Evidence Not Seen

By Carlene Havel

Love keeps no record of wrongs.

Jeff Galloway cannot forget how he and his mother were left to cope on their own when his father went to prison. Furthermore, he does not understand why his mother wants to welcome her husband home with open arms.

As a new romance begins to blossom with perky social worker Melanie Clark, she encourages Jeff to let go of the past. Can a crotchety retired detective help Jeff unravel long-kept secrets in his attempt to accept his parents as they are?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chavelbooks LLC
• Release date: Jun 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781955892940

Carlene Havel

Carlene Havel writes sweet romance, Christian.romances, and historical novels. She has lived in Turkey, Republic of the Philippines, and numerous US states. After a career in human resources and software development, she began writing in 2005. The Havels live in Texas, surrounded by their extended family.

Book preview

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EVIDENCE NOT SEEN

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By

Carlene Havel

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Other Books

Chapter One

December, 1979

This is the last of the Christmas decorations, Jeffrey Galloway announced, as he stacked boxes on the floor of his mother’s living room. Let me fold up the attic stairs and put your car back in the garage. Then, I’ll put the tree together.

Thank you, Son. Opening a carton, Rosemary began to unpack strings of lights. Just think. Next year, your father will be here to trim the tree with us. Her hands caressed the lights. They could have let him out early, but they’re not going to give him even that small kindness.

It won’t be much longer now.

Every year, I’ve prayed for compassion from the parole board, but it never happened. Rosemary stared out the front window of her living room. On January twenty-fifth his sentence is up, every last day of it finished. Over with at last.

I suppose now Aunt Ruby can quit campaigning for you to divorce him. Keys rattled as Jeff took them from a wall hook.

Yes, Rosemary answered. Everyone who said John was never coming home can go chew on a sour pickle. Your Aunt Ruby included.

Do you ever think maybe she’s onto something?

Of course not! Rosemary’s eyes swung to her son’s face. How could you say such a thing?

Jeff rubbed the back of his neck. Mom, the truth is I hardly know my father.

That’s not his fault. I hope you realize that. Rosemary put aside the Christmas lights. Neither one of us wanted you to see him through a window with bars on it. Once that picture gets into your memory, it never goes away.

Jeff nodded. I’m not placing blame, merely stating a fact. He’s been gone a very long time.

That’s for sure, Rosemary agreed. They parole murderers and put them back on the streets, but they’ve made John serve his whole sentence. She sighed. Maybe I should have taken you to visit him when I went every month. Perhaps then you would have learned what a good man he is. I thought about doing that so many times. I even considered moving near the prison farm where he is.

I didn’t know that. Jeff put a hand on his mother’s shoulder. What stopped you?

There was no guarantee they wouldn’t transfer him somewhere else. Besides, this is his home. Rosemary glanced around her, left and right. Your grandfather built this house. John grew up here. She folded her hands and looked away again. He has always dreamed of coming home, living here again. After all he’s lost, I couldn’t take that away from him, too. And on top of everything else, she added, after a brief silence, I didn’t want anyone to say we were run out of town. John Galloway is the finest man I’ve ever known, and I won’t have the local gossips whisper we’re afraid to face them. Rosemary rested a hand on her forehead. In less than two months, it will finally all be over with and he’ll be home. Would you like something to eat?

No thanks, Jeff answered, his hand still caressing her shoulder. I have to put in an appearance at Mr. Wilcox’s annual holiday reception this evening. It’s a command performance every year.

I think it’s nice Mr. Wilcox gives a party for the people who work for him. Rosemary began to remove newspaper balls from a cardboard box, gently placing each wad on the dining table.

In the garage, Jeff folded the spring-loaded attic steps into the ceiling. We have to talk about this situation, he thought as he pulled his mother’s auto into its customary space. For almost thirty years, Mom has sidestepped any discussion of Dad’s crime.

Stepping inside the house, he hung up his jacket and returned his mother’s keys. It’s getting cold.

Rosemary continued to unwrap an assortment of Christmas decorations. Of course, it’s cold. This is December.

Within a few minutes, Jeff had the four-foot-tall aluminum tree assembled. He stood back to admire his work, but the view was unsatisfactory. Mom, why don’t I get you a new tree? This one sags to one side no matter what I do. It must be as old as I am.

It looks fine to me, Rosemary replied, without so much as a glance toward the Christmas tree. She held up a tiny teddy bear. Here. You can put the Charlie decoration on first.

Good old Charlie. Jeff smiled, turning the faded ornament over several times. He fastened the metal hook to a branch near the top of the tree. I may as well start straightening out the lights.

Rosemary stuffed the used newsprint into a plastic bag. Good idea. Are you picking up Stephanie for the reception, or is she meeting you there?

I’m going by myself. Steph is still in Washington.

Oh? She placed a red glass ball on the tree. I thought you told me she was coming home the day after Thanksgiving.

She changed her mind. She has an important job interview lined up next week.

Rosemary stood with a gold snowflake suspended from her hand. Interview? In DC? Is she moving there?

She’ll have to relocate if she gets the job. Jeff kept his eyes on the knotted string of multi-colored lights. Let’s talk about something else. Anything other than Stephanie. Why don’t we throw these lights away and buy some new ones? It’s going to take forever to figure out which one of the bulbs is burned out.

The lights will be all right. You’re not looking for a job in Washington, too? The gold snowflake still dangled from Rosemary’s hand.

No, I’m staying right here. Settling on the floor, Jeff plugged in the string of lights. When nothing happened, he unplugged them and replaced a bulb.

Rosemary hung the snowflake on the tree and sank to the sofa. Is this going to be a long-distance romance?

With a sigh, Jeff repeated the bulb replacement process with no success. No, our romance—if you can call it that—has run its course. Stephanie has political aspirations. If she doesn’t get this job, she’ll line up another one. Deciding the best way to avoid questions he didn’t want to answer was to change the subject, Jeff asked, Are you concerned about living here with Dad?

What do you mean? We’ve been married for almost thirty-five years.

Finally, the lights sprang to life. Aha! Jeff crowed. He stood and laced the string of glistening bulbs through the branches of the Christmas tree. Mom, you’ve hardly seen each other for as long as I remember.

Rosemary shrugged and unwrapped another snowflake. You live in town now, and I don’t see you every day like I did when you were growing up. You’re still my son. You even remembered I like to decorate the Saturday before Christmas.

That’s a totally different situation, Jeff said, with a glance at his watch. John Galloway isn’t the same man you married when you were twenty-two years old.

Everything will be fine. We must believe that.

"You want to believe it."

Rosemary hung a snowflake near the bottom of the Christmas tree. It’s the same thing.

Chapter Two

Jeff hurried home, mentally checking the long list of things he had to do before Monday morning. He was determined not to begrudge the time he’d spent driving back and forth to his mother’s house across town, nor the hours it took to get her Christmas decorations unpacked and displayed. He couldn’t disappoint her, not after all she’d done for him. That was more than he could say for his jailbird father.

After a quick shower Jeff dressed for the office party as he would for work, in a neatly-tailored dark suit, starched white shirt with French cuffs, an expensive silk tie, and shoes polished to a military shine. He brushed his lush dark hair into place, and checked his reflection in the mirror. Image was important at the conservative law firm of Wilcox-Meyer. Jeff frowned, aware of the questions co-workers