Word of Honor

by Terri Blackstock

  “What, pray tell, does that mean?”

  “You’re bad news. A danger to be around. A person could lose their life.”

  “You’re perfectly safe with me now,” Jill said.

  “Hey, I’m just saying…a lot of bad stuff happens to you.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “So what’s the deal with you and Dan Nichols? I heard the two of you were practically shopping for rings, and then I saw him out with Lisa Manning last night.”

  Jill wondered if there was anything in Newpointe that escaped Sheila’s attention. “It’s a long story.”

  “So you two are off again?”

  Jill smiled. “No, actually. We’re on again.”

  “And you don’t care about his other women?”

  Jill was not about to get into this with her. “Sheila, I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

  “Because you can’t just let him walk all over you, you know. You gotta lay the law down with these guys, or they’ll think they can treat you any way they want. I’ve been through this, you know.”

  “So have I,” Jill said. “I can handle it. But thanks.” She went into the office, closed the door, and began to try to catch up on all the work she’d fallen behind on since the explosion.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  At one o’clock, Sid Ford took Frank and Jerry out to the walled-in recreation area behind the police station where they could get some fresh air and sunshine. It was department policy ever since Patricia Castor, the mayor, was threatened with a lawsuit claiming the jails were unfit. She had immediately funded thousands of dollars to clean up the jails and build the recreation area. She had also wanted to outfit the cells with television sets and VCRs, but the city council had voted her down. They had also voted down the Nautilus machines she had proposed. It wouldn’t do to turn the prisoners into puffed up, buffed up muscle men, they said.

  So instead of weights, they had this yard, where they could soak up sunshine and feel the wind on their faces. It wasn’t freedom by any means, but it was better than the cell. Jerry sat on the bench in the shade and watched as Frank paced like a nervous, caged animal from one corner of the wall to the other. Sid Ford was sitting in a folding chair by the door, reading the newspaper.

  As Frank passed Jerry, he whispered, “I’m getting out of here.”

  “You’re what?” Jerry asked.

  Frank glanced back at Sid. He was absorbed in a newspaper article. “Getting out of here. They can’t hold me.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “I’m gonna go over the wall. That’s how I escaped from the POW camp in Jackson.”

  Jerry got to his feet. “Frank, don’t try it. He’s got a gun and he’ll shoot you before you can get one foot over.”

  “No, he won’t. I’ll be gone before he knows it.”

  Frank glanced at Sid and saw that he was still engrossed. They weren’t even in his view. “Frank, you’re not going to get away with this,” he said. “What are you gonna do? Go after Jill Clark again?”

  “Yes, and anybody else who stands in my way. And that kid…I’m gonna take care of him.”

  Jerry shot him a look. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I’m gonna make things right for him.”

  Jerry didn’t know how much more he could take. “Frank, you’re not gonna get out of here. You’re only gonna make things worse for yourself.”

  “Watch me,” Frank said.

  Jerry knew he was going to give it a try, and probably get gunned down trying to climb over that wall. He had to talk him out of trying. “So you want to get out so you can see the boy? How are you planning to make things right?”

  “Maybe he just doesn’t need to hang on anymore,” Frank said. “Maybe if he could be with his mama…”

  As Jerry realized what he was saying, he covered his face. “Frank, you’re a hero. Don’t you remember in Vietnam, when you saved my life? Why would you want to go from being a hero to a killer?”

  “Sometimes being a killer is being a hero,” Frank said. His eyes were getting wild as he mentally measured the height of the wall. “I don’t have a choice, anyway. I have a war to fight. That little boy can just make a peaceful exit, slip right on into heaven with his mama. Then I can finish the battle.”

  “What battle?”

  “I’m gonna take out that hospital. Think of the statement. Think of all the attention it would call to what’s really goin’ on in our government.”

  “That is not a government building, Frank.”

  “That’s what they want you to think. But they’re all government buildings. They hold dozens and dozens of POWs in there, and they have their headquarters there and manipulate the multitudes in the name of good. When they find the kid dead, everybody will be there investigatin’. The FBI will fill the place up lookin’ for me, and that detective and some of these Newpointe cops…I could get them all with one explosion.”

  He had little doubt that Frank could pull it off, if he could just get out of jail. But that seemed remote, and he was thankful to the point of tears. It occurred to him for a moment that he needed to get Sid’s attention somehow, just in case Frank did manage to get over the wall. But then he told himself it was ridiculous. Frank would never make it. The very suggestion could get Frank into more trouble than he was already in, and Jerry wasn’t about to bring that on him.

  The sun was about to go down, and Jerry kept expecting Sid to take them back in, but he was apparently enjoying the cool of the day too much, and was letting them stay longer than usual. If it became dusk, he thought, and the sky began to darken, there was a possibility Frank would try. He couldn’t let that happen. Somehow, he was going to have to stop him.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Dan called Jill at the office that afternoon. “I got my new wheels.”

  She grinned. “Really? What kind?”

  “Another Bronco. The insurance almost covered all of it.”

  “Good for you.”

  “So…what are you doing tonight?”

  She sat back in her chair. “I really wanted to go to the hospital. Celia should have that baby any time.”

  He was quiet for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure if that was an invitation. “Mind if I come along?”

  She grinned. “I was hoping you’d take your new Bronco.”

  A few seconds passed as a million thoughts seemed to file through both of their minds. “Jill, I know I’ve said this already, but…about Lisa last night…I’m still so sorry.”

  She looked down at her hands and wondered at the way her heart hammered and her nerves raged when she talked to him. “Dan, I was hurt. Really, really hurt. But you came back, like my hero riding in on a white horse, just when I needed you. I forgive you, and I don’t want to think about it again.”

  He seemed too moved to speak. “You know, I could look the world over, and I’d never find anybody like you.”

  She smiled. “That could be a good thing.”

  Again, silence lay like a breathing thing between them. “I don’t know how to explain how I feel,” he whispered. “This…attachment to you…it almost hurts.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away. “You don’t have to explain it,” she said. “I know just the feeling.”

  “What I said last night, when I found you. That I love you…Jill, I’ve never told another woman that before.”

  Her heart melted in gratitude, and she closed her eyes as more tears made their way out. Then fear crept in to crowd out the warmth in her heart, and she wondered if he regretted it now.

  As if he read her thoughts, he went on. “I meant it, Jill. I meant it last night, and I mean it now, and I even meant it eight months ago when we stood in front of that nursery at the hospital and parted company. I didn’t say it then. I couldn’t. But I knew it every day that passed without you, and every phone call I wouldn’t let myself make, and every time I drove past your house just to see if you were home, but wouldn’t let mys
elf stop…”

  “You did that, too?” she asked.

  “Jill, I love you.”

  She sucked in a deep, ragged, wet breath at the words. “I love you, too.”

  She could almost hear the smile on his face. “Good,” he whispered. “That’s good.” He drew in a deep breath. “I’ll be over there in a few minutes, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  When Jill hung up the phone, she sat there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of the truth of his love. She pulled her knees up to her chest and dropped her forehead against them, and began to pray. She thanked God for Dan, and for the conversation they’d just had, for bringing them together…

  She had a lot to talk to God about. There was so much grace to acknowledge. So much generosity. So much love.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Still outside in the police yard, Frank began to eye one corner of the wall where some jasmine grew over it. He seemed to think he could get a running start and hurl himself over. Jerry knew he couldn’t. No one could jump that high, and if he tried to climb, Sid would be on him in a second. But just as he was rationalizing his silence, one of the younger cops came bolting out. “Sid, Stan wants to talk to you. He thinks Celia will deliver in the next hour or so!”

  Sid jumped to his feet. “Finally. I thought Stan was gon’ tear up Pendleton Hospital waitin’ for that baby! Man, ole Stan’s gon’ be a daddy. Which phone?”

  “My desk,” the rookie said.

  Sid rushed inside to take the call, and the rookie picked up the paper and started to read.

  “Now’s my chance,” Frank whispered.

  Jerry looked at the uniformed cop with the weapon on his hip. “Frank, don’t do it. They’ll kill you before you get off the ground.”

  Frank seemed to enjoy that challenge. “I told you, watch me.”

  Jerry could feel the heat in his face. He didn’t want to see his friend die. “Frank, I’m begging you. Please…just wait…”

  “I can’t wait. I have to go now.”

  “Frank…”

  “But don’t worry. I’ll see you again, Jerry.”

  Jerry fought the tears burning in his eyes. He knew his friend was crazy…had been for years. But he also knew that this man, this once heroic man, had given him a second chance to get his life right and fall in love and marry and have a family. Without him, none of that would have ever belonged to Jerry. Yet Frank had never known those things.

  He grabbed his friend’s arm and glanced at the rookie cop, wishing he could get his attention, make him call them back in. But the guy wasn’t looking.

  “Frank, things are gonna be all right, man. In this life or the next…You and me, we’re brothers. We take care of each other, man. And I’m trying to take care of you.”

  “I’m taking care of myself,” he said. “It’s for you. For the whole country. My contribution.” He stood stiffly, gave Jerry a salute, then took off running from one corner to another. He scaled the wall in the corner, one foot on each wall, pulling by the vines until he was over the top.

  Jerry stood, stunned, waiting for the cop to start shooting, waiting for Frank to fall back down, for his problems to end…But Frank was stronger than he thought. He had the stealth of a cat, and he was going over.

  The rookie heard Frank’s shoes on the bricks and looked up as he reached the top of the wall. “Freeze!” he yelled, trying to get his gun out of his holster. But it was too late. Frank Harper was long gone.

  Sid ran back out, and Jerry was pulled back in as sirens blared and police dispersed. It was just a matter of time before they would catch him, he thought. Just a matter of time before they gunned him down. Just a matter of time before Frank was released from the real prison that had held him all these years.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Frank managed to cross the bayou and hot-wire a car before the dogs found his trail. He got out of town before they set up any roadblocks, and headed east to Hammond. He found a little Cajun Mom and Pop store on the outskirts of town and went in pretending to look for a gas treatment for his car. As they went to get it out of the back, he stole a pair of scissors and a pack of razors. He took one look at the gas treatment and told them he didn’t like that brand.

  He got out of there before they could get suspicious, then drove to a filthy gas station a mile away, locked himself in the bathroom, and cut his hair and shaved.

  It had been years since he’d shaved, and he cut himself in several places, both on his jaws and his head. But by the time he was finished, his hair was piled in the trash can beside the sink, and his head and face were as smooth as marble.

  He felt ten pounds lighter as he went back out to the car he’d stolen. The car next to him, at the gas pump, had a purse sitting on the seat. He looked around, and saw the driver inside paying for her gas. Without missing a beat, he opened her passenger door, grabbed the purse, threw it into his car, and drove off.

  As he drove, he laughed at the treasure he had found. She had at least six credit cards, all in her husband’s name, and about thirty dollars in cash. He was a different person, he thought. He had a different look, and a different identity. He could do anything he wanted. Nothing could stop him now.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  The rookie who had allowed Frank to escape threw Jerry Ingalls back into the cell and slammed it shut. “You’ve got to listen to me!” Jerry shouted. “He’s headed for New Orleans! For the hospital where that boy is.”

  “Why should I believe you?” the cop demanded, kicking the bars. “You helped him escape! You been coverin’ for him all this time. I’ll probably lose my job over this. I’ve been here one month, and then you come along and—”

  “I didn’t help him! I didn’t think in a million years he could get over that wall! You’ve got to listen to me. That’s where he’s going!”

  “No, that ain’t where he’s goin’!” the kid yelled. “You heard us say that’s where Stan was. You’re just tryin’ to throw us off!”

  “He has some distorted idea that he could help the kid by killing him! A put-him-out-of-his-misery kind of thing. Please, listen to me. He said that when they find the boy dead, the FBI will come, and when they do, he’s going to blow the place up.”

  “I’m not stupid!” the rookie shouted. “You’re working with him. Everybody knows it. You covered for him the whole time we were looking for him. Why would you fink on him now?”

  “Because…I see that I can’t help him as long as he’s out there. He needs help. He’s sick. Please, you’ve got to stop him! Let me talk to the chief.”

  “Right. I’m really gonna call more attention to the fact that a prisoner got away while I was watching! Like I’m not in enough trouble already!”

  Jerry didn’t know how to get through to him. “Then call my lawyer. Call Jill Clark. I have a right to talk to my lawyer!”

  But even as he spoke, the rookie left him alone, and he knew that he was going to cover his own tracks to save his job. They wouldn’t catch Frank and wouldn’t figure out where he was until it was too late.

  “Hey!” he yelled, his voice reverberating over the room. “Somebody listen to me!”

  But they were all too busy chasing the escaped prisoner.

  Chapter Seventy

  It was midafternoon when Frank got to the Pendleton Memorial Hospital in New Orleans. He didn’t park at the front of the hospital; that was too dangerous. Instead, he parked in a crowded parking lot at the back and walked around until he found an unlocked entrance.

  He knew better than to go to the lobby and ask the volunteers there for the Hampton kid’s room, so instead, he went to a pay phone and dialed the hospital’s number. He asked for the room number, and without a hitch, they gave it to him. “Would you like me to connect you?” the lady asked.

  “No, thanks,” he said. “I’ll connect myself.”

  He hung up, and chuckling to himself, went to the stairwell and ran up to the third floor. No one paid him a bit of attention as he
counted down the room numbers, then came to the child’s open door.

  His grandmother was in there, sound asleep in a rocking chair in the corner of the room. Pete lay limp on his back, a ventilator mask over his face, and its tube running down his throat. Frank’s stomach lurched. The child was in bad shape. His head was bruised and misshapen where it had hit the pavement in the explosion, and he had tubes and cords running like webbing around him.

  Frank suddenly wished he had grabbed the kid up when he’d seen him in the post office, and taken him with him. He even would have gotten the mother out if he could have done it over.

  But it wasn’t too late.

  No, he couldn’t bring the kid’s mother back, and he couldn’t heal the child. But there was a way to set things right. He could end his suffering. Stop the ache in that broken heart. He traced the tube from the oxygen mask back to the ventilator, then found the power cord and unplugged it. He heard the oxygen output ceasing.

  He glanced across the bed to the grandmother. She was snoring lightly. In the corner, a television was turned down low, and he saw his picture flash across the screen. It alarmed him, but then he realized that he didn’t look like that anymore. He looked into the mirror and didn’t recognize himself. He grinned.

  The little boy’s eyes opened, and he coughed. He looked up at Frank, squinting as if trying to determine who he was. And then the boy saw his fingers.

  He tried to gasp for breath, but the air wouldn’t come. His face was beginning to drain of whatever color it had left.

  Frank hurried out of the room so he wouldn’t have to watch. If the grandmother could just stay asleep, maybe Pete would slip away. It would be so merciful…so kind. It would set things right once and for all. In just a few minutes, the kid would be with his mother.

  He went back out into the hall, feeling more useful than he’d felt since he blew up the post office. He saw three security guards at the nurse’s station, so he went the other way and slipped out into the stairwell.