talk to him about Dad and the accident?”

Lily cleared her throat before speaking and glanced around the restaurant. By this time most of the other diners had left, so she felt comfortable proceeding. “Shana is curious about how long her father might have to serve if he’s sentenced to prison. We were going over the details this afternoon, Richard, but I suggested that we wait and discuss it with you.”

Once Lily had filled him in on the specific charges, Richard dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “The sentencing judge has the option of sending him to prison for either four, six, or ten years.”

Shana said, “But he won’t serve that many years.”

“Probably not,” Lily answered. “If he gets the lowest term, he could be released in less than two years.”

“Why are there all these options?” the girl asked. “I thought a judge could send people to prison for as long as he wanted, then the parole board made the decision when they were released. Isn’t that why Curazon was released, because the parole board had its head up its ass?”

“Not really,” Richard said. “He served his time. His particular
crime fell under the determinate-sentencing law. In that case the parole board didn’t determine his release date. It was preset by law.”