“That sounds like a good idea.” I roll over onto my side. “What were the bad things you were going to tell him?”
“I’ll kill him for hurting you if he gives me the chance.”
I scoot over, putting my head on his shoulder, hugging him to me tightly. “I love you, and I appreciate you being willing to kill him for me, but I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“I’d do anything for you. I was stupid a year ago,” he sighs. “So fucking dumb, like I couldn’t get out of my own way dumb. I’m sorry we broke up.”
“I’m not.” I look up at him. “Breaking up was what we needed to do to be where we are right now, and if that’s the case, I’ll take it any day over what the alternative is. I’d much rather be with you, than without you.”
He makes a noise of agreement. “I don’t know about you, but I worked up an appetite.”
My laugh is loud and without the worry I’ve heard in it the last few days. “I could eat.”
“Then c’mon.” He grabs my hand, helping us both stand up. “Let’s go eat.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tucker
I don’t know who’s more nervous, me or Karsyn. I’m holding her hand in a death grasp as we drive toward the federal facility in Birmingham. Neither one of us slept last night. I felt like we were awake every hour asking if the other was okay.
“Talk to me,” she whispers. “I need you to talk to me.”
It feels like I don’t have anything to talk about, but I search for anything to put her at ease.
“The first time I saw you, I knew you were going to be mine.” I grin over at her.
She rolls her eyes blowing out a breath. “Sure you did.”
“No, I did. I told Ransom that night after I gave you the ticket, I was going to date you. When I told him your name, he gave me the rundown on you working at the clinic.”
“Yet, you still didn’t call me, even though I left my number on the ticket,” she teases.
“Let’s be honest, I get flirted with a lot since I’m a man in uniform. I didn’t think I was anything special, and it was presumptuous of me to call,” I admit.
“What did you tell him?” She seems genuinely interested.
“That you were beautiful, and the way you got mad when I gave you the ticket got me slightly hard. If you can’t tell, I love it when you stand up for yourself.”
“Oh I can tell.”
“For the next few days I wondered when I would see you again, even patrolled that stretch of highway looking for you, hoping you’d go flying by with your lead foot. You never did though.”
“Learned my lesson and couldn’t afford another ticket,” she laughs.
“When I walked into the grocery store and saw you there, I knew my luck was changing.”
“Meanwhile I was like, he can’t fuckin’ call me, but he found me at the grocery store.”
I chuckle, bringing her hand up to my lips. “Matter of opinion, my love.”
“Matter of opinion,” she agrees, turning toward me in her seat.
“There’s also the night I knew I loved you.”
This one is going to take us back, is going to have me admitting I was an asshole last time we were together.
“When was that?” She tilts her head to the side, those eyes of her so expressive with the interest of knowing my intimate feelings. I get it, I hardly ever tell her what’s going on in my head.
“The first night we were together.”
She scrunches up her nose. “Like our first date?”
“No, the first night we had sex.” I stop talking for a minute. “There was just something about the way you made me feel.” I’m searching for the words. “I knew I was in deep, I knew you were it for me, but I couldn’t say it. Still almost can’t.”
“I thought so.” She tightens her fingers around mine. “I didn’t think I was the only one who felt it that night, which is why I was so pissed when you broke up with me.”
We’re getting into territory I’ve never been in with anyone else. “I didn’t have the best childhood growing up, like Nick and I have a lot in common, in more ways than being cops. I understood where he was coming from, and that’s kind of as far as I wanna go into it. Before you, love meant hurtful and angry words back and forth. I knew immediately it wouldn’t be like that with you. There were too many things going on in my head though, I couldn’t give you every part of me, while I was trying to save myself the hurt I knew would eventually come.”
“You hurt me before I could hurt you,” she finishes up.
“Exactly.” I nod, not proud of how I handled the first part of our relationship. “If I could go back and prevent that year from happening I would.”
“I wouldn’t,” she cuts in. “It made me grow up, made me realize that you can love someone and still lose them. It made me stronger in ways I never imagined I could be. Even though it was painful, and at the time I didn’t think I’d ever get over it, I’m thankful for it, Tucker. Just like I’m thankful for you. We may not be perfect, but we love each other in ways no one else has ever loved us, and that’s all that matters.”
“Damn right.” I lift her hand to my lips again.
“This is the exit.” She points, her hand shaking. She’s had the directions sitting in her lap since we left, telling me where to go, even though I know exactly where it is.
We can see the facility from the road, and I can feel the fear coming off her in waves. This is what I wanted to prevent for her. If I’m being honest, though maybe she needs to feel this fear to be strong enough to face what she’s facing in the next little while.
“That’s where he is,” she whispers. “Where he’s been held, I never realized how close it actually was to me.”
“You know I’d never let him get any closer to you than that, right?”
“I know what we believe might happen.” She swallows so roughly I can see it. “But I’m also a realist. We can’t prevent things that are bound to happen, and he’s kidnapped before.”
“He’s also never met me.” I give her the look I give when someone I pulled over is giving me a hard time.
But as we go through the gate, I almost wonder if she’s right.
Karsyn
Even though the temperature is typical Alabama in late spring, I’m freezing. My hands are shaking and my teeth are almost chattering. It’s a reaction to shock and anxiety, I know that more than anything, but it still doesn’t make it much easier.
“You’re going to be fine.” Tucker grabs my hand in his as we walk to the entrance.
I’ve dressed nicely today because I want to be taken seriously, but now I’m questioning whether it was a good idea or not. I’m worried that I’m showing too much knee and leg, second guessing all my damn decisions. This is what the man behind those bars makes me do. For years I replayed what happened to me. Could I have done something to prevent it? Had I seen it coming and not been able to stop it? Only years of therapy stopped the blame game I was doing with myself.
“Are you okay?” Tucker asks as we walk into the lobby.
“As okay as I can be.” I grip my fingers in front of me tightly, digging my fingernails into my flesh. It’s keeping me grounded, taking me outside of where I am now, letting me focus on things other than this moment.
I don’t even remember telling the people at the desk why we’re here, or what we’re doing. I don’t realize we’re going through metal detectors, not very cognizant of what is actually happening. It’s not until we get to the room and take a seat that I look around, realizing exactly where I am.
It’s a small room, and the claustrophobia I developed after the abduction threatens to rear its ugly head.
“You’re amazing,” Tucker is whispering in my ear. “I don’t know I could be as strong as you are. You’re a rock star, Karsyn.”
Part of me wants to yell at him, hit his chest and tell him to stop placating me, not to talk about me like I’m not here. I don’t feel any of these thi
ngs.
Out of nowhere, Shelby appears at my side. “I made it.” She gives me a smile. “And I brought the statement we prepared.”
She really doesn’t have to be here, I was told that when I called to let them know I would be speaking at the hearing. In fact, they say it would probably be best that she didn’t come, but after meeting with her, I feel stronger in my convictions. She helped me prepare a statement I’m proud of, and I wanted her here to witness it. I just need a strong woman to look out into the crowd and lock eyes with. She’s done so many things that others told her she probably wouldn’t be able to do because she’s a woman in a man’s world. I need the confidence her accomplishments have given her, to help me with mine.
“Thank you.” I reach over, grabbing the very wrinkled piece of paper.
I labored over what I wanted to say. My thoughts were so jumbled and they honestly didn’t have any kind of cohesiveness to them. Luckily for me, she knew what I wanted to say, what I wanted to convey to people who have no idea the hell I went through.
“It’s seen better days,” Tucker comments as he looks at the paper in my hand.
I close my eyes, visualizing what’s on the white sheet. There are dried tears, scribbled out words, a complete piece of my heart in written form. A piece of myself I didn’t know I needed to give voice to.
Thanks to Shelby, I’ve given voice to it, and I’m anxious to stand in front of these people, making the most important decision of my life, and tell them exactly what it will mean to not only me, but any other victims, if he’s let free.
For once I want to be the strong voice standing up for the future. Not the weak one, living in my past. It’s hard, and it’s not exactly who I am now, but it’s who I promise I will be from now on. If I can help even one person, it will be worth it, because not long ago; I was one person. The person he kidnapped and took without her consent. And I’ll be damned if I let that happen to someone else on my watch.
These words? They’re powerful and they’re mine.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Karsyn
It’s been years since I’ve seen Clarence Night, fourteen to be exact. He looks different than I imagined. In my mind, the last fourteen years he’s remained the same way he was the day he kidnapped me. His hair a light brown, skin tanned by the sun, clean-shaven, and muscles honed by doing whatever he did before he took me.
I’m unprepared for the man who walks out with his hands shackled to his feet. While these last fourteen years have been good for me, it’s obvious they’ve been awful for him. Gone is the light brown hair, replaced with gray and greasy splotches of white, the skin that was once vibrant now has a pallor almost looking jaundiced, the muscles he used to hold me still and silent aren’t there anymore either. He’s a shell of the man he once was, and while I thought I’d be happy about that, I’m not. I feel sorry for him in a way. Yes, what he did scarred me, but at least I got to live.
Looking at him?
He never did.
That doesn’t sway me though, I still have a story to tell, and I’m damn well going to tell it.
I take stock of what’s in front of me and acknowledge the differences from what I imagined this moment would be. Instead of the orange prisoner jumpsuit, he’s dressed nicely in a button-down shirt and a pair of slacks, probably to try and prove he’s changed his ways. For the first time, I look around the room. There’s a table at the front, two men and one woman sit facing us. Another table directly in front of us. He looks at me as he passes that table, before he turns his back.
Tucker grips my hand hard, and I grip his back with the same amount of force. This is harder than I ever imagined it would be. Clarence takes a seat at the very end, his shackles making loud clinking noises in the silence. I desperately want someone to speak. The silence is thundering in my head, so loud I almost want to put my hands over my ears to block it out.
After what feels like an eternity, one of the men begins to speak.
“This is a parole hearing for Clarence Night. We’re going to start the hearing for the record by going around the room, stating who all is here.”
I listen as they introduce his attorney, the parole board members, and then my advocate stands up when asked.
“Karsyn Fallaway, who is the victim of the crime.”
Again I shake, closing my eyes. Tucker has his arm around me, his other hand in mine, and is literally giving me his warmth, his courage, and the fortitude I need to do this, when all I really want to do is run.
I do my best to block out everything as I hear the parole board start to speak. They’re asking Clarence if he has a statement, and of course he does.
It’s shocking to hear his voice again after so many years.
“I’d like to thank the parole board for their time, and my attorney for helping me prepare this statement. Sometimes I can’t put into adequate words what I want to say.”
I just bet you can’t.
“In the past fourteen years I’ve become a changed man.”
Would it be wrong to laugh?
“The man who went to prison was one who didn’t know right from wrong. Coming from the childhood I did, where I was beaten for doing any little thing my dad perceived to be a slight on him, or verbally smacked down by my mother every single day, I had a warped sense of what was expected of me. A middle school drop-out, I didn’t even have the basic skills many teenagers have. Keep in mind, I was twenty-seven when the crime occurred.”
I take a deep breath, trying not to let what he’s saying get to me.
“All I knew that hot, summer day was that I needed a friend. Yes, Karsyn,” I legitimately shudder when he says my name, “was much younger than me, and I should have known better, but I didn’t. Loneliness had gotten the best of me; I’d spent my entire life lonely. I wanted a partner, someone to spend my time with, whether it be for three hours, or the rest of my life.”
I always knew he wanted me forever.
“I was a selfish man, and I can’t say enough how sorry I am about that now. I’m saved.” He makes a sound like he’s laughing. “And I know my God has forgiven me.”
I want to throw up.
“In closing, I hope that you would too.”
Anger courses through my body at such a fast pace, I’m not sure I can even stand it. I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone as much as I do the man in front of me. I thank the God he just praised so much that I can’t see his face.
“Would you like to say anything?” one of the men up front asks his attorney.
“No, I believe Mr. Night said everything he needed to say.”
The lone woman up there searches me out in the crowd. “I believe Ms. Fallaway has a prepared statement?”
“She does.” Shelby’s voice is firm, exactly what I need to hear at this moment.
She grips my other hand, helping me stand. She stands right along with me, and it was the thing I didn’t know I needed.
My hands are shaking, and I’m doing my best to keep my voice level. I don’t want him to know how much all of this still affects me.
“I was thirteen years old when Mr. Night kidnapped me,” I start, trying to keep the tears back. “I was walking to a friend’s house to see her new puppy.” I stop for a moment. “Think about that. I was a thirteen-year-old, walking to a friend’s house to see her new puppy. I know I didn’t start that walk out thinking I’d be kidnapped by a man who would take me to a hotel, force me to change in front of him,” my voice cracks right then and I fucking hate it, “dye my hair a different color, and then subject me to forty-eight hours of complete terror while a manhunt ensued.”
Because of Shelby, we had a little bit of an idea as to what Clarence was going to plead for his parole, and I’m able to answer some of the points he made.
Gripping the paper tighter, I clear my throat, sniffing loudly. “I find it hard to believe that a twenty-seven-year-old with a middle school education, who didn’t know right from wrong, knew to change my clothes, knew t
o change my hair, and also knew to put the fear of God in me. That God you vow to serve now, Mr. Night. I wonder does that God know you have ‘poison’ tattooed on your penis? Does he know you forced me to watch you pleasure yourself while I sat inches away from you? Have you confessed to that God that you had me touch myself while you watched? For so long you’ve held the fact that you never did anything sexual to me up like it’s some sort of trophy, when really you forced me to do it to myself. Do you understand how messed up I was about that? How it took me until my early twenties to realize it’s okay to want love and sex? Do you get that it took years of counseling for me to get that memory of your poison out of my mind?”
I stop for a second, accepting a tissue and taking in a shuddering breath.
“So excuse me if I don’t believe for one second you’re sorry. You aren’t sorry. You haven’t found God. What you’ve done is you’ve moved south. Away from Tennessee and to the middle of southern Alabama and someone has convinced you finding Jesus is going to get you parole. God knows.” I tilt my head back. “God knows you are an evil man who doesn’t deserve it. He knows what you did to me during those forty-eight hours. The things neither one of us want to talk about, and he knows you’re dirty, he knows you’re doing nothing but trying to save yourself, and he knows exactly what’s in your heart. And that’s pure evil.”
It takes me a minute to calm my racing heart, to center myself, and to be able to look at the parole board.
“He will do this again,” I tell them in a calm voice. “Because that’s the type of man he is. He told me during my time with him that he’d tried it three times before and he’d never been lucky enough to get a girl. Just so happened, he was able to take me. He will without a doubt do this again. Please don’t give him a chance to. He’s sick, he’s perverted, and he’s a drain on society. We have enough of that out in the world without adding someone else.”
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