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The ADA nodded and said, “I see what you’re saying, Your Honor. At this time the state would like to withdraw the charges.”
Judge Furtado banged her gavel and said, “The court is in recess.” Then she looked directly at the nervous ADA and said, “Get your case in order, Mr. Albanese.”
Sandy and I just sat there. Speechless. I was focused on the smirk on Dell Streeter’s face as he turned from his attorney to look at me.
He was free to go. Unlike most defendants, he wasn’t even going to process through the rear of the courtroom. He was talking to his attorney and getting ready to walk out the front door.
Sandy said, “This stinks.”
I said, “I know. But we can’t just give up.”
Sandy said, “No—I mean it smells like a payoff. We had things that tubby little ass could’ve mentioned. He could’ve explained that we had forensics being developed in the lab. DNA lab work takes time. This isn’t some stupid TV show. There’s no magic machine to analyze everything.”
All I could say was, “I know.”
I watched helplessly as Dell Streeter hugged the attorney and passed through the low swinging gate into the gallery.
He strutted right up to us and said, “Gonna take a lot more than that to stop me. I heard there might be an investigation into how I was treated.”
I said, “If I were you, I’d worry about other investigations.”
Streeter chuckled. “I sure hope that little scurvy cripple girl doesn’t fall down and hurt herself. I guess it might save us some tax dollars. She’s never going to contribute to society anyway.” He winked and then strolled right out the front door of the courtroom.
I had a serious urge to pull my pistol and put a bullet in the back of his head. It might even have been worth it.
Part Four
Chapter 67
Three days after the nasty court scene, life was back to normal at Mildew Manor—or, as we now called it, the Ghost House. The case against Dell Streeter wasn’t closed. It would move ahead again as the police gathered more information. If I thought I could add anything, I intended to help. I made that clear to Sandy.
On this bright, beautiful Sunday morning, Mary Catherine and I had woken before anyone else. As the kids got older, I found that happening more and more. We decided to make use of the beautiful weather and spectacular scenery and walk along our favorite path by the lake.
Mary Catherine knew her nature pretty well and spotted a blue jay. Then she explained the difference between a blackbird and a crow. When a fish jumped, she was quick to point out that it was a trout.
The morning was perfect as I held her hand and just strolled along. She made me feel alive and connected. It was hard to explain, considering how much my life had changed in the past decade. A few years ago, there was no way I could’ve predicted that I’d be walking with this beautiful Irish girl along a serene lake in Maine and have a huge horde of kids waiting for me. And that I would love every minute of it.
I happily listened as Mary Catherine told me about her camping trips as a child in Ireland. I guess, like most Americans, I didn’t think about the Irish, or any Europeans, going on camping trips. For some reason it felt uniquely American to me. But her stories were similar to all the stories I had heard about camping. Leaky tents, falling in icy rivers, raccoons stealing your food. Somehow I didn’t miss the fact that I had never camped as a child.
Then she stopped and took my other hand as well. We were facing each other with the perfect lake and forest background surrounding us. There was something on her mind.
Mary Catherine said, “No pressure, Michael. I’m not one of those women. But I want to get to the point, and I do have a question.”
I stared at her, not sure if it was wise for me to say anything at all. Better to let it just unfold.
“Michael, do we have a future? A real future together?”
“This isn’t about Sandy Coles, is it?”
“No, Michael. Not in the slightest. This is about us. About the chances of our spending our lives together. I love you. I know you love me. But life is complicated. No one knows exactly how other people see the future. You don’t have to answer me this second. I just wanted you to know what I’ve been thinking about.”
Now I knew, and it made me nervous. I don’t know why, but the idea of a long-term serious commitment scared me. Mary Catherine was perfect in every way. It was me. It was my shortcomings that kept me from answering her.
Whatever the reason, I stayed silent. I was an idiot and instantly regretted it.
Mary Catherine was right. Life really is complicated.
Chapter 68
