Falling in love with Garrett had changed her outlook. She was open to new experiences, eager for fresh challenges.
She wanted to live to the fullest. One of them had to.
When Lauren’s name was called, she rose to accept her plaque. Posing beside the mayor, she smiled for the camera. After all the awards had been passed out, the crowd gave the group a standing ovation.
Then it was over.
She rose from her seat at the first chance, uncomfortable with the attention. Mayor Sandoval had invited her to a special dinner to show his appreciation. Although she’d accepted, she sought out Trina’s company as soon as she exited the stage.
They’d spoken on several occasions since the tragedy, but they hadn’t seen each other in person.
Trina was standing near the front row, trying to hold her daughter still. Baby Wendy looked determined to practice walking. The pink bow in her dark curls jiggled as she kicked her chubby arms and legs.
“Look at this,” Lauren said, handing Wendy her award plaque.
The baby accepted the shiny object, instantly distracted.
Trina smiled and sat down with her daughter again. She looked pretty, but frazzled, as if she hadn’t been sleeping well.
“How are you?” Lauren asked.
“I’m hanging in there,” Trina said.
They watched the baby play in silence. She dropped the plaque and it rolled off her lap. Lauren caught it and gave it right back to her.
“Ba,” Wendy said, chewing on the edge.
“Oh no,” Trina said.
“It’s okay,” Lauren assured her. “She’s talking now?”
“Yes.”
“What was her first word?”
“Dada.”
Lauren’s throat tightened with sadness.
“She says it all the time. In the grocery store, she points out strangers and says dada. It would be embarrassing, if it wasn’t so...”
Tragic.
“I’m sorry,” Lauren said.
Trina nodded, putting on a brave smile. Her eyes glittered with tears.
Lauren stayed for a few more minutes, enchanted by Wendy. “She’s adorable.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
The baby got bored with the plaque quickly. Lauren took it back and said goodbye, promising to keep in touch.
She joined Mayor Sandoval’s group, accepting hugs from Penny, and Cadence, and Cadence’s mother. The men restrained themselves to handshakes. After Lauren met Don’s wife, she leaned down to kiss his cheek.
“How’s my favorite patient?”
“Not bad,” he said. “But none of my new nurses are as pretty as you.”
She swatted his shoulder and turned her attention to Cruz. “He’s gotten so big,” she exclaimed.
Penny showed off his cute sailor outfit, flashing a wide smile. She looked happy, and Mayor Sandoval seemed genuinely proud of his grandson. If the news of his daughter’s secret pregnancy had created a scandal, Lauren wasn’t aware of it. As far as she knew, Penny’s family was standing by her.
“Is Sam joining us?” she asked, noting his absence.
“I don’t know,” Jorge said. “I invited him, but he didn’t respond.”
She spotted him in the dappled shade beneath a grape tree, his hands in his pockets. “I’ll just say hello before we leave.”
Jorge nodded. “By all means.”
Sam watched her with a guarded expression as she approached. He looked like a stranger. A handsome one, but not friendly. Not open.
His dark eyes skimmed down her body. It was a brief, detached perusal. This was the way married or taken men studied women they found attractive. They might notice, but they didn’t leer.
“You’ve gained weight,” she said, giving him a similar visual exam. It was part professional interest, part female curiosity. He was still too lean, but he appeared to have built back a bit of muscle. She wondered if he’d been rock climbing.
“I’m not coming to the dinner.”
“Okay,” she said, shrugging. “How are you?”
“How are you?”
Flustered, she furrowed a hand through her hair. “Not that great, actually. I mean, I’m glad to be alive, and it’s a beautiful day. It seems wrong to complain while so many others are in mourning, but I feel so...empty.”
His mouth twisted in silent acknowledgment.
“Has your memory returned?”
“No,” he said.
“What have the doctors told you?”
“They don’t agree on anything. The psychiatrist thinks I have guilt issues. I feel responsible for Melissa’s death, so I blocked it out.”
“Were you with her...at the time?”
“Apparently. I’ve asked her parents what happened, but they won’t tell me. I’m supposed to remember stuff on my own.”
Lauren didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“The worst part is that I have to be reminded that she’s dead. Every morning is the same. I wake up, looking for her.”
“You can’t make new memories?”
“Not about her.”
“Oh, Sam,” she said, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.
He flinched at her touch.
She removed her hand, unsure if the gesture was welcome. “I—I hope things get better. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I know what it’s like to be separated from the person you love.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
She moistened her lips. “While we were trapped, I got close to Garrett...one of the convicts.”
Sam stared at her in surprise.
“He saved my life. He saved us all. If anyone deserves a hero plaque, it’s him.”
“When is he getting out?”
“Five years.”
He didn’t say anything critical, but she got the impression that he’d move the ends of the earth to have his girlfriend back in five years. “My apologies,” he said finally. “You must think I’m an ungrateful ass.”
“Why would I think that?”
“Because you kept me alive, and I’m not very appreciative of your efforts.”
“I just wish I could help.”
Sam glanced across the lawn at Jorge Sandoval, deliberating something. “I changed my mind.”
“About what?”
“Going to dinner.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
* * *
THEY SAID THE FIRST month was the hardest.
During that transition period in prison, inmates still had a foothold in the outside world. They remembered what it was like to be free. Their family ties were still strong. Their women hadn’t moved on yet.
Garrett had just finished his sixtieth month, and damned if it didn’t feel like the first. Worse, because he was older and wiser now. He couldn’t stop thinking about Lauren. He ached for the life he was missing.
She’d sent him a letter. He’d carried it around with him for a week. He’d smelled it, thinking he could detect the scent of her hair. He’d stared at it and slept with it and practically made love to it.
In the end, he’d left it unread.
He was already obsessed with her. Encouraging her would only make him feel worse. The time would pass slower. He’d hate himself more.
A reporter had contacted him with an offer to tell his side of the story. He hadn’t responded to her, either. He was lucky no new charges had
been brought up. The last thing he needed was twenty extra years on his sentence. Garrett didn’t know if Jeb and Mickey’s deaths were still being investigated. No one had updated him.
Inside, the earthquake had only caused a minor disturbance. Santee Lakes was on the outskirts of San Diego, miles from the epicenter. His fellow inmates knew that the prisoner transport vehicle had been busted up in the freeway collapse, but they weren’t aware of the killings. Jeb and Mickey were assumed to have expired with the other quake victims. Garrett wasn’t going to tell anyone different.
That evening, a guard showed up outside his cell before lights-out. “Let’s go,” he said. “You have a visitor.”
Garrett was handcuffed and led to a private room. He knew the visitor wasn’t Lauren, or anyone else he wanted to spend time with. Friends and family members had to submit requests to see inmates on specific days. The warden didn’t arrange for prisoners to have personal meetings with anyone, anytime.
He hoped it wasn’t a public defender.
When Garrett walked through the door, he saw Owen sitting at a table, across from two men in suits. The guard removed Garrett’s handcuffs. He took a seat next to Owen, recognizing the first man as Penny’s father.
The second was... “Sam?”
“Sam Rutherford,” he said, shaking Garrett’s hand. “Sorry, I was kind of out of it when we first met.”
Garrett couldn’t help but smile. “Your climbing equipment saved our lives.”
“I heard it was mostly you who did that.”
He glanced at Owen, shrugging.
“And Mr. Jackson, of course. That’s an interesting tattoo.”
Owen didn’t make any excuses for it. Since they’d returned, he’d fallen back in with his old crowd. Garrett wasn’t on his cellblock, and they rarely crossed paths. If Owen needed help, Garrett would step up. Otherwise, he kept his distance. He didn’t want to associate with the Aryan Brotherhood. It was a dangerous organization with a criminal arm that extended well past the prison walls.
Mayor Sandoval passed a sheet of paper across the table to Owen.
“What’s this?”
“A token of my appreciation. My daughter has spoken highly of you, and I’m grateful for everything you’ve done. I admit that I’m not well versed in the intricacies of correctional facilities, but my impression is that Santee Lakes is a harsh environment.”
“Sorry it doesn’t meet your approval.”
Sandoval smiled. “I found an opening for you at a small facility in Northern California. They offer college courses, work programs...tattoo removal.”
He straightened in his chair. “What do I have to do?”
“Just sign this agreement and I’ll make sure the transfer order goes through.”
Owen accepted a pen, skimming the form. “What am I agreeing to?”
“Confidentiality. I don’t want Penny’s hardships discussed in the media.”
“Anything else?”
“It says that you won’t try to contact her.”
He looked up. “Why would I try to contact her?”
Mayor Sandoval seemed pleased by that answer. “No reason.”
Owen scribbled his name. “When do I leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
Garrett recognized that Owen was getting a great deal, so he didn’t interfere. The mayor didn’t want Owen dragging his family name through the mud, or exchanging sentimental letters with Penny. It was kind of ironic that Owen had never even considered writing her. He probably didn’t think she’d want to hear from him.
“What about Garrett?” Owen asked.
Mayor Sandoval turned to him. “I have even better news for you, Mr. Wright. I’ve spoken to the parole board on your behalf and explained the situation. They’ve agreed to hold a special hearing for you.”
Garrett almost fell out of his chair. “I’m not eligible for parole.”
“You’ve accrued work credit and good behavior.”
“Yes, but I’m a violent felon. Under state law, I have to serve at least eighty-five percent of my sentence.” He couldn’t even apply for parole for three more years.
“That’s why they call it a special hearing,” Sandoval said. “These are extraordinary circumstances.”
He couldn’t believe it.
“There’s no guarantee, of course. The terms are the same as with Mr. Jackson. I’ve arranged an opportunity for you, and would appreciate it if you’d sign the confidentiality agreement in return.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes,” Owen suggested.
Garrett wasn’t convinced that he should. He’d accepted the punishment he’d been given. This felt like...cheating. “I killed a defenseless man.”
“Are you sorry?” Sam asked.
“Fuck sorry. I’m guilty.”
Mayor Sandoval frowned. “You were convicted of manslaughter after a bar fight.”
“That’s right.”
“The average sentence for a crime like that is three years.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is that the judge made an example of you.”
“I’m a war veteran. I should be held to a higher standard.”
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough time?”
“No. I’ve only done half of it.”
“A good lawyer would have plea bargained for a lesser sentence or tried for an acquittal. You’re a victim of the system, Mr. Wright.”
“Bullshit,” he said. “The guy I killed is a victim, not me. His parents would be furious if I got released early.”
“Have you spoken with them?”
He shook his head. “I write a letter every year. They don’t answer.”
“What about Lauren?” Sam asked.
“What about her?”
“How would she feel about a special hearing?”
Garrett realized that Lauren had spoken to Sam about him. She must have indicated that she still cared. He replayed the last words she’d whispered in his ear, and an intense wave of longing crashed over him.
He could see her again. They could be together.
But would he deserve her?
This opportunity hadn’t presented itself because of Garrett’s heroic actions. It was all about Mayor Sandoval’s shady political connections. The offer represented everything he hated about social injustice: those in power got a free pass.
“An early release isn’t an exoneration,” Sam said. “No one is asking you to declare your innocence.”
Mayor Sandoval leaned forward. “This isn’t the kind of backdoor pardon order that a dirty governor signs on his way out of office. It’s a legitimate hearing, with no promise of preferential treatment.”
“The hearing itself is preferential.”
“It’s fair,” he said. “Your sentence was too harsh.”
“I killed someone.”
“You saved my daughter.”
“Those two things don’t cancel each other out!”
“I think they do, but it’s not up to me. The board will decide your fate.”
In the end, Garrett signed the form. He’d attend the hearing—on his own terms. Although he desperately wanted a future with Lauren, he wasn’t going to claim he’d been wronged by the judicial system.
“I’d love a special hearing,” Owen said pointedly.
“Don’t press your luck, Mr.
Jackson. You’ll be out in a year.”
He raised his palms. “Just checking.”
After the meeting was over, they all stood to shake hands. Garrett turned to Owen, who surprised him with a goodbye embrace. It hadn’t escaped his attention that Owen had a strong aversion to touch.
“Take care of yourself,” Garrett said, patting him on the back.
“You, too.”
He waited for the guard to cuff his wrists and lead him away. His mind raced with possibilities as they walked down the dark corridor. Dreaming about freedom was a dangerous pastime for an incarcerated man.
A brighter tomorrow beckoned, just out of reach.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
GARRETT’S PAROLE HEARING was scheduled for early September.
Lauren had sent him several more letters over the summer, all of which he’d returned, unopened. It was better this way. Right now he was in limbo. He couldn’t afford to get his hopes up, and he refused to string her along.
The night before the hearing, he didn’t sleep a wink. He stayed up all night worrying about what to say.
He’d expected to apply for parole after serving the majority of his time. There was no dishonor in rehabilitation. He was a changed man, no longer a danger to society. Even so, he felt conflicted about asking for an early release.
Stomach clenched with anxiety, he entered the hearing area. It was basically an open courtroom with one long table. He sat down across from five members of the parole board. A court reporter with a recording machine occupied a corner desk.
His hearing wasn’t open to the public. Only victims—or family members of victims, in his case—could speak out.
Deputy Commissioner Jan Charles greeted him politely. She had a stack of files in front of her. “We received a lot of correspondence about you, Mr. Wright. The warden says you’re a model prisoner. You volunteer at the counseling center, you’re a member of the educational program and you work on the manual-labor crew.”
He tugged at the collar of his inmate scrubs. “Yes, ma’am.”
“There are National Guard reports concerning the San Diego earthquake. You pulled Penelope Sandoval from a burning vehicle and helped save a number of other victims. It also says that you killed two fellow inmates in self-defense.”
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