Shot Down

by Steven Sheiner

  Chapter 54

  I met with Callie Ann several times over the next few weeks. Always in public, always just to talk—our own little support group. Work was slow, Sara and the boys were away, and I had a lot of time on my hands.

  I continued my weekly appointments with Dr. Norris as well, never once mentioning my other form of therapy. Talking to Callie Ann was different. It was comfortable, and she certainly was easy on the eyes. Dr. Norris asked penetrating questions and took copious notes. It was like she wanted to learn everything about me, my family, and my life before we got into the deep therapy.

  But with Callie Ann, it was more comfortable. Easier. We talked about our anxieties, our fears, our emotions, our nightmares, and anything else we needed to get off our chests. We did our best to comfort one another. Offering each other advice that neither of us had followed to this point. But it actually made me feel better. Along with some other things I shouldn’t have been feeling.

  Our encounters were innocent enough at first, but over time, I could feel the sexual tension rising. Her flirtations were becoming more and more obvious, and her natural sexiness wasn’t making it easy on me. I couldn’t deny how I felt being with her. The temptation was tremendous. I’d thought about it so many times, but I couldn’t betray Sara. As much as I’d fantasized about Callie Ann, my heart would never let it happen.

  Then one day, she tested my resolve.

  Sitting in a private reading room, she’d been telling me about one of her most recent nightmares and her story ended in tears. I put a comforting arm around her.

  “It’s gonna be ok. One day, this will all be behind us.”

  “When?” she asked, wiping a tear from her face.

  “Soon,” I said. I could feel her warmth through her top, and I imagined what it would be like to feel her beneath me. All of her. She turned to look at me and, with tears in her eyes, leaned in and pressed her lips against mine. It was gentle at first, almost like she was thanking me for being there, for caring. Then, her mouth opened and her tongue found mine. I was immediately and completely aroused. Every one of my fantasies about Callie Ann flashed through my mind. I didn’t want her to stop. She tasted as good as she looked and kissing her was even better than I’d imagined.

  I wanted her desperately. To throw her down on the table, tear off her clothes and finally see her naked perfection. But I knew where that road would lead. A moment of pleasure followed by years of guilt, heartbreak, and torment.

  I broke the connection, removed my arm from her back, and turned away. “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

  She looked both surprised and disappointed.

  “We’re both feeling emotional and vulnerable, but we can’t use that as an excuse to make a mistake.”

  “A mistake?” she said. “I know you want this to happen, Simon. I’ve seen the way you look at me. You’ve thought about it as much as I have.” Before I could respond, her hand was on my thigh, sliding up my leg. She felt my arousal and smiled a smile so sexy and seductive I nearly melted. “Your mouth is saying no, but your body is saying something else.”

  In defiance of all that my body desired at that moment, I gently pushed her hand away. “You’re right. I’ve fantasized about this moment, about having you, so many times I’ve lost count.” With that admission, she moved closer and smiled again. I placed my hands on her shoulders to keep her at bay. “But it’ll have to stay a fantasy. As much as I’ve imagined this, I could never do that to my wife. I’m sorry.”

  Her sexy smile vanished, replaced by an angry scowl. I assumed Callie Ann was used to getting what she wanted, especially when it involved men. She stood abruptly, knocking her chair over, scooped up her things, and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

  I remained seated for a moment, gathering myself. I’d hurt Callie Ann. I’d definitely pissed her off. I felt bad about that, but I also felt proud. I had just done the impossible. I had resisted the ultimate temptation. I thought about Sara and smiled, while simultaneously trying to ignore the part of my brain that was calling me an idiot.

  Chapter 55

  William’s office was nothing like I’d expected. I’d imagined polished marble floors, stone statues in the lobby, glossy oak doors, a mahogany desk, and rich leather furniture. I could not have been more wrong. The floors were some kind of cheap laminate scratched up from years of foot traffic, the doors were fiberboard with a thin layer of paint I could see through, and the furniture could all be folded up and stored in a closet.

  Calling the office grungy was being kind. Everything was old and out of date, from the peeling paint on the creaky front door to the stains on the chair I now found myself sitting in. It was stiff and uncomfortable, like the chairs you’d find in a hospital waiting room. There were even a couple of holes in the drywall that I suspected were about the size of William’s fist.

  With the trial getting closer every day, we’d agreed to sit down and talk strategy. I wanted to throw up. The fact that all of this was still hanging over my head made me sick if I spent too much time thinking about it. I guess it was better than Christina hunting me at every turn. Agent Stamper was right; I meant nothing to her.

  William’s secretary showed me in, I took a seat and waited for William to join me. I looked around, surprised at what I saw. Even a young lawyer struggling to make ends meet would have nicer accommodations, and William was one of the most successful defense attorneys in the state. Now that I’d become intimately familiar with his hourly rate, struggling was not what he was doing.

  I heard the flush of a toilet and the quick run of a sink, and then William emerged from his private bathroom. He tossed a hand towel behind him, walked over to me and shook my hand.

  “Not what you expected, right?” he asked with a smile, and took a seat on the opposite side of the desk.

  “Uh no, not exactly,” I admitted, taking it all in. William’s desk was the only impressive feature of the entire office. It was a dark mahogany, brightly polished, with leather trim and brass highlights. It stood out like a sore thumb in the otherwise shoddy office.

  “It’s largely for the benefit of the IRS. I get audited regularly, so I can’t appear as if I’m rolling in dough,” he explained with a wink., “Besides, most of my clients never see the inside of my office, so I’m almost never here. So my apologies for the lack of decor.”

  “And the desk?” I asked out of sheer curiosity.

  “Ah,” he said, running his hands over the smooth surface. “Nice, right? A gift.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Kind of like a diamond sitting atop a field of shit,” he said with a laugh. “I know, believe me. But the client who gave it to me would be very offended if I didn’t keep it here, and that’s not someone I wish to offend.”

  “Sure,” I said with a nod.

  William clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Okay, let’s get down to brass tacks.” He slid a folder in front of him and opened it. “Let’s start with the good news. The state is sticking with the involuntary manslaughter charge.”

  “That’s good news?”

  “You bet. They could have gone for second-degree murder, but since the prosecutor knew he’d never be able to prove you acted according to a depraved mind without regard for human life, or that you had any sort of relationship with Carlos, he decided to play it safe and stick with involuntary manslaughter. A murder charge would have been bad.”

  “Right. Because this is so fantastic.”

  William closed the folder, placed his elbows on the desk, and clasped his hands together. “Simon, I get it, this sucks. But every victory, however small, is a win for us. And right now, an involuntary manslaughter charge is a win. Conviction of second-degree murder can land you in prison for fifteen, even thirty years. And depending on how egregious the court finds the crime, you could wind up with a life sentence. With an involuntary manslaughter convic
tion, it’s possible you would see no jail time at all, and only wind up serving probation.”

  I liked hearing the words “no jail time at all,” but I still struggled to wrap my head around all of this. Talking about prosecutors, judges, convictions, jail time, probation… It made my stomach do cartwheels.

  “Obviously, I’m not going to let any of that happen,” he said with confidence. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, looking all high and mighty. “Our defense will be justifiable use of deadly force to defend against a felony committed against a person or property. Which is the truth. Unfortunately, there is some pretty damning evidence that we’ll need to contend with. That’s the bad news.”

  He spent the next thirty minutes rifling through the folder, going over the written reports from Detective Lawton and Agent Stamper, the witness statements, the pictures and videos from the bank, and my bank statement showing a hundred thousand dollars from two separate deposits surrounding the shooting. Then he talked about how he intended to counter them and attack the merits of each.

  “The empty gun and the money. Those are the two things the prosecution will go after hard, but don’t worry. By the time I’m finished, the jury will be ready to give you a medal. Maybe even a reward,” he said with wink.

  Despite his bravado, I could tell he wasn’t optimistic. Especially about the money. Based on the questions he’d been asking me, it was pretty obvious he still didn’t believe me.

  I was in full-blown panic mode. The prospect of doing any time in prison at all was freaking me out, and William was the only thing standing between me and time behind bars.

  In that moment, with the weight of everything pressing down on me, I decided to come clean. There were things I hadn’t told him. Maybe if he knew the whole story he could help me get out of this, but I was terrified at what it could mean.

  I decided to start small, confess the lesser of sins. Depending on how he took it, I’d move on to the big one. I told him about Callie Ann Hollis. How we met, what she’d been through, our support group meetings, her flirtations, and our most recent encounter where I rebuffed her advances. He took it about as expected.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” He stood up and began to pace behind his desk.

  “What?” I said.

  “What do you mean, what, Simon?! What did I tell you about talking to anyone about the case?! What did you tell her?!”

  “Everything.” Except the one thing I was reluctant to tell anyone.

  “Everything?! Fuck, Simon!”

  He ran his hands through his hair and for a moment I thought he was going to pull a clump of it out. He stopped pacing and glared at me.

  “What if she was a plant from the prosecutor’s office? What if she works for the media? Or worse, what if she works for Christina?!” His arms flailed as he spoke.

  All of those possibilities had crossed my mind during my time with Callie Ann, but, one at a time, I’d ruled them out. I shook my head as William talked, but that only fueled his fire.

  “Simon, I have plenty of other clients. They pay me a lot of money for my advice. Most of them even listen to me. So why is it so hard for you to keep your goddamn mouth shut?!”

  “You don’t know what it’s like, okay William!” I snapped back. He straightened, surprised by my reaction. “To have the weight of someone’s death on your conscience. The guilt... the sorrow… the loneliness... the fear… the nightmares. To have someone out there that wants you dead, not knowing where or when it will come. To have the media portraying you as some kind of cold-blooded killer. My business is in shambles. I can’t sleep. I barely eat.”

  I paused for a breath, letting my words sink in, hoping he’d ease up.

  “Words can’t describe how it all feels,” I went on. “You don’t understand. But Callie Ann did. She’d been through something similar and we connected on that. She helped me in ways no therapist could. And I needed that.”

  William was quiet. For a moment, I actually thought he was going to show some compassion or understanding, but then I realized he didn’t have those particular emotions.

  “Yeah, well you better not let Sara find out the ways in which she ‘helped you!’” He made air quotes around the last two words.

  Even though he wasn’t joking, I let out an awkward laugh. I don’t know why I expected more from him. I was glad he changed the subject. “I thought about it, believe me. She is the sexiest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen...”

  “I don’t care if she was Helen of fucking Troy, Simon! If she’s anyone other than who she said she is, you’re fucked!”

  And we were back.

  I sat back in my chair, pondering what he’d said. Was it possible? William now had me doubting and I couldn’t help but wonder if Callie Ann had played me the fool.

  Chapter 56

  William hadn’t taken my first confession very well, and he’d practically convinced me that Callie Ann was the devil herself, out to claim my soul. But I was determined to press on. He needed to know everything if he was going to get me out of this mess. After seeing his reaction to my first confession, I was not excited about what came next.

  Here we go. I took a deep breath and said, “William, there’s more.”

  William had taken position at his desk with his head down on top of his folded arms. I imagined he was cursing at me under his breath, which was better than how he usually did it. He slowly raised his head and with a look of dread, said, “I don’t think I want to hear it,” and put his head back down.

  “Probably not. But I think you should anyway.”

  He lifted his head off his arms just enough to glare at me. “What now?”

  I was about to spill the beans when my phone buzzed from a new text message. “Hang on,” I said, holding up a finger. I fished the phone out of my pocket and clicked on the new message.

  I smiled when I saw the picture of Sara. She was walking a young camper down the row in front of the cabins, completely unaware that someone was taking her picture. I slid my finger up the screen and a picture of Brock appeared. He was running down the basketball court with a big smile on his face, his signature hand gesture announcing he just nailed a three-pointer. I scrolled again and saw Jordan making a leaping catch in a flag-football game. I got a tear in my eye seeing all of them, realizing how much I missed them. I checked the sender. It didn’t look familiar. Who took these pictures? Maybe someone who works at camp.

  I was about to pocket my phone when I noticed the top of another picture peeking out from the bottom of the phone. I slid my thumb up the screen and my heart stopped. It was a picture was of a man wearing a black ski mask. He stood facing the camera, just inside the tree line where no one could see him. A stream of light cut through the trees and reflected off the knife in his left hand. Behind him, just twenty or so feet away, I could see Jordan and Brock walking toward their bunks, smiling and laughing. I quickly swiped up, desperate to see more. But there were no more pictures, only a single line of text.

  We can get to them anywhere, anytime.

  My heart pounded and my imagination went into overdrive.

  “I’m sorry, William, I have to go!” I jumped out of my chair and ran from the office. The second I was outside I punched Sara’s name on the speed dial. I paced back and forth as I waited for her to answer. But she didn’t. I dialed again. Nothing.

  I tried to remind myself that there was poor cell coverage at camp. They were in a remote part of Maine, so it wasn’t unusual for Sara not to answer a call or even receive it. But my brain wasn’t having it. I was panicked. I left her an urgent voicemail to call me as soon as she got the message, and then dialed the main number for the camp.

  The office staff hadn’t seen Sara for some time and didn’t know where she was. Normally, I was not allowed to speak to the boys except during scheduled times, but I told them it was an emergency a
nd someone went to track them down. The girl in the office said they would call me back as soon as they found Sara or the boys.

  When I hung up, I didn’t know whether my family was alive or dead. Tears welled up in my eyes as I imagined the worst.

  I didn’t know what else to do, so I called the Maine police and explained the situation. The camp was in such a remote location, they told me it would take them forty minutes just to get there. I asked them to hurry.

  Who was the man in the mask? Who did he work for? What had he done?

  The questions kept coming, but I had no answers.

  Who sent the pictures? Did they know what I was about to tell William? Was his office bugged? Was someone watching me?

  I couldn’t think of anything but my family. I dialed Sara a dozen more times as I paced on the sidewalk. No answer. I was consumed with worry and didn’t know what to do or where to go. I walked to my car, got in, and just sat there, waiting to hear back from someone.

  I put my head back against the headrest and cursed myself for letting them go away to camp. How could I have been so stupid to think they’d be safe there? I cursed Carlos Escalante for ever coming into my life, and I cursed the FBI for not granting us witness protection.

  Chapter 57

  I don’t know how long I sat there as my imagination painted one horrible picture after another. Twenty calls later and I still hadn’t reached Sara. Not being able to reach her irked me on an average day, but today I was out of my mind with worry. I was about to try her again when my phone buzzed and Sara’s face appeared on the screen. I held my breath and pressed the green button to accept the call.

  “Hello?” I said, eagerly.

  “What is going on? Why do you keep calling me?” My heart leapt when I heard her voice and the tears that had been pooling in my eyes streamed down my face.

  “Sara, thank god! Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Why?”

  “How are the boys? Are Jordan and Brock okay?”