Chapter 1
“No.”
He sat bolt upright and stared directly into her eyes.
She stared right back, not the least bit intimidated. His refusal had been anticipated. On the drive up she had mulled over his possible reactions, and didn’t find this one the least bit surprising.
She nodded. “You have nothing to gain.”
He grinned.
“You also have nothing to lose.” She leaned forward. “Neither of us get any benefit by maintaining the charade. My retirement benefits aren’t affected,” she said, then chuckled, “and yours are already set. In stone.” She gestured to their surroundings.
He scowled.
“We broke up, what? How long ago?” she asked.
“Doesn’t matter.” His brows, once moderate, had grown heavy. They hung low over his eyes. His mouth, once expressive and generous, drooped markedly at the corners. His hair, once luxurious and sandy blond, was cropped close to his skull. And his voice, once gentle, even lyrical when it whispered into her ear, was hard and flat. “Not doin’ it.”
There was a piece of paper on the table between them. At the header it read DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE. At the footer was a line where he was to sign, then print his name. A pen lay on the paper, the tip extended, the ink at the ready on the ball at the tip.
“What do you want?” It was an inevitable question.
His face lost it’s scowl but was no less serious. “Get me outta here.”
She shook her head. “You’ve been tried and convicted. I can’t overturn that, and I’m not helping you escape.”
He leaned back. “Then I guess we have nothing more to say to each other, do we?” He started to rise out of his seat.
She grabbed his arm and urged him to stop. He complied and sat back down.
“What we had was something adolescent and superficial,” she said.
“It meant something to me,” he retorted.
“And it ended a long time ago,” she replied. “It was nothing more than a one night stand.”
“I remember.”
She eyed him. “And how many girlfriends, and one-night stands have you had since then?”
“They meant nothing,” he replied.
“Bullshit.”
He almost laughed.
“You’re just being difficult.”
He glanced around the concrete walls and steel bars, then back to her. “It’s a way of life in here.”
She didn’t have an answer to that.
“And I want out.”
She sat back. “I looked into this before I came here.” She ticked off points with her fingers. “Assault, sexual assault, sexual battery.” She made her eyes bore into him. “And, finally, rape and murder.”
“I didn’t do it.”
“Bullshit.”
He sat and stared back at her and didn’t speak.
They held eye contact for a few seconds. Finally she huffed and turned her head away. “Tell you what, Larry.” She turned back to him. “I shouldn’t do this, but I will if it will change your mind.” She put her hands flat on the table. “I will look into your case. I know several very good cops who will let me look at the file and the forensic reports and maybe interview a few people. If I find that there is a good reason, I’ll ask my cop friends to reopen the case.”
His head moved slowly from side to side. “Not good enough.”
She huffed again.
“You want me to sign this,” he said, gesturing to the paper, “I’m not signing it until I’m out of here. A free man. My conviction overturned.”
“That could take years,” she hissed.
“Then you better get started.” He rose to his feet and motioned to the guard.
Sherrie Jones slammed the door shut.
She had fumed all the way home. By the time she got into her apartment she finally let out a guttural scream with her fists on her thighs and her mouth wide open. She knew John was at work and Lorraine wouldn’t be able to hear her. When the first scream ended and she regained her breath and let out another one for good measure.
There was nothing to throw. She’d been careful not to damage the Dissolution of Marriage form, and the nice pen she’d bought for the occasion. They were safely tucked into the fancy folding binder, also purchased for the occasion. She had set it on the coffee table before venting her frustration. But she wished she had something worthless, heavy, and most of all breakable, that she could fling across the room. The effort of the throw and the satisfying crash would have helped. Sadly, there was nothing like that.
“I’ll have to fix that,” she said to herself.
It was late in the day. The trip to the prison had been a good two hours, and she’d been too angry to stop somewhere on the way back and eat. At that moment she felt the emptiness in her stomach and almost yelled at herself for being hungry. She managed to stop herself, then regain a small measure of control.
She went into the kitchen and rummaged in the fridge.
“You want me to do what?”
Nancy Carlson let her neatly trimmed brows rise very high on her smooth forehead.
“Nance,” Sherry began, “I need your help.” She fidgited in the client chair, then looked at her friend across the desk. “When I was nineteen I did something stupid.”
To her credit Nancy did not interject a sarcastic comment.
“I met this boy, Larry Wilson, at a beer party.”
Then she chuckled.
“We both got soooo drunk that we ended up going to a justice of the peace in the middle of the night.”
“And got married?”
Sherry nodded. “It’s not something I’m proud of.”
“And did that become official?” Carlson asked.
“I’m not sure how, but, yes, it did. For the last ten years I’ve been Missus Larry Wilson.”
Only then did Nancy Carlson begin to laugh.
“I only remembered it a few months ago,” Sherry replied. “I checked with the clerk of courts in that county and found out that our names had been entered into the official record.”
“And you’ve been married all that time?” Nancy had calmed down.
“We didn’t even get a license or have a blood test,” Sherry continued, “so I was sure it wasn’t legal. But the way it was filed had something to do with an old law covering people on farms and other rural areas who didn’t have access to a doctor or healthcare of any kind.”
“And now you’d like to have an annulment,” Nancy said.
“Right. I talked to a lawyer, and he said there’s a form that can be filed.”
“A Dissolution of Marriage form?”
Sherrie nodded. “Larry won’t sign it.”
Nancy looked at her friend. “Want me to arrest him? I’m sure I can trump up something to hold him for twenty four hours.”
Sherrie sighed. “Nancy, he’s already in prison.”
Carlson’s breath caught.
“He’s doing life for the rape and murder of a prostitute.”
“Ugh!” Nancy’s hand went to her mouth. After a moment she regained her composure. “And he won’t sign it because he has no reason to.”
Sherrie nodded. “With him doing life I have no leverage to make him do it, and, truth be told, he gets nothing out of it.”
“So what does he want?”
“He . . . he wants out.” She shook her head. “Not an escape, but to have his conviction overturned.”
Carlson’s eyes widened. “Impossible.”
“That’s what I told him!”
The two friends sat and stared at each other for a few seconds.
Nancy had a thought. “Why do it at all?”
Sherrie frowned.
“I know you just well enough that I don’t see you ever getting married, and the ‘blessed union’ doesn’t change your status, or his for that matter. Why not just leave it alone and let him rot?”
She looked a little sheepish. “You know me. I hate to leave anything unfinished.”
Nancy nodded. “Anal retentive.”
Sherrie chuckled quietly. “That’s me.”
They sat in companionable silence.
“And you’ve met someone,” Nancy said.
Sherrie gave her a look of annoyance tempered with friendship. Was I that transparent, she wondered?
“And, if it comes to it, you don’t want to have this hanging over you head.”
Sherrie shook her head.
Carlson thought she looked a little vulnerable and a lot embarrassed. She nodded. “Let me get the files.”
