Fugitive Pursuit

by Christa Sinclair

  “What?” she asked, although she knew the exact thoughts rushing through her friend’s head. Greta was a romantic at heart and could always tell when Jamie had feelings for someone. Heat pushed up into her cheeks.

  Oblivious to the women’s silent communication, Charlotte skipped toward the front door. “Can we go to the playground?”

  “Sure, sweetheart.” Greta grabbed her house keys and guided Charlotte outside. Jamie took a sip from the juice box and followed behind them. Once Jamie and Greta sat down at a patio table by the community playground, her friend began, “Zack’s a good, handsome man. They’re hard to find. And he obviously cares about you.”

  Jamie shook her head. “There’s nothing between Zack and me.”

  Greta bumped shoulders with Jamie. “But there could be.”

  Memories of their kiss whirled through her thoughts. Jamie couldn’t help but smile. “He’s very kind and funny.” With a big sigh, she continued, “The kiss was great, too.”

  “Oh, you’ve kissed?”

  She covered her face with her palm. “Yes, but it doesn’t mean anything serious. He and I are so different and I have no time for a romantic relationship.”

  “You will when Drew is in prison.”

  “No, then my focus will be on Charlotte. I have to do right by her, for Erin.”

  “Yes, you have your niece to take care of, but you are allowed to have a life, too.” Greta sipped her juice.

  “Am I?”

  “Of course. You deserve love as much as anyone else.” Greta had never been one to hold her tongue. After shrugging, she continued, “And maybe Zack’s in your life to remind you just how worthy of love you are.”

  Hope. Greta always gave it to Jamie, no matter what was going on around them. Jamie draped her arm over her friend’s shoulders and hugged her tight. “You’re a blessing to us, Greta. Thank you.”

  “A blessing?” Her friend’s eyes brightened. “Have you started your path back to God?”

  “I don’t know.” Had Zack influenced her? “Maybe.”

  Charlotte ran to the table and set her drink down. “Auntie Jamie, come play with me.” Without waiting, she skipped back to the swing set. “Greta can push us both!”

  The carefree call of her niece loosened the tension out of her shoulders. She may not be ready to believe she and Zack could be a couple, but once again putting her trust in Zack had led to something positive. For a short time, she could pretend to just be an aunt. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the simple act of playing with her niece.

  * * *

  Zack paced the length of the visitors’ room of Wyndom Prison. A line of ten chairs sat in front of desks and plexiglass windows. On the other side were matching chairs. Each side had a phone. Prisoners and visitors occupied four sets of seats. Two of the visitors looked well over his age, one looked sick and the other fought to hold both a baby and the phone. The stench of sweat and dust cleaner clogged his nostrils.

  It had taken him close to an hour driving the speed limit to get here and most of the time he wished he could’ve called Parker or Kyle to take on this task. Or even Jessa. But Zack needed to do this himself. He’d know better which questions to ask. Besides, he’d already asked his siblings for too much. They needed to focus on the actual business of bounty hunting.

  The barred door behind the prisoners’ side opened. A tall, thin man wearing orange overalls shuffled into the room. The man had a full beard, but it couldn’t hide the gaunt look on his face. Teddy Copeland.

  Zack slid into the plastic chair and picked up the corded phone to his left. The guard who’d escorted Copeland into the room stepped away. With his back to the bars, he crossed his arms and stared straight in front of him.

  For a few minutes, Copeland sat watching Zack, as though trying to place him from somewhere. Once he picked up the phone, he shifted his body to one side. “I’ve been in here almost a year, Mr. Bounty Hunter. I don’t know any people who skipped bail and I don’t know where they could be. Thanks for stopping by.” He pulled the phone from his ear.

  Zack wracked his brain for something to keep the man on the phone. “Sheriff Drew Timmins.”

  Copeland stilled. His gaze of steel drilled into Zack. The man returned the phone to his ear. “I’m listening.”

  “It was his deputy who arrested you, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  Down the row of visitors, the baby shrieked. “He claimed you had a big stash of crystal meth in your possession, all ready to be sold.”

  Copeland inched forward. Behind him, an overweight prisoner swaggered toward another guard close to the barred doorway. “I admitted to having the drug in the car but no way did I have as much as they said I did.”

  “How much did you have?”

  “I bought enough for me. I was always careful, you know? I never bought so much that I could be charged with intent to sell. Never. I didn’t never push meth on anybody else.”

  “Yet, that’s what you were arrested for.”

  Copeland glanced to the left, then to the right. “It was the cops, man.” He moved even closer to the window and whispered, “They didn’t like what I had to say so they framed me.”

  “Did you tell all this to your lawyer?”

  “Yeah, but he couldn’t do nothing. Nobody listened. Except for my lawyer, nobody believed me over a decorated deputy and sheriff.”

  “I do.”

  The man narrowed his gaze. “What’re you saying?”

  “I want you to tell me your version of what happened the night you were arrested.”

  “Are you gonna get me outta here?”

  “I can’t answer that.” Zack shook his head.

  Shifting in his seat, Copeland made a psssht sound. “Then why should I talk to you?”

  “Because the same people who messed with you are messing with a couple of people who mean a lot to me. If I can help bring the true criminals down, then I’ll go to bat for you, too.”

  “Why would you do that? We don’t know each other.”

  “No, but you deserve respect and justice, and I always fight for those.”

  Copeland stared at Zack, as though too afraid to put any faith in his words. “I got pulled over for a broken taillight. The sheriff ordered me out of the car and searched it. The deputy he rode with found my meth. The deputy walked back to their car. Sheriff asked if I wanted to stay out of jail and keep this off my record.”

  “Of course you said yes.” Zack shrugged.

  “Right? Anyways, I said yes, thinking I’d have to be like a snitch or something. But those dudes wanted me to sell drugs to kids and adults, run errands, beat down on people. I’d report to them and I’d get paid, sometimes in drugs, sometimes in cash.”

  “Then what happened?” he encouraged.

  “I told ’em I didn’t think it was a good fit for me. I know I have a drug problem, but I ain’t a dealer or somebody’s muscle. Plus, I thought they might be trying to get me in even more trouble, you know?”

  “Yeah, sounded like it.”

  “Next thing I know, I’m slammed down on the trunk of the car. The deputy held a brown paper bag up by my head.”

  “Filled with meth?”

  “Yes. He told the sheriff he found it under my passenger seat. They took me in, threw me behind bars to face a sentence twice as long as I shoulda faced.”

  “And you told your lawyer the whole story?”

  “Every word. Mr. Capper tried to argue it with the judge, but the judge said it had too many holes in it.”

  “Have you had any contact with Timmins or any of his guys since?”

  Copeland shook his head. “Nope.” He tapped his thumb on the handset and stared toward the table. “I tried, too.”

  Zack frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I told m
y lawyer I wanted to talk to Timmins. I was going to tell him I changed my mind and I’d do whatever he wanted. I needed to be free. I wanted to be around to see my baby girl be born.” Tears gathered in the man’s eyes. “But he never came. I’ve been in here since. My little girl doesn’t know her daddy.”

  “I’m sorry, Copeland. I promise I’ll do whatever I can for you.”

  “Really?”

  “I can’t promise things will get better, but I will try.” Zack glanced at the ancient clock hanging over the doorway to the lobby. He’d been here half an hour too long. At least Wyndom was out of Timmins’s jurisdiction.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll keep you in my prayers and I’ll get back to you when I can. Thank you for talking with me.”

  Copeland held up his hand. “Hey, it’s not like I had anything better to do.” He hung up the phone, stood, then spoke to the guard who’d escorted him in.

  Zack’s ears buzzed with the conversations continuing around him, but his mind swirled with all the thoughts Copeland’s story had generated. He shot another look at the clock before he walked through the door to the exit hallway. This trip had turned out to be a gold mine of information. He thanked the woman behind the counter in the lobby and hurried out the sliding glass doors. The warm, muggy air blasted against him and sweat beaded on his forehead before he reached Greta’s vehicle. But he was free. And, God willing, Jamie would soon be, too.

  Once he pulled his phone from his pocket, he called Jessa’s number. “What’s up, my friend?” Most of the time she was a fun-loving woman, but all three of the guys knew to get out of her way when she was in a bad mood.

  “Hey, Jessa. I’ve got another job for you, if you’re willing.”

  “Of course. What do you need?”

  “Find out what you can on Teddy Copeland. He’s in Wyndom Prison now and he’s been arrested before. He’s given me some information, but I want to see how much of it I can believe. If you can, visit Copeland’s girlfriend.”

  “Got it. Hey, Kyle and Parker are still investigating the names you gave Kyle last night, but they did find out something about Dan Butler, the guy in charge of the Don’t Do Drugs program throughout the state. He was the principal financial backer for Sheriff Timmins’s reelection campaign.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I’ve been looking into the warehouse you and Jamie found the drugs in. I’m not positive yet, but I think I might have a connection between Butler and the property. I haven’t gotten very far, though, because we’re taking everything slow so Timmins doesn’t find out we’re investigating him.”

  “Good thinking.” He’d made the choice to assist Jamie and he’d accept his consequences. He didn’t want anyone else suffering for his decisions. “Thanks, Jessa.”

  “Of course. I’ll let you know what I find out from the girlfriend, and you keep us posted on your progress, too.”

  Once they said their goodbyes, Zack hopped into Greta’s car, tossed his phone in the console and headed out of the prison parking lot. By the time he returned to the apartment, dark clouds had overtaken the sky. He slid the vehicle into the carport and made his way to Greta’s apartment. Silence greeted him along with the scents of an Italian meal cooking in the oven when he stepped into the kitchen. “Jamie?”

  No response. No sound at all.

  Odd, with a little kid around, unless Charlotte was taking a nap. But what about Greta and Jamie? He set the keys on the counter where he’d picked them up several hours earlier. Pieces of a popular kids’ cereal were spread out across the kitchen table. A juice box sat on its side next to a plate with sliced apple pieces already turning brown.

  Nothing about the room screamed trouble. But the silence unnerved him. He took a few steps toward the window. The air conditioner kicked in, rustling a few sheets of paper on the edge of the counter. Rain dripped lazily on the bushes outside the window. Zack slowly moved farther into the home. Where was everybody?

  He stepped toward the living room. When he reached the archway, he relaxed his shoulders and smiled.

  Jamie sat in the rocking chair, sound asleep with the kid at her feet. Charlotte still held on to the tattered elephant. One of its ears had been sewn back on, maybe more than once. With a sweet smile from ear to ear, she looked to be having a conversation with the toy.

  Zack seriously considered taking a picture so he could always remember the two of them exactly like this when Jamie went back to her real life and left his. Maybe someday he’d feel competent enough to have a family of his own and a successful career.

  Then again, maybe not.

  Charlotte turned toward him and waved.

  He returned the wave, then pressed his finger to his lips. She imitated his movement, as though directing the stuffed toy. When she looked at Zack again, he motioned her toward him. While she tiptoed over to him, he crouched down.

  “I’m glad you’re home, Mr. Zack,” she whispered.

  “Me, too.” He playfully tapped the tip of her nose. “How come you’re not sleeping?”

  The pigtails flopped when she shook her head. “I don’t like naps.”

  “Me, neither. Where’s Greta?”

  “She went to her room when I first pretended to be asleep. Want to come play with me?”

  “Uh.”

  “Please.” She clasped her hands together and tilted her head to one side. The sweet smile added to her charm and Charlotte was one hard-to-resist kid.

  Hanging out with a six-year-old in a playroom should be interesting. Zack held his hand out. “Lead the way.”

  When she slid those tiny fingers into his hand, some of his worries disappeared. She trusted him, quicker than her aunt had, with the innocence only a child could possess. Her eyes held an overload of hope, but still a hint of hesitation.

  She urged him down the hall into her pseudo-playroom. “I’m going to color,” she said at normal voice level. “You want to, too?” She released his hand, grabbed two coloring books from one of the shelves and skipped over to her kiddie table. A small adult desk sat in the corner of the room with a box of office supplies tucked underneath. Two potted plants sat on the windowsill.

  Once Charlotte set the elephant on the table, she grabbed the box of crayons and turned to him. With a smile, she held out a crayon. “You can choose which book you want to color in.”

  “Okay.” He’d seen his sister with little kids. He could do this. He moved to Charlotte’s side. Of course, he towered over her, and that bit of hope she held on to stared up at him again. He shoved the little kid plastic chair to one side and sat on the floor.

  They colored silently for a few minutes. Maybe while he and Jamie were out tomorrow they could pick up a new elephant. Stuffing stuck out of the trunk and one of the legs. Talk about needing life support.

  “It’s okay you’re not staying in the lines,” she said. “You just need to practice.”

  “Yeah?” His smile widened. She was kind of cute.

  She nodded. “My auntie says the more you practice the better you get at stuff.”

  “She’s a smart lady.”

  “And a really good colorer, too.” While she worked, she stuck her tongue out to the side of her mouth.

  “Thanks for letting me play with you.”

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Zack.”

  “Hey.” He nudged her shoulder. “Now that we’re hanging out together, can you do something for me?”

  “Uh-huh.” She nodded.

  “Can you just call me Zack? You don’t have to say mister. It would be like me saying Miss Charlotte every time I talk to you.” She laughed. “Or like me calling you Miss Giggly.” When he reached forward to tickle her, she laughed louder.

  The sound unlatched something within him, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Memories of his own childhood—of the pranks he and his siblings pul
led, of the happy, carefree times with their parents—rushed to the front of his mind. He’d never doubted he was loved.

  Did Charlotte?

  Did Jamie?

  As the moments with the little one passed, Zack felt a duty settle on his heart: to make sure both Charlotte and Jamie knew they were treasured. How he’d go about letting them know, Zack had no idea, but he’d find a way. He just couldn’t do it himself.

  Of course he cared for them. He found peace when he spent time with them. Yes, he wanted to see them embrace all life had to offer without fear. But love was still a risk and he wasn’t sure he could take the chance. Not even for Jamie and Charlotte.

  EIGHT

  Jamie stood in the doorway with her arms crossed and a smile spreading across her mouth. To see her niece interacting so well with Zack warmed her heart. Drew had hardly ever wanted to be around Charlotte and often claimed work took him away. Jamie had also worried how Erin’s abuse would affect her niece, but children were resilient in ways no adult could understand.

  When Jamie first saw him in the internet café, Zack looked tough, determined. Now, he sat with her niece, decorating a picture of a kitten and chatting about princesses. “Not so tough after all,” she whispered, then spoke up. “I see Charlotte’s made a new friend.”

  “Yes, she has.” Zack rested his hand over his knee and smiled up to her.

  “I’m helping Mr. Zack color in the lines.”

  He leaned closer to Charlotte. “You’re helping who?”

  With an exaggerated sigh, she answered, “Zack.”

  He motioned between her niece and himself. “We’re close enough now we’re on a first-name basis.”

  “I see.” Jamie lowered her arms. “Well, why don’t we let him get back to his own work? We can help Greta get supper ready.”

  “No, Auntie. Please let him stay to finish his picture.”

  “Charlotte,” Jamie warned.

  “We’re good.” Zack winked at her niece. “The two of us can wait together until dinner’s ready. Besides, I do want to finish my coloring.”

  “Are you sure?” Jamie chuckled.