I didn’t know if she had been following this case as closely as I have, but I do know she had expressed some interest.
“She…? Wait, maybe I do need to sit down.”
“Casey Anthony was just found not guilty.”
“You’re lying,” Colleen uttered at the top of her voice.
She quickly calmed to a whisper as if she had just realized her environment. Of course, I had no reason to lie to my mother. This little girl had died, and no one had been held responsible for her death. Surely she didn’t kill herself.
“Of all charges?” Colleen continued.
“Mother, I would have said the same thing if I didn’t just watch the verdict myself. But I kid you not.”
“Say it isn’t so,” she said, pleading.
“I can’t, because it is so.”
My mind flashed to my father as he stood before the jury ten years ago, listening to his own verdict for the hurt he had inflicted on me. He should have been protecting me, but instead he punished me for what I was. Casey’s hearing had ended on the day of my father’s release from his own punishment, something I had forced myself not to think about as the years ticked to months, and then weeks, and now just hours. I remembered how he sat in that witness chair, unabashed, as if he were sitting at a bar waiting for a drink he had just ordered. I remembered how he sat unemotional; unfazed by the years he would be serving behind bars, as if he had just been sentenced to a mini vacation on the islands of the Caribbean.
My mother had become silent, which meant one thing: she needed to tell me something. She’s kept things from me before, worrying about how I was going to react. Often she’s thought I overreact to situations. I’ve always thought my reactions were appropriate.
“Patrick, your father is out,” she whispered into the phone.
“She was found guilty of lying to authorities. What is that going to get her, probation?” I said, purposely ignoring my mother’s statement.
“Patrick, did you hear me?”
“And this little girl will never know the promises or even the disappointments life had in store for her.”
“I said your father was released,” she continued, disregarding my obvious attempts to ignore her and anything she had to say about this man. “He stopped by here yesterday, looking for you and Chance, asking me if I gave you the letters he had written.”
“Please stop referring to him as my father. If you’re going to call him anything, call him what he is─a rapist, a scum. He doesn’t deserve any other title.”
I paused to process what my mother said.
“What do you mean he stopped by yesterday? Early release? How early? He doesn’t deserve to serve a day less than the sentence he was given.”
“I didn’t ask,” she quickly responded.
“And what letters are you talking about? How dare he assume I would be interested in reading anything he had to say? He lost the opportunity to say anything to me. Any words he had for me should have been said before he climbed on my fucking back.”
That language I rarely used to my mother fell from my mouth before I had a chance to take it back.
“Listen, Patrick. I know how you feel.”
“Do you, mother? Clearly you don’t.” I was becoming enraged. “You left me with him. You sent me back to him holiday after holiday.”
I angrily tossed the few items I had traveled with in the bag.
“You didn’t tell me he was doing anything to you. How was I supposed to know?”
“You just should have.”
I knew I wasn’t being reasonable and my mother agreed.
“That’s not fair, Patrick. How could I put a stop to something when I didn’t know anything was going on?”
“Come on, Mom. I couldn’t have been that good at hiding my pain. I wasn’t the same person after that. How could you not have seen that?”
Slowly I’d become a fragment of the boy I was before. There were times I hated looking in the mirror because I didn’t recognize the person that stared back at me. I’d never known myself to be shy or introverted, but Omar had caused me to become withdrawn. Often I felt insufficient, the biggest disappointment to my father.
“Do you seriously think I would have ignored any signs that anyone was hurting my own children? Was I supposed to rely on instincts I never had?”
“Mother, I begged you not to send me back there. Did you think I was saying I didn’t want to go because I wanted to hear myself talk?”
“Are we really going to have this conversation again?”
“Yes, until you give me a satisfying response.”
She was silent.
My mother had never been at a loss for words. It was one of the reasons she and her mother Georgia, my grandmother, never got along. She blamed her mother for nearly everything, relinquishing power over many aspects of her life she never thought possible. As far as my mother was concerned, Georgia was the reason she and my aunt Lexi were never able to put their differences behind them and live like sisters. Whatever those differences were, my mother never bothered to explain to me. And my grandmother, whenever I inquired, went from being just as tight-lipped to then telling me that one day I would understand. After some time, I stopped waiting for that one day to come. I watched as my grandmother went from an emotional soul to a woman who had distanced herself in real estate and with every fiber in her heart as she came to terms with her loss and also the loss my mother suffered. My grandmother was even blamed for my mother’s divorce, as if she had been sleeping between Colleen and her husband. Actually, she had warned my mother against marrying Omar. My mother should have blamed herself for not listening.
“I’ve told you everything you need to know,” Colleen said, sounding as if that answer should have been satisfying enough.
“That isn’t the same as saying you’ve told me the truth,” I corrected. “And if there are still some things you haven’t told me, that’s just the same as lying. Come on, Mom. No more lies,” I pleaded.
“No more lies,” she repeated, but still I sensed her hesitation.
“I’m serious.”
“You are. I know.”
“What does he have over you?” I asked.
I sounded like I was sure there was something, hoping that would cause her to come forward.
“What makes you think he has something over me?”
“You haven’t seen or spoken to this man─as far as I know─in ten years and immediately after he gets out of jail he shows up at your doorstep. Sounds to me like he had a reason, and something tells me it wasn’t to tell you about the upstanding men he bonded with in jail. Now, either you’re going to tell me or I’m going to find out from him myself.”
“Do what you have to because I have nothing to tell. Now, do you really think anything he has to say about me will have any truth to it? I seriously doubt it. I can safely tell you any hatred he had in his heart didn’t stop at you.”
“Mother, I surely hope you are right.”
We both stood on either end of the phone in silence. The last person I wanted to confront was Omar Duval. I was sure he had a chip on his shoulder, I just didn’t know if that chip had my name or my mother’s name written on it. I was determined to find out.
I ended my conversation with my mother and finished preparing for my flight back to Atlanta. I hadn’t told her I was in D.C. because I had planned on getting in and getting out. I wasn’t sure if Chance had told her, either. I sat on the bed next to the bag, trying to shake from my head the idea that my mother was hiding something from me. I had this weird feeling that I might be right, and it wasn’t a feeling I liked. What about this man was she not telling me? I thought. I hoped to God my mother wasn’t giving him the opportunity to hurt me again.
I decided I would call Devaan as soon as I landed. I needed to know what she knew, and giving her the silent treatment wasn’t going to bring me any closer to finding out. So much was happening in my head. I was having a difficult time keeping my thought
s focused on any one thing. I definitely needed an hour or two on Dr. Kendrick’s couch. Hopefully she’ll be able to help me figure all this out.
Chapter 14
Colleen…
Promises You Don’t Keep
This was turning out to be one crazy week. Two surprised visits on the same day. I hadn’t been able to think about the two officers and the summons since Omar. I tapped the steering wheel nervously as thoughts of my conversation with Patrick played loudly in my mind. If I hadn’t worn my disdain for my sister on my sleeves and had been more careful with my plan, I wouldn’t be in this position now, with Omar threatening to reveal what I had done, and I hadn’t told him. There was only one other way he could have found out. Regardless, I was already counting on Patrick’s hatred for Omar. In my defense, I had no choice. My sister Lexi Parker had fallen in love with my child. Yes, she was carrying this child from conception to birth, but he belonged to me. How could she have changed her mind at the last minute? I’d never depended on my younger sister for anything, but the one time I needed her―the one time I thought she would come through―she was ready to renege. She knew I was depending on this child to save my marriage.
Lexi Parker was celebrated the moment my mother brought her home from the hospital. She was the “beautiful one”.
“You are much prettier than your older sister,” they would say when they thought I wasn’t around to hear them, “and you look just like Bradford.”
Bradford Parker was the apple of everyone’s eye, the last in a family of siblings that included five girls. Bradford had the prettiest gray eyes he had inherited from his grandfather―on his father’s side― and of course, as luck would have it, Lexi inherited them, too. Her gray eyes glistened like new marbles. She would never be considered one of those girls who “grew into beauty.” She had her beauty from the very beginning. There were times it bothered me that they cooed over her like they did, and the more attention she got from my mother and father, the less I received. I loved my sister still─at least I pretended to─especially when I needed her to help me save my marriage.
I must have been one crazy, desperate woman to marry Omar. I had broken my first rule with him. I had made the mistake of allowing pleasure to interrupt business, the business of getting even─making every man pay for the mistake one man made─one way or the other. I was determined to do exactly what I had set out to do.
Omar was a tall freckled-face beauty. He had even-toned, smooth skin the color of caramel. He had assured me that I never had to worry about losing him to any other woman. He had kept me in the dark about Nate; at least I pretended to be.
As far as Omar knew, I was on my way to Dallas, TX visiting a leading infertility treatment clinic. I’d followed the usual travel routines when I woke that Friday morning, tossing a small plastic bag of toiletries in my carry-on bag on top of the two outfits I needed for the weekend. As far as Omar knew, I had an early morning appointment with Dr. Metzer at the Sher Fertility Institute. I allowed him to purchase an early morning flight. I would fly into Dallas and drive straight from the airport to my appointment.
I had arrived at the Jacksonville airport an hour and a half before my 7 a.m. flight. I’d kissed Omar and promised to call him as soon as I was finished with my appointment. When I entered the airport, I turned around to see Omar’s SUV slowly pulling off. When he was out of sight, I whipped out my cell phone and dialed the Spring Hill Suites to confirm my arrival and requested an early check-in. I had picked up the rental car I had reserved the day before while at work. I’d stayed in my hotel room, worked and nervously prepared for the night’s adventure. At 1:30 p.m., I’d called Omar from my cell phone from my Jacksonville hotel room. I pretended to be emotional as I shared with Omar a made-up conversation I had with Dr. Metzer. I told him I would have to return to Dallas for the results from some tests Dr. Metzer needed to run. I even managed to shed a tear or two. After my conversation with Omar, I would be heading to the local mall to window shop. Before I hung up, I reminded him of the 11:00 a.m. arrival back at the Jacksonville airport.
I occupied my time watching the usual nonsense on daytime television. I stayed out of sight, ordering room service for lunch and dinner. At 8:30 that evening, I contacted Omar to complain of boredom. He chastised me for not wanting him to travel to Texas with me. When I asked him what he would be doing with his night, he was forthright in telling me he had plans to hang with Nate at a local bar downtown. Of course, I shouldn’t be suspicious; after all, it was only Nate.
You know what they say: when you go looking for proof. I found the proof I needed at 8639 Moonstone Way, their bodies framed by the same bow window where I’d stood watching them. It was as if they had nothing to hide. Though I was seeing exactly what I’d expected, I still stood there in shock. This shock value was higher than I had anticipated. Before I could gather my feet in my hands, I decided I needed a closer look. I was trying to convince my eyes not to believe what they were seeing, but that haunting image was already implanted in my head.
I tiptoed my way around to the back of the house to the back door we rarely used. I stood at the door staring though the darkness at the faint green light on the alarm pad. Lucky for me, the alarm on the house had not been activated. I quietly removed the key from my pocket. I slowly swung the door open and gently made my way across the tiled kitchen floor. Their bodies were illuminated by the only light in the house, coming from the floor-model television a few feet from the couch. Whatever they were watching had their full attention. The man whose parting words to me that morning had the words “love” and “you” next to each other was lying on the couch next to Nate. The same man who had promised me that I would never have to worry about him and any other woman forgot to promise I wouldn’t have to worry about losing him to a man, either. Of course, that was an omission of convenience. I guess he wasn’t going to make a promise he couldn’t keep.
I walked out of that kitchen just as quietly as I had entered, leaving my husband and his companion unbothered. I walked out the door and across the lawn with my tail between my legs. In the car, I drove back to the hotel in utter silence. Thoughts raced through my mind─most of them were disturbing─but no matter what I did, they managed to still keep my company the entire drive.
In my hotel room, I sat on the bed trying to figure out my next move. Even if I tried, I couldn’t explain the pain and hurt I felt as I stood there in the middle of darkness looking uncomfortably at the closeness that existed between Omar and Nate’s bodies. Like so many women, I decided in that moment that I could save my man and my marriage. If I could have given Omar the one thing Nate Winters couldn’t give him, then he wouldn’t have been laying his head on someone else’s pillow, next to a man I always thought was just a friend. I thought I understood the nature of a man, but even after marriage, I couldn’t figure this man out.
• • • • •
It seemed I couldn’t get home fast enough. I navigated the evening traffic on I495 and the complicated street patterns D.C. is known for. I could give a laundry list of traffic laws I had broken, but that was the least of my problems at the moment. I turned in the small driveway in front of the house, recklessly threw the car into park and rushed inside.
You know I’m the only person you can trust. How long have you known me? They definitely won’t be able to trace this to you. Trust me, I thought.
“Trust my ass. What have you done? Is this what happens when you’re trusted?” I asked out loud.
I couldn’t keep a count of the many questions swirling in my head, and if I kept thinking like I was, I was going to drive myself insane.
I needed to quench the thirst that had been building in the back of my throat even while I talked with Patrick. In the kitchen, I poured a glass of Beaujolais Cru. I stood briefly with my back against the counter and emptied the glass. I drank with my eyes closed and my head tilted back, making sure I drained the last drop. After placing the wineglass on the counter, I began rummaging through m
y tote bag, searching for my cell phone. I walked through the dining room and ascended the stairs leading to my bedroom. I walked to the closet and removed a lockbox. I sat on the bed, placing the lockbox beside me. If you have anything to do with this, I thought, opening the box and removing an old tattered phone book.
“You have exactly five minutes to tell me everything you told Omar,” I screamed when he answered, “and I do mean everything.”
He paused before responding as he tried to recognize the voice accusing him.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
It had been a few years since I’ve spoken to Kenneth Marks, but unless someone else had reasons to be calling and asking him about Omar, there was no cause for his pause.
“Listen, now is not the time to play like you’re brainless. Our little friend visited me today.”
“Oh, I guess I’m supposed to know who this friend is,” Kenneth said slyly.
“I’m talking about Omar. He basically told me I planned my sister’s death, and threatened to tell Patrick everything. But he couldn’t have known everything unless he has been talking to someone, and the only other person he could have been talking to was you.” I paused before continuing my accusation. “Now, what the hell have you been telling him?” I inquired.
“Jas, I don’t…”
“Don’t ever call me that again,” I interrupted. “Jas and everything about her was destroyed in that car; or at least that’s what you told me. Do I have to worry about that, too?”
“Look, Colleen. I don’t know what research Omar has done, but I have not said anything to anyone,” Kenneth declared. “He couldn’t have had access to much from behind bars. Someone on the outside had to be…”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
I had been pacing back and forth in the bedroom, walking from the window to the door, with the cell phone in one hand and the other arm folded across my chest. I stopped.