Always Thaddeus: The Resurrection

By Marcee Corn and R. L. Corn

World famous musician Andrew Morgan serves a prison sentence for killing his wife, Sandy – a crime he didn’t commit. His ex-wife Beth planted overwhelming evidence against him, so he feels literally and figuratively trapped in a hopeless situation. Reporter Jan Smith is compelled to help Andrew prove his innocence, but time is running out as every day in prison could be Andrew’s last.
Meanwhile, outside events will soon coalesce to affect Andrew’s life. Coast Guard Petty Officer Craig Hendershott rescues a Jane Doe from the raging sea, linking them forever. Handsome and powerful Spanish tycoon Ernesto Chavez finds Margaret Buchanon irresistible, and her appeal may entice this bachelor to finally tie the knot. The fine line between sanity and insanity will be tested as the two move rapidly toward matrimony.
Two of Ernesto’s employees, Maria Sarduchi and Tonya de Lugo, learn some of Beth Morgan’s secrets. They will either become good detectives—or dead ones. Ultimately, eight individuals come face to face in a powerful courtroom battle that rocks international shores. As the truth is revealed, will it be worth the price as Beth’s devastating wrath comes full circle?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Aug 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781480881693

Marcee Corn

Husband and wife Marcee and R. L. Corn team up to write the sequel to her bestselling novel Always Thaddeus. In a unique approach to co-authoring, this was written as two separate works, combined late in the writing process. The final court scene was penned last with each author writing from the perspective of individual characters. The Corns live and write in the mountains of North Carolina.

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Copyright © 2019 Marcee Corn and R. L. Corn.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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ISBN: 978-1-4808-8170-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-8169-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019912155

Archway Publishing rev. date: 08/30/2019

DEDICATION

For our children and grandsons:

Bailey and Ryan McWhorter

Cole McWhorter

Cooper McWhorter

Robert Spencer Corn

Peter and Brandy Corn

We love you!

Acknowledgments

We want to thank the following friends, family and professionals for your support, encouragement, advice, expertise and love during the writing and publishing of ALWAYS THADDEUS: THE RESURRECTION. Without each of you, this novel would not be possible.

Sincere thanks to our family, Jill C. Corley, Jeff and Amy Freels, Christina Goebel, James Mackenzie, Allie and Ron Fallica (as well as their sons, Asher and Townsend), The Book Exchange of Banner Elk, NC, and The King Street Poetry Group.

Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

CHAPTER 1    Prisoner W/407OTR

CHAPTER 2    The Rescue

CHAPTER 3    Jane Doe

CHAPTER 4    Andrew’s Memories

CHAPTER 5    Exactly as Planned

CHAPTER 6    Jury Duty

CHAPTER 7    The Arrival

CHAPTER 8    The Second First Date

CHAPTER 9    The Entrance

CHAPTER 10    Is there anything more I can do?

CHAPTER 11    Of Thorns and Blood

CHAPTER 12    A Night for Bourbon

CHAPTER 13    Occam’s Razor

CHAPTER 14    Books and Beatings

CHAPTER 15    Dinner for Three

CHAPTER 16    The Senses

CHAPTER 17    Nagging Thoughts

CHAPTER 18    The Infirmary

CHAPTER 19    Sea Dreams

CHAPTER 20    Differing Impressions

CHAPTER 21    Who is the Bride?

CHAPTER 22    Connecting the Dots

CHAPTER 23    Introductions

CHAPTER 24    A New Beginning

CHAPTER 25    The Confrontation

CHAPTER 26    New Status

CHAPTER 27    Black Ink – Green Eyes

CHAPTER 28    New Day – New Life

CHAPTER 29    Crossing Paths

CHAPTER 30    Establishing the Rules

CHAPTER 31    A Quiet Evening at Home

CHAPTER 32    Where the Future Lies

CHAPTER 33    Taking Back Control

CHAPTER 34    Ferry Ride

CHAPTER 35    Where the Roses Used to Grow

CHAPTER 36    Small Mistakes

CHAPTER 37    Invisible Friend

CHAPTER 38    Strategy Session

CHAPTER 39    Which One of You is Tonya?

CHAPTER 40    The Prosecution

CHAPTER 41    The Defense

CHAPTER 42    Day in Court

CHAPTER 43    Retreat and Regroup

CHAPTER 44    Intermission

CHAPTER 45    Beth’s Testimony

CHAPTER 46    Good Byes

CHAPTER 47    Small Spark

About the Artist James Mackenzie

Previous Books by Marcee Corn

Prologue

H istory is a peculiar thing. It can be a predictor of what is to come and, just as easily, a reminder that things will never be the same. As contrary as it sounds, history foretells the future at the same time as it attests to its unpredictability.

Relationships have their own sense of history. As steel is tempered in fire, the bonds between individuals are often enhanced when tested. Upon entering chaos, individuals may become stronger if they walk through the flames together. This fire walk often creates the foundation for the relationship.

However, the same things that can make some individuals strong, makes others weak. The same fire that tempers steel can also consume, leaving only ashes. Daily pressures can pull and tear the fabric of love. The trauma of life can become so severe that the return to the idyllic past no longer seems inviting. The act of moving forward is not a choice; it only represents the lack of one.

History is a peculiar thing. Sometimes the past must be left behind in order to make room for a new future.

The Absence of Love

Strings pull and fabric tears;

the absence of love too much to bear.

And is guilt evenly spread

when you finally hear the words you’ve said?

Pleasant memories fade, one by one.

Reasons to stay dwindle to none.

Should you now question what your heart first sought,

as the pain of love was more than you thought?

But sometimes meaning is found in the mourning;

it is tempered strong in the storm’s warning.

Maybe we could accept the losing and the winning

if we could only see the end from the beginning.

CHAPTER 1

Prisoner W/407OTR

March 2018, State of Maine Penitentiary

A s Andrew Morgan’s eyes slowly opened, he realized that his prayers had not been answered for the 364 th time. This was not a bad dream; it was his reality. He was not waking up in his beloved Owl’s Nest, Maine. A new, fresh hell was awaiting him today as it had every day for the last year. It was not going to be any worse today than it was yesterday because varying degrees of misery were indistinguishable here.

Aggressiveness and fighting were a part of everyday life. Andrew had his share of fights growing up, but this was different. There were no brief skirmishes between friends that ended up with handshakes and renewed friendships. Other prisoner peers wanted him dead. The guards did not get paid enough to care if he lived or died. Sometimes, the guards instigated fights to see who would win. Depending on the victor, the guards would collect their winnings and look for other ways to pass the time.

Jimmy Arrigo shared the small cell with Andrew. Jimmy, or Sorriso as he was known in the west block, was also in prison for killing his wife. Not a day went by that Sorriso did not take increasing pleasure in tormenting Andrew about his wife.

So Drew, Sorriso would always start. "What ya hearing from Sandy, today? Oh yeah, I forget. She’s dead, right? Aren’t you glad you didn’t have nothing to do wit’ it?"

Andrew was painfully aware that Jimmy’s taunts were of a middle school caliber, but he was incapable of ignoring him, especially when Sorriso brought up Sandy. This morning would be no different, except for one thing … Andrew had woken up with no hope.

Andrew moved so quickly that he surprised himself. Grabbing Sorriso by the collar of his work shirt, he slammed him against the cell bars and smiled when he heard a satisfying crack as Sorriso’s head hit the metal bars.

You don’t have the right to mention my wife’s name! Andrew barked. You don’t even deserve to say her name. If you hated your wife, that is your business, but I loved mine! I swear I will tear your heart out if you even mention her again! Do you hear me?

It took a moment before Sorriso could clear his head, but when he did, a slow and rare smile crossed his face. "So Drew, where did this big man come from? You really think you have the clout in this hellhole to hurt me? Do you think there is a man in here that doesn’t hate you? You had it all: a beautiful wife, some fancy-pants career playing music, and apparently a lot of money. But you threw it all away, didn’t you? And for what? Some groupie on the road. Didja’ just git bored of having everything you wanted?

You can’t hurt me, Drew. I can have every one of your fingers broken by evening. How will you feel after you come to grips with never playing that stupid organ of yours again, huh? How’d that make you feel?"

Andrew loosened his grip on Sorriso’s shirt but continued to look directly into his eyes. "Sorriso, do you really think there is anything else that you’re capable of taking away from me? I lost my wife, my son, my unborn baby. Do you think I give a crap about whether I ever play the organ again? You can’t hurt me, Jimmy. I suggest you be very careful about what you say. It can be dangerous messin’ with a man who has absolutely nothing to lose."

CHAPTER 2

The Rescue

August 2016, North Atlantic Ocean

P etty Officer Craig Hendershott was proud of his new rating as boatswain’s mate, master of seamanship, or ‘boats.’ The US Coast Guard had been good to him during his short service with them. He had recently been assigned to a coast guard cutter, specifically a coastal buoy tender.

He loved to ride the cutter into the deeper waters, and loved performing almost every task in connection with deck maintenance, small-boat operations, navigation, and especially supervising all personnel assigned to a ship’s deck force. It was an honor and he was proud. His cutter was responsible for the buoys off Maine’s coast up and through the Bay of Fundy. At present, they were cruising coastal waters approximately twenty miles from their homeport of Jonesport.

The crew had already navigated past the smaller islands off Maine’s coast. Craig knew these waters well and had boated around all the inlets and harbors as a teen. In fact, because of his love of these waters, he had joined the coast guard and, luckily for him, he was recently assigned to this cutter.

The waters were rough today with the waves ranging from eight to ten feet high. They were warned by the National Data Buoy Center (NDBC) about the presence of right whales in the area. Right whales are rotund and are one of the longest whales that swim these waters with some reaching sixty feet long. They were migrating and preferred to stay close to the reefs and buoys. Since they were a species protected by the United States’ Endangered Species Act, the coast guard cutters in the area were made aware of their presence.

There was a small-craft advisory out and so the cutter traveled at a slower than normal speed of ten knots. The coast guard never wanted to be responsible for injuring one of these beautiful creatures and had no interest in making the TV breaking news, so the captain continued their slower cruising speed.

With Weather Station #44027, Buoy #101, less than a mile ahead, Craig got out his binoculars and stood on the bow to watch for the endangered whales. He knew this buoy was bright yellow and stood about twenty feet above the surface. It contained every piece of weather equipment one would need to understand current conditions: the water temperature, wind speed, wave height, barometric pressure, air temp, and other weather information.

Petty Officer Hendershott soon spotted the buoy. He scanned the waves to be certain that there were no right whales in the area. Looking more closely, he was sure he saw something on or near the buoy. He radioed the Chief Petty Officer his concerns, and they slowed the cutter to five knots to avoid disturbing the whales that he assumed were swimming around the buoy.

But as the cutter got closer to the buoy, his eyes began to play tricks on him. He could see that there was something bright green on the buoy. It was not a right whale at all. As he refocused his binoculars, he made out a body lying on the buoy.

Radioing the bridge once again, he notified his commander of a change to a search-and-rescue mission. As they approached the buoy, he realized that he was correct. There was a body lying on the buoy with no signs of life. The individual wore bright green clothing and a bloodstained T-shirt.

As the crew began full rescue operations, a helicopter was enlisted to help with their efforts. Since they were performing training exercises in the area, the US Coast Guard rescue helicopter announced that they would be able to arrive within twenty-five minutes.

It had been over ten minutes since the chopper’s ETA had been passed along to Craig. He looked at the apparently lifeless person from the bow as he continued to check his wristwatch. He could only imagine how long it had been there and how much longer it would stay as the waves continued to build.

He checked back in with the commander, Sir, any new information on the chopper’s ETA? Craig noticed that the waves were getting larger and the body might dislodge itself from the buoy. Sweat began to form under his cap. Then there were the bloodstained clothes. Craig knew that this part of the ocean had any number of sea life that were flesh eating. Any news, Commander, he repeated with just a hint of panic in his voice.

Stay calm sailor, the Commander replied. Still around fifteen to twenty minutes out. Son, you know that the odds are that this will be a recovery mission and not a rescue … right?

Craig felt his heart rate increasing. Fifteen more minutes? he thought. "Would fifteen more minutes make a difference between a rescue mission and a recovery mission? How critical is time right now? How many minutes might mean the difference between life and death?"

Craig became so aware of time that he swore he could feel each passing second. For just a moment, he wondered what would be the consequences of acting without getting the go-ahead from his commander. But in his gut, he feared the consequences of not taking action even more.

With adrenaline pumping through his veins, Craig pulled off his shoes and dove into the water. For just a moment, he felt as though his heart might stop as his body hit the frigid water. Making his way back to the surface, he swam the thirty yards to the buoy, and used the partially submerged ladder to climb to the platform.

Immediately, he rolled the body onto its back and began administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. The individual on the buoy was a young woman who had experienced severe trauma. He was not immediately able to determine her condition, or even if she was alive. He knew that the water temperature would be the only thing that might have saved her life … if she was still alive.

He was relentless as he moved from chest compressions to breathing for her. Craig lost sense of time as he became obsessed with the rhythm of CPR. He had received training through the coast guard many times and practiced over the years, but this was the first time he was actually performing it in a life or death situation. He realized that he was not panicking. He was, in fact, well trained and executing the process as he had been taught.

It was not until he heard the familiar whoop, whoop, whoop of the spinning chopper blades that he looked away from the girl momentarily to see the massive coast guard chopper overhead. He realized that fatigue and water temperature were starting to take their toll on him. The prop wash coming off the chopper did nothing to make his efforts any easier.

In moments, a diver from the helicopter joined him and took over the CPR while a second diver went about looking for any signs of life. Craig did not look back towards the cutter for fear of making eye contact with his commander. He would have to face the consequences of his actions soon enough.

The basket was lowered and retrieved the young woman as a Zodiac arrived at the buoy. The sailor at the helm of the rubber boat looked at Craig and said in a sympathetic voice, The Commander would like to see you … NOW, as he steered the Zodiac back to the cutter.

Craig made his way up the side of the cutter by way of the metal ladder hanging from the deck’s edge. Commander Stokes stood at the top of the ladder blocking Craig’s access to the deck. Of all the idiotic things I have ever seen. What in the hell were you thinking? We could have ended up taking two corpses to the morgue instead of just one.

Craig’s cold hands were numb as he tried to hold onto the ladder. He felt the rest of his body go numb as he heard the commander’s speak of corpses. Sir? Is she dead? Are you telling me she’s dead?

How the hell do I know? But you sure as hell could have been! Now get up here and dry off. You’re lucky that I don’t court marshal you right here and now.

Commander Stokes moved to the side and let Craig climb onto the deck. In a much lower voice, Commander Stokes leaned into Craig and said, You’re an idiot, but you’re a damn brave one. He winked and turned abruptly to move back to the bridge.

Craig watched as the basket was quickly raised up to the helicopter that hovered fifty feet above the waves. From the opening in the side of the helicopter, the diver gave Craig and the cutter’s crew thumbs up, meaning that she was alive. The coast guard chopper quickly turned and made its way towards the closest trauma hospital that was in Machias, Maine.

Fighting back tears that he could not explain, Craig knew that he would check up on the woman when he got back to port. He might even go to the hospital and meet her.

CHAPTER 3

Jane Doe

September 2016, Trauma Center, Machias

F or the tenth day, Craig Hendershott reached over to hold Jane Doe’s frail hand. Her hand was thin, pale, and cold. She wore no rings. He felt her coldness and rubbed her hand in his to warm it. Her nails remained slightly discolored. For some reason, Jane Doe had made an impression on him and he could not shake a deep-seated feeling that he still needed to help her.

Craig knew that Jane was in bad shape from what the staff had shared with him. Since she had no visitors, he figured that was why they allowed him the honor of sitting with her each day. He had memorized every detail of her face and looked forward to sitting with her more with each passing day.

He brought her icy hand to his face. He loved the way that her skin smelled like the ocean. He was familiar with that fragrance, which he most certainly loved. She smelled of sand and salt … all the components of the sea. Her arm was limp as he held her hand in his.

He recited the same words softly to her; the words that he had spoken daily to her. "I know you don’t know me, but my name is Craig Hendershott. I rescued you from the buoy. I want you to wake up so that I may know your name. I