Chicks, Man

“I won’t be supporting anyone if he’s dead. And they made that very clear. If I talk, they’ll kill my only living son.”

My anger gets the best of me. How does someone think they can control someone’s life? Have so much power, they chose who lives or dies? Without thinking, I grab Clara by the shoulders, shaking her until her eyes lock on mine. “I won’t let that happen. I promise you.”

“The day the news broke of the explosion…” She pauses, as if the reel of that horrific day begins to replay in her head. “That morning…I’d been so busy in the kitchen. Paul and Joey were off to work. And Gregory…I—just thought he was in his room. I didn’t even think to check—” She stops, hiding her weeping face in her hands. I give her a moment, until she composes herself enough to continue. “I’d been baking all morning for Alba’s baby shower.”

“Alba Winters from the bookstore?” She confirms with a single nod. “Wait, she was pregnant? It didn’t mention that in the report.”

“They left out a lot in the news. A pregnant wife, losing her husband and son. Unable to cope, commits suicide. She was so strong. But a moment of weakness, and she was just gone…” I hold her as her body trembles and she cries for her friend, community, and the burden she still bears for being a survivor.

When she pulls herself together once again, she continues. “I’m sorry. This is very hard for me.” She wipes at her soaked cheeks, taking a deep breath for strength. “Paul wanted to go to the police the moment he realized what caused the explosion. He told Mr. Miller over and over the land was uninhabitable. Something like this had been inevitable. But Mr. Miller shut him down at every angle. The threats started shortly after, and the scare tactics worked. Showing up at all times of the night. Rocks being thrown through our front window. He even had his son stalking us.”

“His son? Why?”

“Mr. Miller claimed innocence the whole time. In his statement, he argued my husband signed off on those contracts willingly. There was no duress involved, and clearly my husband was only trying to cover himself. We’d gone to the police about the threats and stalking, but they didn’t do anything. Couldn’t. Mr. Miller had an alibi for every situation. Of course he did since his son was doing all his bidding. He would sit at the hospital, find ways into Gregory’s room. When we showed up, he’d be there sitting by his side. But he wasn’t there as a support system. Every time, he would be standing next to his defibrillator, as if he were seconds from pulling the plug.”

“Did you ever go to the police about him?” I ask.

“Again, we tried. But they didn’t believe us. His son had an outstanding record. No one would believe he was doing his father’s dirty work or had any ill intentions.”

“The guilt got to Paul. He told me he had to go turn himself in and confess his wrongdoings. It was weighing too heavy on his shoulders. The lost lives of all those people. His own son. He couldn’t live with himself. The morning he was set to go to the police station, I found him in the garage—apparent suicide.” Her voice cracks, and a guttural sound of agony slices into me. “He was hanging there. Pale. His eyes...”

I fight my own emotions, feeling the muscles in my chin start to tremble. “I’m so sorry, Clara.” Because I am.

A few staggered breaths, and she goes on. “The letter was typed. Didn’t sound like him at all. That’s how I knew.”

I rub her back, hoping to offer her any sort of support. “Clara, did anyone see anything that night? That morning? Anything off that could be a clue to help us? Anything you didn’t add in your original report?”

“Maribel from across the street said a car woke her up in the middle of the night. She thought it was strange being so late. When she peeked out the window, she saw a young man wearing a hoodie running across the street.”

I don’t recall this information being in any of the files I studied. “Why didn’t you ever mention this?”

“Because by the time Maribel realized what she’d seen, it had spooked her. She packed up and moved to Alabama with her sister. She wouldn’t be of help to the case, so it didn’t matter.”

It all matters. Every single detail. “Do you have any idea who it could have been?”

She pulls her head from her hands, her eyes beaming with confidence as she answers me. “It was Benjamin Miller’s son.

By the time I exit Clara’s home, the sun is setting. I throw myself into my car, my heart racing. This is it. This can save the case. As I pull back onto Main Street, I shuffle through my purse for my phone. I dial Levi’s number, but it instantly goes to voicemail. “Oh, come on!” I impatiently wait for the voice message until the beep sounds. “Levi, I need you to call me back the second you get this.” A notification dings on my phone, telling me my battery is low. “Oh, come on!” Go figure I left my charger in Levi’s car. I utilize my remaining phone life and dial the one person I can trust to help me: Professor Fischer. He always mentioned his connections with the court system judges, from civil to supreme. It may be a longshot, but at this point, what do I have to lose? Twenty minutes and a three-way call to the supreme court judge later, thanks to Professor Fischer, I’m being granted a continuance on the Miller case.