“Esther left this ring in my mother’s car,” Cameryn said, pulling it from her pocket. “Here, take it.”
With thumb and forefinger, Justin lifted it from her open palm. He peered at it, then at her, stunned. “When did you get this?”
“Yesterday.”
"So you knew-? ” But Cameryn cut him off with, “Look at what it says. ‘Keep Sweet.’ I wrote Jo Ann Whittaker. She did some research-”
His eyes flashed. “You shared information about an active homicide case-”
“Justin, please, let me finish.” Cameryn took a breath. Hannah had stopped moving and was staring. Everything had become suddenly still, as if the room itself were holding its breath. “Jo Ann found out that ‘Keep Sweet’ is a saying used by Fundamentalist polygamists. If Esther had that ring, she was from a polygamist family.” Cameryn turned to her mother. “What did she say to you when she put it in the cup holder?”
“She said she didn’t need it anymore.”
“Right. She was running away. Girls her age are married off, and I bet she didn’t want to be. Except they’re not allowed to leave. Remember, Justin, how strange her underwear looked? We saw the polygamists on the street, how the women were dressed… I think Esther was running, and she got caught. And her hair was cut off. I’ll bet that’s something they would do.” Cameryn looked from Justin to her mother. “We need to check it out.”
“Tell me this again,” Justin said. “Slowly this time.”
She did, filling in each detail as she repeated everything. There’d be trouble ahead for her, she realized that, but as her words tumbled over each other, it felt so good to free herself from the guilt she’d been carrying. Every part of the story came out, even about the wallet. “Esther must have been pretty desperate. I mean, I don’t think she looked like a thief, but she was. Justin, when I thought it was a suicide I didn’t see any reason to tell.”
“So, Esther stole your mother’s wallet.”
“Yes.”
“And you think she must have chucked it in a garbage can before the polygamists shot her.”
“Or maybe they took it. I don’t know. It wasn’t at the autopsy.”
“You mean this wallet?” Justin stood and walked to her mother’s dresser. The oak top was covered with a lace doily, and there, on top, lay her mother’s brown leather wallet. Cameryn had seen it before. It had a small gold tab with the words DOONEY & BOURKE stamped above the image of a goose.
Behind her, Cameryn heard her mother’s voice cry, “Oh my God, Cammie. I promise, I can explain.”
Cameryn, her muscles growing tight as wires, stared at the wallet as Justin picked it up.
“No, look at me, Cammie,” Hannah begged, the skin on her face blanching to the same sickly color Mariah’s had taken in death. “I can explain,” Hannah cried wildly. “Cammie-all right-you’ve found my wallet and I know it looks bad. That’s why I didn’t tell before. I wanted to but I couldn’t.”
Too stunned to speak, Cameryn blocked her mother out. Justin undid the wallet’s clasp and there was her mother’s driver’s license, the credit cards shining from their plastic sleeves. There was no mistake. It belonged to Hannah. All the other noise of the world seemed to have gone silent; the only sound was blood pulsing through her ears.
“Cammie, look at me.” Her mother gripped Cameryn’s arm, but Cameryn’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Please, Cammie! Justin.” Riveting her gaze on the deputy, she cried, “I know how it looks, but you have to understand. I kept searching for Mariah and I thought I saw a patch of blue, so I went down that alleyway. I swear to God when I saw her, Mariah-Esther-she was already dead. I swear to God.” The eyes were back on Cameryn now; she could feel the intensity of her mother’s stare. Hannah cried, “I swear on Jayne’s grave and on anything else. You’ve got to believe me! I saw the backpack and I thought”-her grip became iron-“I thought-this girl is already dead. I didn’t want anyone to know. So I took what was mine.”
A blankness filled Cameryn, as if her mind couldn’t absorb her mother’s words. Nothing could penetrate.
“Are you listening?” The claw on Cameryn’s arm clamped so hard she almost cried out in pain. “I want you to leave now, Deputy,” Hannah raged. “I want you to leave my room.”
“As much as I want to,” Justin said, his voice low, “I can’t.”
Hannah stood rigid for a moment, and then, almost imperceptively, began to rock back and forth. “I’m going to go to jail. You’re going to take me to jail.” The rocking increased in intensity: forward and back, backward and forward. “I didn’t do it,” Hannah cried. “I didn’t. Cameryn, you’re the only one. You’ve got to believe me! ”
Justin stepped forward. He shoved his notebook in his back pocket, and then carefully, gently, peeled away Hannah’s fingers from Cameryn’s arm, as though they were petals from a closed flower. He looked as though he felt sick. His own fingers trembled as he took a step backward.
“I’m sorry, Cammie,” Hannah whispered. “I’m sorry about everything.”
“Hannah, I want you to listen to me carefully,” Justin said. “Can you hear me? Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Dropping her hands to her sides, Hannah sobbed a single word: “Yes.”
“I need to make sure you know what I’m saying.”
“I do. I do, I do, I do.”
“Then, Hannah…” He paused. His next words were delivered quietly but clearly. “You have the right to remain silent…”
Chapter Fourteen
THE SILVERTON COUNTY jail was situated inside one of the town’s most beautiful buildings. The county courthouse, a square-faced, steep-roofed affair, had a large circular clock mounted in the middle of a three-tiered steeple. The stone was gray, Protestant-looking. Cement pillars and roof protected the front door from the elements. An ecclesiastical window had been carved from the stone, giving the mayor a bird’s-eye view of the town. But this morning, Cameryn didn’t notice any of that. It was who the building contained that mattered to her. Hannah had been cuffed and taken away to the one-room jail, and even though Cameryn pleaded to stay with her mother, Justin refused.
“Cammie, you’re not allowed to come with me,” he’d said as Hannah stood rigidly to one side. Justin’s face had flushed with agitation. “God knows I hate to do this, but I have to take her in.”
Cameryn grabbed his sleeve, wrenching it in her hand. “You can’t! ”
“I have no choice. She had the decedent’s property. She’s got a motive and she’s been off her meds.”
“Justin, no!”
“There’s an eyewitness who’s placed Hannah with the vic just moments before she was shot. And now I know she was with Esther after she died.”
“But there was an explanation. She told you why-”
Justin shook his head. “She’s also a flight risk. If I don’t take her in I could lose my job. Let me do this and then we’ll sort it all out.”
To that, Cameryn had cried, “Of course you have a choice.” But Justin didn’t seem to hear.
Now, as she walked down the polished wooden hallway, the heels of her boots reverberating in the empty hall, she rehearsed her strategy. Although she was angry with Justin, it was important not to let emotion show. Like it or not, she needed him. She took a breath and shook herself, trying to focus, trying to be strong. With her knuckle she rapped on the glass pane stenciled with a golden star and the words SHERIFF’S OFFICE in black letters.
Justin opened the door, not all the way, just a few inches. He looked rumpled, tired. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.”
“Our office doesn’t officially open for twenty minutes.”
“Len opened the courthouse early and I followed him inside,” she said. “I told him I was meeting you. Were you here all night?”