31
Lucy called Lester Friedman almost every day of the following week with a different idea each time on how they might be able
to track down a match for the DNA that’d been found in the Matteos’ sink. She’d told him she wanted to get a sample from all
the people who’d lived in the trailer park at the time, if she could find them. Chances were good it was someone who’d lived
there; that was how the perpetrator had known about the baseball card collection and that the Matteos were supposed to be
out of town.
He’d convinced her that would be too overwhelming and impractical, and she’d need to get their consent or try to come up with
a legal way to obtain their DNA without it. He told her that she could go to months and months of work, maybe years—and so
could he—with nothing to show for it in the end.
After that, she’d begged him to approach the Innocence Project even without a DNA match for the blood that’d been found in the sink, said they might have other ideas about how to prove it wasn’t her father. And he told her there was no way they’d take on a case like her father’s when there were so many other cases, cases with much better chances of a favorable resolution, waiting in their queue.
That was when she began to realize that he seemed to be less committed than he once was. He didn’t tell her Ford had stopped
paying him, but that had to be the reason. It was the only thing that explained his polite resistance to everything she suggested
and the fact that he seemed to have stopped working.
Ford was abandoning her again, even in this regard, she realized, despite having promised her he wouldn’t.
I love you. I will always love you.
She’d clung to those words since he’d left, held them close to her heart to help carry her through. But he didn’t know what
love was. She was so angry at herself for believing him, for trusting him again. How many times did a person have to let her
down?
When Friedman stopped accepting her calls the following week, she knew he wasn’t going to help anymore. She left a voice mail
telling him she’d start paying him herself if he’d recommit to the case. But he never returned that message, either. So she
wrote letters to the commonwealth attorney who’d prosecuted her father, complaining that she couldn’t get Kevin Claxton to
listen to her but she had “compelling evidence” to suggest it wasn’t her father who’d killed the Matteos. She also wrote the
Innocence Project directly and any organization she could determine did similar work, hoping to find someone, anyone, who
might help her.
The following weekend she was still waiting to see if her efforts would generate any response when she went back to visit her father. She told him what she’d realized about the nail clippers and apologized. She regretted that she’d never thought of them before. She also told him how hard she was trying to get the attention of the right people, someone who could assist her in finding a match for that mystery DNA. She was so frustrated and upset, and felt so helpless by the time their meeting came to an end. But when he stood, he pressed his palm to the glass as if he wished he could touch her and smiled. “Nothing could be better than having you back in my life. If that’s all I get, it’s enough,” he said before they led him away.
Lucy was wondering if she could convince Friedman to send her a copy of her father’s police file. He hadn’t even come to town,
had done no in-person interviews. Maybe there were people who remembered something they hadn’t said back then that he’d missed.
She could interview them herself, she was thinking, when she got a text.
It was Ford, but she didn’t dare read what he’d sent. Not only was she driving, she was afraid of how badly it would upset
her. She didn’t want to let him hurt her again, had to start protecting herself. Was he telling her he couldn’t continue paying
Friedman? That his wife wouldn’t allow it?
She could see why that would put him in a bad situation, and she knew, if that was the case, she was wrong to hold it against
him. It had never been his responsibility in the first place. It was just that she missed his support, and she wanted to believe
he loved her enough to stand by what he’d said this time around.
It was an hour later when she pulled into Richmond and decided to have dinner at Abilene’s Southern Cuisine. Abilene’s was
more expensive than the restaurants she generally frequented, unless she’d just had a big poker win and decided to splurge,
but she wanted someplace quiet and relaxing to read and digest whatever Ford had sent. She figured it must be important. This
was the only time he’d broken his own rule about not continuing to communicate with her.
She settled into a booth in the far corner and ordered a glass of wine before finally pulling her phone out of her purse and
reading his message. Then she felt her jaw drop.
I wanted you to know before it hit the papers. Kevin Claxton was arrested for the murder of Tony and Lucinda Matteo this morning.
She blinked and read what he’d sent again.
I don’t understand , she wrote back.
When the paper comes out tomorrow, you will. I’ve hired an attorney to do what he can for my brother—I’m hoping if he provides
testimony against Kevin, the CA will go easy on him—and to see that your father is released as soon as possible.
She knew he was trying to keep their contact to a minimum. Considering how they felt about each other, it was the only way
he could be true to Christina. But she couldn’t help writing back:
You can’t tell me anything else? What does your brother have to do with it?
The DNA in that sink was Houston’s. He didn’t kill anyone, but he was there that night. I’m sorry I couldn’t share this with
you sooner. I’ve been working through quite a few things on this end.
Friedman knew , she realized. That was why he’d backed away from her. He’d known for a couple of weeks. Since Ford was the one paying him,
he’d told Ford and then pulled away from her because he didn’t know how Ford would react to the news—or even what he might
do with it.
The waitress approached. “Are you ready to order?” she asked with a solicitous smile.
“I’m afraid I’m going to need a few more minutes,” Lucy replied. She hadn’t even picked up the menu. She couldn’t think about anything except what she’d just learned, was still absorbing what it would all mean. After fifteen years in prison as a wrongfully accused man, her father would be released. He’d have the chance to build a better life, and she’d be part of it. He’d have to come live with her in Las Vegas until he could figure out a path forward, she decided, but she didn’t mind. He was her only family, and after so many years, she had him back.
The waitress returned a few minutes later, and she ordered macadamia-encrusted Chilean sea bass. But she didn’t go home after
she’d eaten. She drove right back to Pound so she could see her father again first thing in the morning and give him the good
news.
It turned out that getting someone out of prison was neither easy nor immediate. Three weeks passed before Lucy received word
that she could pick up her father, and it would’ve been much longer had Ford not hired an attorney to wade through the paperwork.
But it happened. That in itself was a miracle, something she would never have believed was possible even a few months ago.
As she stood next to her truck in the parking lot of Red Onion State Prison and saw her father walking toward her, she wondered
if he was as overwhelmed as she was—with gratitude, relief, hope and fear of the future, since everything had changed so radically.
She was no longer a young woman living with him. He was no longer in charge. She was an adult with a place of her own and
would be the one looking after him, for a while at least. The state would compensate him for his wrongful imprisonment—at
fifty-five thousand dollars a year—which would help until he could get a job and get out on his own. But still, they both
had a lot of adjustments to make.
Whatever the future held, they’d work through it, she promised herself.
She’d offered to leave North Hampton Beach and take him back to Vegas so he wouldn’t have to return to the community where everything had gone so wrong. She’d been afraid the memories would be too difficult for him. But he’d said he wanted to see it again, to use the cottage while they had it to enjoy the sea. And when he’d put it like that, she could understand why. Vegas had its good points, but there was nothing quite as cathartic as watching the sun rise over the ocean. She thought it might help him heal and recover and slowly get back to the business of living a regular life. It would also give them some time to get to know each other again before she was back at work and among her regular friends. Fortunately, Dahlia had been happy to extend the lease.
“How do you feel?” she asked when he reached her.
He squinted as he looked up at the clear blue sky. Then he rubbed his hands over his face. “I feel like I’ve been granted
a second chance.” His chest lifted as he drew a deep breath. “I can promise you this...”
“What?” she prompted as his eyes met hers.
“I’ll never drink another drop of alcohol again in my life.”
“We can get you into A.A. to help you stay away from it, get you a sponsor.”
He nodded. “If I’m ever tempted, that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
She got behind the wheel while he climbed into the passenger seat. “Can you believe we have self-driving cars now?” she asked.
He looked as horrified as he was surprised. “This thing drives itself?”
She chuckled. “No, but my Tesla in Vegas does.”
“I’ll be damned,” he said and shook his head.
The next week, Lucy learned what it meant to be on the receiving end of Southern hospitality. Anna brought over a casserole to welcome her father back to North Hampton Beach, which gave Lucy the opportunity to thank her for being honest about her brother. She admitted it’d been difficult—that Reggie had punched a hole in her wall and her mother had refused to speak to her for several weeks—but all was well that ended well she’d said with a laugh. Part of Lucy wished she could stay in North Hampton Beach. She really liked Anna, believed they could be good friends. She didn’t think she’d ever like Reggie, however, but she didn’t have to. He no longer impacted her life in any way.
The very next day, Patti and Nelson brought over some corn bread, fried chicken, mashed potatoes and collard greens with pecan
pie for dessert. They included a sweet note telling Mick how sorry they were about his wrongful imprisonment. They even came
in and visited for a while and apologized for how harshly they’d treated him.
In the days that followed, more food and good wishes arrived—from Dahlia, Stephanie and even Mrs. Zampino.
Mick was reserved but polite whenever they had company. Obviously, he was even more uncomfortable around people than he’d
been before he’d gone to prison, but he enjoyed the food they brought, and she couldn’t help but think their welcome made
him feel more at home overall.
They spent a lot of time on the beach. Sometimes they’d swim. Sometimes they’d just sit and dig their toes in the sand while
looking out at the great expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. Lucy tried to stay abreast of what was happening to Ford’s brother
and Kevin Claxton, both of whom had been arrested, but after the initial reports, several days would go by without any news.
She’d heard that the wheels of justice turned slowly, but at least they were finally moving in the right direction.
One Friday afternoon, only a few days before they were supposed to leave for Vegas, when her father had gone back to the house
to shower, Lucy remained on the beach alone. They’d decided to have dinner in town for a change. He hadn’t had a blue crab
sandwich in fifteen years, and after settling in for a few weeks, he was finally feeling bold enough to be seen out in public,
which showed a marked improvement in his sense of security.
Lucy planned to follow him to the cottage soon, but she wanted a minute to herself. This beach would always remind her of Ford. She missed him so terribly—and was so grateful to him for hiring Friedman and being willing to come forward with the DNA match Friedman found, even though it led to his own brother. As much as she hated the fact that she couldn’t be the woman he loved—the only woman in his life—she respected him. He hadn’t always made the best decisions. He’d hurt her deeply when they were young. But he’d made so many hard choices this summer that showed her the kind of man he’d turned out to be.
She was afraid she’d never find anyone who could compare to him. But at least she and her father were able to put their lives
back together, were able to finally escape the terrible travesty of injustice that’d cost them both so dearly. That fresh
start was so deeply freeing, so healing, that she was determined to be happy even without Ford.
She watched a distant ship on the horizon for a few moments, which made her think about how big the world really was. Then
she forced herself to get up. Now that her father was interested in going out, she didn’t want to make him wait too long.
But as she turned, she saw someone walking toward her and thought her mind had to be lying, that wishful thinking was causing
her to imagine things, because it looked like Ford. Only when she forced herself to turn away and start toward the cottage
and she heard her name, did she realize it was Ford.
Her heart began to race even as she cautioned herself that this had to be an incidental meeting. He was probably in town to
do what he could for his brother. She’d been surprised she hadn’t heard he was here.
Holding her breath, she stayed where she was, waiting for him to come closer. She expected him to stop several feet away,
maybe nod his head and speak politely. But the look on his face was so hopeful and so transparently emotional that she was
once again confused.
And he didn’t stop. He jogged the last several feet, swept her into his arms and buried his face in her neck. “God, I’ve missed you,” he murmured.
She wanted to allow her arms to close around him, too, but she couldn’t trust this. She didn’t understand it. Pressing her
hands to his chest, she pushed him back. “What’s happening?”
“I’m going to marry you,” he said. “That’s what’s happening.”
Lucy couldn’t find the words to respond. Was this a cruel joke? “How?” she managed to ask.
“I just need you to say yes,” he replied with a broad smile. “Well, I also need to get divorced first, but that shouldn’t
take too long. I’ll give Christina almost anything she wants if she’ll just let me go.”
Stunned, she asked, “What about the baby?”
He sobered. “There never was a baby, Lucy. It was all a lie.”
She pressed a hand to her chest. “How’d you find out?”
“Once I learned that she and Houston had been in contact, I knew something was up. They never really liked each other. I admit
I occasionally wondered if Christina had gotten pregnant on purpose to force me back to her, but I never dreamed she’d make
up the whole thing! I mean... while I was here, she sent me a recording of the heartbeat of our baby! But her newfound
friendship—or, rather, alliance—with my brother seemed strange. So did what I was finding out about preeclampsia. When I went
online, I learned it typically doesn’t become a problem until later in a pregnancy. There’s the very rare case when it happens
this early, but that, and knowing Christina generally, made me even more suspicious. So I insisted we go to the doctor together,
but she kept putting me off—and trying to get me into bed. She needed me to really get her pregnant, or she’d have to say she miscarried or something. Fortunately, I was too in love with you to be with her
in that way again—and that was what saved me.”
Lucy grabbed his hands. “She admitted it?”
“She didn’t have any choice. I finally demanded we call her doctor together. When she wouldn’t agree to do even that, I re alized she’d fabricated the whole thing. So I checked her computer and found where she’d downloaded the audio file of a fetus’s heartbeat from the internet.” He grimaced. “It’s sickening that anyone could go to such lengths...”
“You must be furious. And devastated.”
“I’m furious but not devastated. I’m relieved ,” he said with a carefree smile. “Our marriage probably wouldn’t have worked out, anyway. What she did just made it easy.”
“I can’t... I can’t believe this,” Lucy said. “What about your brother?”
“He’s probably going to serve some time—maybe three to five years—but not nearly as much as Kevin Claxton.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know,” he said, “and that just makes me love you all the more. I need you in my life, Lucy. Will you marry me?”
Speechless, Lucy stared up at him.
“This is where you answer,” he said with a laugh.
“You’re seriously proposing right now?”
“I know it’s crazy fast and might not be the most romantic approach. I’ll make it up to you. But I need to know I can count
on it. I’m not going to risk anything coming between us ever again.”
She felt a smile spread across her face. She’d never experienced such a sense of pure joy. “Yes, of course,” she said. “It’s
the only thing that makes sense since I’ve never loved anyone as much as I do you.”