”I’m serious. She committed two felonies under my roof. She stole and wrecked my daughter’s car and stole your necklace. With her record, they’ll ship her off to the penitentiary where she belongs. She won’t see the light of day again for at least four years, maybe longer.”
”Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” Caroline said. ”I don’t want you beating yourself up about it later.”
I picked up the phone and dialed 911.
June 9
10:00 a.m.
Two days later I got a call from a drug enforcement agent I’d known for ten years. He said they’d picked Sarah up in a crack house on Wilson Avenue around midnight on Monday night. He thought I might like to know.
I drove straight to the jail. On the way, my cell phone rang. It was Diane Frye.
”The answer is yes,” she said when I picked up the phone. ”John Paul Tester Junior owns a silver 2005 Dodge Ram pickup.” It was the same color, make, and model of the truck that had almost run over me.
”So what else did you find out about him?”
”Born December 1, 1972, to John Paul and Debra Jean Tester in Newport. His mother died of ovarian cancer when the boy was only two. Raised by his father, who was a journeyman welder when he wasn’t preaching the gospel. When he was on the road, which was often, Junior stayed with an aunt.
Talked to the aunt, nice lady named Wanda Smithers who has since moved to Ocala, Florida. She said Junior idolized his daddy. She said the boy’s favorite thing to do when he was a boy was to go to church and listen to his daddy preach. Said he’d sit on the front row and hang on every word.
”By the time Junior was ten years old, he was already studying the Bible and ‘testifying’ for his father. Started preaching when he was a teenager.
When he wasn’t preaching, he spent almost all of his time in his room. Never had a girlfriend, didn’t show any interest in any school activities or sports. The gospel was his whole life. The aunt says that after he got out of high school, Junior and his father started traveling together. They preached all over the Southeast. She says they’re somewhat of a legend among the fundamentalists.”
”Damn, Diane, you got all that in two days?”
”It’s my charm and personality. That and the fact that the aunt talked my ear off.”
”Anything else?”
”The aunt said she visited last year for a weekend.
Said Junior stayed in his room and studied, just like when he was a boy. She also said Daddy Tester wasn’t as committed to the faith as Junior. She said he tended to drink heavily every so often and that he liked the ladies.”
”I wonder if the son knew about that,” I said.
”Probably. Be kind of hard to hide for an entire lifetime. I also talked to a couple of people down at the Cocke County sheriff’s department. Daddy Tester apparently had some political clout and got Junior his job. He’s been there for more than ten years as a chaplain. He counsels the officers, works with inmates at the jail, that sort of stuff. The people I talked to said everybody down there thinks Junior’s a nut job. He apparently won’t talk about anything but the gospel, and since his daddy was killed, he hardly talks at all.”
”Anything violent?”
”No criminal record. The aunt said he’s gentle.
Doesn’t remember him ever even getting into a fist fight. But she said he’s changed since his father’s death. She came up for the funeral and said he acted awfully strange.”
”Thanks. Send me a bill.”
”It’s already in the mail.”
A half hour after I got off the phone with Diane, a guard brought Sarah into the interview room. She looked like she’d aged fifteen years. When she saw I was there, she didn’t bother to sit at the table, she just put her hands over her face and slid down the wall onto the floor. The sight of her no longer made me sad. All I felt was anger.
”Have a good time?” I said.
”Fuck you.”
”Fuck me? That’s great. You did a nice job on Lilly’s car. I really appreciate that.”
”Yeah, well, tell her I’m sorry. I haven’t driven in a while.”
”Where’s Caroline’s necklace?”
”Gone.”
”Gone where? Who’d you sell it to?”
”Like I’d tell you.”
”Did you sell it or trade it?”
”What difference does it make?”
”I’d like to get it back.”
”Not a chance.”
”Are you really that far gone, Sarah? Do you really not give a damn about anything anymore? That necklace may mean nothing but a quick fix to you, but it meant a lot to Caroline, and I’d like to have it back.”
She uncovered her face and glared at me.
”The only person that necklace meant anything to was you. It was just you showing everyone what a successful big shot you were, buying an expensive trinket. Do you really think it meant anything to her?
You tried the same shit with me. Oh, come live with us, Sarah. Come stay with my perfect little family.
We’ll buy you stuff if you don’t get high. We’ll take care of you. What a crock. You can’t buy people, Joey. You’re so fucking pathetic.”
I’d gotten up and was leaning against the block wall, contemplating my fingernails. Sarah had long ago perfected the art of the addict’s vitriolic tirade.
The words floated past me like tiny ghosts. I didn’t allow them to linger.
”I came up here for a couple of reasons,” I said.
”The first is to tell you what you’ve done, in case you don’t fully understand the situation. Stealing the car was a C felony, minimum three years, maximum six in your range. Stealing the necklace was another C felony, same sentence. With your priors and my connections at the district attorney’s office, I think I can convince them to push for consecutive sentences at the top of the range. No more six months in the county jail and you’re out to do it again, Sarah.
You’re going to the penitentiary for twelve years.
You’ll be at least fifty when you get out, if you live that long. I’m going to see to it personally.”
I’d represented her five times in the past, each time telling myself I’d never do it again. I’d always managed to get her sentences reduced, to get them to go as easy on her as possible. But this time was different. I felt genuinely betrayed, and although I wasn’t proud of it, I wanted a little retribution.
The words I’d spoken seemed to sink slowly into her addled brain. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rocked against the wall. Then she began to whimper.
”You can’t do that to me, Joey. You can’t. I won’t survive.”
”Sure you will. You always have.”
”I’m sick, Joey. You know I’m sick. Tell Lilly and Caroline I’m sorry. I’ll get a job and pay you back.”
”Too late. Last straw, Sarah. I’m through with you.”
”You’ve said that before. You don’t mean it. You’re the one person who’s never given up on me. You can’t give up on me, Joey.”
”My name is Joe,” I said. ”I stopped being Joey a long time ago, when I grew up. You should give it a try.”
The crying turned into a mournful wailing. Tears were streaming down her face and she was banging her head against the wall. The guard came to the doorway.
”Everything all right in here?”
”Yeah, I was just leaving. Mind letting me out?”
He unlocked the steel door and I stepped through.
Sarah’s sobs were almost unbearable. I quickened my pace as I walked down the hall to the stairwell and pushed the door open. Just before it closed, I heard her yell.
”Joey! You’re supposed to protect me!”
June 12
2:15 p.m.
News travels fast in the law enforcement community, both good and bad. The word was that Joe Dillard’s sister had been popped again, only this time Dillard and his family were the victims.
Agent Landers regarded Dillard as a self-righteous prick who spent his life defending the scumbags Landers was trying to put away. As far as Landers was concerned, Dillard was as bad as the people he represented. When Landers heard Dillard had been hired to represent Angel Christian, he almost puked.