I wondered how she couldn’t know, if Mother and Mother Sariah hadn’t told her that all of Alber was abuzz about the hurried nuptials. “I don’t know, Mother Naomi. I’m an apostate,” I said. “You know that no one talks to me.”
At that, she put her hand to her lips. “Oh, of course,” she said with a brisk nod. Then she seemed to remember why I was there. She pointed toward the far corner of the room, where Jacob stood surrounded by a group of dour-looking men. His second day out of the hospital, he looked remarkably well. “There’s my husband-to-be,” she said, bustling with pride. “Right over there. Say what you want quickly, and leave. The sealing ceremony will start soon.”
At that moment, I saw my mother walk in the door with Mother Sariah. The two women spotted me almost immediately, and mother barreled toward me like a train picking up steam on a track. Intent on reaching me, she wove through those gathered. Conroy followed me as I moved away from Mother, toward the corner, and when Jacob saw me, he beamed as if he couldn’t have been happier.
“Gentlemen, I need to talk to this lady,” he said, his voice gravelly and barely above a whisper. Some of the bandage had been removed, but he had a gauze pad taped over the stitches. “Without Chief Jefferies, the tragedy that befell my family never would have been solved.”
The men scowled at me, unmoved by his testimonial, but they stepped back, and I walked through. As surreptitiously as possible, in one smooth movement, I pulled a pair of handcuffs out of my pocket. Before Jacob understood what was happening, I had him cuffed.
Michael and Reba walked over just in time to hear me say, “Jacob Johansson, you are under arrest for the murders of Anna, Benjamin, Sybille and Laurel Johansson. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court…”
As I finished reciting Miranda to Jacob, his mother shouted, “Lord, woman, have you lost your mind!”
From the center of the room, Naomi let loose the type of scream that warns of impending catastrophe. “Clara, no!” she bellowed. “I am one of your mothers, and I order you to stop this right now.”
For his part, Jacob appeared stunned. “What is this?” he asked. “Why are you doing this?”
“The charges are four counts of murder and one charge of conspiracy to commit murder, because you killed your family,” I explained. “And you had your best friend murder Myles Thompkins.”
Jacob’s eyes widened. He looked at me in wonder and shook his head. “I can’t… why would you think… this isn’t possible. Stop her, Father,” he said, turning to Michael. “Tell this woman that it’s not true.”
The old man’s frown dripped down both sides of his face nearly to the edge of his chin, and his eyebrows collapsed one into the other, but he didn’t utter a word of objection. I looked at him and shook my head. Now that’s a surprise. I thought about how Jacob’s father had supported Myles when his wife brought up his name, how he never offered any theories on the killings, and a thought formed: Michael Johansson suspected his son all along.
When his father didn’t jump to his defense, Jacob started to say something. “I didn’t—” Then he abruptly stopped.
“Didn’t what? Murder two women you were supposed to love, two children who loved and trusted you as their father.” I pointed at Jeremy clutched in Naomi’s arms. “If that baby had been old enough to talk and tell what happened, you would have murdered him, too.”
Jacob shook his head. “This is ridiculous.”
At that, I shouted, “Everyone back. We need to get through to the door!”
For a brief moment, no one moved, but then Conroy walked in front of me and the crowd split wide. When we passed my mother, she looked at me as if I were a stranger and then turned away.
Thirty-Nine
“What is this all about?” Jacob asked. He winced when he spoke. We were at the police station in interrogation room three, the farthest from the dispatch desk and waiting area, but, every once in a while, I heard Reba shouting, other times Naomi. I wasn’t sure which one was more upset about Jacob’s arrest, his mother or his bride-to-be. Noticeably absent was the voice of Jacob’s father.
“You want to tell me what you did, Jacob? Lay it all out there.