The line, “I’ll get as far away from myself as I can” was something Dylan scrawled on a business card that was unearthed as part of his archive at the Center for American Research in Tulsa. This line eventually became the lyric, “I’ve been trying to get as far away from myself as I can.”

These were my exact feelings as I continued on my journey for justice.

 

Following Peter’s advice, I went back home to prepare myself to show Steve the letter. Peter agreed with Deanna that doing so would give me a good indication of who was playing the most recent “screw the other”game; Steve or McCrabben. I knew I was going to really have to monitor his reaction to gain the information I needed. Gross, this would mean looking that piece of shit in the eyes.

I returned home and mentally prepared myself for the next steps. I walked myself through the different possibilities, and I practiced keeping a straight face in the mirror. Nothing would be more of tell than my face turning bright red and smoke coming from my head when Steve showed me the reaction I anticipated. It felt like eternity sitting and waiting basically for the inevitable… and then I heard the familiar beep of the truck locking. As much as I had prepared, my stomach began to somersault again. It’s almost over, I coached myself mentally.

Steve came walking through the front door as if he didn’t have a care in the world “fucking moron” I thought to myself. He gave his best, most comforting smile for his grieving wife and displayed a bouquet of pink roses to me. Seriously dude, did you not get the memo about my most recent feelings for flowers?

Acting in the best faith and wifely attitude a possible, I graciously accepted the flowers and presented my best, more sincere smile. Clearly it wasn’t good enough, but then again, did it need to be?

“Whats wrong baby?” Steve asked.

Part of me wanted to punch him in the junk and spit on him when he fell. Even if I wasn’t dealing with the idea that my own husband was a complete fraud and plotted against my father, killing him for his money….. I had still just lost my father. I don’t think a “whats wrong” was the most appropriate question. Moron.

“I really need to talk to you,” I said as I placed the flowers in a vase. “Something came in the mail today and I honestly don’t know what to make of it. I haven’t been able to tell anyone yet.” I added the last part to try and stroke his ego a bit, as if I was only all trusting of him.

As Steve took a seat on the couch I handed over the letter, still contained in the envelope. I watched intently as he read it. Surprise filled his eyes, followed quickly by anger as he finished the last of what was said to be my father’s words. He took a moment to look at me, clearly attempting to control his emotions.

“Are you okay? This must have been so difficult for you to read.” He spoke in such a soft, warm tone… one that made me want to vomit on the spot.

“Yes, I am okay with the words, that is not the part that is troubling me.” As I spoke, I continued to watch his eyes, face, hands… trying to gauge any reaction he was going to accidentally display without knowing.  “It’s the date on the envelope that I can’t figure out,” I started, my voice shaky. Get a drip Dana, this is important. I watched Steve turn the envelope over so that he too could see the return postage. I watched his eyes travel to the top right corner of the envelope and then instantly become three times their normal size. I watched as his eyebrows became a solid line across his face and ever crease in his skin became more visible. That was it, these were the signs I had been waiting to see. He was just as surprised as I had been, which meant he wasn’t the one who had sent the letter. Fucking McCrabben.

“Dana, I don’t know how that could be possible at all.” His words were simple, he was trying so desperately to mask his emotions with that of true compassion. “Perhaps the post office made an error, maybe the letter was held up too long and didn’t get mailed on time, you know we have always had trouble with the mail system here in Texas.” He continued speaking, trying desperately to make logical excuses for the date on the envelope. He was not going to entertain at all the possibility that this was anything other than a United States Postal Service error. He continued speaking, coming up with different scenarios to explain away the hope I once had. His voice faded to a distant murmur int the background, ambient noise against my thoughts. It was then that the truth came hurling at me like a giant snowball that had been steadily gaining momentum down a hill…….. Steve WAS working with McCrabben, and SHE was the one who had sent this letter. She was trying to screw him over to take everything for herself. I knew a part of me should have been happy knowing the two murderers were trying to screw one another over…. but I couldn’t. All this meant was that there was even more proof to point to the two of these scumbags for my father’s death. AND they were so awful they were even trying to screw one another out of money that wasn’t even theirs. Scumbags. Trash.

My thoughts were broken by Steve’s voice calling out my name, apparently he had gone through every scenario that he wanted to share about the outdated letter from my dead father. “Dana, did you hear me? We can go to the post office tomorrow and check with the post master about this. I know there has to be an explanation for the date. I know you want to believe him to be alive baby, but that just isn’t the case.” He formed a sympathetic smile on his face while he spoke. No shit that isn’t the case, because you and that crazy bitch McCrabben killed him. I wanted to badly to say these words out loud, I wanted to scream them in his face and then kick him in the junk as planned. But I knew that this conversation was only a means to an ends, and once again I was means.

“I would really like that,” I said meekly. “Would you take me tomorrow?” I looked at him with the pleading eyes of a grieving wife. Surely he couldn’t turn down my request.

“Of course I will baby,” he replied softly. The pet names were really working my gag reflex.

I stood from the couch with the letter in my hand, “I am going to get a mani -pedi and try to relax,” I stated. “I think I need some time to escape my own thoughts if that’s okay with you.” My voice was confident, something I had practiced so hard in the hour leading up to him coming home.

“Absolutely baby, you take all the time you need.” He made a move to grab his wallet, “let me pay for your relaxation, you deserve it.” I relived my desire to take him down right then and there. No way was I taking money from this man. After all, it was my father’s money at this point anyways and I certainly wasn’t going to allow him to pretend he was doing me some kind of fucking favor with it. “No thanks, I have this all under control.” Probably not my best selection of words, but it was true. I finally felt as if I had some control over the situation and was gaining momentum in the “put Steve and McCrabben in jail for their crimes” department.

I retreated to the bedroom to gather my purse and a book for my spa session. At least, that is what I meant Steve to think. The reality was that I had found my old Ipod earlier when I was anxiously waiting for him to get home and it got my gears turning on how to catch the solid poof I needed. I had strategically hidden the device behind a picture frame on the shelf. I had tested the audio recording from all areas of the room and was satisfied that it was able to capture voice from every corner. Plus, I didn’t think Steve would be speaking softly to the person he called next. I was confident I had given him multiple reasons to make a phone call, and not a quiet one at that.

I flipped the recording switch to “on” as I grabbed my purse and book and headed for the door. I scooped Daisy up in my arms. She always came with me to the nail salon so Steve wouldn’t find that strange, plus I didn’t want her sitting here listening to the screaming that I was sure was about to ensue.

“I will be back in about two hours,” I said as I headed for the door. He crossed the living room quickly and before I knew it he was right in my exit path. What the hell, was he on to me? Shit, was this it? He stood solid, creating a barrier between myself and the door. I held Daisy a bit tighter and finally forced myself to meet his gaze. Pushing back the tears of fear, I looked up and asked “Is everything okay….baby?” I choked out that last word to try and appear allied with him, when in fact I was still replaying the images of kicking him in the junk and spitting on him. I don’t think those would ever grow old.

“I just want you to know we will figure this out together, ” his eyes met mine as he spoke. “I promise, we will get to the bottom of this as a team.” A smile formed across his lips that I am sure was meant to be comforting, but it made my skin crawl so badly I felt like I needed to shower.

“I know, ” I replied. “Thank you.” I moved to pass him and make my exit for the door, after all, I wasn’t sure how long the battery on the Ipod would last. He stepped in my path again, this time to place his hand on the back of my neck. Suddenly ever movement seemed threatening. He pulled me to him and kissed my cheek for what felt like forever. My insides were screaming to get his murdering hands off me. I used every bit of energy I had to force a smile in response. “See you soon,” I said.

And with that, my path cleared and I was out the door. Yep, I definitely needed a shower.