Sighing, she put down her phone and saw Sampson Delacorte, Ms. Beamer’s attorney, walking down the corridor. He surprised her when he stopped in front of her. “You’re Quinlan Moynahan, are you not?”
“I am,” she said.
“My client has requested a moment of your time.”
“I’m a witness. I can’t be speaking with her before the hearing,” she explained.
“She wants to make a statement to the press, and she only wants to speak to you against my instruction. Won’t you indulge her?”
Quinn pursed her lips together and looked up and down the corridor to see if she might see FBI Agent Street, or the newly appointed district attorney for Blair County, but neither were around. Did she dare speak with Candace Foust Beamer? As a reporter, she’d be crazy to pass up this opportunity. As a witness, she didn’t want to jeopardize the prosecution’s case.
“Okay, but if I’m thrown in jail for this…”
“I promise I’ll take responsibility for what happens,” he said.
She got up and followed him back down the hallway to the private chamber. Candace sat at the large wooden conference table dressed in an expensive tailored suit.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” Ms. Beamer said.
“I shouldn’t be here, not after you tried to kill me,” Quinn said.
“I’m sorry for that,” she said. “I don’t always make the best choices when it comes to my son, but that is not an excuse for my actions.”
“Your attorney said you wanted to make a statement?” Quinn said, sitting down at the table and taking out her tape recorder.
“Yes. I want the public to understand why I did what I did. You have a drawing with your articles and are a great writer. No better person to tell my story,” Candace said.
“I’m going to press record now. Let’s get this over with. I’m with Candace Foust Beamer. This is her confession.”
“I want people to understand that I love my son very much. He was the only child I was ever able to have because of complications during delivery. Knowing that made raising him so precious. I was aware of every moment, determined to make the right decision for him. My husband says I coddled him. Maybe I did. And when he started dating and fell in love with Sandy Cranston it was sweet, at first, but then her family moved away and before they left, she decided to break things off with him. I saw how that affected him. He was no longer my little boy, who no longer needed his mother’s love but that of another. And he didn’t let her go easy, they talked, and he made it clear he wanted to marry her regardless of the distance between them. I was losing him.
I couldn’t stand the divide that was coming between us. It was hard enough that he was going away to college, and I didn’t get to see him daily, but when he made it clear he was ready to start his own life with Sandy I knew I couldn’t allow that to happen.”
“You realize that is wrong,” Quinn said. “Everyone has the right to pursue a future, and you were taking that away from Cliff and Sandy.”
“But he was my baby, my only child. I almost lost him once. I couldn’t lose him again,” Candace said. “Then there was Barbie, and she was going to do it to me again. Cliff was talking about marrying her. I knew she wasn’t right for him, but he said she was perfect, and he didn’t care if her family wasn’t from the same circles as ours.”
“And what did you do to Sandy and Barbie, Ms. Beamer?” Quinn asked.
“Cliff is a partier. He always drinks too much, and he took both girls to frat parties after football games. I know because I always followed him. I wasn’t the only one. That runner my husband hired, Everette Wills lurked in the background too, watching to clean up any mess he might get into. My husband thought I didn’t know about him, but I did. I knew every step Wills made. My husband underestimated me. He didn’t deserve me.”
“Didn’t?” Quinn said.
“Yes, he’s filed for divorce.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Go on.”
“Where was I…Cliff partying…Barbie was walking home after the party because he’d forgotten all about her that night and it was getting late. I saw her and offered her a ride. She welcomed the warmth of my car because it was cold that night, and she didn’t have a jacket.”
“Your car? I thought you only have the SUV that everyone sees you driving around Altoona,” Quinn said.
“Remember the black Firebird that almost ran you over as you walked home from the Creamery?” Candace said. “That was mine.”
Quinn sucked in a breath. She turned off the recorder and stood. “I think we’re done here.”
“No. No. I’m not finished.”
“I think I have heard enough.”
