Chapter 33

  Reality Check Magazine: So you left Miami. Then what?

  Jessa: Life happened. See, Mayday taught me something. Life is full of trials. Some we win and some we lose, no matter how hard we try.

  We spent the next few days enjoying Miami and each other. He took me to some of his favorite spots, showed me his old high school, and then drove past the apartment he lived in before Mayday. He took me to eat in his favorite restaurants where the servers and owners knew his name and clapped him on the back, telling him that his money was no good there. He was a hero to them, a star, and I enjoyed basking in his light.

  But sometimes I reminded myself that I only enjoyed his light because of my own darkness.

  We were sitting in the lifeguard tower, curled up together when he told me it all had to end. “Are you ready to go back tomorrow?” he asked softly.

  I realized I wasn’t. Maybe that meant Nag’s Head wasn’t for me. It wasn’t home. “No.”

  “Do you want to stay? I can probably extend our reservation.” His voice was questioning.

  “We have to leave at some point.”

  He was obviously happier here than he was in North Carolina. He was lighter, free. I could see how much his friends loved him, how his mom was trying to love him as best as she could, and how through it all, I was a millstone around his neck. I knew I would eventually pull him under, and he wasn’t a strong enough swimmer to fight the weight of me.

  “If you want to stay here, I can go back on my own,” I said, testing the waters.

  His fingers turned rigid against me, sharp as the tips of icebergs. The thing about icebergs? The most dangerous and biggest part of them lay hidden beneath the surface, and until your boat made contact, you didn’t even know you were in danger. Then, your only hope would be to call for Mayday. Help.

  “You want to leave without me?”

  “No, it’s just that I can see how happy you are here.”

  “The only reason I’m happy is because of you,” he insisted. “It doesn’t matter where we’re at.”

  But he wasn’t happy before; he was merely existing with me. Every television show I’d ever seen proved that sex changed everything in a relationship. Did it change ours? And if so, in what way?

  “Okay, then. We’ll leave.”

  As we sat under the stars in silence, I wondered about what a future with Finn could look like. Would my hang-ups cost him too much? They very well might. He was young. He had an asshole of a father, but his mom was okay. She loved him. My mom? She was evil, and I was afraid that same kind of evil dwelled deep within me. I was terrified that I would pass it down. Having children was off the table, and even though I loved sex with Finn, it would always be with condoms. Or maybe I would get on the pill when I got back. I didn’t want kids. I didn’t want to take the chance that one of them could turn out like her.

  We went back to Nags Head, stocked the house with food, and went back to enjoying each other. The winter passed quickly. In the spring, the area became more lively, but by mid-summer it would be teeming with people, and I didn’t know if I’d want to stay around for that. However, I couldn’t imagine living in Miami, either. It was very busy, even in winter. It didn’t bother me at the time, because watching Finn in his element was addictive.

  “What’s wrong?” Finn asked, nudging me as I leaned against the porch rail.

  “Just thinking.”

  The hearing was in two weeks, and it was all I could think about. It kept my heart feeling heavy and fluttery at the same time. It made me want to plant my feet, and at the same time run. I couldn’t get a handle on my emotions at all. Neither could Finn.

  “Talk to me.”

  I shook my head.

  “Don’t just shut me out, Jess. We’re partners.”

  “I’m not shutting you out.”

  “You are, and I don’t understand it. I’ve never given you a reason to doubt me.”

  Too late, I remembered I had given him one. “Are you going to throw it in my face forever? I said I was sorry!” I cried.

  His face twisted. “This isn’t about Mayday; this is about you and me. You should trust me when I say I’m here for you. I love you! I just don’t want you to bottle all this shit up and keep it inside.”

  “Well, we don’t always get what we want.”

  I stormed off, unable to see through the wall of tears building in my eyes. Slamming the door, I ran to my room and jerked the top drawer out of the dresser. It slammed against the footboard of my bed and spilled onto the floor, but I proceeded to tear them all out. Once they were all on the floor, I jerked arms full of hangers and clothes from the closet, crying and screaming the entire time. When two arms caught me and held me still, I cried even harder, until I sank into him because I couldn’t stand on my own anymore.

  “I’ve got you, Jess,” he whispered.

  He carried me to the couch and held me to his chest until I stopped crying and fell asleep.

  Chapter 34

  Reality Check Magazine: What about your mother’s hearing?

  Jessa: The press had a field day with that one, let me tell you…

  We decided to drive to Georgia for the hearing. Finn drove the whole way, all the while trying to distract me with stories and awful music, but flashes of the trial were still fresh in my memory. I wondered if time would eventually fade them, or if they’d always feel as real and present. As soon as we crossed the state line, my heart began to thunder in my chest.

  “What will they do tomorrow?” Finn finally asked.

  “You mean, in court?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “The attorney said it was called a Habeas Corpus proceeding; that it was an evidentiary hearing to make sure the state did all it was supposed to do when it handled her case. If they messed up anything at all...”

  “They didn’t,” he said firmly.

  “But if they did...”

  He looked at me. “Jess.”

  “Hmm?” I stared at the red Georgia clay, so vibrant against the green grass.

  He squeezed my hand to get my attention, and when he had it, he said again, “They didn’t miss anything. They didn’t make a mistake. She did horrific things and she went to prison because justice prevailed. She won’t get out again.”

  I hoped he was right. I didn’t know much about justice or karma or getting what you deserved, but if anyone deserved to rot in prison, it was my mother. The lawyers thought so, the families of her victims thought so, the judge and jury thought so, and so did I.

  “You’re the evidence?” he asked.

  “Yep. The strongest piece, apparently.” Finn just nodded firmly.

  I didn’t know what being the strongest piece of evidence meant exactly, until we arrived at the lawyer’s office that afternoon. Herman S. Marcum, Esquire was a fifty-something husband and father to two grown sons, one of whom was about to pass the bar, according to him. But I didn’t particularly care about his son or his awful gray combover. What I cared about was that he had the track record of a wrecking ball, and I wanted him to slam it right into the heart of my mother.

  For hours he went over what we should expect, how the hearing would go, procedure, things to say and not to say, and how never to lie (I knew that). We’d done the same at trial, but somehow this seemed different. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but this time it seemed more important, urgent.

  “Why do we have to go over this again?” I finally asked him. “I mean, isn’t it just rehashing everything from her trial? A jury already found her guilty.”

  “The Supreme Court says she can appeal—which she did, as you know. They upheld her convictions and death sentence, so she appealed to the United States Supreme Court, but they denied hearing her request to appeal. She can also file Habeas Corpus writs in state and federal court, and now that she’s filed one in Georgia, expect the next step to be for her to file one for the United States District Court. Assuming she doesn’t prevail with this hearing, that is,” he added nonchalantly.

  Just hearing it was a possibility made my skin crawl, and I knew in that moment I’d do anything to keep her there. If she got out no one would be safe, most of all me, and if I was her target, so was Finn.

  I’d kill her. If she got out and hunted Finn, I would kill my own mother. A chill ran up my spine. Mom used to tell me that when that happened, someone was walking over your grave. But right now, I was more focused on hers to worry about mine.

  Finn was steady. He asked questions, holding my hand, and I tried to soak in everything I could. At the end of the day, they’d prepped me on everything they could. The rest was up to me. Tomorrow, I’d face my mother, and so would Finn. That fact scared me worse than testifying in front of her again.

  “Are there any other questions, Jessa?” Mr. Marcum asked.

  I pinched my lips shut before finally answering, “No, sir. I’ll see you at nine.”

  I’d showered and washed my hair, blown it dry, flat ironed it arrow straight, and applied make-up—well, powder, blush, and lip balm, but that was all I ever wore when I chose to wear cosmetics. I dressed in a black pencil skirt with a silk button down shirt and a matching black jacket. I looked in the mirror of the hotel bathroom one more time, stuffing my feet into flats. They would clomp, but it was better than me doing a face plant wearing heels, I’d decided.

  Finn was dressing in the bedroom, folding his tie over, under, and through like he’d done it a thousand times. “What are you looking at?” he teased.

  “I’ve never seen that done before.”

  “Tying a tie?”

  “Yep.”

  “I can show you later, if you want. Maybe I’ll tie your little wrists together and bind you to the headboard.”

  “There’s no headboard here.” I smiled, my heart thumping at the thought of him tying me up. If things went well, we would celebrate and I’d love nothing more than for him to—

  “You ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” It was the truth and a lie at the same time. I was as ready as I’d ever be; I was also not ready at all, but I grabbed my purse and followed Finn out of the room. If he hadn’t been there to hit the down arrow at the elevators, I wasn’t sure I’d have had the guts to.

  We rode down in silence. Three short stories and then we reached the bright, airy lobby with white marble and gold accents, all geometric shapes and clean lines, the occasional slash of orange thrown in. It was one of the nicest places I’d ever stayed at.

  Finn asked the front desk if our cab was there, and the woman gestured outside where a black vehicle idled. We confirmed it was ours and slid comfortably into the back seats, where a feeling of dread filled every inch of me.

  “You okay?” he asked, squeezing my thigh.

  “Yeah,” I rasped.

  “I’m here for you.”

  “I know. Thank you, Finn. For everything.”

  The drive was all starts and stops. We seemed to hit every red light imaginable, which I was sure the cab driver loved since it drove the fare higher the longer we sat. The cabbie finally dropped us in front of the court house, and after we settled the fare, we climbed an imposing set of stairs to the front doors. Security guards checked our bodies with wands, sent my purse and Finn’s wallet through an x-ray machine, and asked each of us to step through a full body metal detector before returning our items.

  I asked one of the guards where the Superior Court’s room was and he directed us to the second floor. The courtroom was mostly empty. A few people buzzed past, but I saw Mr. Marcum and his assistant seated at a long table to the right. The one at the left sat empty, but I knew who would fill that seat.

  Don’t let her see you crack. Don’t let her hurt you. It’s what she wants. She wants you to break. Don’t even bend.

  Mr. Marcum asked me to sit behind him, and then Finn took a seat a few rows behind me. I was alone, but at least Finn was in the room. If he was silent, and if she didn’t have television access, she wouldn’t know he was important to me.

  The chances of that? Slim to none. Mom was crazy, but she was smart. And Mayday, it turned out, was the most watched television show in the nation while we were on it. It wasn’t going anywhere, and we looked too much alike for the other inmates not to put two and two together.

  The courtroom began to fill, a buzz of chatter and business. Heels clicked across the floor. Briefcases opened. Pens scratched across yellow pads of legal paper. People settled into their seats. I wrung my hands.

  When the bailiff announced the Honorable Judge Geneva Reynolds, everyone stood as she walked in and took her seat behind the large desk at the front of the room. The judge was an older woman with dark, dyed hair and stern, red lips. Her robes were black and she looked like the perfect person to chew my mother up and spit her out, if the evidence called for it. I had a feeling she would be just as happy to chew Marcum up if the state’s evidence – mainly me – didn’t add up.

  I glanced over my shoulder at Finn, who gave me a reassuring smile, but the warm feeling that blossomed in my chest turned frigid as the doors to the courtroom flew open. Two deputies escorted my mother down the center aisle as she shuffled her shackled feet along with stilted steps. Her hands were cuffed in front of her, but they should have cuffed her from behind. She was too dangerous with them that way.

  Her hair was shorter than the last time I’d seen her; cut above her shoulders and naturally wavy, but in a way that made you think there was no way it could be. Her eyes were sharp, predatory as she scanned the crowd and saw me. I made the mistake of flicking my gaze to Finn for comfort and she followed it, zeroing in on him with a glistening smile. Mom was beautiful. Her beauty was the deadliest and most disarming of all her weapons.

  She was the carnivorous plant that lured the insect, just to snap closed around him, consuming him whole. She winked at me as she passed my row and my stomach turned. I knew she thought she still had power over me. You’d have thought my turning her in and testifying against her would have proven otherwise, but Mom was nothing if not stubborn. She took her seat and settled into the chair regally, smiling at the judge and at her state-appointed attorney, who scooted his seat just a little further from her, and then finally at me.

  The judge struck her gavel and called the court to order.

  But my heart wouldn’t listen.

  Chapter 35

  Reality Check Magazine: Tell us what it was like to see your mother again. How did you feel, having her and Finn in the same room together?

  Jessa: It was the most horrible feeling in the world, just seeing her and having her stare at me the way she did. But even worse was knowing that Finn saw her, too. And she saw him. She let me know it.

  Each time I sat in the same room with her, my skin crawled and all I wanted was a scalding bath. The proceeding was mostly a review of her trial and the evidence presented against her, although I wasn’t the only one testifying. The police detectives who worked the case were sworn in one by one and recounted, to the best they could recall, how they collected the evidence. Mr. Marcum said that she couldn’t come up with anything to question whether the court had been prejudiced against her, so she was claiming to be innocent of the crimes with which she was charged and had asked for a full review of the evidence.

  Judah McDaniel. Just hearing her name made my leg bounce wildly. I couldn’t sit still; I was on edge because she was right there, just feet away. Staring.

  I listened, growing more nervous as the day dragged on with procedure and testimony, exhibits and arguments. The judge wouldn’t let us break for lunch.

  “We only have one more piece of evidence to consider and that is of a witness, so let’s push forward. Shall we?” she said. The Honorable Geneva Reynolds was all about business, and her courtroom was run like a tight ship. Hopefully an airtight one, because one hole could sink this case.

  When the bailiff called me forward, the judge addressed me. “This isn’t a trial, but it will feel that way. When we swear you in, you’ll need to be honest and forthcoming about all the details you recall. I know you were young, so if you don’t remember something, please simply say so.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  I placed my hand on the Bible and swore to tell the truth. Then I took my seat. When my eyes sought out Finn, he gave me an encouraging nod.

  I could do this.

  And I did. I shook the whole time, but I answered every question. I told them about what life was like with her as a mother, how I learned what she was doing, how long I remembered her doing it, and that she intended to force me to help her. As I told them how I turned her in, my mother’s eyes never left me. They burned holes through me, but I kept my head up and pushed through, never glancing in her direction.

  That apparently pissed her off.

  “You ungrateful piece of shit!” she screamed. “You’re my blood!”

  The judge warned her to shut her mouth, forcefully slamming her gavel into the wooden block, but my mom didn’t care about her or the authority she carried. She kept ranting. Mom stood, knocking her chair over against the railing that separated her from the people watching.

  “You will stop this! I will have order in my courtroom!” Judge Reynolds shouted.

  That didn’t deter Mom. She seethed, screaming at me, “I should have hung and gutted you, too. Then I wouldn’t be in this mess! My own flesh and blood,” she spat toward me.

  Then she turned to Finn. “I saw you on the television. You’d better sleep with one eye open, pretty boy. She’s probably just like me.”

  Her outburst sealed her fate, because the correctional officers swarmed in and hauled her, thrashing as she was, from the building and we didn’t see her again. The judge went through more of the procedural things, flustered but calmer. When the day ended, we were dismissed. Mr. Marcum, because he was closer, beat Finn to me. “You did wonderfully, Jessa. There’s no question about her guilt now.”

 

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