Life Sentences Read online

  Before Chad could answer, they heard footsteps and a knock at the door. Jane opened the door and said, “There’s an emergency.” She glanced at Chad and shrugged. “You’re needed, Doctor Brookstone, in room two.”

  Pilar was relieved for the moment that her question went unanswered. She feared what Chad would tell her if he had the chance. She feared her own reaction as well.

  It wasn’t long before Chad had the opportunity to get his answer. It came much quicker than Pilar anticipated. Two weeks later Chad returned to the infirmary. “I’m here to answer that question you asked the last time we were together.”

  He remembered. And of course, Pilar had no doubt what he had to say. Since they met she had given him nothing but positive, encouraging signals. Pilar stood before him, ready.

  “You know as well as I do that from the very first time we met,” Chad whispered, “we were drawn to each other like magnets.” His voice became louder, more confident. “I feel as though I’ve always known you. And …”

  Pilar lifted her hand to stop him. She fell to her knees and kissed his lips. “And that we have always been in love,” she whispered into his neck.

  “Whew,” Chad sighed. “This is better than I had expected. I had hoped I wasn’t misreading you, us.”

  How could he have thought that? Pilar’s immediate and strange fascination for him was as odd as something in a Steven King novel. Pilar hadn’t been good at hiding those feelings from Chad right from the first day. It was as though they had been lovers, unwillingly separated, and finally reunited. It was the most intense, and perhaps irrational sensation Pilar had ever had. She would never be able to explain. Hadn’t she read as much as she could about him in newspapers before she stepped inside theprison? Perhaps she was just like those women who made the weekly trek to visit Chad. Did she feel sorry for Chad? Had she thought she would be his savior? Or, did she love him? Silly questions. Of course she loved him — every inch. Besides, Chad didn’t want pity and didn’t need to be saved. He wanted her.

  PILAR BROUGHT HERSELF BACK to the present and gazed out her office window at a winter sky that held a late-day pink glow. Now, after four months at the prison, she realized that nothing seemed to matter to her but Chad. Consumed with that insane love, she was determined to get Chad out of prison despite his life sentence. Nothing could stop her. She would find one technicality in his case, like a cop slipup, some bit of evidence that would set Chad free. Maybe even DNA. She’d read about all those others who had been wrongly accused and then set free because of DNA.

  Pilar believed with all her heart that there was more to Chad’s story than what she had heard from Lorrie or read in the newspapers. He may have murdered one woman, but there had to have been a good reason. One thing was for sure — Chad was the most engaging person Pilar had ever known, both physically and emotionally. In him she found the uncertainty of good and evil. The evil of a known killer. And, odd as it seemed, evil had become attractive, glamorous in a way.

  Then, there was Lorrie. Did she have a hidden motivefor warning Pilar about Chad? She must still love him. Pilar had become a threat. “Lorrie,” Pilar sighed, “are you a nut or a clever seductress?”

  But, the other women visitors had dwindled down to just the curious. After a heated discussion Chad took his name off prisonpenpals.com. At first he was hurt that Pilar checked up on him, and so uptight he slammed his fist into the wall when they talked about the web site. Why no one checked on the commotion in her office was amazing. When Chad discovered Pilar’s investigation was done before he and Pilar became intimate, he calmed down. He even seemed flattered by how early she’d shown an interest. Yet, it still took some persuading to get him to remove his vitae from the Internet. “It’s fun to get mail and visitors,” he said. “Besides, I can’t see you all the time when you’re working and gone on the weekends. And, my mother can only come to see me once a month.”

  Though erasing his information from the list of pen pals didn’t stop the already established friends from communicating, no new women showed up at the prison. Pilar faithfully checked the visitors’ names each Monday. That was a monumental task. She had to conceal her search and sneak a look at the list of names by pretending it was a way to gauge her likely call outs. Was she jealous or suspicious? Jealous, she decided.

  Pilar made notes in Chad’s medical record and set it aside. Rather than see another patient, she wanted the dayto be over. Pilar could hardly wait to take her next planned step toward liberation from the Pointes: After work she was trading in the Mercedes for a four-wheel drive Subaru station wagon. Though not quite a pick-up truck, the wagon was more appropriate in the north where residents liked to say, “We have two seasons — winter and July 4th.”

  Before the next prisoner, Pilar retrieved Chad’s institutional file, hidden from the curious under a pile of papers. She made a copy and placed it in her attache. It was part of her research on Chad Wilbanks. She was convinced the information she gathered would prove Chad’s innocence.

  AT THE CAR DEALERSHIP the salesman seemed in a hurry to take the Mercedes in trade for the Subaru. Pilar suspected he’d keep the luxury sedan for himself. She had given into his rather low trade-in value. What did it matter? Pilar wanted to get rid of the car that made her stand out in the land of trucks and SUVs. The luxury car was also a daily reminder of Marcus. She had already decided the profit made on the deal would go in the bank for a rainy day and Chad’s legal fund. What would Marcus say to that?

  As the salesman handed Pilar the keys, he regarded her body from her head to her ankles. Clearly, his intentions were lascivious. His lack of subtleness brought back memories of Doctor Peters at Detroit Receiving Hospital. Chad never approached Pilar in such a lustful manner. Rather, he was always gentle, admiring, but never lecherous.

  Pilar snatched the keys from the salesman before he could make a verbal pass. She dashed to her forest green wagon and slid behind the wheel, then spun out of the lot like a teenager in a drag race.

  On the way home, Pilar made one other planned stop at the public library on Presque Isle Avenue. She searched for a book about women becoming involved with prisoners. The search took longer than expected, but she didn’t want to ask for help from a small town librarian eager for some juicy gossip. Finally, Pilar found Women Who Love Men Who Kill, by a reporter named Sheila Isenberg.

  When Pilar checked out the book, the librarian asked, “Are you doing research for a class?”

  “No. I work at the prison. I’m curious about why all the women visit.”

  “You’re a counselor, then?” The librarian’s abundant gray eyebrows knotted together to form a magnificent line across her brow. She looked like a sinister old maid from a Grimm’s fairytale.

  “No. I’m a concerned physician.” Pilar’s acid response didn’t change the librarian’s expression. She made it obvious she didn’t believe Pilar. Would Pilar be the topic of local gossip shared over a cup of evening tea?

  Pilar was on a mission and had no time to worry about that. She raced to her car, humming, anxious to get home and see what Ms. Isenberg had to say.

  SINCE THE TREES HAD shed their leaves, Pilar caught glimpses of Lake Superior from her living room window. When she arrived in Marquette, the trees were in full green dress. Within two months, flawless northern autumn weather accompanied the vibrant reds and oranges of the maple trees, the perfect complements to the golds of the birch and the greens of the spruce and fir. Fall skies were clear azure during the day. Pilar missed that time and the kaleidoscopic sunsets ending most days. November had ushered in nothing but bleak, overcast winter horizons. The churning, dreary lake waters that reminded her of day-old oatmeal greeted Pilar each winter morning, warning her to bundle up. Superior took on a meanness in the winter which was hardly welcoming. Yet, like her days on Lake St. Clair, water, even at its ugliest or most challenging, had always calmed Pilar.

  It was evident winter came early in the Upper Peninsula when Pilar discovered most new apartme
nts had fireplaces. Though she had little time or desire to decorate, except for the shopping spree with her mother, she was glad she made arrangements for a regular wood delivery. That evening Pilar built a fire to ward off the dampness.

  Pilar grabbed the book and studied her sterile surroundings. Maybe she should do something about the white walls and sparse furnishings. Everything in her life seemed washed in a non-color, starting with the beige walls and floors of the prison. Adding some periwinkle and green toher world could transport her from this dreamlike stillness of aging gauze and into the warmth and new growth of a sunny spring day. She needed a real home.

  A glass of merlot, an apple, and a ham and cheese Hot Pocket were the perfect accompaniments to the fire. Surely they would nourish Pilar for a night of research. Curling up on the couch, she began to read, and experienced a rush like an archeologist about to unearth an ancient artifact. She felt like a female Indiana Jones on the threshold of discovering primordial love and sex secrets.

  At midnight Pilar finished reading about women in love with murderers. Undressing for bed, she thought about what she’d read. Women like her. Or, were they? On one hand, she was relieved to know she wasn’t alone or crazy. She wasn’t the only woman who had an unconsummated affair with a man behind bars. Yet, she wasn’t like some of those women Isenberg reported about. Those poor souls, most coming from abusive partnerships, sought out relationships with prisoners, especially lifers, to keep them from performing intimate acts. That was not Pilar. Yet, what could she want from a murderer?

  Pilar posed in front of the mirror. She knew what she wanted. She brushed her hand across her bare breasts. Pilar longed to make love with Chad. She dropped her hand and examined the woman before her. Ms. Isenberg was right about one thing. The fathers of women like Pilar raised their daughters on a diet of emotional neglect, while discountingthem and their achievements. She was also right about two other things. In many of the cases Ms. Isenberg recounted, the man looked like the woman’s father. Chad did have some physical similarities to Marcus: dark hair, creamy complexion, same height, but that was where the likeness stopped. Chad, unlike Marcus, was caring, understanding, and appreciated Pilar.

  There was a second resemblance to those in the study. For instance, Pilar knew without a doubt Chad accidently killed Susan. Pilar believed her lover was as much a scapegoat for other murders as the women in Isenberg’s study believed about their men. Pilar, like them, felt she was the only person left on her lover’s side. She tried not to think about Maryann.

  “I’m no groupie, either,” she announced to the woman staring from the mirror. “I didn’t follow Chad to prison and stand in an endless visiting line. Our meeting was serendipitous. Our love for each other is real.”

  Pilar slid the book onto the night stand and crawled into bed. Once she turned off the light, she fantasized about making love to Chad. His naked body was as vivid as though she had seen it every day of her life. Pilar’s hand roamed over her body. She imagined Chad lying next to her. Pilar dreamed of his tender caress. As she touched her pubic hair intending to bring pleasure, Chad’s face was displaced by her father’s. Pilar leaped from bed clawing at the air. “Leave me alone.”

  Crumbling to the floor, Pilar held her knees to her breasts. She remained huddled there until she heard the clock strike two.

  chapter ten

  DISCOVERY

  “I READ YOUR INSTITUTIONAL file,” Pilar announced to Chad on his next call out. “And, I’ve ordered the transcripts from your trial.” She didn’t mention Sheila Isenberg’s study.

  Chad’s face wrinkled in surprise. His expression quickly changed. “I thought you trusted me.”

  “Oh, I do.” Why would he question that? “But,” Pilar explained, “if we’re going to find a way to get you out of here, legally,” she brushed the back of her hand down his cheek, “I need to know every detail of your case, even something you may have forgotten or don’t think is important.”

  “You sound like an attorney, not a doctor.” He teased. “I told you I’m working on something. But, we’ll need money to pay off the attorney. And, he’ll need money to convince the governor to commute my sentence.”

  “YOU DIDN’T TELL ME you had an attorney.”

  Chad shrugged. “I don’t, but we’ll need a lawyer, and they aren’t cheap.” He studied Pilar. His eyes seemed tobecome smaller, a shade darker. Was he waiting for her to reject his idea?

  “Of course we’ll need an attorney,” Pilar agreed. “But, I guess I didn’t understand the whole plan that included the governor.”

  Chad didn’t answer.

  “No matter,” Pilar added when Chad remained silent. “I have already started liquidating my assets, so to speak.” Pilar placed a hand on his arm. “I’ll do anything we think will work so we can be together.”

  Chad wrapped a hand around Pilar’s and squeezed it so tightly it hurt. He had done that before. Perhaps out of fear. “Good,” he said. “Just so we understand what we’re getting into. We don’t want to strap you financially or jeopardize your job right now.”

  “I’ve sold some stock my father gave me, and I plan to sell most of my jewelry,” Pilar assured him.

  Chad removed his hand and stroked Pilar’s hair away from her cheek. Her groin moistened in response. “I have a comfortable income that will keep me,” she whispered.

  Chad’s hand slipped to Pilar’s breasts. Her nipples hardened with intense sensation. She wanted to rip his clothes away.

  “I have contacts to help us, but we must be careful.” Chad’s mouth brushed against Pilar’s ear. Then, he held her head in both his hands. “All in due time, though.”

  She pressed into his hardness. What contacts? No, shewouldn’t ask that. She didn’t want to interrupt the moment with that question. Certainly, she didn’t want to make him think she had no faith in him or his plan. Not when he considered her participation with such hope. But, why couldn’t he be as open with her as she was with him?

  Instead of pushing the issue further, Pilar forced a smile and kissed his soft cheek. Chad patted her back like a consoling father.

  “By the way,” Chad said as he backed away, his voice raising a little, “What did you find out about me that I haven’t already told you?”

  Teasing, Pilar bent her head to one side, fluttered her lashes, and rubbed her hand along her shirt collar to where it ended at a hint of cleavage. She licked her lower lip to bait him further. “I learned that you murdered Susan.”

  Chad’s body tensed. “You knew that.”

  “But, I believe it was an accident. She provoked it.” Pilar fluffed his hair as she would do to a child. “Remember, I know about her quick temper.”

  “Oh, Pilar.” Chad lowered his head to nuzzle into her breasts. Did she feel him crying? Confused by this unexpected and uncharacteristic outburst, Pilar circled her arms around him.

  “I didn’t rape Susan.” Chad’s muffled sobs were barely audible. “We had already been sleeping together.” He sniffled. “That night she got mad when she found a letter from Lorrie. She started hitting me and came after me with a knife.” He turned his head to the side. “We were both high. I just tried to stop her, not strangle her.”

  Pilar pulled his head closer to her breasts again and rubbed his back. “Ssshh. I know.” Lorrie again. That demon. She hadn’t told Pilar the truth. Apparently, neither had Susan. Pilar didn’t know she had been sleeping with Chad when she died.

  “The cops needed to pin all those other murders on someone so they’d stop looking bad.” Chad sounded like a little boy, a voice he often used. “I was as good a candidate as any for them.”

  “I know,” Pilar repeated. She didn’t question why he never mentioned he also stabbed Susan, or why he never called the police that night.

  “Why do you care about me, Pilar?” Chad asked. “You could have anyone.”

  “But, I only want you.” She lifted his head away, leaving tear-dampened circles near her breasts.

 
When they heard a rustle outside the door, Pilar pushed Chad away. Straightening her clothes, Pilar leaned toward the door. Nothing. Perhaps it was Jane passing by.

  Pilar and Chad never talked about the murders again.

  SOON AFTER THAT, JANE Carson asked to meet Pilar at Flanigan’s Bar on Washington. Though unsure about having a drink with someone Pilar suspected knew of her involvement with Chad, she agreed to go. The decision wasfueled by what Chad said about Tommy Johnson and Jane. At first, Pilar thought perhaps Tommy was being a typical prisoner, bragging about an imaginary affair with an employee to boost both his ego and stature among his block mates. After all, Jane was married with two kids. “But, so is my father married,” Pilar snickered.

  Throughout the many weeks at the prison, Pilar saw enough evidence of Tommy and Jane’s affair to not question the reality. Every time Tommy was in the infirmary, Jane was flustered and silly. Pilar caught them touching more than once. Their body language gave away their yearning for each other. Hawk Haven was a regular “Peyton Place”.

  Pilar parked her Subaru among the 4×4 pickups, most with gun racks, and rushed inside the bar. She half expected to bump into a couple of prison employees in the midst of a parking lot peeing contest. It wouldn’t be the first time for such a competition. One contest had taken place at the prison between a male and a female sergeant. The other custody staff found great joy in the rivalry, but not Warden Whitefeather, especially when he found out the woman won.

  JANE WAS ALREADY AT a table in a dimly lit corner. It was like meeting a spy. The clandestine spell was broken when she waved enthusiastically, not fearing any attention she attracted. Her brazen greeting gave the impression Jane hung out at Flanigan’s a lot. As Pilar sat across the table fromher, Jane said, “I’m glad you came.”

  Her casual, cheerful attire — a rose and purple print sweater, rose knit above-the-knee skirt, purple tights and black boots — gave her a more youthful look than the starched nurse’s uniform she wore at the prison. Her maple brown eyes shone like a child’s spotting a pile of gifts under the family Christmas tree. Jane had definitely donned an off-work persona.