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The flight from Louisville was my favorite kind: uneventful. I'd bought a bagel at the airport hoping it would ease my morning sickness. I wasn’t sure if the queasiness was due to my pregnancy or simply my nervousness about seeing Trey and dealing with the details of Charlie Roberts’s assault.
Charlie was charged with breaking and entering, burglary, and felony assault. My understanding was that the C.A. was willing to go for attempted murder, and add aggravated menacing, conspiracy to commit fraud, and several other charges relating to his involvement in the trust fund depending upon what Charlie was willing to admit.
The plane landed on time at Tri-Cities Regional Airport in Blountville, Tennessee. I walked through the gate area and past the security checkpoint. I heard Trey before I saw him.
“Tylar, over here.” I turned and saw him standing next to the baggage claim area. He was dressed casually in dark brown trousers and a tan sweater that accentuated his muscular arms and flat, taught belly. I had a white oxford shirt on underneath the sweater jacket. I had light gray tights on with short dress boots. I saw Trey’s eyes flicker over me almost appreciatively. “You look great,” he said, smiling, holding me from him so that his eyes could sweep over me once again.
“You, too,” I replied, smiling, suddenly feeling kind of shy.
“C’mon,” he took my hand, “I’m parked right out front.”
I thought there would be a strained silence between us during the ride from the airport to Abingdon, but initially, that wasn't the case. Trey wanted to know all about the house and what I'd done with it so far. He asked if I'd spoken with any of my neighbors to see if they had heard anything about my mother. I had not and told him as much.
“I don’t get it Tylar, you puzzle me.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t understand why you have no desire to seek justice for what your mother has done to you.”
I considered this. “Which one of her crimes should I seek justice against, Trey? When I was 11 and she slept with my best friend’s dad in her bedroom and I heard everything? When she allowed Charlie Roberts to wander into my bedroom and assault me? How about when she screwed my boyfriend on my prom night? What about the lifelong lie about my father being married to her and then leaving her for someone else? Her stealing my trust money was minor compared to the years of her neglect, duplicity, and lack of love or compassion she had for her own child. What kind of justice will take those scars away?”
Trey immediately pulled the car over to the side of the road and parked. He unfastened his seat belt and leaned over to me, taking me into his arms. A flood of tears to ran down my face. He took my face in his hands and kissed my tears away. His mouth found mine and in an instant our lips met with the hunger and passion that was so familiar to me. I lost myself in his kiss.
“Oh Tylar,” he moaned, continuing to press kisses on my lips, my face, and my throat, “I've missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you too, Trey,” I buried my face in his neck.
“Why did you leave me, Tylar?” he asked, his voice husky.
“I couldn’t be what you wanted me to be Trey. I didn’t like having an agreement that prevented us from loving.”
“But you slept with Mark and claimed no love between the two of you,” he argued, anger in his voice.
I suddenly filled with rage. There were a hundred different things that he could have said in response to why I'd left him; to accuse me of sleeping with Mark in a loveless relationship was simply unacceptable.
“And now,” he continued, still irritated and totally oblivious to my anger, “you've saddled yourself with his brat for the rest of your life.”
I pushed him away, too angry to speak. I accepted that he didn’t know the truth and, had he known, would likely not have referred to the child I was carrying as a “brat,” but his insensitivity to the situation in general was deplorable. A look of surprise crossed his face as I pushed him away.
“Let’s go, Trey, I need to get to Abingdon."
The temperature in the car immediately dropped several degrees. Trey straightened his sweater, put the car in gear, and sped back out onto the highway. We drove in chilly silence the rest of the way. Trey pulled up to the curb in front of the courthouse and got out. He opened the passenger side door and helped me out onto the sidewalk.
“Text me when you're ready to be picked up. I'll send a limo for you. Good luck, Tylar.” With that he circled back behind his car, got into the driver seat, and sped off.
Once inside the courthouse, I went to over to the witness check-in window. I told the officer that I was expected for a 10 a.m. meeting with someone from the CA’s office. He checked a daily roster sheet for my name.
“You’re a little early, Ms. Preston. Please have a seat and someone will call you.”
Finally my name was called out from a uniformed officer standing with a door that opened out into the waiting area. I headed to the doorway and he stood aside to let me through.
“This way please,” he directed, leading me to a conference room off of the hallway.
“Good morning, Ms. Preston. I’m Beth Denniston, deputy C.A. with Washington County,” a woman said, holding her hand out to me. I shook her hand. “Do you remember Detective Ryan?” she asked. I nodded, shaking his hand as well.
“What we're going to do this morning, Ms. Preston, is to review the statement you provided to the detectives on October 5thof this year, as well as go over some of the additional evidence that's been provided to our office subsequent to October 5th, okay?”
“Yes,” I replied nervously.
