Second was boiling disgust with her mother’s actions. Looking at her, she could not feel pity. Without makeup, her mother looked extraordinarily normal, even plain. No blonde highlights in the hair. No lip gloss. Even the botox seemed to be wearing off, leaving sagging eyelids and deep crow’s feet around the eyes. In fact, it occurred to Amanda how well she seemed to fit right in with the population here. A model inmate.
“What took you so long?” Her mother fired the first shot across the table.
“You wouldn’t understand,” Amanda replied. She felt no further explanation was necessary. Another few seconds of awkward silence passed until her mother spoke.
“Well, are you happy?” Her mother’s question could have been followed by… with what you’ve done?
Amanda was somewhat thankful that her mother had started out antagonistic. It might make this easier, she thought. “Truly? For the first time, I think I have a shot. But, no, I’m not happy.”
Her mother glared at her, seemingly unsure of what to make of Amanda’s new maturity. “Sounds like that shrink has been pumping you full of it, girlfriend.”
“Mother, I came here to ask you why you did the things you did. That’s all. If you want to fight, I’m going to leave, and I promise you I will never come back. You will never see me again except for on the witness stand at your trial when I tell the judge everything you did.”
“Your word against mine, Amanda. Remember, someone burned your daddy’s house down.”
“Mother, have you ever heard of a flash drive?”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s about the size of my thumb and can hold about a zillion gigabytes of information. My father scanned every document, e-mail, receipt, you name it, that is proof of your insurance fraud and all the other horrible things you did to him and me.”
Her mother watched her for a moment, and Amanda thought she saw something blink deep in her eyes. Perhaps it was the fear a thief feels when he recognizes that he left a major clue behind, having believed his tracks were sufficiently covered.
“No judge will ever believe that computer crap. Never heard of it.”
She ran her hands along her pants and said, “Well, Mom, I guess that’s it, then. If you can’t admit to it—”
“What, are you wearing a wire? Is that it? You come in here trying to entrap me?”
Amanda looked over at Mr. Clean, who had stepped toward them. Holding up her hand, she turned to her mother. She stood and lifted her polo shirt and ran a hand down her bare midriff then twirled in place.
“See, mom, no wires. Just me. No games. All I want is for you to tell me why. I deserve that. You and Nina have screwed up at least two lives, and I can’t believe that you are so self-involved that you can’t tell your own daughter why you did it all.”
Amanda kept her eyes fixed on her mother, who showed the first sign of cracking when she lifted her manacled hands from the gray table and covered her eyes. Accordingly, she felt herself giving in just a bit, hoping and praying that her mother would be able to give her some insight into what had driven her to the decisions that she made.
“You come in here and demand from me, your mother, a confession!” She was screaming now. “How dare you!”
Amanda remained calm as she gently pushed away from the table, turned toward Mr. Clean, and nodded. “I’m done with her.”
The tall, dark man lifted Melanie Garrett from the chair while she was still screaming, “How dare you!” over and over again. Her face was contorted, veins popping out of her neck, eyes bulging, and teeth baring like a baying animal. And perhaps she was.
“Mother,” Amanda said.
Mr. Clean stopped as they were half way through the door that would lead her mother back into the prison cell block. By now her mother was heaving and breathing rapidly. The guard stared at her as if she had exactly five seconds to make her point.
“Did you know that Nina has been released? Some hotshot lawyer named Russell.”
That put Melanie Garrett over the edge. She began screaming, “Noooo!”
Amanda watched her disappear behind the hulking man and then the heavy steel door. The pervasive latching sound had the tone of finality.
As she departed the interview room, Amanda stared at the tile floor. Somehow she made it to the front door, never acknowledging Brenda’s call out to her to “have a good day.”
Outside, the sun blaring in her face, Amanda looked over her shoulder at the Metro Women’s Prison. Could a man-made structure hold back her demons? she wondered.
Inside the Mercedes she leaned into the headrest and closed her eyes. With her hands on the steering wheel, she then leaned forward, resting her forehead on the leather.
She was overcome with sadness at the fact that her mother, in the end, was incapable of loving her. All any child, herself included, ever wanted was their parents’ love. Every child deserved that unconditional love.
She sobbed into her hands, shaking softly in the comfortable leather seat.
Amanda looked up from her hands as the thought occurred to her that some things were inexplicable. Just as she believed in God, she had to also accept the reality that evil existed for its own sake — to destroy and ruin.
And evil it was.
CHAPTER 86
Amanda drove slowly past downtown Charlotte and into Dilworth to Riley Dwyer’s house. After making one stop along the way to eat, she pulled into the cul-de-sac. Out of the corner of her eye something registered, but she became focused on Riley’s open garage door. She eased into the open spot on the left, narrowly avoiding Riley’s SUV on her right. It was a tight fit, but Amanda would leave her the keys if she needed to move the car while she was in Africa.
It was early afternoon and Amanda did not have to be at the airport for four more hours, but she wanted to get there early enough to get through security without any issues. She had never been to Africa, and traveling there with a small group of strangers was unsettling.
She locked her car with the key fob and then knocked on the door from the garage that led into the house. After a couple more knocks went unanswered, she opened the unlocked door and peered into the mudroom, which led to the kitchen.
“Riley? You there?”
Silence.
“Riley?” She called a bit louder this time.
Stepping into the house, she walked carefully into the kitchen. It was neat and well kept. On the kitchen table was an opened envelope which had a long piece of scotch tape on the outside. The tape had some whitish tailings on the adhesive side as if it had been used and then removed from something.
She lifted the envelope, turning it over in her hand. On the flat side she saw that Riley had written her name, “Amanda… I’m terribly sorry.” Her writing was in wild, but neat, slanted cursive. Just how she imagined Riley would write, loose but in control.
Sorry? What could she be sorry about?
Perplexed and thinking that Riley must be upstairs, Amanda walked from the kitchen into the foyer. There were no lights on in the house that she could see. Eerily quiet, the home seemed empty, almost vacant. Looking down the long hallway into the den with the tiger-striped chaise lounge and the safari-themed plants, she saw that the mini-blinds were closed. The room was dark, save a few shards of the dull gray afternoon light sneaking past the gaps.
“Riley?” She jumped at her own voice, its sound foreign to the still home.