“My dad used to beat on me and my mom. He beat me with anything he could get his hands on when he was drinking. He even shattered my knee with a pipe when I was in high school. Ended my football career.”
Timothy stopped reeling in the line, his head dropping.
“I know what you and your mom went through,” Jake continued. “I know what it feels like to be helpless. I remember praying someone would come in and save us, but nobody ever did. I guess that’s why I came flying into your driveway. I couldn’t take the thought you prayed for help and nobody would.”
Timothy turned, a tear staining a trail along his cheek. “I don’t have a dad anymore. Am I a bad person for being glad he’s gone?”
Jake placed a gentle hand on the kid’s shoulder and dropped to his knees. “No, son. You’re not. And trust me, your dad being gone may turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to you. Plus, there’s the chance he could clean up his act in prison, get paroled, and come back home.”
“What are those chances?”
Jake thought of Stony and the times he promised to change. The plethora of times he promised to quit drinking. The countless times he swore it was the last time. “Terrible. But I tell you what, if you ever need anything, you give me a call.” Jake slipped his card with his cell phone number into the boy’s hand. “Things will get better.”
As the boy stared at the card, the rod in his other hand jerked. He gave a startled gasp and set the hook with an expert tug, spinning the reel like he competed in a race. A minute later, a catfish the length of a football dangled above the muddy water, its tail jerking back and forth as it tried to swim in the air. For the first time since he’d seen the kid, a smile sprung on the boy’s face.
Jake tussled the kid’s hair. “See what I mean?”
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Jake waited with the minister atop the grassy hill overlooking the Ozark valley. The trees exploded with vibrant orange, red and yellow colors of fall, and a gentle breeze swept a cool hand across his face. The cobalt necktie threatened to strangle him, and it was all he could do not to release the top button of the starched white oxford.
“Stop fidgeting,” Bear whispered. “You look great.”
“I feel like I’m being choked out,” Jake replied.
“That’s the marital noose tightening around your neck, brother.”
The hilltop was sizable enough to accommodate a dozen spectators. Jake’s sister Janey and her ever worthless husband Luther gathered next to Snell and Foster. Snell was back at work on light duty and healing nicely, though the occasional wrong move would contort her face in pain. Jake made the bad joke of inviting Keats to the wedding, but Maggie shot him a glare that would have burned through the side of a battleship. On Maggie’s side, Bear’s wife Audrey and his two daughters stood with Christopher who looked mighty dapper in his little, blue suit and a clip-on tie he insisted match Jake’s.
He and Maggie originally planned to marry in a church with half the town of Warsaw in attendance, but the list of invitees grew absurd. Jake’s side of the aisle would have been sparse while Maggie’s would have overflowed the venue. In the end, they decided to keep the actual nuptials modest and have a grand reception. Instead of the church, they couldn’t find any place better than the hilltop between their two houses where they learned to love, confide, and trust.
The trees rustled to his left, and Jake turned his attention to the path leading from Maggie’s house. His daughter Halle led the way, her long, blonde hair twisted in some intricate weave, more stunning than she had any right to be. Jake offered a silent nod to God in appreciation that the event wasn’t in a church. He didn’t want any of the local men to have any inappropriate thoughts Jake would have to shoot them for on his wedding day. Halle shifted her bouquet of wildflowers and kissed Jake on the cheek.
“It’s about time you did this,” she said with a wink. “I love you, Dad.”
“Love you, too, little girl,” Jake replied, his heart swelling with pride.
When Maggie glided around the corner, a wave of dizziness swept over him as if she stole the air from his lungs. She looked the part of a goddess in a creamy gown with subtle lacework across the chest and sleeves, her hair pinned high accentuating her elegant, long neck. She flashed a brilliant smile, like she was relieved he showed up. How many men would it take, and how many thick, iron chains would have to be wrapped around his limbs to keep him from this woman? She may have convinced Jake to banish the thoughts he didn’t deserve the happiness she and Halle would bring him, but Bear surmised things perfectly as he whispered in Jake’s ear.
“You definitely outkicked your coverage, son,” Bear said.
Twenty minutes later, vows were spoken, a song sung, prayers made, and the deal was done. He was hers and she was his until the day they drew their dying breaths. As Jake pulled his wife in close and laid upon her their first post-marital kiss, that lifelong shroud of guilt, shame, and self-doubt fell from his shoulders. He had no idea the immense weight of the shroud until it disappeared.
The reception started out with the best of intentions, but an open bar in the Ozarks turned out to be a regrettable mistake. The first few hours swept by with finger foods and live music by the waterfront south of downtown. The band called themselves The Horny Toads and, despite their skeptical title, was quite good, playing a mix of good old rock and roll. A tipsy Bear even managed to belt out a respectable version of Bob Seger’s “Old Time Rock and Roll.”
As the band hit the home stretch for the final song, Elmer Shorley and Buzz Tompson erupted into an argument about plot lines on a parcel of land in dispute between the families since the Civil War. Fists were thrown and, in true Ozark style, others joined in that had no skin in the game other than liking a good fight. Klages and her crew rounded up the knuckleheads, and the party ended with a few broken chairs, two lacerations requiring stitches, and Elmer and Buzz cooling their heels in the Benton County Jail.
“Guess it could have been worse.” Maggie grinned as Jake picked pieces of broken glass from her hair. “At least they waited until the last song.”
“God, I love you,” he replied.
* * *
The next morning, they said their goodbyes to Christopher and his Aunt Sheryl, a stout woman in her mid-thirties who made the trip from South Dakota the day before. She would take Christopher and her sister Angela’s body back to Sioux Falls. Christopher didn’t want to leave at first, but Halle stayed by his side and managed to knock off Aunt Sheryl’s icy exterior until the boy seemed comfortable with her. Halle and the boy bonded quickly when Jake brought him back to Warsaw.
“Will you call me?” Halle asked him. The boy nodded, tears brimming. “And draw me some more pictures? I want to see your new house.”
Christopher clamped his arms around her neck and tried to squeeze the life out of her. He did the same to Maggie before he turned to Jake.
“You make sure to keep working on your fishing.” Jake rested his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “When we come visit, I expect you to take me out to the best spots. Deal?”
Christopher’s eyes locked on the tops of his shoes. “Deal.”
“Christopher, look at me.” Jake gently lifted the boy’s chin with his index finger. “You’re going to be fine. We’ll always be here for you. All you have to do is call. I’m very proud to be your friend, buddy.”
Christopher threw himself into Jake’s arms, and Jake gripped as tight as he could muster without cracking the kid’s ribcage. He hoped things would, indeed, be okay for the boy. There would be hell to pay for anyone who made it otherwise.
“Thank you, Jake,” Christopher whispered. “I’ll miss you.”
* * *
Jake and Maggie spent six days and five glorious nights at an all-inclusive resort in Jamaica drinking fruity drinks during the day on the beach and Red Stripe beer at night. Their nights comprised of long walks along the white powder beaches, dancing in the moonlight, and making love in their caba
na like the world would end tomorrow. It was, by far, the best week of Jake’s life as the worries of the world melted away.
Their unpacked suitcases lay open on the bed, tired from the week, but glad to be back home. The cool fall temperatures were a stark contrast to the blistering sun in Jamaica, but Jake was thankful for the change. Halle giggled about some jewelry her mother picked out for her from a local beach vendor when two knocks rapped on the front door. Jake gave Maggie a playful smack on the butt as he walked the hall to find Bear filling the door frame. His shoulders slouched and his oversized paw crushed the brim of his Sheriff’s hat. His bearded face twisted in a strange mix of worry and anger. Whatever he had to say, it wasn’t good news.
“Welcome back.” Bear stepped inside the house.
“Somebody die?” Jake asked, his thoughts jumping to Christopher.
“Not yet.”
“Jesus, Bear,” Jake said. “What is it?”
Bear’s temple pulsed as he clenched his jaw. “Shane Langston just escaped from prison.”
Acknowledgments
Thanks a million to my incredible writer friends for helping to bring this book to light, including Kate Foster, who somehow seems to be able to juggle a million different things while managing to cheer me on and prod me to do better at the same time. You are an amazing person and writer and I wouldn’t be here without you. I also must acknowledge Rebecca Carpenter and thank her for her keen editorial eye. I learn a ton from her every time I go through this process. And Emma Wicker for her great work putting the cover together. You never cease to amaze me.
Thanks to my dad for trekking down the hill in Warsaw and snapping pictures of the pond that graces the cover. I spent hours searching for just the right one and my dad got me exactly what I needed in a matter of minutes. Pretty damn good analogy of my upbringing, actually.
Thanks to Jim McKernan for his great feedback on the rough, rough draft. You sincerely helped smooth out the rough edges!
Finally, thanks to my wife and kids. I feel blessed every day to have the three of you next to me through this process. Love you guys.
IV
Asylum Road
To the people of Restoration House of Greater Kansas City and the wonderful work they do.
This book is dedicated to the survivors.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
“He escaped? What the hell are you talking about?” Jake Caldwell’s nails bit into his palms. The nightmare genie in the bottle had been unleashed. He couldn’t imagine worse news.
Bear Parley filled the doorway of Jake’s Lake-of-the-Ozarks home. His massive hands crushed the brim of his sheriff’s hat. “Just what I said. Shane Langston escaped from prison in Jefferson City along with his asshole cellmate Grady Harlan.” Bear stepped inside, the cool evening breeze wafting through the door behind him.
Jake turned to let his best friend pass into the living room as a ball of dread formed in his gut, an ache to remind him of all he had to lose. Jake wasn’t afraid of Shane himself but was frightened for those close to him. Specifically, Maggie and Halle. “This is unbelievable. You should’ve called me, man.”
“This isn’t the kind of shit you want to hear over the phone. I came the second I heard you were home.”
Jake craned his neck to spot a wave of distress twisting Maggie’s beautiful face into a look he hoped he’d never see again. Freshly out of the shower and clad in gray sweats and a t-shirt from their honeymoon resort in Jamaica, his new bride dropped their empty red suitcase to the floor and slipped to the living room couch. Shock rang in his ears, muting the Sara Bareilles blasting from Halle’s room.
“When?” Her voice was a bare breath.
“Some time last night.” Bear lumbered to the kitchen, toward the liquor. “Prison’s not sure how they escaped yet. Jesus, I need a drink.”
“Make it three,” Jake said, plopping on the couch beside Maggie. He draped an arm across her trembling shoulders. This was a nightmare. Shane Langston did nothing but leave dead bodies and mayhem in his wake.
Bear removed three glasses from the kitchen cabinets, dropped a few ice cubes in each, and carted them into the living room along with a bottle of Crown. The music from Halle’s room faded as the song ended. “Both of the douchebags were in their cell at lights out and gone for the morning count. They’re following protocol and combing the prison grounds, but BOLOs and APBs are already out with the media and law enforcement across God’s green earth.”
“What’s going on?” Halle posted her small frame in the hallway, arms extended with her palms against the walls like she was the only thing keeping them from collapsing. “Three drinks of the hard stuff before dinner. You’re either celebrating or something bad’s happened. Which is it? Did Dick Blackwell air another slander attack ad against you, Bear?”
Bear growled at the mention of his opponent in the upcoming Benton County Sheriff election. “Blackwell did, but that ain’t what this is about.”
Jake glanced to Maggie, his eyebrows rising, wondering if he should say anything to their daughter. Jesus, how would she take this? Halle was just eighteen months removed from Langston kidnapping and almost killing her. What should be an exciting senior year in high school was marred by nightmares of Shane and his knife. Knowing Shane was running around again might break her.
“Let’s talk about it later,” Maggie said.
“Well, it’s obviously not good. What’s up?”
“Later,” Maggie said, her fiery eyes narrow and her jaw set.
“Jesus, Mom.” Clad in her green Warsaw High track shorts, Halle thrust her hands on her narrow hips. “I’m not a kid anymore.”
Jake slipped his arm from Maggie’s shoulders and wrapped his hand around her clenched fist. “We might as well tell her. She’ll hear it soon enough anyway.”
Maggie’s mouth opened and shut as if unsure how to break the news. She took in a deep breath and spit it out. “Shane Langston escaped from prison.”
Halle’s blue eyes grew wide and she hugged herself, legs quivering, threatening to give way. The blood drained from her face, and she thumped back against the wall, struggling to draw a breath. “Escaped? Oh my God.”
Maggie jumped to her feet and guided their daughter to the couch. Halle jammed her elbows into her thighs and buried her face in her hands. She sucked in several deep gulps of air before raising her dimpled chin. “Is he coming here? Coming after us?”
Jake stood and shuffled his feet toward the front window, reluctant to answer the question but knowing there was only one true response. “Probably.”
Maggie’s terrified face turned to a scowl. “Probably? What the hell does that mean?”
Jake threw his hands up. “I don’t know. I mean, the guy blames Bear and me for throwing his ass in the slammer, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of person who lets shit go.”
Bear cleared his throat. “You guys want to, um, have this conversation in front of Halle?”
Jake chewed on the inside of his cheek. On one hand he wanted nothing more than to protect her. On the other, the shrink they took Halle to after Jake and Bear rescued her said the best way to overcome the trauma was to face it head on. Halle was strong. She could handle it. “She needs to know what we’re up against.”
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