He always had been easy to tease. I linked my arm around him, resting it on his hip. It’s not like this could get any weirder than it already was.
“Mom, we have company.”
“I’m not feeling well, Teddy. Can they call back later?”
Fuck. My mother prided herself on her impeccable manners and welcoming nature. Things were worse than I imagined if she was turning away guests.
Theo pushed me into the lounge. My heart broke.
My mother curled in the reading chair, her hair greyer and dishevelled, her skin taut over her skeleton frame. I was killing her.
“Leo, my Leo!”
She threw herself from the chair, falling into my arms, tears streamed her worry-lined, worn face. I pulled her tight. We hugged for the first time in six years. She was smaller, weaker than I remembered, her frail arms shook as she wrapped them around me. Her tears soaked through my sweater into my shirt. She stayed in my arms, sobbing, unspeaking until my father dragged himself into the room.
“Leo. It’s really you?”
“Yup.”
His arms encircled us both. Theo joined us, I was sandwiched between my dad and Theo, my mother held up only by my grip on her. The tears flowed from us all.
We hugged for an age, my mother sobbed until she struggled for breath. She stroked my hair, lamented about my weight loss, repeated that she loved me until she was hoarse.
“Theo, go to the store I want cook Leo’s favourite.”
I glanced at the clock. Her face fell.
“I can stay for dinner mom but then I have to hand myself in.”
“Nooo.”
The sobbing resumed, harder, more agonised than ever. She cried herself raw in my arms.
“I’m appealing, mom. I have a good chance with all the new evidence Dani and Schilling raked up.”
“Really?”
“Yeah and then this’ll all be over. You’ll be able to cook for me every night.”
“That’ll be Dani’s job, won’t it?”
“Jesus, mom,” Theo laughed, “it’s 2017 get with the times. Besides when I saw her last she had a cart full of ramen noodles. I don’t think she’s a culinary wizard. You’ll have to teach Leo to cook for her.”
That was all the encouragement she needed. I was dragged to the kitchen, forced into an apron with a cutesy slogan emblazoned across the front. Theo took great pleasure in snapping pictures. I laughed along.
For four glorious hours, I was home. I cooked, we ate, drank and laughed. Theo’s boyfriend came round. He was a sweet guy. We’d never met before. I have so many people on my visitation list, there was no room to add him.
Dani would be leaving work soon. I had to end this before she returned to an empty cabin. She needed to be with Schilling when she got the news.
“It’s time,” I whispered, pushing my seat back from the dining table, draining the rest of my beer. “Theo, can you give me a ride?”
“Sure.”
“I’m coming,” my mother snapped, crossing her arms, her brow furrowed with determination.
“Mom, you don’t need to see that.”
Theo’s boyfriend promised to stay with her. He wanted her recipe for the cobbler we’d all just tucked into. His interest in her cooking went some way to soothing her. She reluctantly agreed to stay behind.
The goodbye tore me apart. I held her tight, inhaling her motherly scent of home, kissing her head. I might never touch this woman again. My mother, the woman who carried me, loved me, cried for me, stayed by my bed when I was sick, will never lay a hand on me again in life if this goes wrong. My faith in the justice system was shattered. I resigned myself to the death sentence.
“You should call that Schilling guy, tell him you’re coming in or you’ll have a million cops pounce on you and wrestle you to the floor. You’re presumed armed and dangerous.”
Schilling swore at me. He understood my reasons.
“Pull up around the back way,” he sighed. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Will I get a chance to say goodbye to Dani before they take me back to Polunsky?”
“You can count on it, son.”
The short ride to the station dragged on, proving to be one of the longest drives of my life, second only to the trip to the death house. My heart fluttered, my gut clenched, my palms itched. I mentally recited all the reasons I was going through with this madness.
My mother needed peace and a resolution. Dani deserved a love she didn’t have to hide away, someone she could raise a family with without looking over shoulder, waiting for it all to be snatched away. The thought of living on a knife edge for the rest of my life left me queasy. It had to end. One way or the other.
Theo slowed the car. Crawling down the alley behind the station.
“It’s not too late to change your mind, bro.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I growled.
Schilling stood by the gate. He flashed his keycard over a silver box. The heavy iron gates rolled open, groaning on their tracks. That’s a sound I’d need to get used to again. I closed my eyes as the gate closed behind us.
Already the space around me began to cave in on me, wrapping around my soul, sucking the air from my lungs.
Theo and I sat in the car, doors locked, windows wound up, the radio blasting out rock music. Neither of us spoke. Schilling tapped on the passenger window.
“I guess this is it,” Theo sighed.
“I guess so.”
“Good luck, bro.”
“Thanks.”
Schilling averted his gaze, staring down at the tarmacked car lot ground as Theo locked me in a tight hug.
“See ya soon, bro. Keep fighting, until the end.”
“You think Dani’ll give me any other option?” I laughed. “If I lose this appeal, I won’t ask for clemency, Theo. I can’t face life inside.”
“I understand.”
A lone tear rolled down his cheek, his shoulders tensed. He was on the edge, fighting to hold it together for me. I unlocked the door. Schilling stepped back, letting me walk from the car on my own steam.
“Sorry, Leo,” he sighed, flashing cold, silver cuffs at me. “Procedure.”
“I get it, Sir.”
“Aaron, please. You owe me no respect, Mr Roman. If I’d looked twice at your case, spotted what Dani did, you wouldn’t be here.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“You’re a bigger man than I am.”
He snapped the cuffs around my wrists, clamping my arms behind my back.
“Comfy?”
“Not exactly,” I laughed. “But I appreciate you trying.”
He rested his hand on my shoulder, guiding me gently to the back door of the station. The asshole uniformed officers in holding fucking cheered when he pushed me in.
“Leopold Roman,” he told the booking officer. “He’s under arrest for fleeing legal custody and assaulting an officer of the peace.”
The guard Angel shot survived. He took a bullet to the shoulder.
“Nice work,” a uni chirped, patting Schilling on the back.
“He handed himself in. He’s been trying to prove his innocence. Hit a wall when we arrested the douchebags who actually committed the crimes he’s convicted of.”
“You don’t believe this asshole is innocent, Schilling.”
“Yes. I do.”
The young cop sucked in air through his crooked teeth, shaking his head.
“Leo’s being cooperative,” Schilling told the booking officer, “you won’t have a problem with him. Go easy on him, eh?”
“Sure thing, Chief,” the officer smiled.
“I’m gonna go break the news to Dani before someone beats me to it.”
“I believe in you, Leo,” the booking officer whispered to me.
Chapter Eighteen
Danica
I sat at my desk, drumming my fingers on the laminate surface. The office buzzed around me. A big case had been solved. Detectives were patting each other on t
he back, planning drinks in the bar later. Catching the perp didn’t change the fact some poor soul had lost their daughter. She’d be chalked up as another statistic, the latest victim in a long line of women killed by their exes that the Police failed to protect. The celebration felt obscene. The guy was claiming diminished responsibility due to his mental health. His lawyer was having him diagnosed with a personality disorder. In the meantime, my boyfriend was holed up in a cabin alone, thought of as a monster and unable to prove his innocence. It wasn’t fair.
Things normalised quickly after the Chief's arrest. Schilling made Chief, I got a new partner, a young up and coming from Vice. He was decent enough, thought he was God’s gift to womankind, but was good at what he did. He had no problems getting female witnesses to relax.
“You joining us tonight, Dani?”
“Got plans.”
“Yeah, right.”
That’s my life now. It’s stuck. I can’t socialise with colleagues, plan a vacation with Leo or any of the things a woman my age should look forward to. My life is on hold.
Leo refused to run. I was grateful, secretly. Where would we run to? What would do for work? How long until we got caught? We would get caught eventually, they always do. We live in an age of constant state surveillance. People snap pictures of everything, everywhere, in second those pictures are online, accessed globally by the thousands of social media friends they’ve never met. One day Leo would show in the background of one those snaps and it would all be over.
Schilling strolled in, fixing his eyes straight on me, his mouth a hard line. My heart sank into my gut. He didn’t need to speak a word, it was all over his face.
“Kid…”
“Don’t,” I breathed, my throat tight, “please don’t say it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“How did they find him?”
“They didn’t. He handed himself in.”
It didn’t take a genius to spot this coming. Leo hated what he was doing to me and his family. He’d never put his own happiness above theirs. I tried to be angry with him. He’d thrown everything away.
“I’ll have him transferred to an interview room once he’s booked into custody. He wants to see you.”
“Thanks, Schilling.”
The next hour passed in a blur. My mind refused to focus. Leo would be booked in, fingerprinted, strip searched, photographed and no-one could be with him to support him. Was he scared? Had he been to his mother? Why didn’t he tell me this morning? We could have said goodbye properly.
My brain rehashed the events of this morning, searching for signs of his plan. Should I have noticed? Would I have been able to stop him? The answers were obvious. There was nothing different this morning to any other morning. He wouldn’t have let me talk him out of it. He might relent for a day, a week, postpone his plans but in the end, he’d have done what he thought best for those he loved.
I tried to imagine him peaceful, happy with his decision, making the most of his last hours of freedom, strolling down to the lake, watching the children play. Theo would be the one he’d contact first. He would’ve gone home, hugged his mother, eaten dinner with his family like he used to all those years ago. They were tight-knit family, unlike my own.
Maria kept in touch, every morning I’d get a message from her reminding me to eat, stay healthy and happy, every night she’d text me goodnight.
I called my dad once a week, more out of duty at first, but later I found myself looking forward to speaking to him. I didn’t believe a word of his whole gone straight spiel but he helped Leo, he came through for me, eventually. For that, he deserved some credit. He was my father, maybe not the best father in the world, he’d dedicated my childhood to expanding his criminal empire, missed birthdays and school performances, but my father all the same.
He’d always eaten breakfast with me every morning. He’d never paid for or arranged my murder. The more I saw of society, the more I’d realised he’d tried. He might have done a shitty job most days but he tried. It’s more than a lot of women had from their fathers.
“Dani, he’s ready.”
My feet weighed heavy, the few steps to the elevator down to the interview room Leo was in were the hardest I’ve ever taken. He could apply for leave to appeal his convictions based on the vast swathes of circumstantial evidence Schilling and myself had raked up. His chances of winning the chance to appeal, much less the appeal itself were stark at best. Clemency was his option now, and it was one I knew he’d never take.
Schilling walked down with me, his hand on my arm, guiding me forward.
“Who arrested him?”
“I did.”
“Was he okay?”
“I tried to make it as easy as I could for him. Theo was with him. He’d been home, spent time with his mother. He’s doing the right thing, Dani.”
“For who?”
“You.”
My heart sat in my mouth. We stopped outside interview room three. Through the thick glass window in the blue, reinforced door, I saw Leo. He sat hunched over a table, his hands chained to a bar bolted to the table top, dressed in orange overalls. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and pushed the door open.
“Kid,” Schilling handed me the key to his cuffs, “camera’s not working properly. You have an hour.”
“Thanks.”
He lifted his head, meeting my gaze as the door swung closed behind me. I flipped down the latch, locking us in together.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Whether I agreed with his actions or not, he was doing this for me, to save me, give me the life I’d dreamed of, just without him in it.
I uncuffed his hands and curled into his lap. He held me for the entire hour. We talked, we cried, we laughed. He promised to fight. I was forced to promise to move on if he lost. It was a promise I’d never keep. I would save him. No matter the cost. That’s the only promise I’ve ever made to myself that I intended on keeping.
The hour passed too quickly, Schilling tapped on the door before unlocking it. He stood in the doorway, head bowed, his hands clasped at his front.
“Kid, it’s time. Leo’s transport back to Polunsky has been arranged. They need to question him.”
I nodded, the tears welling in my eyes. Leo swallowed hard, fighting his own sorrow.
“I’ll be fine, Dani. Promise.”
How? How could he be fine in that Hell hole? Locked away in a concrete box for twenty-two hours a day, all alone, how can that ever be okay?
His hands wrapped around my head, his fingers tangled in my hair. The kiss was one full of pain and longing and shattered dreams. My tears landed on his collarbone, dampening the front of the gaudy orange jumpsuit.
“I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you too. Always. Remember your promise to me.”
“You want me to?” Schilling asked, walking into the room, picking the small, silver handcuff key off the heavy wooden table. Leo nodded, closing his eyes. The cuffs snapped around his wrists with a sickening snap. A chain locked through the bar over the table, locking him in place, keeping his interviewers safe from him. Interviewers who’d soon send an innocent man back to death row.
“Emma’s waiting outside for you. You’re staying with us.”
I didn’t have the energy to fight him. He grabbed my hand, pulling me from the stuffy offices. Emma ran to me, wrapping me in a tight hug. I broke, shattering into a million pieces in her arms, crumpling to my knees. She fell to the floor with me, never letting go.
Schilling helped me up, almost carrying me to Emma’s Corvette.
The next week passed in a haze of vodka and tears. Schilling and Emma refused to leave my side. They held my hair while I vomited into their toilet, Emma plied me with bubble baths and ice cream. I began to wonder if I’d ever feel human again. Leo’s lawyer lodged his appeal request within twelve hours of him being back inside.
We weren’t allowed to visit him. All his privileges
had been removed. He spoke to us over the phone, prison officials listening to every word. His strength never failed to floor me. No matter how low he must have been, he still laughed with us, he still congratulated Theo on his engagement, and jokingly wished his finance the luck and strength he’d need to cope with Theo.
It was his mother who eventually pulled me out of my pit of despair. She’d lost her youngest son, her green-eyed baby boy. Day after day she dragged herself from her bed, bathed, tidied her hair and headed out into the world, a brave defiant smile pasted on her face. If she could survive for Leo, then so could I.
Chapter Nineteen
Danica
Leo’s appeal was denied, lack of evidence cited as the reason. None of his new evidence was solid, no matter how compelling it would have been in his original case, it wasn’t enough to save him now.
Attwood refused to admit his part in any of it. And why would he? He was facing life inside. Any plea deal would only take the death penalty off the table. He’d murdered his wife in cold blood after she threatened to expose him, he’d conspired to murder his own daughter for the same. If he added the murder and rape of an innocent eight-year-old to his charge sheet, he'd be signing his own death warrant.
The Chief and their other accomplices all denied anything to do with any murders, claiming Attwood had acted alone in that. Most of them took plea deals, including the Chief. He’d be free after five years in a cushy federal prison. They all deserved what Leo faced.
Leo’s death warrant was signed last night. In thirty days, his life would be snuffed out. We still couldn’t visit him. His final visits would be allowed. They’d be the first and last time we’d be permitted to see him. He wrote us all long, heartfelt letters explaining he was at peace with his situation, tired of fighting, of having his hope snatched away over and over. To allow him to end it would be a kindness.
My letter curled up in the heart, the flames licking the sides, racing over the paper, eating his carefully thought out words. He might be ready to stop fighting. I wasn’t.
Visiting the former Chief, begging for his help hadn’t helped me. Nor had threatening Attwood with a fate worse than lethal injection. Lucy had tried to reason with him to no avail. There was one last person who could help me now.
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