Free Life Penalty by Joy Fielding Page A

frightened, betrayed alarm. “What are you talking about?” Her voice was filled with a quiet intensity Gail had never heard in it before.
    “Nothing,” Gail said, shaking her head.
    ‘“Don’t shake me away,” her mother demanded. “Don’t do anything stupid, Gail,” she cried. “This family has had enough tragedy. Don’t give us any more.” Her shoulders started to shake and then heave, and soon it was Gail who sat with her arms around her mother.
    “I won’t do anything foolish, Mom, I promise you I won’t. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying half the time.”
    “You were talking like you were going to kill yourself,” her mother sobbed.
    “Just talk,” Gail told her, “crazy talk. I don’t have theguts to do something like that.” She laughed, knowing she shouldn’t have. “I don’t have the gun,” she said. “Sorry, I’m talking crazy again.”
    Her mother pulled away from Gail’s arms. “Gail, maybe you should see a doctor. Laura called before, she gave me the name of a man she says—”
    “A psychiatrist?”
    “Yes. She thought it might do you and Jack good to get some professional help.”
    “He’ll tell me I had a mixed-up childhood and a crazy mother,” Gail said gently. “‘I already know that. “Her mother’s face remained unmoved. “Mom, I don’t need a psychiatrist. I know what’s the matter with me, and I know that I have to deal with it in my own way. It’s just going to take time.”
    “He could help you deal with it. Laura also gave me the name of a group she says it might be wise for you to contact …”
    Gail smiled. “Laura’s a good friend. She wants so badly to help.”
    “Then let her. Please, Gail, let her. Call these people.”
    “Who are they?” Gail asked.
    “I wrote the name down on a piece of paper. It’s in the kitchen. Something like Families of Victims of Violent Crimes, some organization where the families get together and try to help each other.”
    “I’ve never been one for groups, Mom,” Gail said, wishing now that she had been. “I don’t see how they could help.”
    “Could it hurt?”
    Gail shook her head. “I don’t know. I guess not.”
    “I’m afraid for you,” her mother cried, putting her hand to her lips.
    ‘“Don’t be afraid,” Gail sighed. “I’ll be all right. I just need some time.”
    “Will you give yourself that time?”
    The phone rang, and the question hung suspended in the air between them as Gail reached over automatically to pick it up. “Hello?”
    “Gail,” Lieutenant Cole’s voice was soft, reassuring. “How are you?”
    “Fine,” Gail replied automatically. “It’s Lieutenant Cole,” she whispered to her mother, who leaned forward anxiously. “Everything’s more or less back in its proper place,” she said. Except my life, she thought.
    “About those two men you pointed out at the church …”
    “Yes?”
    “The dark-haired man is Joel Kramer. His daughter Sally is apparently one of your piano students.” Gail nodded into the phone without speaking.
    “He came out of respect. His alibi is airtight.”
    “And the other man?”
    “Christopher Layton, a fifth-grade teacher at Cindy’s school. We’ve checked him too. He’s okay.”
    “So, there’s nothing,” Gail said.
    “Nothing
yet,”
the lieutenant emphasized. “But it’s still early and we’re not giving up.”
    “You’ll keep me posted?” It was half question, half statement.
    “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
    Gail replaced the receiver and looked at her mother. “He’ll call me tomorrow,” she said.

SEVEN
    “T ime to wake up, sweetie,” Gail said gently.
    Jennifer twisted around in her bed and stared up at her mother. “I’m not asleep,” she told her.
    “Neither am I,” Carol said from the daybed at the other side of the room, “so you don’t have to whisper.”
    Gail walked to the rose-colored curtains and pulled them open, letting the bright, summery day inside. “Are you