With Cruel Intent (57 page)

rounds of ammunition but no other

weapons. I know we were supposed to be

looking for a Polaroid camera, came up

empty handed there, just a small hand held

digital with a dozen miscellaneous

pictures on the stick but nothing pertinent.

Ricky has been all over this place too,

taken some samples, you know the usual

stuff, but I got to tell you beyond what I've

told you, we haven't found jack shit."

"That's what I suspected," the

Sheriff asserted. "The bike, you said was

lime green, how about the helmet?"

"Didn't find a helmet, but yeah the

bike itself is kind of a lime green, popular

a few years ago."

"Deputy Breland, is it the bike you

saw?"

"I would have sworn that it was

yellow, but it happened so quick, could

have been this one."

"But you can't be sure?" Angelo

asked, trying to get a confirmation or a

denial.

"That's right, I can't be sure."

"So what you're saying is we don't

have jack shit," the Sheriff said, sitting

back in his chair and running his big hand

through his hair.

"That's correct, boss."

"Either he's a criminal mastermind

that's been able to really pull one over on

us, or he's a pawn in some other criminal

mastermind's game and we're all in the

dark," he thought, very concerned that it

must be the latter.

Tuesday morning came quickly;

Blanche and Lillian took turns in the

bathroom getting ready after Felix had his

usual casual shower and bathroom time.

Blanche especially avoided him and they

had breakfast in the room. Caroline had

been more than accommodating after the

women explained the situation with

Seymour and the court hearing at noon.

Mrs. Muir even stopped by Blanche's

room to offer her support and well

wishes. Blanche talked with Ester before

they caught the taxi for the courthouse. She

was upset, but only because Seymour was

being treated like a criminal, and those

that knew and loved him knew it was

impossible. She would hold down the fort

with the high school students for the day,

but would need Blanche in on Wednesday,

the inspectors would be there and things

should appear completely normal.

The two ladies sat on the second

row of the courtroom assigned to

Seymour's case. A few towns’ people

were there but not as many as they

expected. The Sheriff's Office had done a

good job keeping the arrest under wraps

until they had further proof that Seymour

was indeed The Stalker. The courthouse

was a majestic building, built just after the

Civil War during the reconstruction era of

American History. The courtroom itself

was spacious. Deep, rich woods provided

the seating, railings and judge’s desk and

tables. A court recorder sat waiting near

the front, a stenotype machine at her

fingertips. A courthouse deputy stood by

the door leading to the judge’s chambers.

At precisely noon, the door

opened and a judge in black robes entered

and took his seat above the audience.

Seymour was brought in through a side

door, his hands cuffed behind him and the

diminutive Deputy Guest led him to stand

behind a table in front of the judge. A tall,

grey haired man in a dark, pinstriped suit

entered through the same door and stood

behind a table next to Seymour's.

"Must be the DA," whispered

Lillian, pointing to the man in the suit.

The rear, heavy doors opened just

before the proceedings were to get under

way and Sheriff Lupo came and sat behind

the ladies. He reached up and gave

Lillian's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"That was odd," thought Blanche.

Within minutes of the court being

brought to order, a stir of activity

occurred at the back of the courtroom,

causing everyone to turn to see what was

going on. The doors suddenly opened and

two-dozen people entered, Mrs. Ella Wild

leading the way with administrators,

teachers and students mixed, together in a

supportive group. Thumbs up and other

positive signs were flashed to Seymour,

bringing a grin to his face.

Once things settled down and

everyone found a seat, the DA spoke

explaining

the

charges

and

the

circumstances related to Seymour's arrest

with a caveat that further charges were

pending, but for now they wanted him held

on the weapons charge. Behind the large

desk the judge grunted and only rarely

looked up from the documents before him.

"What are you looking for in terms

of bail?" the judge asked.

"Judge, we had first anticipated

$500,000, but after conferring with Sheriff

Lupo we have agreed to drop the

requested bail to $200,000."

"That is agreeable to the court.

Bail is hereby set at $200,000 and can be

taken care of with the court officials. Mr.

Wood will be held over, pending further

charges and possible trial. Mr. Mason, let

me give you and your office a caution

here. If you do not have significant

evidence to place specific charges against

this young man by Saturday, I will have no

choice but to set him free and revoke the

decision made today and the bail. Is that

clear?"

"Absolutely judge," Mr. Mason

said.

"Okay, court is adjourned, return

Mr. Wood to his cell," he instructed the

officer.

Seymour looked over his shoulder

at the small support group seated behind

him, offering a little smile showing his

dimple.

The Sheriff left without saying a

word to either lady but knew he had

helped.

Lillian and Blanche huddled for a

few minutes before going to the bank in an

attempt to secure $200,000 for the release

of Lillian's son and Blanche's love.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

She watched the sunlight trickle

into her bedroom, little by little raising a

curtain of light along the wall until the

room was fully illuminated. Lillian Wood

spent the night in her own home but got

little sleep. The image of her son, dressed

in orange coveralls, hands cuffed behind

his back, looped through her mind like an

old movie reel. Yesterday had proven to

be more trouble for the Wood family as

the day progressed. The local media had

finally gotten the word that an arrest was

made in The Stalker case, but no charges

had been specifically filed, yet her phone

rang non-stop and an aggressive, wannabe

reporter had shown up on her doorstep

late the night before. This morning an

assessor from the bank would be coming

by to provide an evaluation on the farm.

They wanted to help but didn’t know if

$200,000 was a doable number based on

current property values and the existing

mortgage on the house and land. With all

the stress and worries she remained

surprisingly optimistic; the hand of the

Sheriff had done much to calm the older

woman’s fears.

Blanche had gotten up early, no

sign of Mr. Unger but she still tried to stay

within the agreed upon schedule and avoid

him

altogether,

then

dressed

conservatively, grabbed a banana and left

for work. She made a quick stop at the

hospital to see how Jasper was doing.

Rufus was sitting in the room, head tilted

to one side, a rolled up jacket for a

pillow. Both the men in the room were

asleep. With each breath Jasper would

expel a deep, vibrating concussion of

sound that led Blanche to believe that his

father must be deaf. Blanche had little

time and felt bad doing so, but she gently

shook the older Jackson, startling him until

his eyes could adjust and make out it was

his librarian friend. With outstretched

arms he pulled her in for a tight good

morning hug but did not speak. Blanche

motioned for him to join her in the

hallway.

“How is he doing?” she asked.

“Bout as good as we kin hope.

Says he’s got a pain in da ass,” he

laughed.

“I’ll bet he does. How much

longer are they going to keep him?”

“Till tomorra, or was it taday? I

can’t be sure, soon though,” Rufus

scratched his head hoping it would

improve his morning memory.

“I don’t want to wake him, sounds

like he’s sleeping pretty good. How do

you sleep with that snoring going on? I

could hear him clear down the hall as I

left the elevator.”

“It’s somethin’ turrible ain’t it.

Slept in da same house wit him fer sa

long, don’t think I kin sleep witout it,”

again he chuckled, a twinkle in his eye.

“Would you let him know that I

stopped by and I hope to see him soon?

Could you also let him know that the

young man they’ve arrested for possibly

shooting him is the wrong man? I know

him, and he could not have done it. I’ll

explain to Jasper later, okay?” she

explained.

“Sure will perty lady,” he replied

to her requests and returned to his spot in

the room, getting himself comfortable

again amidst the cacophony of sound.

Blanche left for the library in

enough time to be a few minutes early,

everything had to appear normal today, the

inspectors would be by at an undisclosed

time and she wanted to be prepared. Mrs.

Ester Anderson would be on high alert.

Felix laid awake looking at the

ceiling, watching the small dots and lines

drift across the white surface, organics

originating in the back chamber of his

eyes. His doctor had told him he had

floaters due to his age and they were

harmless, but in the early morning hours

he often could make shapes and faces from

the unusual bits of debris that circulated

through his vision. The sound of Bev

sleeping next to him calmed his own

breathing and made him feel relaxed and

assured. The night had been interesting;

she had been hungry for his touch and he

for hers. It had not taken long to conclude

the meal and business at the bar before

making a beeline for her house. He had to

focus to even remember where he left his

car; he hoped it was still there. She

shifted, rolling over on her side and

draped her arm and leg across the cool

Felix.

“Wednesday,” he said, moving his

lips but not uttering a sound.

He tried to run the coming day

through his mind, the things he needed and

wanted to do, a trip to the Land and Title

Office at the top of his list. Iggy had

secured a special item for him that he was

anxious to get his hands on, and he thought

a face to face would shake the little man

up in the process. He would be glad when

he could put Valdosta behind him. Up until

last night it had almost been fun, the game

had been afoot, but it would all come

down to the events of tomorrow night and

the woman that slept beside him. He felt

her leg move up his thigh and her hand

slide between the sheets and down his

torso before he felt her soft lips on his

shoulder. Tomorrow would be much more

difficult than he had imagined.

Deputy Breland pushed a silver

cart through the main door to the lockup,

juices on the bottom level and oatmeal and

toast on the top. He stopped at each cell,

calling the cellmate forward and handing

them the breakfast. Seymour was still

exhausted but not for lack of trying to

sleep. The cot was insanely uncomfortable

and he stirred with every sound, which

was many, as they bounced off the

concrete walls. The showing of support

the afternoon before had lifted his spirits

and he was confident his mother would be

able to make the necessary arrangements