Page 6 of Kill For Me Kill For You
Ruth fell to the floor, her knees giving way.
Her vision swam, and then she heard his voice. Deep, crackling in a long, thick throat. Raspy and broken and utterly, utterly terrifying.
‘Hello there, sweetheart . . .’
And the darkness took her.
3
Amanda
Amanda had been waiting for her lawyer for almost three hours on the first floor of the Manhattan Criminal Court Building on Center Street. She’d been arrested on the train two weeks ago, and somehow managed to make bail even though she’d been arraigned on charges of harassment and contempt of court.
The bench outside the courtroom was unforgiving oak and her back was beginning to get sore. A steady flow of people had entered the courtroom, alone or with loved ones, and some had come out again and some hadn’t. She guessed some of the folks who had not emerged from court with their tearful relatives had gone straight to Rikers Island, or the Tombs next door. Amanda knew she could be one of those headed to prison before the day was out. The public defender, Gail Sweet, had told her as much on the phone last week. She would do her best for Amanda, but she also advised, ‘Pack a toothbrush, just in case.’
‘Mrs. White?’ said a voice.
The lady standing above her was in her fifties, wearing a bright blood-red blouse over a pale blue business suit. She had a perm, an armful of files and a large bag overflowing with charging cables, pens and rolled up pieces of paper.
Amanda nodded.
‘I’m Gail Sweet,’ she said.
They talked for a half hour, then Gail left to talk to the prosecutor. She came back with a deal. One that Amanda didn’t want. There was no doubting it was a good deal in the circumstances, and she had little choice but to agree. Only thing to do now was get it approved by the judge.
The judge was a white guy in his early sixties, pasty and looked as though he was covered in a fine powder – as if someone had found him in an old drawer and hadn’t properly dusted him off before setting him down in the judge’s chair for the day.
‘Mrs. White, please step forward,’ said the judge.
Amanda moved a little closer to the bench, Gail in step with her.
The judge’s voice was low, monotone and dead to any emotion. He asked her if she had entered into the plea agreement of her own free will and that she was pleading guilty because she was guilty, and not for any other reason. She said yes.
‘This charge arises on foot of a restraining order placing you in contempt of court if you should come within five hundred feet of Mr. Wallace Crone’s building or his place of work, or if you come within fifty feet of him in any public place without lawful excuse. You breached that order on September 14thand you accept that breach. The District Attorney’s office is withdrawing the assault charge on foot of your cross-complaint that Mr. Crone assaultedyouon the subway. Both assault complaints are now withdrawn. I agree to place you on probation for a period of one year. You will keep your appointments with your probation officer and you will attend trauma counseling. Don’t think that this court is blind to your suffering, Mrs. White. You’re forty-one years old and that’s no time to start a criminal career. You must stop this obsession with Mr. Crone. In the eyes of the law, he is innocent of your daughter’s murder. I hope you keep to these terms and I approve the plea agreement.’
And that was it. Amanda left the building with the contact details for Probation. She had to make an appointment to meet her probation officer and attend court-ordered trauma counseling. She hadn’t expected to walk back out of the courthouse that day. Pity. That’s what it was. The prosecutor and the judge had taken pity on her because of Jess. Amanda’s life story was now one of terrible loss.
It wasn’t always this way. Her story used to be different – filled with hope and dreams. She thought, back then, that she and Luis, and Jess, could write their own future.
Jess had loved stories.
‘Tell me a story,’ Jess said, every night as she was tucked up in bed. Kids develop a night-time routine. For Jess, it was jammies, nighttime toilet, brush her teeth and then story time with Luis. But the most important part of her nighttime routine was locating Sparkles. Right before she went to sleep, if Sparkles wasn’t in bed with her, she would call out, ‘Where’s Sparkles? Where’s Sparkles?’ and a hunt through their apartment would begin. Jess didn’t want for toys. Her room was filled with plushies, dolls and even a little playhouse for her burgeoning collection of Sylvanian Families. Sparkles, however, was her very favorite. It was a little white, fluffy unicorn with a purple, sparkly horn on its head. Jess had called it Sparkles. It looked cheap and didn’t have enough stuffing to fill it out so it was always floppy. Jess had won it from an arcade grab machine during a summer trip to Coney Island when she was four. It was her first try on the machine. While Luis was gushing praise for Jess because she had won, Jess had waved away his words.
‘I didn’t win. Sparkles just wanted to come home with me,’ she’d said that day.
Usually, Amanda would call for Luis and he read the bedtime story as Amanda cleaned up after dinner, or joined the hunt for Sparkles because Jess could not sleep one wink without that toy beside her. But, one night, Amanda had stayed. Curled up on the floor of Jess’s little box room. Jess, blonde curls falling over her pillow, held Sparkles tightly under one arm.
Amanda had watched Luis perch on the edge of the bed and pick up one of Jess’s storybooks. The cover was a picture of a little girl in a rowing boat on a stormy sea.
‘This one? Again?’ asked Luis.
Jess nodded, turned to Sparkles and then with a flick of her wrist Sparkles nodded too.
‘Okay, then,’ said Luis.
Amanda listened as Luis read the tale of a young girl who lived on a small island. Everything she could ever want was right there – all the fruit, fish and vegetables she could ever want – and her entire family was loving and protective. But the little girl was fascinated by the sea. Her parents wouldn’t let her go out on the boats with the fishermen. Said it was too dangerous. One night, the girl went out on the boat when her parents were asleep. Soon the sea got rough, and the boat got turned round. Without the light of the moon, the little girl couldn’t see which direction the island lay.
‘She was very afraid,’ said Luis. ‘It was dark and cold, and she wished she had never disobeyed her parents and taken the boat out on the water.’
