ON HIS WAY BACK TO DELPHI, Will clicked on the radio. He needed to clear his mind and detox after his interview with Jason Bell Purdy.
He hit the top-of-the-hour news. The Dow Jones and the NASDAQ had taken a beating.
In Mexico, a terrorist cell group had been discovered that had been planning attacks against the United States.
Billionaire Warren Mullburn—self-exiled in Switzerland while under investigation by U.S. authorities—had reached an agreement with the Department of Justice through his attorneys. Mullburn had agreed to give an extensive interview to Justice lawyers regarding what he knew about several high-profile Washington scandals—one involving the former Undersecretary of State—in exchange for a promise of “no extradition.” He would be free to travel in his continuing global economic pursuits.
Lastly, the long-anticipated national strike by airline pilots had finally taken place. The President and Congress were planning to quickly intervene in an effort to avert a transportation tie-up of nightmare proportions. As of news time, there were no flights in or out of any major commercial airports.
Will was back at the houseboat when the expected call from Mary Sue came in.
“Will,” Mary Sue began, “Joe told me in our phone call that the jailers had transferred you to some horrible place. Are you all right?”
“I am now—and I’m scrambling to get things pulled together for your trial. How’s Joshua?”
“I’m really worried. Joshua’s not doing well. We thought we had him stabilized, but his vital signs have been getting worse. We need a diagnosis so we know how to treat him.”
“How are you planning on doing that?”
“Dr. Bill, the family doctor I’ve been dealing with here in South Dakota, took some blood samples of his own. He indicated there were some abnormalities, but he can’t be definite yet. He knows a specialist in pediatric metabolic diseases, a Dr. Forrester. From England. He’s agreed to take a look at the blood samples and give his diagnosis. The only problem is, he’s down in the Bahamas right now doing mission work on Grand Bahama island.”
“How in the world are we going to get a blood sample down to a doctor in the Bahamas when every commercial airplane has been grounded?” Will asked urgently.
“I honestly don’t know.” Mary Sue’s voice was quivering. “I was just hoping you could figure something out. That’s why Andrew and I decided on a plan—I hope it’s not a waste of time.”
“What plan?” Will asked.
“Andrew has to start his teaching duties again in New Mexico. Since he’s going by car, he’s offered to drive to Georgia first and bring the blood sample. Dr. Bill had some reservations about it—it’s just not usual protocol to have private parties transporting blood samples. But in this case, because of the urgency of my trial date, and the need to get a diagnosis for Joshua, he made an exception. Andrew is already on his way down south to see you. He has the blood sample in a special refrigeration unit—it looks about the size of a mini-cooler.”
“Mary Sue,” Will said, “I’ll take the blood sample, but I can’t guarantee I can get it down to Dr. Forrester. I think we need some kind of a miracle.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been praying for,” she replied.
“Let me change gears here for a minute,” Will said. “It’s been a while since you and I have had a chance to talk about your case. We’ve got a trial in three days. Am I going to have you by my side at counsel table? I need you to testify clearly and convincingly about your innocence. If I don’t have you sitting next to me in trial, I don’t know whether it will be possible to win this custody fight.”
“I’ve talked to Andrew about that. And I hear what you are saying—you want me return to Delphi.”
“Yes. Not only for your case, but for Joshua’s safety as well.”
“All I can say is that I’m considering it. I’m praying about it. And it will probably be a last-minute decision.”
Will wanted to press the point further. It would be a mind-boggling effort to prove Mary Sue’s innocence if she herself refused to appear before the court and explain her side of the events. But he also needed answers to other questions.
“I went to visit Jason Bell Purdy today,” he announced.
“Jason? You saw Jason Purdy?” Mary Sue said, clearly stunned.
“Yes. And it looks to me like there’s quite a bit of information you never told me,” Will added. “Like the fact that you sought Purdy’s assistance at the early stages of this, when the Department of Social Services was beginning to hassle you about the way you were handling Joshua’s medical care.”
“That’s true. I didn’t tell you. And there are some reasons for that,” Mary Sue said passionately.
“Reasons? Like what?” Will asked in irritation.
“Joe was always jealous of Jason. I never wanted Joe to feel like he was a second choice, or second-class compared to Jason. And I certainly never wanted to do anything that would hurt Joe, or make him feel betrayed.”
“Betrayed? About what?”
“I didn’t want to tell you, because I didn’t want anyone else to know. And I was afraid that, somehow, since you were working closely with Joe on his case as well as with me, he might find out. I just wanted to avoid that if at all possible.”
“Find out what?” Will pressed. “Mary Sue, you’ve got to tell me everything.”
“I’m not sure I can. Not now. If you go into court and you somehow win this case, then it’s done and it’s over with. Joe doesn’t have to be hurt by finding out. That’s what I’m hoping for.”
“Mary Sue, I’m tired of you tying my hands!” Will replied forcefully. “You can’t expect me to defend you while handicapping me at the same time. You are cutting the legs out from under my ability to prove your innocence—and free your family from the grip of the government.”
There was only silence at the other end.
Will continued pressing in, trying to get his client to open up.
“Mary Sue, I want you to think about something. If you come down here voluntarily, if you come down and tell the truth—the whole truth behind everything that happened—that is the best chance you have of winning your case. On the other hand, if they end up finding you—if they end up capturing you while you are on the run—what kind of impression is that going to give the court? The judge will conclude you were running because you thought you were guilty. That’s the conclusion he will reach—and nothing you can then say, after being apprehended, will make any difference. Can’t you see what I’m trying to do for you?”
“Yes, I do see,” she said quietly, “but that doesn’t change my decision. I can’t commit to returning to Delphi right now. I’m taking this thing one hour at a time.”
Will tried to get answers from his client about the truck in their garage. He asked her about her access to brake fluid, and about Joshua’s cup that was found in the kitchen. But with each question, Mary Sue’s voice got quieter and more troubled. She told him she simply could not supply details right now. She was going to bank everything on Will’s ability to get the blood sample down to Dr. Forrester and get a favorable diagnosis that would not only prove that she had not poisoned her son, but would provide a key to his cure.
As Mary Sue explained that strategy, Will began to feel the threads—the threads he’d carefully begun to weave into a picture of the truth—starting to unravel.
“Mary Sue,” Will said slowly, “what you’re asking me to do is get a blood sample down to the Bahamas within twenty-four hours, when the entire country has been locked down in an airline strike. I just don’t know if I can do that.”
After Mary Sue hung up, Will immediately called his office. He put Hilda onto the task of contacting every private-charter air carrier that Will had ever used in the past. He instructed her to try to round up some pilot—anywhere—who would fly down to the Delphi area, pick up Will with the blood sample, and transport him to Grand Bahama island. He also asked her to check the medi-vac services in the Atlanta area.
Will tried to review his now voluminous file on Mary Sue’s case, but he was too distracted. He finally strode out onto the deck of the little houseboat. The sun was setting on the lake. Looking at it, he prayed for divine intervention—the means to make an impossible trip under impossible conditions and then return with proof of Mary Sue’s innocence in time for the trial.
Then the phone rang. Will picked it up expectantly.
“Will,” Hilda said, “it’s me. I’ve called all four of the private-charter air services you’ve used in the past. All of their pilots are tied up with other flights because of the strike. I then went to the Yellow Pages.”
“And?”
“I’m sorry—I had absolutely no luck at all. It appears that every private pilot around here has already been hired for other flights. I also tried the medical transports. They are taking only critical patients or organ transplants. Your blood sample doesn’t qualify.”
Will thanked Hilda, broke the connection, and then tossed the phone down on the table with a clatter. Frustration was now being added to disillusionment.
And then he had a thought. He wanted to call Fiona that night anyway. On her concert tours she took some private chartered flights. Maybe she knew someone.
He quickly dialed Fiona’s number, and she answered.
She was glad to be home from the recording session but missed him terribly, she explained. Now that she was back home in Baltimore, she certainly wished he could see her soon.
Will explained that the Fellowses’ custody trial was coming up in three days, and he would be locked into trial preparation until then. And then the trial itself would take several days. He simply did not know when they would see each other next.
Fiona’s tone changed as she heard the news.
“By the way,” Will asked, “do you know of any private pilots or charter air services I could use? I’ve got some evidence for the case that has to be flown down to the Bahamas immediately.”
“Not really,” Fiona answered. “The only one I remember is Gil Rowling. He flew that private charter for me to visit you in the hospital. But he said he was booked solid after he squeezed me in.”
“Thanks anyway,” Will told her.
“So how’s the case coming?” Fiona asked with an effort at enthusiasm.
“Long, difficult—no, make that impossible,” he replied.
“Any regrets about taking it?”
“This is probably the worst time to ask me that question,” Will remarked. “All the interviews I’ve been doing are turning up dead ends, so it seems—even my talks with my client. And then something really odd happened today.”
Fiona asked, “Can you tell me about it?”
“I hope you’ll understand,” Will said. “I visited an antebellum mansion down here—it reminded me so much of Generals’ Hill. And then I met someone. A young woman—and suddenly all of my thoughts about Audra came rushing back. It really took me by surprise.”
“Audra. There’s a name I haven’t heard you mention for a while. I thought God had brought you through a healing about her death. Maybe not,” Fiona commented quietly.
“It’s not that I haven’t gotten over her.” Will was struggling to explain. “It’s almost like someone contrived fake scenery in a movie set—recreating this memory of Audra. It really hit me out of nowhere.”
“Like I said,” Fiona continued, “perhaps you haven’t finished getting closure over Audra—or maybe it’s something else. Is there anything about this woman you need to tell me?”
“No—it’s nothing like that. I just think she was purposely trying to impersonate Audra when we were together…”
“Will, this whole thing sounds a little strange. And, honestly, more than a little hurtful. One minute you tell me you want to spend the rest of your life with me, and the next minute—this. I guess I’m having a hard time understanding you. When we talked at the hospital, everything seemed so clear. Now—I don’t know.”
After an awkward silence and a few unsuccessful attempts to repair things, Will said his goodbyes and hung up. And then he started wondering.
He asked himself how he could be so skilled at legal communication—but so lousy at interpersonal connection.