06-10-2026, 02:23 PM
OCTOBER 10, 2005 -- MONDAY - 2 P.M.
“Mrs. Donnally?”
“Mr. Maitland. Did you have a chance to talk to my husband? And what’s your decision?”
“I did, but I’d like to talk to you before I make that decision.”
“What is so difficult about what I’m asking? Paul is about as harmless as any human being that ever walked the earth, except for what happened with me, and I provoked that. I’ll handle it differently next time. As to those stories about the jail, I know my husband, or I thought I did. Even knowing what I know now, he didn’t do what they’re saying. He could just as easily have sprouted wings and flown. I know him, better than anyone else on earth. I’ll never believe what you’re saying about him.”
“No, you don’t, Mrs. Donnally. You think you do know him, but you don’t. I think you’re in for some big surprises down the road, but, why don’t you come up to my office and we’ll talk. Maybe we can work out some kind of compromise.”
“No compromise. I thought Dave Brandon was a friend of yours. I know you’ve been to his house. You know his wife. I know she didn’t have a real active sex life in high college and college before she met Dave. This...knowledge...will devastate her. It’s going to tear her heart out.”
“How the hell do you know all this? Are you with the CIA? Are you some kind of government spook?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just a Jacksonville housewife who works part time in real estate office to get out of the house. I’m nobody special. Oh, and you’re running out of time. I could messenger over a million dollars in cash—in 50s and 100s - in an hour. Once that happens, you lose all leverage. He’s out no matter what you say.”
“Assuming you’re telling the truth, I’m happy to hear you say that, because it shows that you do make mistakes. Bail is not automatic; you can bring that $1 million down, but Paul has to accept it and sign for it. He can say, ‘I won’t sign’. Bond is only a way of making sure that someone who wants out, will come back to trial. I can tell you, he won’t walk out.”
This time there was a silence and when she came back on I sensed for the first time that I’d shaken her a little. Whatever she was, she wasn’t infallible.
“I could come down and talk to him. Even though. ”
I didn’t need to be Dr. Teller to read her. She was frightened - hell, she was terrified - of the man in the cell. The man she’d lived with for 20 years, the man she’d betrayed and, probably, driven crazy, or crazy again. However, as she came back on, I could tell she’d make herself go down there and face him. I still couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on between the two of them.
“They’d let me in the jail, or I could pull enough strings that I could get in there.”
“Trust me when I say that you are the last person he wants to see. If there was ever a chance of his walking, it has to be with you nowhere around. Just come down to my office and talk to me.”
“No, not on your home ground. We need a neutral location. How about Carrabba’s on Atlantic Boulevard? You know it?”
“And I’m really, really, curious about you, Mrs. Donnally.”
Shit, if she could have that kind of effect over the telephone line, maybe I should bring along a chaperone.
I sat there in my office looking through the window out at the bright Fall landscape trying to make sense of what had been happening since I’d noticed Donnally’s name on the jail log. If I wasn’t who I was, if I hadn’t done what I’d done for the last 10, almost 11 years, if I hadn’t seen what I’d seen and heard what I’d heard, it never would have occurred to me.
It was such a dark, dark suspicion that it made me hate the decade I’d spent looking into the blackest pits of the human soul. Yet, she had already done some really bad things, if you looked at it one way. Even if you gave her the benefit of the doubt, assumed there was some part of her tucked deep away that still loved Paul Donnally, she’d still been willing to sacrifice an innocent stranger, an innocent family, to get what she wanted. Could loving somebody enough make up for being willing to do ANYTHING for them, screw the rest of the world?
I made two more phone calls to cover my bases and hoped to God I was wrong in what I was suspecting her of doing. Then I went down, got in the Escalade and drove out to Carrabba’s, fighting the afternoon traffic to make it by 4:30 p.m.
She was sitting at a table in a room off the rear of the restaurant. Except for the fact that she was wearing clothes, she looked exactly like the woman I’d seen a few hours ago getting it in her ass and pussy by two men. She looked up at me with an expression that made her appear psychic, like she knew I was seeing her naked and well fucked.
She was beautiful, actually more than beautiful. She made me feel like a dirty-minded 13-year old as I examined her body, dressed in a loose blue green blouse and blue skirt that wasn’t that high cut, but was sexier than any miniskirt I’d ever seen on any woman.
She rose from her chair as I approached her and extended her hand. I took it.
She was as slender and fragile looking as Dave had described her. “Mr. Maitland.”
“Mrs. Donnally.”
I sat down opposite her and we just stared at each other. I wondered if her heart could be as dark as I thought it might be, or if she was only guilty of breaking a clueless man’s heart; wanting to somehow make it all right again if only to preserve the sanctity of past memories.
I looked around and noticed there was nobody sitting in our section. That was not all that unusual because it was still early for the afternoon rush but, still, the only guy sitting within a couple of tables of us was a tall, dark haired guy in a suit. He was facing the entrance and I was looking at him in profile, but I thought I knew him. I began to get a sinking feeling that my suspicions would prove justified.
“Mrs. Donnally?”
“Mr. Maitland. Did you have a chance to talk to my husband? And what’s your decision?”
“I did, but I’d like to talk to you before I make that decision.”
“What is so difficult about what I’m asking? Paul is about as harmless as any human being that ever walked the earth, except for what happened with me, and I provoked that. I’ll handle it differently next time. As to those stories about the jail, I know my husband, or I thought I did. Even knowing what I know now, he didn’t do what they’re saying. He could just as easily have sprouted wings and flown. I know him, better than anyone else on earth. I’ll never believe what you’re saying about him.”
“No, you don’t, Mrs. Donnally. You think you do know him, but you don’t. I think you’re in for some big surprises down the road, but, why don’t you come up to my office and we’ll talk. Maybe we can work out some kind of compromise.”
“No compromise. I thought Dave Brandon was a friend of yours. I know you’ve been to his house. You know his wife. I know she didn’t have a real active sex life in high college and college before she met Dave. This...knowledge...will devastate her. It’s going to tear her heart out.”
“How the hell do you know all this? Are you with the CIA? Are you some kind of government spook?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just a Jacksonville housewife who works part time in real estate office to get out of the house. I’m nobody special. Oh, and you’re running out of time. I could messenger over a million dollars in cash—in 50s and 100s - in an hour. Once that happens, you lose all leverage. He’s out no matter what you say.”
“Assuming you’re telling the truth, I’m happy to hear you say that, because it shows that you do make mistakes. Bail is not automatic; you can bring that $1 million down, but Paul has to accept it and sign for it. He can say, ‘I won’t sign’. Bond is only a way of making sure that someone who wants out, will come back to trial. I can tell you, he won’t walk out.”
This time there was a silence and when she came back on I sensed for the first time that I’d shaken her a little. Whatever she was, she wasn’t infallible.
“I could come down and talk to him. Even though. ”
I didn’t need to be Dr. Teller to read her. She was frightened - hell, she was terrified - of the man in the cell. The man she’d lived with for 20 years, the man she’d betrayed and, probably, driven crazy, or crazy again. However, as she came back on, I could tell she’d make herself go down there and face him. I still couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on between the two of them.
“They’d let me in the jail, or I could pull enough strings that I could get in there.”
“Trust me when I say that you are the last person he wants to see. If there was ever a chance of his walking, it has to be with you nowhere around. Just come down to my office and talk to me.”
“No, not on your home ground. We need a neutral location. How about Carrabba’s on Atlantic Boulevard? You know it?”
“Yeah, it will take me an hour, maybe two to get there. How about 4:30?” “Fine, I’ll see you there. Mr. Maitland, I’m really looking forward to meeting
you—in the flesh. I’m really curious about you.”
She wasn’t even trying, but there was something about that whispery, bedroom voice and the memories of that body bouncing between Matthews and Brandon, those big tits flying, that made me start to get hard.“And I’m really, really, curious about you, Mrs. Donnally.”
Shit, if she could have that kind of effect over the telephone line, maybe I should bring along a chaperone.
I sat there in my office looking through the window out at the bright Fall landscape trying to make sense of what had been happening since I’d noticed Donnally’s name on the jail log. If I wasn’t who I was, if I hadn’t done what I’d done for the last 10, almost 11 years, if I hadn’t seen what I’d seen and heard what I’d heard, it never would have occurred to me.
It was such a dark, dark suspicion that it made me hate the decade I’d spent looking into the blackest pits of the human soul. Yet, she had already done some really bad things, if you looked at it one way. Even if you gave her the benefit of the doubt, assumed there was some part of her tucked deep away that still loved Paul Donnally, she’d still been willing to sacrifice an innocent stranger, an innocent family, to get what she wanted. Could loving somebody enough make up for being willing to do ANYTHING for them, screw the rest of the world?
I made two more phone calls to cover my bases and hoped to God I was wrong in what I was suspecting her of doing. Then I went down, got in the Escalade and drove out to Carrabba’s, fighting the afternoon traffic to make it by 4:30 p.m.
She was sitting at a table in a room off the rear of the restaurant. Except for the fact that she was wearing clothes, she looked exactly like the woman I’d seen a few hours ago getting it in her ass and pussy by two men. She looked up at me with an expression that made her appear psychic, like she knew I was seeing her naked and well fucked.
She was beautiful, actually more than beautiful. She made me feel like a dirty-minded 13-year old as I examined her body, dressed in a loose blue green blouse and blue skirt that wasn’t that high cut, but was sexier than any miniskirt I’d ever seen on any woman.
She rose from her chair as I approached her and extended her hand. I took it.
She was as slender and fragile looking as Dave had described her. “Mr. Maitland.”
“Mrs. Donnally.”
I sat down opposite her and we just stared at each other. I wondered if her heart could be as dark as I thought it might be, or if she was only guilty of breaking a clueless man’s heart; wanting to somehow make it all right again if only to preserve the sanctity of past memories.
I looked around and noticed there was nobody sitting in our section. That was not all that unusual because it was still early for the afternoon rush but, still, the only guy sitting within a couple of tables of us was a tall, dark haired guy in a suit. He was facing the entrance and I was looking at him in profile, but I thought I knew him. I began to get a sinking feeling that my suspicions would prove justified.
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