Lizzie
“Henry left last night,” I said brightly. I was carrying a basket of linen, freshly stripped from Henry’s bed. Calvin liked to sleep in on Saturdays, then usually went into the office for a few hours to catch up on some paperwork while the place was quiet. By the time he emerged from his room, I’d torn through Henry’s apartment and stripped the place down to its bones. I tore Henry’s notes up into tiny pieces and flushed them down the toilet. The rest of his bullets and a tin of red paint I found in his closet were in a cardboard box in my laundry, along with Sofie Rhodes’s photographs, tucked safely in an envelope I’d already stamped and addressed to her home.
There was nothing I could do about the gun, since Henry wasn’t sure where he’d dropped it. I just had to hope that since he’d bought it months ago and likely in another city, the police couldn’t trace it back to him.
“He left last night?” Calvin repeated, frowning. “He didn’t even say goodbye?”
“He had a falling-out with Walt at the lumberyard,” I said, lying on the fly and hating every second of it. I’d never lied to Cal before. “But Henry heard about a job up north. He just had to be there to start today. So I encouraged him to go.”
“You were so worried about him...” Cal said, bewildered. “We were going to talk to him about seeing a doctor today. You just let him leave instead?”
“I figured it was best if he got out of Huntsville.”
“How did he even hear about this job?” Calvin said, peering at me. “I didn’t hear the phone ring last night.”
“You do sleep so deeply,” I pointed out. Then I flushed and avoided his gaze, thinking about that awkward middle-of-the-night encounter we’d had on Thursday. I stared at a knot in the floorboards and laughed nervously as I added, “Anyway, he called an old friend late to catch up and that’s when he learned about the job.”
I felt so many things, and not all of them made sense. I was ashamed and deeply upset for the Rhodes family—something I thought I’d never feel. I was so anxious I felt ill. I was confused. Henry was in trouble, and my instincts were to protect him. That was earnest—a pure expression of my love. But as my brother drove away, I was already wondering if I’d done the right thing.
“I’m worried about him. And more than a little hurt that he didn’t say goodbye this time,” Calvin admitted.
“He didn’t want to wake you,” I said. There was a rough edge to my voice, and I hoped that Calvin heard it as sadness that Henry was gone again. He offered me a sympathetic smile, then downed the last of his coffee.
“Do you want me to stay home today?” he offered. “I could help you in the garden?”
“It’s going to be so hot,” I said, my throat tight. “I’ll probably just wash the linen and maybe read a book. You should go.”
I knew he’d be back, probably sooner rather than later because it wouldn’t take long for word to reach the base about what had happened. My husband would inevitably come rushing home with questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
I hadn’t let myself think that far ahead. I had to go to the mailbox to send the photos back to Sofie Rhodes, and then I had to find a safe place far from my house so I could dispose of the bullets and the tin of red paint.
As soon as Cal’s car left, I ran to the laundry room and picked up the box of things from Henry’s room, intending to rush to my car to dispose of it all. But as I reached my door, I heard an engine on the street. Was Cal returning already?
No. It was worse.
A police car pulled into the driveway and parked behind my car. Panicking, I dropped the box to the floor and shoved it beneath a lamp table in the corner of my living room. The lace table square on the table hung only a few inches over the edges. The box was visible, but surely it wouldn’t arouse suspicion even if the officers did notice it.
Then I straightened my shoulders, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
I showed Detective Johnson and his partner, Detective Tucker, inside and invited them to take a seat. I offered them coffee, which they declined. I dropped into my armchair when I realized my nervous hovering was probably making me look guilty. When I caught myself picking at the skin around my fingernails, I jammed my hands under my thighs. I resisted a bizarre urge to keep looking toward the box in the corner of the room.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your morning,” Detective Johnson said. I remembered him from his previous visit. He looked uncomfortable this time. Beneath my thighs, my fingers twitched. “I have some terrible news, Mrs. Miller. Jürgen Rhodes was shot this morning.”
“Shot?” I gasped, feigning shock. “Is he—”
“He’s alive,” Tucker said. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t look good.”
If Rhodes did survive, it might mean all manner of complications for Henry—but I couldn’t bring myself to hope for any other outcome. Even if Jürgen Rhodes did have skeletons in his closet, I couldn’t wish death on the man.
“We’ve taken Mrs. Rhodes in for questioning, ma’am,” Detective Tucker said. I thought I’d misheard them for a minute. I blinked.
“Did you say Mrs. Rhodes—Sofie Rhodes?” My hands began to tingle. I was conscious of the thump of my heartbeat against my chest. I thought things were as bad as they could possibly be, but somehow, this was so much worse. My gaze kept drifting across the room, toward the box. I dragged my eyes back to Detective Tucker.
“We believe there was some kind of domestic altercation that led to the shooting,” Tucker told me.
“It’s shocking, I know,” Johnson said sympathetically. “You said Mr. Miller is at the base?” I nodded mutely. “And your brother?”
“He left for a new job up north,” I said. “Yesterday.”
“Can you tell us where he is? How might we contact him?”
I shook my head. This answer, at least, I’d planned.
“He tends to drift around—but he’ll write me once he finds a place to stay.”
I kept thinking about the Sofie Rhodes in those photos. There had been so much hope in her eyes. Then I thought about her children. I was certain she only had two with her at that party, but the photos suggested three.
Children in a strange country—they didn’t even speak English. Their father might die. Their mother might go to jail—or worse, if she were convicted of murder. Maybe, if Henry had been arrested, he could have used an insanity defense, but Sofie Rhodes would have no such option. She was a woman—maybe that would help? Jürgen Rhodes likely earned an excellent salary. Even if he didn’t survive, they might have enough savings to fund her defense and maybe—
I froze. Was I really trying to convince myself to let an innocent woman face the death penalty for something I knew she didn’t do?
I glanced at the box beneath the lamp table for a split second, then looked back to Tucker. He leaned forward, staring at me with visible concern.
“Mrs. Miller, we know this has been a terrible shock. Would you like us to give you a moment? We do have a few questions we’d like to ask you.”
“Me?”
“Sofie Rhodes told us a fanciful tale about your brother harassing them,” Johnson said, his tone suggesting he was embarrassed to even repeat the accusation. “She’s adamant that Henry was lying about the night he saw her husband in your home. To be truthful, Mrs. Miller, I don’t put much stock in what those Germans do or don’t say. But I figured we’d come and have a chat with you anyway, just to do our due diligence.”
I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. There had to be a way to fix this. I couldn’t do anything to undo what Henry had already done, but there had to be a way to save him from prison, to save Sofie Rhodes for her children...
Maybe I sat there a moment too long, because when I opened my eyes, both officers were staring at me, their gazes narrow.
“Mrs. Miller?” Tucker said slowly. “Is there anything you want to tell us?”
For the first time in years, I thought about my mother and the conversation she and I shared beneath the stars about Henry and Daddy, and strong minds and weaker spirits.
You get the brain you’re given, and it seems to me that those of us who are strong have an obligation to care for others when they aren’t.
My gaze drifted again to the box of evidence in the corner of the room.
I had to protect Henry. I had to help Sofie Rhodes.
I let my gaze linger on the box—long enough that the silence stretched.
After a moment, Johnson rose and walked across the room to the lamp table. He lifted the box up onto the table, peered inside, then looked at me in disbelief.
“Care to explain all this, Mrs. Miller?” he said.
“No,” I whispered hoarsely. “No, I don’t think I will.”
The interrogation room was small, with stark white walls and a large clock over the door. I guessed I’d need a lawyer but I didn’t know what I’d say to him, so I hadn’t asked to call one. Johnson and Tucker were throwing rapid-fire questions at me. I knew all of the answers, but I hadn’t said a word since we arrived at the station.
I felt Mother’s memory so strongly in that room. It was like she was trying to tell me something. I just couldn’t catch it with all of the noise and the guilt and the fear and the confusion.
“Lizzie,” Tucker said, his tone suddenly softening. “May I call you that?” I nodded silently. “The bullets in that box match the type of bullets in the gun we found in Jürgen Rhodes’ backyard. You have the photographs Sofie Rhodes says were stolen from her bedroom. You have a tin of paint that might plausibly have been used to harass those Germans up on Saukeraut Hill. We haven’t charged you yet because we thought you might have some explanation for all of this, but you won’t even try to help us out here. Surely you can see this looks bad?”
“Calvin is out there in the foyer,” Johnson added. “He’s real upset, Lizzie. Why don’t you tell us what happened this morning with Rhodes, and then we’ll let you see him?”
I wanted to make my brother okay but I couldn’t. I wanted to make Calvin happy but I couldn’t. I just wanted to undo what had happened to Jürgen Rhodes—but I couldn’t. I wanted to help Sofie Rhodes, who, in this instance at least, was an innocent mother to innocent children.
I just wanted to make everything better for everyone around me.
I could hear my breathing echoing in that little room—shallow pants that betrayed my panic. The only way forward seemed to be for me to confess to Henry’s crime, but Calvin would see right through that.
“We might take a break,” Tucker sighed, and the two men pushed back their chairs and left me alone.
I stared up at the clock on the wall. It was almost 10:00 a.m., and the second hand kept ticking, even though it felt that time had stopped.