“We should refer the materials to the appropriate investigators. Let them determine whether there's anything worth pursuing.”
I nodded.
Then she looked at me.
“Naomi, I need you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“Don't let the possibility of a hidden explanation take over your life.”
I looked down.
“I'm trying not to.”
“I know.”
She softened her voice.
“You've worked hard to recover. You deserve to continue living.”
The following morning, I sat across from my mother at the kitchen table.
She was spreading strawberry preserves over toast.
Sunlight came through the window.
For several minutes, we talked about ordinary things.
Leah's new teaching job.
Marcus's latest architectural project.
The weather.
Then I placed a copy of the old complaint on the table.
“Mom, can I ask you something?”
She looked at the page.
Her expression changed before she even read the heading.
“Where did you get that?”
“Someone mailed it to me.”
She set down her knife.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
She looked at the document.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then she whispered, “I haven't seen that in years.”
I sat down.
“Tell me what happened.”
She looked toward the window.
“It was a long time ago.”
“I know.”
“I was working nights at the sheriff's office. There were four of us on the cleaning crew.”
She paused.
“The company kept changing our hours on paper. We were working full shifts, but our paychecks didn't always reflect it.”
“Did you complain?”
“Yes.”
“To Reddick?”
“He was one of the people who handled the building contract.”
“What did he say?”
She looked down.
“He told us we should be grateful to have jobs.”
I felt my jaw tighten.
My mother continued.
“We kept records. We wrote down our hours. We asked for the missing pay.”
“What happened?”
“The contractor eventually corrected some of it.”
“Some?”
“Not everything.”
“Did Reddick threaten you?”
She hesitated.
“He said people who caused trouble didn't stay employed very long.”
I looked at her.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
She smiled sadly.
“Because you were nine.”
“I mean later.”
“Because I didn't want every story I told you to be about somebody treating me badly.”
I was quiet.
She reached across the table.
“Naomi, I wanted you to know that life could be bigger than the things people did to us.”
I showed her the photograph of Reddick and Voss.
She studied it.
“Do you recognize the younger man?”
“From the news.”
“Derek Voss.”
“Yes.”
“The photograph was supposedly taken three days before my arrest.”
My mother looked up.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because someone included it with your complaint.”
She frowned.
“Do you think Calvin Reddick sent those officers after you?”
“I don't know.”
She looked at the photograph again.
Then she shook her head.
“Don't decide that just because he was cruel to me thirty years ago.”
I stared at her.
She continued.
“He may have been unfair. He may have abused his position. But that doesn't prove he planned what happened to you.”
I nodded slowly.
“You're right.”
She pushed the photograph back toward me.
“Find out what's true.”
I smiled faintly.
“You sound like a judge.”
She laughed.
“No. I sound like your mother.”
The documents were referred to federal investigators.
For several weeks, I heard nothing.
I returned to work.
I presided over hearings.
I reviewed motions.
I met with law clerks.
I attended Leah's school open house.
Marcus and I celebrated our wedding anniversary with dinner at a small restaurant near the river.
I tried to keep my life from becoming organized around an anonymous envelope.
But the question remained.
Why had someone sent it?
And why now?
The answer began to emerge when Rebecca called me on a Tuesday afternoon.
“Naomi, the investigators authenticated the photograph.”
I sat up.
“It's real?”
“Yes.”
“The date?”
“Accurate.”
“And the location?”
“Confirmed.”
I looked toward my office door.
“What else?”
“The meeting was documented in the sheriff's administrative calendar.”
“Why did Reddick meet Voss?”
“That's still being examined.”
I was quiet.
Rebecca continued.
“They also authenticated your mother's old complaint.”
“I expected that.”
“But there's something else.”
“What?”
“The personnel memorandum included in the envelope was incomplete.”
I frowned.
“Incomplete how?”
“Several paragraphs were omitted.”
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
“What did the missing paragraphs say?”
Rebecca paused.
“They referred to an internal review involving Reddick's management of the cleaning contract.”
I sat very still.
“Was there a finding?”
“Not against him personally. The review identified administrative failures and recommended changes.”
I exhaled.
“So the anonymous packet was selective.”
“Yes.”
“And someone wanted me to see only part of the story.”
“That appears possible.”
Two days later, investigators contacted Sheriff Reddick.
He agreed to a voluntary interview.
Reddick acknowledged meeting with Voss.
He said the meeting concerned the upcoming Turner hearing.
According to Reddick, Voss had asked for advice about handling media attention.