Condemned

by Soosie E Nova

  “Kick it to me,” I ordered.

  The Fed pounced on my would be rapist, yanking his arms behind his back.

  “Special Agent Fielding, requesting back up and an ambulance, we have a suspect down.”

  He’d live. Unfortunately.

  The second assailant dropped to his knees, wrapping his hands behind his head. Schilling kept his gun trained on him, giving me the oblique pleasure of arresting his pathetic, cowardly ass.

  He grunted as I read him his Miranda rights.

  “Fuck you, bitch.”

  “Not tonight, sugar,” I snapped, dragging him to his feet.

  Within minutes Lucy’s apartment flooded with feds and cops.

  “We got the warrants, arrest warrants for the Chief and Attwood, search warrants for their business’ and homes. It’s gonna be a long night, kid.”

  Forensics had to clear me before I was allowed to leave. I was grateful for the space. Cops buzzed around the apartment. Feds stamped their feet, claiming jurisdiction. I counted at least three people who’d be arrested by the end of tonight. They were easy enough to spot, even if I hadn’t known them. They all wandered aimlessly, running their shaking, sweating palms through their greased, gelled hair, their faces sallow, silvery-pale under the high tech LED lighting system of Lucy’s apartment.

  Their panic fuelled my hatred. If you’re gonna break the law, get into bed with monsters who happily order the rape and murder of children, at least face the consequences like a man.

  “Ma’am?” A young, floppy haired CSI approached me, smiling apologetically, clutching a camera in his hands.

  I was ordered into a million poses, every inch of my blood soaked torso photographed for evidence. There was no doubt it was self defense but things had to be by the book.

  “I’ll need the sweater, miss.”

  I gladly peeled it off, the drying blood setting into a sticky, foul film over the zipper. He held out an evidence bag.

  “The shirt too,” he requested.

  Crimson blotches stained my ivory shirt, smeared where it soaked through the sweater.

  Someone tossed me a grey Police sweater. My shirt ended up in an evidence bag.

  ◆◆◆

  Schilling hung around waiting for me. An hour after being attacked, I was finally released. The drive back to the station, silent and tense. We were both on edge, aware of the chaos that awaited us.

  The station buzzed with life, our own guys, the ones who hadn’t been displaced by intruders, sat at their desks, gazing into space, whispering to each other or resting their heads in piles of cases. The rest huddled in a corner. They all turned to us when we walked in.

  Internal affairs had already descended, picking over the cases of the accused. The executive director sat the Chief's desk, his fists balled in his greying hair, barking orders into the speaker phone.

  “Is it true, about the Chief?”

  “Yeah,” Schilling sighed.

  No cop enjoyed learning a teammate played for the other side. When that teammate was your boss, the pain was tenfold.

  The fireworks lasted days. Attwood was the first to be thrown under the bus. They accused him of masterminding the whole thing, setting up a boys club, you scratch my back, I scratch yours. A network of law enforcement, governors and judges were banded together, ready and willing to give the wealthy whatever they wanted for the right price. Their banks records told us everything.

  Want to make that speeding fine vanish? Not a problem. Caught with a gram of cocaine behind the wheel of your merc? We’ll fix that, Sir. Oh, you knocked a kid down while you were snorting the coke? That’ll cost you more. Want to rush through the case of the man you framed for murder? We can do that, Sir. Attwood had gone off the books for that one. Stacey and Maia were all his own sick idea. He’d used the crooked firm’s thugs to do his dirty work, but not a one of them were willing to admit to anything. We still had no proof of Leo’s innocence.

  The Chief claimed ignorance on everything but making a few parking tickets go poof, and naively directing the investigation into Attwood’s wife’s death away from him, convinced of his old friend’s innocence. He claimed the woman had issues with drugs dating back to highschool, her overdose came as no surprise to him. Apparently him and his buddies are the only ones who spotted this addiction, the woman was a saint to everyone else. That didn’t stop her death being recorded as accidental overdose.

  Everyone denied involvement in Stacey and Maia’s murder. Leo was still firmly on the hook for that.

  Judges fell, Feds were dismissed or charged with perverting the course of justice.

  Attwood lost everything, including his freedom. All but one of his buildings were condemned. The tax inspectors had a field day with his accounts.

  I didn’t find it consoling that the bastard was charged with the murder of his wife, no matter how many ways Schilling tried to paint it.

  The thugs who’d killed Stacey and Maia and attacked me were charged with burglary, carrying a weapon with intent, false imprisonment, multiple firearms offenses and a litany of related felonies. They faced a long, hard stretch. At best they’d be in their eighties when they finally tasted freedom again. Mrs Charles took comfort in that. I didn’t.

  I was hungry for justice for that poor child and her mother. The back patting, speeding ticket vanishing boy’s club, I didn’t give a crap about. More than anything, I wanted justice for Leo.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Leo

  I gazed up at the ceiling, mourning my freedom. Dani lay in my arms, her hair splayed over my naked chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my abs. It’d been nine weeks since I escaped death row and eight since Attwood and his crew were taken down. I was still in the same damn cabin, still guilty of a crime I did not commit.

  Dani’s relationship with her dad was strained as ever, she still cried daily, she still fought for me. I’d lost. Prison was all I could look forward to. Dani had to accept that. Life on the run wasn’t living. I’d been holed up in a cabin for nine weeks, not even able to visit a shop in case I’m recognised.

  Ramirez offered us to cash to get out of the country. I refused. Dani had a life here, she had Schilling, his wife, her work. If I ripped her away from it all, what would remain but me and a life of uncertainty? Always looking over our shoulders, waiting for the day I’m finally caught. Justice catches everyone.

  “What are you thinking?” She breathed, gazing up at me with those gorgeous soft brown eyes of hers.

  “Not much.”

  What could I think about other than prison? There was nothing else on the horizon for me. My mother hadn’t heard from me since Maria visited her. Dani bumped into Theo in the market a week after the whole case blew up, he told her my mom was on meds for anxiety. She wasn’t eating or sleeping, she’d dropped twenty pounds and left the church. My family were in stasis, waiting on a knife edge for my re-capture.

  If I ran that feeling would ease slightly but it would never go completely. They’d always be waiting, it would eat away at them, shadowing every happy moment. Each milestone, every holiday another reminder I wasn’t there, I was holed up in Cuba, parted from them forever.

  They’d suffer if I handed myself in, but there’d be an end, eventually, their pain would ease, there’d be no waiting, no tension, just a period of grief.

  “You're late for work,” I said, kissing the top of Dani’s head.

  “Ugh.”

  “I know.”

  “Promise you’ll be here when I get back?”

  “Okay.”

  We danced the same dance every time she left. I made the same hollow, empty promise. Today is the day I won’t be there. She won’t come looking for me, she works for the department I’m handing myself in to. It’ll hurt her and then she’ll heal, with the help of Schilling and Laura. Maria will run to her.

  ◆◆◆

  I sat at the dining table, my heart aching, tears landing on the paper in front of me. Dani would never listen if I to
ld her these things in person. Our goodbye must be done this way. I’d never see her again.

  Our final kiss, the last time she’d see me in person happened this morning, in the doorway to this cabin before she left for work. We kissed, I etched every detail to memory. The scent of her shampoo, the flavour of fresh roasted coffee on her lips, the touch of her skin as she stroked my cheek. It would be my final thought before the execution drugs whisked me away to sweet nothingness.

  I’d considered asking for clemency, pleading for a life sentence. It might be easier for my family to bear. They’d get visits, they’d know where I was. There’d always be a sliver of hope that one day I’d get released.

  Dani would wait for me. She’d remained single, childless and lonely, waiting for the day she could finally prove my innocence. I refused to do it to her or myself. My decision to accept the death penalty was a selfish one. Life in prison was no life. The eternal rest of death appealed more.

  I signed my name at the bottom of the letter to her and rested it on top of the others. Dani’s goodbye letter had been one of many. Laura, Schilling, Maria, my family, they all the same letters. Each one had been heartrending to write but none as much as Dani’s was.

  I dialled his number from memory. He answered on the second ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Theo, I need a ride.”

  “Leo? Christ man, what are you doing? Dani said you couldn’t call us in case the feds were still listening in.”

  The investigation into my escape was still very much live but scaled back. Three FBI agents remained on the case, a dedicated hotline to report sightings of me was still manned but their intrusion into my family had ended. The media too had finally decamped from my parents front yard.

  “I’m coming home, Theo. I need to see mom.”

  “Are you insane? Does Dani know about this? Jesus, Leo. Don’t say another word. I don’t know where you are, I don’t want to know.”

  He cut the call, leaving me pleading with dead air.

  It took an hour of begging and redialling him every time he slammed the phone down to convince him to come and get me. I had no idea if the feds were listening in to his calls. I guess I was about to find out. Theo scribbled down the address.

  “I’ll be there in an hour. Dani and mom are gonna hate you for this Leo.”

  “It’s the only way, Theo. I can’t do it, I can’t live on the run. It has to end.”

  For the first time since Schilling, Dani and myself ate breakfast the day after my escape I stepped onto the veranda, my head tipped back, the sunlight warmed my face.

  The season had just started to kick off. Children’s laughter rang loud, bringing sorrow, pain and happiness to me. Maia loved water. She’d be right there with the other kids, splashing at the edge of the lake, her tiny arms puffed out from her sides with the armbands I insisted she wore near water. Mr and Mrs Charles would have stood on this very veranda, watching her, indulgent smiles on their faces. Her life had been cut too short, the Charles’ happy moments with their only grandchild had been stolen and the wrong person was paying for it.

  I stepped down off the veranda, the grass soft under my feet. I don’t remember the last time I stepped on grass. My shoes were kicked off, abandoned by the edge of the oak veranda. The soft, dew glistening grass tickled between my toes. I relished every moment. This was life, a life I’d only have for a few more short hours.

  A soccer ball flew at my head.

  “Sorry, Mister,” a young, blonde boy grinned a gap tooth smile at me. His brother hung behind him, smiling shyly, waiting to see if I yelled at them.

  “Don’t worry about it, kid,” I smiled, tossing their ball back. The older boy caught it. They both raced giggling to the water’s edge. Theo and I had played like that once.

  I was the baby brother, shyly hanging behind him, relying on him to protect me. He always had. I came into my own when he came out as gay in freshmen year. It wasn’t as accepted back then, being gay, especially not in Texas where men are expected to be men. I’d gotten into my first fight the day after his sexuality spread like wildfire around the school. People don’t call my brother those names and get to walk away.

  My mother made us both attend church every Sunday for the next six months, me for fighting, Theo for congratulating me on winning the fight. We were allowed reprieve when one of the elder churchgoers tried to pray Theo’s gay away. Me and Theo hadn’t stepped foot in a church since, my mother left her old church behind, joining a more moderate one.

  Theo found me on a jetty, my feet hanging in the cool, clear water, vacationing families milling around. A small crowd of young boys had gathered on the shore behind me, watching in awe as I skimmed stones over the flat water. Their parents had warned them to leave me in peace. They recognised pain when they saw it, or they just recognised me and were waiting for the feds they’d called to turn up.

  “Teddy,” I grinned as he slipped his sneakers off and sat beside me. If I wasn’t recognisable before, I was now. My family had appointed Theo spokesperson for us. He’d made all the television and radio appearances.

  “Fuck you, Leopold,” he joked.

  “Hey, my name is supposed to be Leo, Teddy.”

  Our names were a family joke to everyone but my mother. When Theo was born she thought he looked like a teddy bear and begged my father to allow her to name him Teddy. My father insisted he have a proper name. They compromised on Theodore. Teddy stopped responding to anything but Theo when he was eight. I was born with a ridiculous amount of thick, blonde curls and cat-like green eyes. Again my father insisted on Leo as a nickname. Why he named me Leopold and not Leon or Leonardo I’ll never know.

  “You sure you wanna do this?” Theo sighed, skimming a stone halfway across the lake. A loud ahh broke from the group of boys gathered behind us.

  “Yup.”

  “I can’t talk any sense into you?”

  “Nope.”

  “You never did have a brain.”

  “Nope.”

  “Your lawyer said you can file an appeal based on having new evidence. Lucy will testify for you, Schilling’s willing to speak up for you as a character reference, Laura too.”

  “The lawyer say how much chance I had?”

  “Nope.”

  “Liar.”

  “Promise me you’ll at least try, Leo. If doesn’t go through, I’ll support you in whatever you decide but at least try, man, please. Don’t leave us all wondering what if.”

  My brother could read me like a book. He pressed my buttons with ease.

  “I’ll try,” I sighed.

  The last thing I wanted was to drag it out again, have my hopes dashed over and over while wasting away in solitary, but he was right, leaving them all with what ifs was too cruel. What if we’d talked to him about it one last time, would he have appealed? Would he have won? Did we miss our chance to chance to save him?

  We talked for an hour before he finally dragged me to his car, reliving our happy childhoods. We’d holidayed at this lake a few times. One of my dad’s colleagues used to own a cabin out here, we’d rent it from him the summers we didn’t go down to Florida or Hawaii.

  “Theo,” we both spun around, our bodies tense.

  “Hey,” Theo shrugged to the stranger. I kept my head down.

  A man in a Dallas Cowboys shirt grinned at him.

  “I knew it was you,” he beamed, fixing his eyes on me. I was three feet away from the car. Theo reached into his jeans, folding his fist around his car keys.

  “You guys need anything?”

  “We’re good, thanks.”

  “I believe in you, Leo.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered.

  “Means a lot, man, thanks,” Theo grinned.

  My heart raced as I walked the short distance to Theo’s battered old Honda Civic.

  “What the fuck was that?” I hissed.

  “Dani didn’t tell you? You have a fan club, dude. Not the pervy kind you had on death row, the kin
d who all believe you’re innocent. That’s your slogan.”

  “My slogan?”

  “Yeah, I came up with it. We believe in you, Leo. Cool huh? The lawyer woman says it helps your chances, if there’s public support behind you, they can’t just quietly bury you. They’ve already started a petition to get you a retrial. There’s nearly a million signatures.”

  “And how many people signed the petition for my death?”

  Theo shrugged his shoulders, keeping his eyes on the road as he eased his car towards the freeway.

  I took control of the radio, flicking off Theo’s beloved cheesy pop, changing the channel to classic rock. He didn’t utter a word. We both knew this might the last time I get to listen to radio. Privileges like that have to be earned on death row and bought from commissary. I gave mine away before I was transferred to Huntsville. I’m also fairly sure my privileges have been removed. Escape is frowned upon.

  An hour later, we pulled up outside the family home, a place I never believed I’d see again. Theo made me stay in the car until Mr Peterson from across the street went back inside. He wasn’t a believer.

  I pulled my hooded top up, keeping my head down, following Theo out of the car. He wrapped his arm around my waist. I side eyed him.

  “If anyone sees us they’ll think you’re my boyfriend,” he shrugged.

  “Isn’t your boyfriend a four-foot tall black guy?”

  “He’s five foot six,” Theo sniffed.

  “So, I’m what? Your bit on the side?”

  “It’s better than being arrested before you make it through the front door,” he hissed.