Chapter 43

When Debbie opened the door to Cynthia, she turned white - so white that Cynthia wondered what was going on to make Debbie so fearful.

“What is it? Why are you here?” she asked quickly.

“I’m afraid there’s some bad news, Debbie. Your husband has been arrested.”

“What do you mean? He’s never done anything wrong. Why would he be arrested? I don’t understand.”

“No, I wouldn’t expect you to. But it’s quite a long story, Debbie.” She motioned Debbie to sit at the kitchen table, and sat opposite her. Jeff has committed several murders.”

“No. No he has not. He’s a kind, gentle person. He’s incapable of murder. You’re not thinking he murdered his own mother, are you?”

“No, we believe that was an accident. Jeff has committed all of the orchestra murders, and we stopped him just as he was preparing to commit the next two. He was at his mother’s house.”

Cynthia went on to explain Jeff’s history to Debbie, and could sense the shock vibrating throughout her body. Her hands were shaking. When Cynthia looked more closely, she could see that Debbie was trembling all over. Debbie had never been suspicious that her husband had anything to do with the orchestra murders, and the other peripheral murders. She was equally shocked to hear about Jeff’s trip to England and his connection to Alina’s death - and that he had been Genevieve’s adopted son and never said a word to her about it.

“How could this be the man I married? The man I love? The man who was supposed to be the father of my babies?” At that moment, Debbie felt a chill run through her body, starting from the top of her head and passing like a wave of ice, right through her, as she realized that she had just lost both the men that she had loved. She needed Simon and she had ended his life. She had been all wrong about everything. She had chosen Jeff, the murderer, instead of Simon, who had been the love of her life. Now she had no idea who Jeff really was, and she was alone in the world. She groaned, audibly, and Cynthia looked her in the eyes. Something wasn’t right. What else was going on inside her? “Would you like to see him?” she asked.

“I think so. I think he needs to explain this to me. But I would like to be alone for a while. May I come to the station later today?”

“Of course,” Cynthia said. “I’m sorry, Debbie. I’m sure this is a horrible shock for you.”

“Yes, it is,” Debbie said, walking her to the door and locking it after her. She had no idea how to react to all this news. Call her mother? Call Catherine? Wait for them to hear about it on the news?

Debbie thought about going to the Roundhouse to see Jeff, but felt too weak to move.

She couldn’t lift her arms; she was unable to put one foot in front of the other. Her head was pounding. She could only think of the biggest mistake of her life - eliminating Simon. “I’m sorry, Simon. I’m so sorry,” she said aloud. “I’ll always love you.” She managed to walk thirty feet back to her bed, where she collapsed. She turned on the television, thinking she might watch something to get her mind off her problems. She was in a state of shock, unable to focus, and feeling her thoughts jumbling together.

At 6:40, she was startled into reality by a “Breaking News” banner flashing on the screen. The news conference was beginning. She saw Cynthia seated at a table, along with several others she didn’t recognize, all with microphones in front of them, and cameras flashing at a furious pace. Debbie listened as Cynthia identified Jefferson Sadlers as the murderer. Then Debbie shouted, “No, it’s not true,” and put a pillow over her head and began to cry. It felt strange to cry again - the last time had been her controlled crying at Genevieve’s funeral. This time there was no control. Her own wailing, along with the pillow over her ears, drowned out the sound of the television.

She was startled by a phone call from her mother. “Oh darling, I’ve just heard the news. How horrible for you - for all of us. That detective - Cynthia somebody - she spoke about Jeff and his biological parents, and their theories about why he killed all those musicians in the orchestra. We’re coming over, sweetheart. Your father and I will be there in an hour.”

“No, mother. Don’t. Please don’t. I’m resting for a while. Then I need to go to the station to see Jeff. I’ll call you later.”

She put the phone down and decided there was no way she could pull herself together enough to visit Jeff in the Roundhouse. She walked slowly to her dresser, opened the drawer and pulled out the bottle of Phenobarbital tablets. “Can I do this?” she asked aloud. “I could be with Simon.” She poured as many as she could fit in her hand and brought them up to her mouth, opening her mouth. She realized she needed a glass of water and moved toward the bedroom door. Suddenly, she saw Genevieve standing in front of her. The vision faded quickly, but frightened her. “Maybe I wouldn’t be with Simon. Maybe I would be with Genevieve,” she said. She returned to her dresser and put the pills back in the bottle, except for one that she took quickly.

She sat down on the bed, realizing she had been within a few seconds of taking her own life. Debbie felt strangely empty, without any emotions at all, as if the icy wave and her crying had joined forces to take away her ability to feel anything.

She would go to see Jeff in the morning. After all his horrible deeds, he could just wait until she decided to visit him.

She idly wondered if all the money would be hers, with Jeff now in jail. The money... and the house. That was her final thought as the pill took effect and she fell asleep. She dreamt of Simon, and was making love to him in a place they had never been--an island with palm trees. They were on the beach, and she told him she loved him more than anyone in the world. In her dream she had left Jeff and was living with Simon. He was kissing her, just as Debbie was startled awake by the phone ringing early in the morning. It was a call from the police notifying her that Jeff had been transferred to a prison on State Road.

She wrote down the address, said goodbye, hung up the phone, and then took it off the hook. She was surprised she hadn’t heard from Catherine the previous night, and was sure hers would be the next call. She threw on a silk robe, went into the kitchen, and made coffee. Then she ate two donuts that Jeff had bought a couple of days earlier. They were very stale but that didn’t stop her. “Who cares about my figure now,” she mumbled, putting cream and sugar into her coffee, a deliberate switch from skim milk and artificial sweetener. Then Debbie crawled back into bed, shaken from her dream and her reality. Life hardly seemed worth living, she thought. Maybe she should have taken the pills, but the moment had passed.

She switched on the TV, only to discover that the first news item following a long piece on Jeff and the murders was a short piece on the ‘apparent suicide’ of local artist Simon Edwards, discovered dead in his bed by a landlord trying to recover the rent. His death was ‘under investigation.’ Debbie was relieved to see that it was small news compared to Jeff’s murders. Still, she couldn’t believe that she had been married to a murderer the whole time. She would have to divorce Jeff. How would it look if she didn’t? She closed her eyes and fell asleep again, hoping to return to the island in her dream, but finding the succeeding dreams much bleaker. One of Genevieve tumbling down the stairs, and staring up at her from the bottom, her eyes open wide. “You did this to me. You will pay for it. Hell is waiting for you.” Another in which Simon, in his own bed, awoke from his deathly sleep and attempted to strangle her. She screamed aloud. After the second dream, Debbie could not sleep any longer. “I’m a murderer too,” she said, thinking that she and Jeff were a better match than they had realized. If he ever discovered that she had caused Genevieve’s death, she wondered how he would react.

Around noon, Debbie took a shower and got dressed. She considered what to wear for her first visit to a prison, opting for a conservative pair of black slacks and a loose-fitting pale blue blouse, with a black jacket over it. She called for a taxi, and when she opened the front door of the building, she was approached by three photographers and a television reporter, who stuck a microphone in her face, asking, “Would you like to comment on your husband’s arrest?”

“Leave me alone. I’m going to visit him now. Just go away... please.” She stepped into the taxi without any further problem. She hoped they would be gone when she returned home.

The short ride to the prison seemed endless to Debbie. She was nervous, and she was trying to decide whether to show Jeff her love and support, or her anger. She believed he would be in prison for the rest of his life - maybe even get the death penalty, which was on the books in Pennsylvania but had not been applied in years. What would happen to the rest of her life? Would she find another man - would she even care? Yes, Debbie thought. She would have to find another man. She could not live the rest of her life without sex, even if she could do without love. There would never be another Simon. Why wasn’t I smart enough to see it?

Jeff’s prison was fifteen minutes up Route 95 in good traffic, and Debbie kept looking at her watch during the taxi ride. She was increasingly agitated as she got out of the cab in front of the Curran-Fromhold Correctional Facility on State Road, and went in through the visitors’ entrance. She felt embarrassed as she identified herself and asked to see her husband. She had to leave her ID with the uniformed officer at the desk, and another officer escorted her to the visitors’ room where she was allowed to enter and meet with Jeff.

Debbie was shocked to see Jeff wearing a prison suit, and thought how unbecoming it was for a man of his means.

“I’m horrified by what you’ve done,” she said. “I love you and will get you the best lawyer possible, but I think you should have asked for help before killing all those people.”

“I know that,” Jeff said. “My whole life, I’ve felt so empty - until I met you. But by that point, the plans were already in place. There was no turning back. My biological parents had to pay for what they did to me, and the others had to help. I’m sorry I couldn’t finish the entire project. I’m sorry for dragging you into all this,” Jeff added. “I just hope you will not abandon me. I need you now, more than ever.”

“They were innocent people, Jeff, all of them. How could you do something so evil? How can you be a murderer? How could you disgrace us this way? What’s to become of us now?” she asked. Debbie had decided not to act in an angry way. She felt strangely closer to him now, even though she would definitely divorce him if he was convicted and jailed. Isn’t it ironic that both of us have become murderers, she thought? Debbie knew that she would never be caught, so it was up to her to offer her full support to Jeff through the process of his trial. Perhaps he could plead temporary insanity...or permanent insanity, and go to a mental institution. She was angry she hadn’t known the full story of his adoption. If he had spoken to her, maybe she could have helped him. Of course she still loved him, and if he found a way to get out in a couple of years, she might just stick it out.

“I need to know how you did all this, Jeff. I believed I knew who you were, what kind of person you were.”

“This doesn’t change who I am, Debbie. It’s just something I needed to take care of, to make things right in my life. You must know that I’m basically a good person.”

Debbie saw the guard approaching and it meant her hour was up. She knew their conversation could be heard by the guards, but she didn’t really care.

Debbie got up to leave and walked around to the other side of the table, where they had been seated in chairs facing each other. She leaned over and kissed him quickly on the lips. “I’ll come tomorrow. I’ll get an attorney for you,” she said, turning to leave. Jeff had called his own attorney when he was arrested, but knew he would need someone high profile.

Debbie’s first visit to prison wasn’t nearly as difficult as she had anticipated. Now she would return home, make some phone calls, get a new attorney for Jeff, and call her parents. She might even let them come to visit her. The most annoying thing, Debbie thought, was the fact that her sister was sure to feel superior. Debbie would avoid talking to her as long as she could. The same with Catherine, although she really missed her and wished she could talk to her now. As she left the prison she had no idea how much she would be needing a friend.