Becky ended up crying into the phone. The disappointment of the denial and then Lowe?s kindness undid her. She wept so hard she couldn?t talk and had to hang up. Shutting herself in the bathroom she gave over to painful sobs, she cried until she was limp, all the weeks of worry and stress shaking her. Her whole body felt drained, her eyes red and swollen. Her helplessness enraged her. She wanted to call Lowe back and apologize but what could she say? She didn?t let herself think about visiting day, about telling Morgan tomorrow that they?d have to start over, that the appeal had been shot down.
DRIVING DOWNPEACHTREE headed for the prison, Sammie sitting quietly in the seat beside her, Becky dreaded this visit. She?d wanted to leave Sammie home again, had wanted to tell Morgan alone about the appeal, not force him to deal with his rage in front of Sammie. But Sammie had been so insistent, wanting to see Lee, to show him the album. Becky wished Lee wouldn?t come to visiting day either; she wanted only to bealone with Morgan. But, in the end, it was the album that saved her.
In the sally port, she cautioned the guard that the thin black folder was very old and fragile. She watched him page through it, making only a small show of being careful. When she and Sammie entered the visiting room, Becky handed Lee the album and glanced across to an unoccupied corner.
Lee accepted the disintegrating book, watching her face. Cradling the album, he took Sammie?s hand and moved to the far lounge chair. With Sammie on his lap he sat turning the pages, looking at the pictures as Sammie pointed to various relatives and recited the names and what she could remember of the family relationships as Anne had told her. Becky, sitting quietly with Morgan, watchedLee?s expression change as he pored over the old photos: at first he was startled, then his look turned vulnerable and uncertain. From across the room, Becky gave him a smile and a thumbs-up. Lee looked back at her and grinned, shy and embarrassed. She smiled, then turned away, took Morgan?s hand, snuggling against him.
She told him she loved him, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his shoulder. He sat quietly, waiting. When she didn?t speak, he said, ?The appeal was denied.?
?Quaker called last night,? she said softly. When she looked up at Morgan, his eyes were hard and rage sculpted his face. He turned away, didn?t want her to comfort him. She felt that the denial was her fault, felt that again she had chosen the wrong lawyer.
?Lowe is still trying,? she said. ?He?s not a quitter, he?s up in Rome now, seeing what more he can find. He?s dropped his fees to half, he?s been very kind, Morgan. Hewants this appeal, he believes in you. Please give him a chance, don?t lose faith. Somewhere there has to be more evidence.?
He said nothing.
?But here?s the good news,? she said. ?Morgan, please look at me.?
He turned toward her, his face hard and closed.
?There?s a warrant out for Falon. A federal warrant.?
?A warrant for what? Not the robbery??
?The FBI wants him. For some land scams out on the West Coast, and for fraud by wire. The other four men in it have already been indicted. If they?re convicted, if Falon?s convicted, Sergeant Trevis said he could get ten to twenty years.?
?If they find him,? Morgan said. ?If they can get him to trial. If theycan convict him.?
?The FBI will find him. If he?s arrested in Georgia, he?ll be shipped out to the coast. Trevis says he?d be tried out there, that if he?s convicted he?ll most likely be in prison out there?far away from us.?
Morgan took her in his arms, holding her close?but not believing Falon would ever be imprisoned.
?We have to go with this, Morgan. We have to put our faith in this. If Falon?s wanted for another federal crime, the U.S. attorney will look at him differently. He?ll look differently at our new try for an appeal.?
?Maybe,? he said noncommittally.
?Believe it will happen. We have to believe, have to hang on to something.? Holding his hand, she looked across the room again at Lee and Sammie, so engrossed in the frail album. ?Our family pictures,? she said gently. ?Lee as a child. His sister Mae, aunts and uncles, they all belong to us and to Lee.?
Watching Morgan as he considered her words, as he considered the tough old man and Sammie, so comfortable together, she saw his face soften, saw the hint of a smile.
25
BRADFALON, AFTER attempting to run Becky?s car off the bridge, had slipped on into town behind her. He didn?t think she?d go to the police, and the cops wouldn?t listen anyway. They?d been down on Morgan ever since the robbery and they had no more use for Becky. He?d seen to that, had done enough one-on-one talking with selected officers to sour the validity of what either Morgan or Becky said. The rumors he?d spread about Becky and him, through a couple of friends, had further tarnished her credibility. Damn woman. Her gunshot wound in his leg hurt bad, and now, so did the crease in his shoulder where she?d winged him backthere on the bridge. The pain made it hard to drive. Leaving the bridge he?d popped a couple of the Dover?s Powder pills, the same pain pills with which he?d drugged Morgan before the bank robbery?only then, he?d used enough to leave Blake sleeping like a dead flounder.
Washing the pills down with the last of an open Coke, he threw the bottle out the window and, staying well behind Becky out of sight, headed for Natalie?s place. He needed his shoulder bandaged, needed the bandage on his leg changed, needed someone to take care of him, cook for him, needed a place to hole up until he healed. He wouldn?t go to his mother?s, she was too judgmental, he didn?t see her often. The cops would already have been there looking for him; they didn?t waste time when there?d been a shooting no matter who the victim was. They would have searched Natalie?s apartment, too, late last night or maybe this morning. Natalie wouldn?t rat on him, she wouldn?t like the consequences.
He?d moved in, sent her out for a steak and a bottle of bootleg, was settled in just fine. He?d been there three days when the Rome cops found him. It was two A.M., he was asleep in Natalie?s bed tossing with fever from the wound in his leg. Earlier that evening just after supper, the first time the cops showed up, they didn?t have a warrant. Natalie had helped him hide in the attic crawl space. It hurt like hell getting up the folding stairs, his leg burning like fire. Natalie had refused to let the law in without the proper paperwork. When they?d gone, he?d been too sick to leave.He?d gone back to bed, had thought, if the cops came back with a warrant, he could make it out onto the balcony, could handle the five-foot drop to the concrete. The damn cops wouldn?t be looking for him if Becky hadn?t reported the bridge incident. She?d sure as hell sworn out a warrant, why else would they be there?
Natalie had been careful to keep his presence secret, had made no increased purchases of food, had pulled the drapes at dusk as was her habit. She had some antiseptic and an old sheet to tear up, so she needn?t buy anything incriminating; she had nursed him as best she knew how. When, at night, he grew too fevered and restless to lie still she?d brought him cold compresses for his leg; and she?d moved out of the double bed into the living room, and slept on the couch. She was asleep there when, two hours past midnight, the cops pounded on her door again.
When they kept pounding, she shouted at them to shut up and go away. When Falon himself, groggy from the Dover?s Powder, heard the sharp bite of a cop?s voice, he rolled out of bed, shocked to wakefulness, pain jarring through him. He?d pulled on his pants and was sliding the balcony door open when he heard the front door crash open and two cops stormed in. One of them lunged and grabbed him, jerked hisarms behind him, striking pain through him. The other cuffed him, and it was all over. They searched his pockets and found a set of car keys. They looked at his bandaged wounds. Once they were done questioning him and jerking him around, he pulled on his shirt, Natalie tied his shoes for him, crying, and handed him his jacket. She had a talent for crying on cue, she had done that to perfection in the courtroom when she took the stand at Blake?s trial.