Darkness Before Dawn (12 page)

“You know who lives there?” she asked, pointing through Heather’s window.

Heather just shook her head.

“That’s Judge Thomas’s house,” Meg explained.

Meg let Heather take in the magnificence of the structure—a splendor that even the
darkness couldn’t hide. Then she slipped the car back into drive and eased it down
the street. The two didn’t speak again until Meg dropped her friend off at her car.
After they had said their good-byes, and just as Heather opened her own car’s door,
Meg pushed the Mustang’s passenger window button. After the window opened, Heather
leaned down and was greeted with a strange smile.

“Heather, that house, the big one?” Not waiting for a response, Meg continued. “That’s
where Steve’s murderer lives his little, happy life. When I get done with him, he
and his family, all those who called that big house home, will never see another happy
day as long as they live.”

Before Heather could reply, Meg raised the window and the Mustang rolled out of the
parking lot and disappeared into the night.

T
HE RUDE BEEPING ECHOED THROUGH THE ROOM AT THE SAME TIME IT DID
every weekday morning—5:15 a.m. Groping in the darkness, Meg reached over and hit
the snooze. The room at once took on a tomblike silence as she fell back into a deep
sleep. Five minutes later, the loud buzzing woke her again. This time she managed
to hit the off switch as she tossed the covers back and rolled out of bed. Not bothering
to turn on the lamp, she sleepily stumbled to the bathroom. Temporarily hiding her
eyes with her left arm, she flipped on the light switch, and after waiting a few seconds
for her vision to clear, stared at the image reflected there.

“If only Heather could see me. She wouldn’t think I looked so perfect.”

Pushing her hair back in some semblance of order, she plugged in her electric curlers,
automatically pivoted 180 degrees, and turned on the shower. The routine had become
so familiar over the years she could do it without thinking. But today something different
and unexpected had been added.

With no warning, a strange, dizzy feeling came over her. The whole room began rolling
and she felt as though she were on a ship fighting against storm waves. Balancing
by holding
onto the sink, she managed to keep from falling, but that didn’t stop her head from
spinning for another thirty seconds. The dizziness left almost as soon as it came.
Refocusing, Meg straightened herself and tugged her favorite T-shirt over her head.
Just as she dropped it on the floor, a queasy roiling hit her like a hammer. She’d
never gotten this sick so quickly. She’d always hated being sick. She’d always fought
giving into any kind of illness. Yet this time she had no choice. Her stomach had
a mind of its own. Dropping to her knees, she found the commode and quickly lost what
little food she had in her stomach.

Pulling herself off her knees, she turned on the sink’s tap and rinsed her face with
cool water. Drying her cheeks with a towel, she glanced back at the reflection of
her now ashen, white face and muttered, “No more pizza after work. Heather will have
to find someone else to pig out with.”

Feeling slightly better, she stepped into the shower and spent the next few minutes
reviving herself. By the time she had dressed, fixed her hair, and put on her makeup,
she was not just feeling well, she was ravenous. With energy brought on by desire,
she prepared a huge breakfast of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and hash browns and quickly
devoured every bite. Not satisfied, she munched passionately through a half bag of
potato chips. She would have eaten the remainder, but it was already well past time
for her to be on her way to work.

As no one in their right mind was ready to be a part of the real world this early
in the morning, the short trip was uneventful. It was just another drive through lonely,
dark streets on a route that never changed. Except for Mr. Kim working in the donut
shop and a lone police car, there were no signs of life. The hospital parking lot
was all but empty as she pulled in and shut off the Mustang. And the solitude was
the best gift Meg could imagine. If Steve could never again be with her, then she
saw no real reason to be with anyone. But as soon as she hit the employee door, that
peaceful isolation would be transformed into organized chaos.

“Hi, Meg.” Heather’s voice sounded as chipper as ever. “How are things today?”

Meg shrugged as she hung her coat on the rack. “They’d be a lot better if we hadn’t
had pizza last night. Boy, I was sick this morning.”

“Wish I looked like that when I was sick,” Heather replied.

“You always look fine,” Meg returned.

“Hi, nurses!”

Heather and Meg stopped their drug counts as Dr. Mason walked into the room.

“Hi, Paul,” Heather said. “I thought you had the day off.”

“I did, but Dr. Parks has a touch of the flu, so . . .”

“I think Meg might be coming down with it, too,” Heather shot back.

Meg almost grinned. She could see right through her friend and coworker. Heather might
have been attempting to make casual conversation and sound like she had no interest
in the male in their midst, but she would give her right arm to go out with him. It
was so obvious it was almost sad.

“How many did you get, Heather?”

Glancing over to see what the other nurse had been inventorying, Meg answered, “Twenty-two.”

“So did I. Let’s sign in.”

After the two nurses initialed their reports, Heather hovered around the desk attempting
to make small talk with the doctor. Meg saw no reason to watch the sad scene play
out and headed down the hall to the nurses’ station. Life would be so much easier
if love were not a part of it.

C
HERYL
B
EDNARZ LOOKED MORE LIKE A
Z
UMBA INSTRUCTOR THAN A PROS
ecutor, a look she worked hard to maintain. She knew that her age—twenty-seven—and
her size—diminutive—had to be overcome by strength. So she made an effort to make
up for those with boldness. As a child, she’d been both fearless and impulsive but
now possessed drive and intelligence to temper her courage. Though not yet a seasoned
attorney, she possessed a confident nature that belied her lack of experience. She
knew the law backwards and forwards, yet she could never seem to impress her boss.
Thanks to the trivial assignments she was handed, it had become more evident with
each passing day that Jones had no faith in her at all. Two years of a practice filled
with small victories still left her on the edge looking for one bit of praise and
it had never come. Now, he’d dropped this into her lap. She was in charge of a firefight
with the most powerful man in the community and maybe the state. It was the biggest
case that had come into this office in years, so why did Jones make this move? Had
he suddenly decided she was up to the task? No, she knew she hadn’t earned this case;
it had to be avoidance. Jones had decided to punt the ball and now
she had to not just catch that punt but find a way to make it to the end zone.

“Webb turned this case over to you?” Lauren Bass marveled while standing in front
of the assistant district attorney’s desk.

Cheryl nodded as she glanced back at her assistant. Just two years younger than Bednarz,
she too was green. While bright and well educated, the tall, attractive, African-American
woman had a lot more miles to travel to get to the top on the learning curve. Thus,
she seemed as unprepared to deal with this matter as the assistant district attorney.
Yet in spite of her lack of seasoning, Cheryl had complete faith in Lauren. She also
had as much faith in her own abilities.

“Kind of shocking,” Cheryl noted as she sat down at her desk in her small, windowless
office. “He told me he had surgery planned for the week of the trial.”

“What kind?” Bass asked, taking a seat in an antique wooden chair beside the desk.

“Knee surgery.”

“Couldn’t he have put that off?”

“Of course,” Cheryl replied, “but the fact he didn’t isn’t a matter of his physical
health. This is all about his political health. I’ve been set up. Jones wouldn’t touch
this one with a ten-foot pole. If he loses, he gets beat in the election because his
opponent will paint him as a political stooge giving in to the power of the Thomas
family. If he wins, Thomas will see to it that his political career is over and there
goes Webb’s dreams of being governor. He bailed on this because he knew he’d be ruined
either way.”

Bass shook her head. “Where does that put you?”

Cheryl smiled. “As old Webb says at least three times every day, between the old rock
and the hard place. If I win the case, I’m cooked, but Jones is fine. Thomas can’t
touch him because he’s going to be out of the office due to surgery. If I lose, Jones
fires me because I’m soft and can’t win the easy cases. So no matter which way you
look at it, I’m going to lose and you’ll be working with someone other than me.”

“You don’t seem to be too upset about it,” Bass noted. “In fact, I seem to hear a
bit of glee in your Texas drawl.”

“Lauren, Jones is sure I can’t take on Thomas and win. He’s sure I’ll fall on my face
or maybe something else. He’s confident that I don’t have the experience to make the
charges stick. But he doesn’t know one thing.”

“What’s that?”

Bednarz stood up, moved to the side of her desk, and grinned. As she rubbed her hands
together, she said, “I’ve been preparing for this for a decade. I know more about
this kind of case than Jones ever will. And I don’t give a rip if Thomas tries to
ruin me after I put his kid away. I will just move back home and work there. For Jones,
Springfield is a launching pad, but for me it is a jumping-off point.”

“Hope you have a parachute,” Bass jabbed. “Thomas is powerful and it might be a long
fall.”

“Don’t need one when you know how to land the plane,” Cheryl shot back. “You will
soon understand why Webb’s nightmare is my dream! Now, let’s start going through these
files. We’ve got work to do and a lot of ground to cover in a short amount of time.”

H
EATHER TURNED HER EYES TOWARD THE DOCTOR, SMILED, AND ASKED
, “How do you like your new BMW?”

When he didn’t respond, she repeated her question. This time he noticed.

“I’m sorry, Heather, what did you say?”

“It’s not really important,” she shrugged. “Something on your mind?”

“Yeah,” Paul’s voice indicated a level of concern that he rarely showed. Tilting his
head in the direction from which Meg had just walked, he queried, “You know her pretty
well. How’s she doing today?”

Names were not necessary; Heather knew exactly whom Paul was talking about. “She seems
to be doing all right. I mean, we went out for pizza last night and she sounded okay.
Hey, she even spoke about some of the fun times that she and Steve had.”

Making eye contact with the doctor, she asked, “You knew him, didn’t you?”

Shaking his head, Paul responded, “Not really. Saw him once or twice, but I never
really knew him.”

“A lot of people thought he was a hunk,” Heather said. “You know the type, good-looking
boy who always appeared full of himself.” She paused, wondering how to fully explain
a man she’d so admired. Shaking her head, she continued, “He wasn’t that way at all.
Yes, he was athletic and had a fun personality, but he was bright and kind of a saint,
too. I know that sounds weird, but he was just that nice. In fact, he seemed just
about perfect. I don’t think I’ll ever meet anyone who could come close to measuring
up to him. Boy, and how Meg loved him.”

Heather moved away from the desk to a far wall and leaned up against it. She folded
her arms across her chest as Paul watched her every move. Sensing he wanted her to
say more, she took a deep breath and continued. “Last night she talked about that,
how much she loved him, how great he was, and I actually began to think she had found
a way to work through it. I mean, I knew it would take a while, but for the first
time since the accident, she seemed to be looking at the good things.”

“Well, Heather, then it sounds like she’ll bounce back pretty well.” Paul’s inflection
caused his statement to come across more as a question rather than an observation.

“I don’t know.” Heather sighed moving from the wall and back to the man’s side. Only
when she drew next to him and stared deeply into his eyes did she say what was really
on her heart. The words came out in a whisper.

“After we finished eating, she did something that worried me all night. She took me
by the home of the person driving the other car. She told me that she’d promised herself
there would never be any good times in that home again. She said it with such conviction
it caused chills to run up my back.” As she finished her story, Heather’s blue eyes
searched his face with an expression that demanded a response.

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” he answered. “We would all probably feel the same way.”
He waited a second as if to
compose his thoughts before continuing. “You know, we watch people die almost every
day—old people, young people, from disease, accidents, even suicide. When it happens,
we shake our heads, even pat the hands of a family member, and then we walk away.
We all get so caught up with illness and fighting it that when we lose a battle, when
someone dies, we con ourselves into believing that at least the pain is over. Heather,
in cases like Meg’s, the pain is just beginning.”

There were no more words to say. Paul turned back to a patient report he had been
studying. Heather, her heart now aching, pretended to recheck the inventory she and
Meg had finished earlier. Suddenly, a muffled voice broke the silence.

“Nurse, this is Minnie Evans in 109, could I have some ice?”

Responding to the intercom, Heather leaned over and checked the computer file to see
if the patient could have ice, before punching a button and saying, “Be right there.”