Chapter 43. Jenny
JENNY
She spent the first night in the small-town hospital.
She didn’t sleep. Every time she moved, the handcuffs clanged on the metal bed rail.
When she closed her eyes, she’d see Simon’s face, his body alone on the hill, and the tears would start again.
Maybe they’d never stopped. Maybe she’d been crying for hours.
Everything had turned dark since he died. Each moment slowed.
She had a headache. Her lips were dry. Her chest hurt. She replayed the moment Simon fell over and over in her mind. Was he scared? Did he feel betrayed?
Nurses came in and out of her room. Brisk.
Unsmiling. She was on an IV for fluids. Her cuts and scrapes were bandaged.
Her legs were splotchy with bruises. The doctor said her baby was okay.
He spoke to the clipboard in front of him.
Never once looked her in the eye. The cops asked their questions with clenched jaws and grim expressions. She asked for a lawyer.
The next day, she was driven to Vancouver. She sat in the back of a patrol car, still in handcuffs, and watched the scenery that they’d passed through days earlier, now in reverse. She fell asleep slumped against the door.
She was held in the women’s unit of the provincial jail in Vancouver. Alone in a cell, she huddled under a thin blanket on the flat mattress. She didn’t look around. She didn’t want to see the metal toilet and sink. The bars. She tried to make her mind go blank.
The court-appointed lawyer was a small man, not much taller than her, with glasses, a mop of frizzy black hair, and a thick mustache. His suit was rumpled and his briefcase a mess, but he had kind eyes, and he brought her tea. He explained all the evidence against her.
The police believed she had helped Simon with the murders.
In revenge for her mother having kicked Jenny out.
Simon’s and Jenny’s bloody fingerprints were all over the house.
It didn’t matter who did the actual killing.
Jenny was guilty for just being there and escaping with him.
Then there were the other crimes they committed.
The lawyer listed so many additional charges that she lost count.
There was something called duress, but she’d have to say she was afraid of Simon. It would be hard to prove, and Alice and Tom could testify that she had gone with Simon willingly. Jenny didn’t want to go to trial. She didn’t want to have to talk about it in front of people.
She didn’t want to keep lying.
If she pled guilty, the prosecutor would drop the charges to second degree.
She learned that she would serve her time in the Prison for Women in Kingston, Ontario, which was across from the men’s prison.
If Simon had lived, they’d have been close.
She remembered how they’d sat by the campfire that one night and talked about prison.
He’d thought they’d never be caught. He was so sure.
She burst into tears, and her lawyer gently patted her back and handed her a tissue.
If the judge agreed to the deal, she could be eligible for parole in fifteen years. The number stole the breath from her chest. It was almost as long as she’d been alive. The lawyer said she could still have a future. There’d be programs. She could finish high school.
She didn’t know where Alice and Tom were now. She hoped Alice’s gunshot wasn’t too painful and that Tom’s shoulder was okay. She wondered if they made it to the Olympics or if they went back to Seattle. She imagined how happy they must be to be free of Simon and her.
She thought of William and Ruth and felt terrible about their broken windows and all the problems Simon and she had brought them. Their house was old, but Jenny knew it had been a happy place. She hoped they were drinking iced tea in their kitchen and laughing together like before.
Her lawyer told her that the younger officer was uninjured and had been able to get help for the older officer, who was now recovering from his gunshot wound. Jenny had cried in relief when she heard that, thinking of his little boy and pretty wife.
Her mother and Robert had been in debt. Everything would be sold off, including the house. Anything left would go to a distant uncle of Robert’s. It was strange thinking of all their belongings scattered around. Who would have their couch? Who was using her desk?
She spent the next couple of months in the provincial jail waiting for her sentencing hearing. She had so much time to think. It reminded her of the weeks she had spent hiding in Simon’s apartment.
While he was at work, she’d watched daytime soaps like Another World and The Young and the Restless on his black-and-white TV.
She’d spent hours napping or crying, wondering what her mother was telling people.
She’d wanted to help Simon in the marina store, but his dad had seen her there once and he’d given her such a look that she’d scurried up to the apartment.
She’d dropped out of school. She didn’t like leaving the house.
People were horrid. She felt their stares and heard their whispers.
She was so lonely. Simon had his shifts at the marina, then he cleaned boats.
He’d wanted to find more odd jobs, but he was already tired at the end of the day.
When they’d watch TV, he’d fall asleep with his head in her lap.
She needed to do something. Why should Simon have to work so hard while Robert had no consequences?
So, Jenny had picked a night when Simon was unloading stock at the marina, and her mother would be at her aerobics class. She’d walked the path through the woods to the house.
She’d only wanted to talk.
Robert’s dark eyebrows lifted when he opened the door and found her on the doorstep. He immediately looked over her shoulder. He was checking if she’d come alone.
“Jenny,” he said. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I have to talk to you.”
“Your mother’s out.”
“I know.” He hadn’t worried about being alone with her before. He’d wanted it that way. He’d created those opportunities. His gaze dropped to her stomach, then flicked away.
She hesitated, her face burning, that familiar sick feeling in her stomach. Maybe she should leave. But then she thought again of Simon and all the ways he was taking care of her.
This man couldn’t even look her in the eyes. This man wanted to send her away and make her feel ashamed for what he’d done.
She stepped forward until he was forced to take a couple of steps backward. He didn’t want to touch her now. She’d have laughed if she wasn’t trying so hard not to cry.
She was inside the house. She closed the door behind her. She could hear Frank Sinatra on the record player in the living room.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “What do you want to talk about?”
She wasn’t going to have this conversation in the foyer.
“I want to sit down,” she said.
He glanced around, looking into the living room like he’d never seen it before. She walked past him and chose the gold-colored velvet sofa. The one her mother had reupholstered.
Robert hesitated, rocking back on his heels, both hands in his pockets. She could see his reflection in the windows. Finally, he sat in the love seat across from her.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said again.
“I need money.”
“Your mother told me not to give you anything. She’s very upset with you.”
The hot tickle of rage was climbing higher up her throat. She didn’t think she’d ever been so angry before. “She’d be upset with you if she knew what you did.”
A flush bloomed on his cheeks. She used to think him handsome, but now he seemed too slick, his hair combed back like a plastic Ken doll. The flesh of his chin and cheeks was beginning to sag. She wondered if her mom had noticed.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.”
“She won’t believe you.”
“I’ll go to the police.”
“They won’t believe you either.”
She knew that was true. The only proof was in her belly, and even then he could twist it to say she wanted it to happen—that it was her choice.
She kept staring at him as he tugged at his neckline. It was hot in the house, even at that time of night, and he was sweating.
“The baby might look like you,” she said. “It might have black hair. People will talk. If you give me money, we can leave town. You owe me that. I can’t get a job. I can’t finish school.” Her voice was rising, and he was fidgeting, glancing around like someone might hear.
“Fine.” He got to his feet. “It’s in the safe.”
She followed him to his office and hovered a few feet inside the doorway. She avoided looking at the leather couch. Robert lifted an oil painting of fruit off the wall and revealed the door of the metal safe. He was turning the lock, spinning it around. Click. Click. Click.
It was the floral scent that Jenny noticed first. Rose and jasmine. A wave of it coming up behind her, and she should’ve known what that meant, but she was watching Robert. He made a mistake, swore under his breath and started over again, his coiffed hair flopping forward.
Robert glanced across to Jenny, then up over her shoulder. His eyes flared with surprise, and he let go of the lock. “You’re home early, darling.”
Jenny whirled around. Her mother was in the doorway, dressed in her shiny-pink aerobics leotard, with her red lips parted in shock.
“What are you doing here?” Her mother’s voice was venom, nearly spitting at Jenny.
Jenny couldn’t answer. Her mother looked at Robert again, standing by the safe. He stepped away, but it was too late. Jenny saw the moment her mother made the connection.
“You’re giving her money?”
Robert’s jaw tightened. “She asked for help.”