Dreams of the Sleepless

Storms of the Past

 
Sitting in the car outside the sheriff's office, Eli slid the key into the ignition and then turned to me. "Well . . . Joe or Joseph?"

"Joe," I said quietly.

"Well, Joe, you just got some damn-fine, free legal services. You still think you're being underpaid for painting the house?" He grinned.

I couldn't help it. I laughed. It had been a tense few hours. I needed that release and Eli knew it. He chuckled along with me.

The sun was setting, and the moon was just peeking out above the trees. We were in that gray, dusky limbo that is neither day nor night. Eli said he would drive me home, but first he wanted to stop at his place. He still had a lot of questions. As we drove, I was still confused about one thing. "How did you know that I had been arrested? I know this is a small town and news travels fast, but that was way too fast."

Eli just smiled and shot me a glance before looking back at the road. "Molly came straight to me after the deputies carted you off. She asked me to help you. Told me she would pay. I told her there was no need for that. I'd do it for free."

He glanced over at me again. "She likes you, you know?"

I nodded. "I know, but trouble follows me everywhere. She seems like a really nice person. I don't think she needs the kind of storms that sweep through my life."

Eli nodded. "Maybe, but look at that field over there." He pointed at a cornfield with rows of stalks flickering by in the window. "See how yellow and stunted the stalks are? We haven't had rain here in weeks. Without storms, things die. You need both storms and sunlight."

"Yeah, but my life seems to be constant storms. You know, too much rain . . . kills."

Eli glanced over at me with that signature wry smile. "Maybe you need a little sunlight to temper those storms."

I knew he was referring to Molly and gave him a wry smile of my own.

We drove along in silence until we reached Eli's home.

He had me settle into one of the leather chairs across from his desk. I wasn't sure what else there was to talk about, but, as he pointed out, this was free legal service. I decided to humor him. Eli hung his suit coat on an old, wooden coat rack in the corner of the room. He shuffled back to the desk and settled into the comfortable chair behind it, opened his leather portfolio, folded his hands on top of it, and raised his gaze to meet mine. "Joe, I'm your attorney. Anything that you tell me is subject to attorney – client privilege. It stays between us. So, here's my question and I'm going to be blunt. Did you kill her?"

My body shot up erect in the chair, no longer amused. "No, I didn't kill Amber. I thought you believed that!"

Eli never blinked, but held up his hand and in a quiet soothing tone he said, "No, no, no. You misunderstand."

I settled down and sat back.

"I meant did you kill your wife?" He was still calm and steady.

I wasn't. I jumped from my chair. "No need to drive me home. I'll walk." I stormed toward the door.

Again, came Eli's calm voice. "Now, now, Joe. I didn't mean to upset you. I just want to hear the story straight from you. No talk about evidence or witnesses. No talk about dropped charges. I just want to hear the simple truth."

For some reason, the tone of his voice had a calming effect. I stopped at the door and turned. Quietly, I said, "No, I didn't kill Lauren. I loved her."

I was about to turn to leave when Eli said soothingly, "Good. That's all I needed to hear. I believe you. Please come back and have a seat."

I hesitated, looked down the hallway toward the front door, and then, looking back at Eli, returned to my seat.

Eli looked me squarely in the eyes. "Joe, doesn't it strike you as odd that most people go through life with maybe a speeding ticket being the most significant encounter they have with the police, yet in just a matter of months you have been wrongly accused of killing two women?"

I thought about it for a moment and responded, "Like I said, trouble seems to follow wherever I go."

Eli shook his head. "I'm not so sure it's that simple. Will you humor an old man? I don't have much to keep me occupied any more, and you have given me a great deal of entertainment today . . . at your expense, unfortunately." He winked at me and smiled. "Will you give me just a bit of time and tell me about what happened down in Fayetteville?"

I considered it. I was a very private person, but Eli had saved me. I felt I owed him something. I nodded. "I probably need to start a bit earlier because the trouble started before I got back to Fayetteville."

I went on to tell Eli the story of my deployment to Afghanistan and how things went south for me while I was there – the nightmares, the inability to sleep, the tremors, the outbursts, the inability to function. I was sent back home, diagnosed with PTSD, and eventually released on disability.

Eli listened intently, taking lengthy notes and occasionally asking questions about my unit, where we were deployed, and dates of events.

I looked up at the ceiling, my pain escaping in one slow breath. "It really started falling to pieces when I got back in the States. I was withdrawn and difficult to live with. I had trouble finding a job, and the few I did find, I couldn't keep. The job problems caused money problems, and it put a real strain on our marriage. I started drinking heavily which only made things worse. I loved my wife, but we argued a lot. She just wanted the old Joe back. I wanted the old Joe back. I knew he was locked away somewhere deep inside, but I just couldn't find the key."

Eli waited for me to continue, but I didn't. "So, tell me about what happened to your wife."

I looked back from the ceiling to Eli. "Well, where do I start? The evening before the accident, Lauren mentioned that her car's check engine light had come on. I suggested that we switch cars the next day, and I would take her car to the shop. I went to a local bar that night and, as usual, drank myself into a stupor. I'm not even sure how I got home that night. I woke up the next day with the police banging on the door to tell me that Lauren had been in a fatal car accident on her way to work."

I stopped for a moment, looked away, and tried to hide the tears that were coming. I took a deep breath and exhaled. "A few days later, I was arrested. They said that the brakes on the car had been tampered with, and they had received a tip from a guy who spoke with me in the bar the night before. According to this guy, I said that I was fed up with my wife and that I was going to kill her." Again, I stopped to swallow back the tears. "I know that I was a worthless shell of the man she married, but I still loved her. I would never have said that, drunk or sober."

Eli asked, "So why did they drop the charges?"

"According to the police, the guy who tipped them off disappeared. Actually, I don't think he ever existed. I think it was just a story they used to try to convince me to admit guilt, save myself from a worse fate."

Eli flashed his wry smile. He'd seen the "make things easier on yourself" tactic before.

"Anyway, they didn't have enough evidence to make the charges stick and decided to drop them . . . wait for more evidence to surface . . . give them a better chance in court."

Eli nodded. "So, Lauren was driving your car on the day of the accident?"

I was looking down at the floor now, trying to hide the moisture in my eyes. I said quietly, "Yeah . . . it should have been me, not her."

Eli let me have my moment. Then he said, closing his portfolio, "Well you certainly have had your share of stormy weather, John Smith."

I managed a weak smile.

He asked if I would like a drink before he drove me home. I passed on the offer. We drove to the cabin in silence.

----- Author's Note -----

Do you think that Joe is telling Eli the truth?

Do you think Joe is telling Eli everything?

Is it odd that he has been accused of killing two women?

Please vote if you are enjoying the story. Your comments are always welcome.