Helpless (22 page)

Chapter 32

J
ill couldn’t look her father in the eye. She knew only vague details about the charges against him. She knew that her best friend, Lindsey Wells, was suspected of having a relationship with her father. She knew the police had found illegal images on his laptop computer, that her father had been charged with possession and distribution of child pornography, but she did not know the specifics.

Because of privacy laws specific to crimes involving minors, and Angie’s concerns for the students’ well-being, everybody involved with Tom’s case had agreed not to reveal any information to the public. Nobody knew the identities, ages, or nature of the images Tom had been accused of distributing. Jill was unaware that her father allegedly possessed lewd and lascivious pictures of her classmates, her best friend’s images among them. Or that he would be accused of masterminding a distribution ring that deployed online recruiting to scout victims to procure new product.

Jill’s already shaky world seemed shattered beyond repair. First her mother, and now this. Tom didn’t want to further test her ability to cope.

“It’s not fair, kiddo,” he kept saying to her. “It’s just not fair to you.”

They sat together at the kitchen table, but neither spoke for quite some time. On a usual school-day morning Jill would have her backpack ready for the day. But today she had her army green duffel bag at her side. And the bag was stuffed full of her clothes.

“Don’t give up on me, Jill,” Tom said. “Did you look at any of the articles I gave you?”

“I read them.”

“And?”

“And what do you want me to say?”

“I want you to say that you’ll give me some time,” Tom said. “You’ll give me a chance to clear my name.”

Jill looked past him, out the kitchen window and into a backyard that was green and lush and peaceful.

With Marvin’s help, Tom had found dozens of cases of computers being used to falsify evidence of statutory rape. Men wrongly accused on the Internet of having a sexual relationship with a minor. Even the sensationalized TV show
A Predator Among Us
was found guilty of entrapment. Apparently, one overly zealous producer had goaded a man with whom he’d been quarreling into meeting a girl presumed to be twenty-one years old. But when the guy showed up, the producer had changed the transcript of his “chat” and lowered the age to thirteen. The poor guy was arrested but later acquitted. The producer lost his job. Not surprisingly, the other guy’s company found cause to fire him as well.

Marvin found even more instances of pornographic images that were maliciously transferred to an otherwise clean computer. The motive for planting evidence was often revenge—a disgruntled employee or jealous lover. It happened frequently enough to give rise to a cottage industry of attorneys who specialized in proving that exact defense. Marvin didn’t count himself among those self-proclaimed experts, but Tom remained confident that his attorney was better.

Marvin had printed out more than a hundred pages from the different cases that had similarities to his own. Tom had put them in a folder, which he gave to Jill.

“Read through this,” he had said. “I just want you to see that it’s possible that I’m being framed.”

Tom was glad to know Jill had read them. At least she was willing to sit with him at the kitchen table. On the day of his release, that hadn’t even been a possibility.

“I know you want me to believe you,” Jill said. “But what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Stay here? I don’t think I can do that.”

“No, honey. I’m not asking you to stay here. I understand that this is hard for you.”

His worry about Kip Lange was now barely a pulse. There had been no sightings. No outside perimeter alarms had been set off. No blackmail attempts. Nothing from Lange at all. In some ways, Tom wished that it was Lange behind this nightmare. At least then he’d know why somebody was out to destroy him.

“Did you do this? Did you do what they’re saying?”

“Of course not, honey. But I am going to find out who did.”

“I don’t know what to believe about you anymore. I’m going to talk to Lindsey. I’m going to find out for myself.” Jill’s attitude seemed to change. For a moment, she was no longer distant. Tom saw a fresh surge of anger, and an aura of newfound determination.

“This will work itself out. I promise.”

“So we’re all clear, right?” Jill said. “You know what I’m doing.”

“You’ll be staying at the Kalinowskis’.”

“Flo and Irena have cleaned up the guest bedroom for me.”

Jill might have been placed into the foster care system if it weren’t for the social worker’s intervention. She had petitioned the state to let Jill legally reside with the Kalinowski family.

“I have the number. But the same rules apply. You don’t go anywhere alone. You tell an adult where you’re going, and check in when you get there. We talk at least once a day. Just briefly, if that’s all you can manage. Just to let me know that you’re all right.”

“Okay, I guess,” Jill said.

“Do you have everything you need?”

“If not, I can come back and get it.”

“You can come back anytime,” Tom said. “This is your home.”

“I just need to do this for now, okay?” Jill stood up from the table and disappeared through the doorway. She came back, holding Teddy.

Tom saw the raggedy bear tucked under her arm and his whole face brightened. “Hey, I didn’t know you still had him,” he said.

Teddy was missing one eye. His gray fur was nappy in places, missing in others. Jill was only four when Tom had brought home the bear she’d been eyeing at the toy store. It took only one night of bonding for her to need Teddy to fall asleep every night thereafter.

“Whatever,” Jill said, stuffing Teddy into her duffel bag. She could zip it only part way because the bag was already crammed full. Teddy’s arm was sticking out the top as if the bear were crying out for help. Tom heard three quick beeps from a car that had pulled up and parked out front.

“That’s my ride,” Jill said. She put her backpack on, then slung her duffel bag over her shoulder.

“Once a night. A quick call. Agreed?”

Jill kept her back to Tom. No embrace. No kiss good-bye. “Okay,” she said reluctantly.

Tom waved to Vern from the door. Vern got out of his Subaru sedan just as Jill was getting in. Tom could see his daughter through the windshield, talking to Vern’s kids and already more animated.

Vern hurried over to Tom. The two men shook hands.

“Hey, Tom. How you holding up?”

“As well as can be expected,” Tom said.

Vern nodded. “I just wanted you to know that I’ve got your back here, buddy,” Vern said. “You’re going to get through this.”

“Thanks, Vern. That means a lot to me. Promise you’ll be good to my girl.”

“You know I will. Heck, Sylvia’s got a week’s worth of gourmet meals planned. Trust me, she’ll be well looked after. And she’ll be coming home soon, too. This is all a setup. I know it is.”

“I appreciate the faith, Vern. I really do.”

The men shook again. Vern returned to his car, and Tom watched him drive away. He waved to Jill, but she didn’t wave back.

With a heavy sigh, he turned and walked back up the stairs to the top floor of the split-level home. He glanced to his right and saw the whiteboard perched up against the rolltop desk in the living room, where he’d last left it. He looked at the whiteboard and noticed something about it was different. Hadn’t he erased a corner of the square representing their trust obstacle?
Of course I did,
he thought to himself. He had wanted to illustrate some initial progress made in getting past their mutual distrust. But the square didn’t look the way he had left it. No, the partially erased square was once again complete. He didn’t know when she’d done it, but she had.

Jill had drawn that missing corner back in.

Chapter 33

I
t wasn’t easy for Jill to send Lindsey a text message. She contemplated not doing it at all. Jill worried about what she’d say if they got together, and didn’t know how she’d feel or react. But the uncertainty was killing her. It made it impossible to think about anything else.

Once, when she was seven, her father had taught her ways to spot a lie. The lesson followed a confrontation over five dollars missing from her father’s wallet. He had told Jill not to lie to him, because he could always tell when she did. And that was when he showed her how—and pointed out that she flared her nostrils, never made eye contact, and rubbed her hands together. Convinced that she couldn’t get away with it, Jill returned the five dollars she’d taken. In exchange for telling the truth, her father had bought her the bracelet she intended to buy with the money.

Jill remembered how her father’s techniques seemed to work on Lindsey, because she’d witnessed Lindsey lie to her mother on more than one occasion. And whenever she lied, Lindsey would flick her hair back right after she did. But was it every time? Jill wasn’t quite sure. If they met in person, Jill believed that her gut would know.

Jill gazed at her phone and read through past text messages they’d sent each other. Each message she read made her feel worse, not better. They reminded her of a friendship that might be ruined forever.

After several minutes of internal debate, Jill decided that it had to be done. She sent Lindsey a message, which read simply: we need to talk! Lindsey responded almost immediately. Where are U??? she wrote back. A quick exchange followed. Jill agreed to meet Lindsey in front of the Kalinowskis’ house in twenty minutes.

Jill was waiting outside when Lindsey drove up. Lindsey had only her learner’s permit, so her mother was sitting in the car with her. But her mother didn’t get out when Lindsey did.

Lindsey took several quick, purposeful steps over to Jill. For a moment, the two friends stood face-to-face, silently staring at each other. Jill’s hands found the pockets of her hooded sweatshirt.

“Hi,” Lindsey said.

“Hi,” said Jill.

“So,” said Lindsey.

“So,” answered Jill.

“Well, this sucks,” Lindsey said, with a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, I’ll say.”

“I didn’t do it,” Lindsey said. “I never would.”

Jill studied her friend closely. She watched for that telling hair flick. But Lindsey kept her hands to her sides. Even without that tell, Jill remained unconvinced. This wasn’t just about Lindsey getting it on with some teacher. This was her
dad
. The thought of it was enough to churn her stomach.

“Okay,” was all Jill managed to say. Her voice came out soft as the breeze. But Jill couldn’t look Lindsey in the eyes anymore. Everything felt wrong to her. Worse than wrong, it felt so terribly sad. Jill felt the pang of a hollow pit form in her stomach. It wasn’t as bad a feeling as the days and weeks following her mother’s death, but it was enough to remind Jill of that loss.

“What can I do to convince you?” Lindsey asked in a voice that pleaded for understanding.

Jill turned her gaze back to Lindsey. Her vision was blurred by gathering tears, which she wiped away with the back of her hand. “I thought if I saw you, I’d know,” Jill said. “I thought you could tell me that you didn’t do it and I’d believe you.”

“And do you?” Lindsey asked. “Do you believe me?” Lindsey’s voice came out sounding shaky like Jill’s.

“Yes!” Jill wanted to say. “Yes, I believe you!” But Jill only thought those words; she didn’t voice them. Instead, Jill stared at her friend and hoped to be convinced.

“Do you believe me?” Lindsey asked again.

This time, however, Lindsey’s right hand gently brushed her long hair back behind her ears.

Jill’s eyes went wide, and she quickly turned her head.

“I’m sorry, Lin,” Jill said as she studied the ground. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“What are you saying?”

Jill looked up and said, “I don’t think we should talk for a while.”

“Why?” Lindsey appeared to be on the verge of tears.

Jill thought about Lindsey’s right hand brushing back her hair. Was that her tell? Did Lindsey just announce her lie?

“I don’t know what to think,” Jill eventually said. “I don’t know how I feel. And until that changes, I’m not sure we can still be friends.”

Chapter 34

T
om sat in his car, alone, keeping watch over room number 32. He’d been waiting in the Motel 6 parking lot for a little over an hour. He’d wait all night if needed. The motel was just off the highway in Framingham, Massachusetts. Tom had had no trouble finding out where his target resided. His contacts from the navy hadn’t vanished when he left the service.

Tom knew better than to bring a gun. His only weapon, a penknife, fit inside the palm of his hand and didn’t violate any bail conditions. It would work just fine on an untrained adversary.

At seven o’clock he saw his target’s car pull into the lot. None of the other motel guests, he presumed, drove a new black Infiniti M. Tom’s target passed in front of his Taurus. The man’s gaze was fixed, directed on the concrete path that ran along the front of the motel rooms. He took quick and purposeful steps.

Tom opened his car door. The man didn’t even look in his direction.

The man swiped his access card through the access card slot in the door’s locking mechanism. Tom timed his approach perfectly and stood directly behind his target when the lock light turned green. Tom’s target pulled down the door handle to enter the room. The door opened up just a crack.

Tom turned and shoved the man hard from behind. The man grunted loudly, then stumbled into the dark room, falling to the floor as he did. Tom stepped into the room. He closed the door behind him and locked it with the dead bolt and chain. Then Tom turned on the light.

His target, a gaunt man with sunken eyes marred by dark rings and a thick beard that dipped below his chin, cowered on the floor next to the queen-size bed. The target blinked rapidly to adjust his eyesight to the sudden change in light.