State's Evidence: A Beverly Mendoza Legal Thriller by R. Barri Flowers Page A

up by aliens. Beverly noted
that where once her father had been a large man and strong as a
bull, he was now quite frail and seemed to be getting thinner by
the visit. At seventy-four, he still had much of his hair. It was a
fine layer of wintry white and combed to the side and
backwards.
    “Hello, Papa,” she said to him, mindful that
on her last visit he had responded as if he remembered she was his
progeny.
    Alberto stared at her with blank eyes,
green-gray in color.
    “It’s me, Beverly.” She felt like she was
talking to a stranger rather than her own father.
    “Beverly...” He narrowed his gaze at her,
straining for recognition. “Have we met?”
    “She’s your daughter,” Jaime blared out. “And
I’m your grandson, Jaime. Don’t you remember us, Grandpa, even a
little bit?”
    Beverly could hear the irritation yet sincere
hope in his voice.
    Alberto painted a smile on his weathered
face. “Sure I do. You’re my grandson, Jaime.” He looked at Beverly,
straining for recognition. “And you’re...”
    “Beverly, Papa,” she repeated gingerly, as if
talking to a child. She tried to help him along with hand gestures,
like using sign language.
    “Maria?” He scratched his head vigorously.
“You look like my Maria.”
    Maria was Beverly’s mother. She had always
been told she favored her. Except by her father, who had always
claimed her features were similar to his side of the family.
Beverly preferred to think she inherited the best of both
parents.
    It was all she could do to hold back the
tears. She knew she had to stay strong, especially in front of
Jaime. It was hard enough on him trying to come to grips with his
grandfather’s memory loss. She didn’t want him to see her break
down, causing him further distress.
    “I’m not Maria, Papa,” Beverly said gently to
him. “Maria was my mother...and your wife.”
    “My wife?” Alberto looked confused.
“Maria...”
    “Mama’s dead now, Papa.” It pained her to
have to say this, still shaken by the reality herself. “She’s been
dead for five years now.”
    “Dead...for...five...years—” Some form of
understanding seemed to register. “No, not Maria,” Alberto croaked.
“She would never leave me. She promised me she’d never leave me—”
He began bawling like a baby.
    Beverly hugged her father, wanting to comfort
him, just as she needed to be comforted.
    “Mama didn’t leave you, Papa,” she promised
him. “She’s never left any of us. She’s in heaven now, but will
always be with us in spirit.”
    “She will?” Alberto pulled back and with
watery eyes, held her gaze.
    “I promise, Papa.”
    “Yeah, Gramps, Mom’s right,” seconded
Jaime.
    Alberto smiled momentarily, as if he had
forgotten the entire heart wrenching conversation, before turning
his mouth downwards into a pout. He eyed Jaime, and asked,
befuddled, “Why are you here? I don’t know you!”
    “Yes, you do!” shouted Jaime, fresh tears
staining his cheeks. “I’m your grandson, Jaime !”
    With that he ran off, ignoring Beverly’s
cries to come back.
    The nurse, alerted to the activity, came
over. She was heavyset and in her early thirties. “I think it’s
time for Mr. Elizondo to take his medicine and then a nap,” she
told Beverly curtly. “You can visit again—”
    Beverly might have objected—after all, this
was their time with her father, no matter how much of him
they had lost forever—had she not known she had to go find her son.
She had to try and make him understand and learn to deal with
it.
    “I have to go now, Papa,” she told him,
forcing a cheery smile, even as tears streamed down her face. “I
promise we’ll come back again soon.”
    There was no response from him as the nurse
led him back inside.
    Beverly found Jaime sitting on the hood of
the car. “You shouldn’t have left like that, Jaime,” she said
tartly. “Can’t you see that only makes matters worse?”
    “No it doesn’t,” he muttered. “It can’t