Mariah Stewart - Hard Truth

“There you go, Mom. One down, two to go.”

The graves were untidy, so Lorna spent a half hour pulling weeds. She’d come back later in the afternoon, or tomorrow, if it was cooler, and bring that hand-mower she’d seen in the barn, to cut the grass. Overgrown graveyards always made her sad, as if those laid to rest had all been forgotten.

Well, I guess for the most part they have been, Lorna conceded. At least since Mom came out to Woodboro.

Before she left town, Lorna would ask around to see about having someone tend to the graveyard, after the property was sold. Her grandmother-who had kept such a tidy and immaculate house-would definitely not be pleased to have her final resting place such a tangle of weeds. Lorna owed her that much.

She finished weeding, tucked the urn under her arm, and set out for the house. She worked for a few hours on the monthly billing for a boutique in Woodboro, then turned off the computer. She was just about to open the refrigerator door when the phone rang.

“Lorna? Chief Walker.”

“Hi, Chief.”

“Lorna, I have Billie Eagan down here at the station with me. She’s asking to speak with you, and I was wondering if-”

“To me?” Lorna frowned. “Why would she want to talk to me?”

“Well, I asked her if she wanted to make any calls, and she said the only person she’d want to talk to was Mary Beth Stiles, but she knew she’d passed on. I told her you were back, and she asked to talk to you instead.”

“You’re not holding her, are you?”

“Actually, we are.”

“Then she should be talking to a lawyer,” Lorna protested. “I’m not a lawyer.”

“I’m well aware of that. I already told her we’d recommend to the court that she be given a public defender. No question she qualifies. But she still wants to talk to you.”

The chief fell silent for a moment, then said, “You’re her one call, Lorna. What do you want me to tell her?”

He lowered his voice. “You coming down here or what?”

The Callen Police Department was housed in the back of a small, one-story, redbrick building, the front section of which served as the municipal offices. The library was in the basement, and the jail-such as it was-was in the annex, a low-slung square of gray block and mortar that connected to the main building through a short corridor.

Lorna parked behind the building and went to the side door, which led directly into a small lobby. Through the glass, Lorna saw Brad Walker leaning against the wall, talking to his father, and when Lorna knocked, he nodded in her direction. Chief Walker stood and waved to her.

“Come on in,” he told her. “Just give that door a push-it sticks in hot weather. Here, let me do that.”

He went to the door and gave it a shove. “Don’t want the air-conditioning to escape. It’s hot as hell out there.”

Lorna pushed a strand of hair back off her forehead. “It is that.”

“You ready to talk to Billie Eagan?” he asked.

“Sure. I’m still not certain why she wants to see me, but sure, I’ll talk to her.”

“She’s in here, in the conference room. Normally, we’d have her in a holding cell while we wait for the sheriff to drive her out to the prison, but the air conditioner out there hasn’t been working, and it’s just too damned hot for man or beast. Joel Morgan, of the PD’s office, was in on another matter, and the judge asked him to handle Ms. Eagan’s case, at least through the preliminary hearing, which won’t be until next week. He’ll be by in a minute to talk to her.”

“She’s been charged?”

“Charged, arraigned, and has a room reserved at the county prison.”

“Can’t she get bail?”

“That’s up to her, I guess, if she can post bail. You can discuss that with her, makes your visit sort of official.”

The chief gestured in Lorna’s direction and she followed him through a door at the end of the room. Billie Eagan sat at the head of a rectangular table, her hands folded in front of her, her pale, thin arms stark against the dark wood. Her hair was straight, stringy, gray, no longer the thick, dark strawberry blond Lorna remembered from her childhood. She wore a sleeveless cotton blouse that was stained on one side. When she looked up at Lorna, it was through watery blue eyes set deep into a gaunt face.

“Hello, Mrs. Eagan,” Lorna said from the doorway.

“Lorna.” Billie’s voice was as flat and low-pitched as Lorna remembered.

“Chief Walker said you wanted to see me.”

Billie nodded. “I do.”

“Lorna,” the chief touched her on the arm, “I’ll be right outside here, if you need me.”

He closed the door behind him, leaving the two women alone. Lorna moved farther into the room, taking a seat across the table from Billie.

“I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about your momma.” Billie’s voice still held a trace of the West Virginia hills where she’d been born. “She was as near to being a friend as anyone I ever knew. She was a good woman, through and through. I just wanted you to know.”

Lorna hesitated. She hadn’t recalled her mother speaking of any particular friendship with Billie Eagan.

“Surprised, are you?” Billie looked faintly amused.

“I didn’t know that you and my mother were… friends,” Lorna said awkwardly.

Billie nodded.

“Well, I appreciate you thinking of her.”

“I think about her every day.”

“You do?”

“She used to stop by once or so a week. Drop off a bag of groceries. Sometimes something she might’a baked. She made these little lemon muffins with poppy seeds…”

Lorna nodded. Her grandmother’s recipe.

Her mother used to make muffins for Billie Eagan?

“She always took me to my doctors appointments, stopped at the drugstore on the way home to pick up my prescriptions. She even made sure I got to my meetings at night, said I needed the support if I was to overcome my addictions,” Billie continued. “Every once in a while, she’d bring me a pack of cigarettes.”

“My mother bought you cigarettes?” Lorna’s jaw dropped.

“Oh, she didn’t like doing it, I know she didn’t. But she knew how hard it was for me to quit, especially on top of everything else I was trying to quit at the time. Said she’d gone through that once with cigarettes herself, and she knew how tough it was, so she-”

“My mother never smoked,” Lorna said flatly.

“She tell you that?”

“Well, no, I never asked her, but she hated cigarettes. Hated smoking.”

“Yes, she did. Said she’d been real happy none of you kids ever picked ’ em up. But back when she was younger, she did. Stopped when she found out she was pregnant with you and never picked ’em up again.” Billie leaned back in her chair. “Or so she said.”

“I’m stunned. I never knew that about her.”

“I guess there’s lots of things you didn’t know.”

Lorna stared at Billie, not sure what to say. Billie stared back.

“Like what?” Lorna finally asked.

“Your mother never believed that I had anything to do with whatever happened to Melinda.” Billie’s face hardened. “I know everyone else around here thought I did, but she believed me. Even after Jason ran away-at least, back then, that’s what we thought happened to him. Now they tell me they found him there in the field.”

Billie’s lips tightened. “Can you imagine that? All these years, I thought he’d run away, maybe to the city someplace. And there he was, just a couple’a acres away from where I lay my head every night.”

“No, Mrs. Eagan. They found Jason at the back of our farm, over where the new houses are being built. Your house is over on Conway Road.”