Last Look

“It left about an hour ago.”

“Any chance I could talk you into staying one more night? We could go out for a nice di

“I could be persuaded. A little celebration does seem to be in order.” She smiled. “I’d just feel better if there weren’t any loose ends.”

“What loose ends?” he asked.

“Who beat up Sha

“I doubt we’ll ever know now. I was hoping her diary would tell us, but it appears Sha

“Everyone co

She tugged at his arm.

“Come on, back in the car. I know how Sha

Dorsey stood in the doorway and knocked lightly on the wall.

“Mrs. Randall? Do you have a minute?” she asked.

“Well, Agent Collins is it? Or is it Ranieri?” The old woman stared at Dorsey from the opposite end of the sunporch where she sat enjoying the afternoon. She waved Dorsey closer. “You can come in, but I don’t have much to say to you.”

“There’s really only one more thing I have to talk about, Mrs. Randall,” Dorsey said as she walked closer.

“What’s that?”

“You must have known what he’d been doing to your granddaughters. How could you have kept silent all those years? How could you have permitted such a thing to go on?”

The old woman stared at Dorsey but did not respond.

“Sha

Martha Randall’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“Of course, he couldn’t afford to have the truth come out, you’d have known that. So even though you thought he killed your own granddaughter, you still kept your mouth shut. How long had you known the truth about what he’d done? Did he ever tell you the truth, that he drove her out of town?”

The woman would neither confirm not deny anything. Dorsey suspected she was wasting her time. She started toward the door.

“It was me,” the voice from behind her said.

“What?” Dorsey turned back.

“I did it.” Martha’s chin jutted out defiantly. “I slapped her. I don’t know how many times. I lost count. She was going to tell. I couldn’t let her do that. He was a good man. We had a good life. She was going to ruin it with her filthy lies.”

“So you beat her until she bled?”

“She fell against the side of the table in the kitchen. She was ru

“And when she disappeared and everyone thought Eric had killed her, what did you think happened?”

“Oh, I knew what happened,” she replied smugly.

It was Dorsey’s turn to stare.

“When she ran from here, well, I had to find her. I could not let her go home to Franklin. Not ever again, unless she promised never to repeat those ugly things again. But she wouldn’t.” Martha’s face went red, a trace of the anger she must have felt that night resurfacing. “She said she was telling her father and she didn’t care what I said. Well, I just couldn’t let that happen, now, could I?”

“So you drove her someplace?”

“To Calhoun. I gave her some money-”

“The cash from the carnival.” Remembering the envelope, Dorsey pulled it from her bag and held it up. “She’d saved the envelope you gave her, all those years. Her roommate found it.”

“I gave it to Sha

“She was fourteen years old.” Dorsey was almost speechless. “You turned a fourteen-year-old child, your own flesh and blood, out onto the street to protect a pedophile?”

“Don’t you dare use that word! My husband was a man of God!”

“You let a young man die for a murder he didn’t commit.”

“Sacrifices must sometimes be made for the greater good. Compared to the many souls my husband brought to the lord, what was one life?” Martha sniffed self-righteously.

“How could you have done such terrible things-”

“How could I let my family be destroyed?” the old woman snapped. “My husband would have gone to prison, we’d have lost everything. Our church, our standing in the community, the respect of our son…” She shook her head. “There was no way I could have permitted Franklin to hear such ugly lies about his father.”

“But you knew they weren’t lies and you protected him. Your son lost his daughter because of you. How do you think he’s going to feel when he hears all this now?”

“I suppose you’re going to tell him?” She laughed. “The daughter of the man in charge of the investigation back then? The man who got a big TV career out of it? Looking back, your father was the only one who profited from that mess, wouldn’t you say?” She waved a dismissive hand in Dorsey’s direction. “You don’t really think Franklin would take your word over mine, do you?”

“Maybe not, but there is this.” Dorsey reached into her pocket and pulled out the small tape recorder. She rewound for a second, then hit play.

“There was no way I could have permitted Franklin to hear such lies about his father…”

The woman froze in her seat for a moment, then laughed.

“I know you can’t just record a conversation without me giving permission,” the smug old woman told Dorsey. “I watch all the shows, you know. You can’t use that as any kind of evidence.”

“Sorry, but that’s not quite true,” Andrew said as he stepped into the room. “The law varies, state to state. Here in South Carolina, the law says that only one of the parties has to be aware of the recording.”

He turned to Dorsey. “You were aware that your recorder was on, weren’t you?”

“I sure was.”

“See?” He held up his hand and Dorsey tossed the recorder to him. He caught it midair. “No law broken here.”

“I haven’t broken any law,” the woman reminded him.

“Well, assault on your granddaughter, we’ll probably have to let that one go. The theft of the money from the church, I’m thinking we’ll have to let that one go, too. Statute of limitations has run out. Withholding information? Don’t know where the D.A. would stand on that, all these years later.” He nodded. “So there may be nothing you can be arrested for, that’s true. But facing your son, your daughter-in-law, the rest of your family”-he held up the tape-“well, now, that’s going to be a problem, don’t you think?”