After the Execution

by James Raven

  But I found a small crumb of comfort in the fact that her life had been shit before I arrived on the scene. She had told me so herself. And she’d been looking for a fresh start away from Texas and the man who had been violent towards her.

  I could only hope that this new life would be a better one. And that one day she might even thank me for turning her world upside down.

  It wasn’t long before Anna was crying too, upset and confused by her mother’s tears. I tried not to let it distract me as I drove east towards the interstate.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘Houston,’ I said. ‘I’ll check you into a hotel for the night. You can think about where you want to go. Then tomorrow I’ll buy a car and take you there.’

  ‘Can’t we just keep driving? Put as much distance between us and Texas as we can?’

  I shook my head. ‘For one thing the car’s stolen and the Feds will be looking for it. For another there’s something I have to do tonight. It’s why we’re going to Houston.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘You don’t need to know.’

  She thought about that and thankfully chose not to press me.

  ‘So how come you can buy a car?’ she asked after a moment. ‘I didn’t think you had any money.’

  ‘I got lucky,’ I said. ‘I’ve now got plenty of cash to help you get settled.’

  ‘Why are you bothering,’ she said. ‘You could have been in Mexico by now. I didn’t expect to ever see you again.’

  I shrugged. ‘You’re in trouble because of me. It wouldn’t be fair to leave you.’

  She was silent for a spell, then said, ‘I need things for the baby. I left everything back at the house.’

  ‘No problem. We’ll stop at a mall on the way. You can load up on essentials.’

  Kate began whispering to Anna and then started humming a tune to try to get her to sleep. I felt tears pressing behind my eyes and I had to blink to keep them back.

  ‘You’ll be OK,’ I said after a couple of beats. ‘Things will work out.’

  She stopped humming and said, ‘I wish I could believe that.’

  I wanted to say more to reassure her, but I wasn’t convinced it would work so I said nothing and focused on the road ahead.

  We stopped at a shopping mall just outside Houston. I called the cops from a pay phone and said I’d seen a man being forced into the trunk of a car at the lake close to the municipal airport in San Antonio. I hung up when they asked me for my name.

  Then Kate went into a grocery store with $200 cash that I gave her. She came back out twenty minutes later with two bags filled with baby stuff.

  We then drove to an upmarket hotel near the city centre, which had a large parking lot at the rear. I checked in under Garcia’s name. I showed his driving license – which the desk clerk barely looked at – and then paid for a double room up front in cash.

  The room was bigger and far more comfortable than the one we’d stayed in the previous night. There were two Queen-size beds, a plush en-suite bathroom and a large flat-screen TV. The hotel also supplied a crib for the baby and after Kate fed her she put her down for the night. We dimmed the lights and sat facing each other across a small occasional table with a fruit bowl on top. Kate looked gaunt and tired and her mouth was downcast.

  ‘I suppose I ought to thank you for saving me,’ she said. ‘Seems like you’re making a habit of it.’

  ‘I’m sorry about Frank Larson,’ I said. ‘It wasn’t good to see him like that.’

  She looked up at the ceiling, her sad eyes glistening.

  ‘Are you sure that he was killed by the FBI?’ she said.

  I nodded. ‘Vance didn’t deny it when I accused him. I can only assume that Larson recognized me and told them so, which was a big mistake.’

  She thought about that and said, ‘So how did you come to be at the lake with Vance?’

  I filled her in then on everything that had happened to me since we had been separated and everything I’d learned from Garcia and Cruz. She listened without speaking and when I was finished I picked up the holdall and emptied the money on one of the beds.

  Her eyes went saucer-wide.

  ‘There’s about eighty thousand dollars there,’ I said. ‘It’ll make it possible for both of us to buy new identities and solve a lot of other problems.’

  She stared at the money in stunned silence, her face pale and drawn, her eyes heavy and swollen. And then a tear trickled down her left cheek.

  She got up suddenly and rushed into the bathroom where she broke down. She left the door open so I followed her in. She was leaning over the sink, crying.

  I reached out, put a hand on her shoulder and found it impossible to suppress a shimmer of desire. God, this woman would be easy to love, I thought.

  The next thing I knew she was in my arms and I was holding her close to me as she wept against my chest. The wave of emotion that swept through me was both powerful and unexpected. It made me realize that I cared for Kate even though we had only just met and I knew nothing about her. It was a strange yet exhilarating feeling. And scary too because it gave rise to the absurd idea that maybe fate had brought us together for a purpose.

  She stopped crying and took a step back. I still had my hands on her shoulders and could feel the sweetness of her breath on my face. She gazed up at me and her sad eyes drew me in. Something passed between us then but I wasn’t sure what it was or if it meant anything.

  But I did know that I suddenly wanted to kiss her, to feel the taste of her lips against mine. I resisted, fearing that she would pull away or cringe at the prospect of kissing a convicted murderer.

  Things were going to be tough enough in the days ahead, I thought. I didn’t want her to suddenly become suspicious of my motives.

  ‘I’m sorry about the tears,’ she said. ‘It’s just too much to take in.’

  I dropped my hands away from her shoulders and smiled.

  ‘No need to apologize,’ I said. ‘I know this can’t be easy.’

  She turned to look at herself in the mirror above the sink and grimaced at her reflection. Then she pulled a tissue from the box beside it to wipe her eyes.

  I had to fight the urge to take her in my arms again. It was so strong that I backed out of the bathroom so as not to make a fool of myself. I went straight to the mini-bar and took out a miniature whisky. I downed it in one long swallow and felt it burn its way through my gullet.

  Kate emerged from the bathroom, her cheeks red and slightly puffy. She fixed me with a penetrating gaze and then walked over to me and took my face in her hands.

  ‘I want you to know that I’m grateful for what you’re doing, Lee,’ she said. ‘I know it would be easier for you if you just took off and didn’t concern yourself with Anna and me. But you’ve chosen not to and it says a lot about you.

  ‘And you can’t blame yourself for what’s happened. You’ve been an unwilling pawn in a dangerous game and we’ve both been swept along by a chain of events. But at least we’re still alive and I’m beginning to think that maybe we should look at this as an opportunity. Not many people get the chance to start their lives all over again from scratch.’

  I don’t know who moved first, whether it was Kate or me, but suddenly we were locked in a tight embrace.

  What happened next took me completely by surprise.

  47

  HER KISS WAS subtle at first, the merest brush of her lips against mine. But it set my body on fire and stole my breath away. Her tongue eased my lips apart, the kiss widening, growing, becoming more intense.

  I felt a surge of testosterone as she ran her fingers through my hair. Her breath was coming in fast, high-pitched gasps and the heat from her body was making me dizzy. I could barely control my excitement as I realized where this was going.

  I hadn’t been with a woman for so long and if there had been time to think I’m sure I would have succumbed to an attack of anxiety. But Kate was taking the lead and it was all I could do to
keep up.

  She pulled off my jacket and then unbuttoned my shirt, all the time pressing her lips against mine and moaning like a hungry tigress. I fumbled with her belt and she must have sensed that I was out of practice because she undid it for me and then unzipped her jeans and pulled them down along with her panties. Before I knew it she was pulling at my belt and by the time I was naked from the waist down I felt I was going to explode.

  I helped her off with her T-shit and marvelled at her silky-smooth skin. She had wide, dark areolas on small breasts.

  We fell onto the bed farthest away from the cot and a decade of involuntary celibacy meant I couldn’t hold back. But she understood because she pushed me onto my back and lowered herself on top of me.

  It was like I had died and gone to heaven. As she rode me, I clenched my eyes shut, but the tears found their way free, nonetheless.

  I lasted longer than I thought was possible – maybe a whole minute – and I was pretty sure that when Kate cried out it wasn’t just for my benefit.

  Afterwards we rolled onto our sides and held on to each other. We were both panting and sweating and I found it hard to believe what had just happened.

  ‘I’ve never made a man cry before,’ she whispered.

  ‘I hope it didn’t put you off,’ I said, embarrassed.

  She laughed. ‘I can tell there’s a lot you’ve forgotten about women. I just had the most moving experience of my entire life.’

  I wanted to tell her that I felt the same way but my throat was so thick with emotion that I couldn’t form the words. She stroked my face and kissed me softly on the lips.

  ‘I think we both needed that,’ she said.

  I grinned. ‘I know I did. It’s been a long time.’

  We snuggled up to each other and I just wanted to savour the moment. But the feelings stirred up by what had just happened sparked a riot of thoughts in my head. I wondered if this was the beginning of something real. Or was it nothing more than two desperate people seeking a brief respite from a horrible reality?

  And I wondered too if what I was planning to do later tonight would turn out to be a big mistake. I didn’t have to do it, after all. And it was going to be a huge risk.

  But then I was reminded of the promise I made to myself on death row – that, if I ever got released, I would seek out the person who had really murdered Kimberley Crane all those years ago. And then I’d make them suffer for what they did to her – and to me.

  ‘Are you always this restless after sex?’ Kate said.

  ‘I can’t remember,’ I answered truthfully.

  She laughed. ‘What you need is another drink. And maybe some dinner.’

  I kissed her on the neck and said, ‘Let’s check out the menu.’

  There were hotel robes hanging on the bathroom door so we slipped them on. As I poured us each a glass of wine from the mini bar, Kate studied the room-service menu. She chose to have a pizza with a mound of trimmings and a bowl of fries. I ordered the same for me.

  While we waited for the food to arrive I asked her where she wanted to begin her new life. She gave me a serious look. ‘Before I can even contemplate that I want to know what you plan to do when we get there. I have to think about Anna. She’s all I’ve got.’

  I told her what I had in mind and explained that nothing was set in stone. I said we’d rent apartments for a short time and I’d set about finding someone who could supply us with false ID documents.

  ‘It shouldn’t be that difficult,’ I said. ‘The country is sinking under the weight of forged papers by all accounts.’

  Our pizzas arrived then and we got stuck in. They were hot and delicious and I washed mine down with two glasses of wine. When we were done I told Kate I was going out.

  ‘Do you have to?’ she asked, a worried expression on her face.

  I nodded. ‘There’s something I need to do. Something that’s important to me. It’s why we’re here in Houston.’

  ‘Will you be coming back?’

  I smiled reassuringly. ‘Of course I will. Later on.’

  ‘But what if something happens to you?’

  I pointed to the money that was still piled up on the bed.

  ‘Then you’ve got enough cash there to get you wherever you want to go.’

  She drew in a breath and said, ‘Please be careful.’

  ‘I will,’ I told her.

  48

  GIDEON CRANE SAT at the table next to his swimming pool contaminating the air with cigar smoke.

  It was a cold night, but the whisky swirling around inside him stopped him feeling it. He’d downed half a bottle already and he was determined to finish it before going to bed. And why not? It was the only way to blunt his senses and deal with this whole fucking nightmare.

  Crane hadn’t spoken to his wife since she’d stormed into his office to tell him that she knew about his affair with Beth. How long ago was it? Three? Four hours? He couldn’t remember.

  He’d tried to talk to her, but she’d retreated to their bedroom and had refused to come out. He’d heard her crying and it had infuriated him. He was the one who should be shedding tears. It was his life and his political aspirations that were under threat like never before.

  He knew he faced a stark choice. Stay with Beth and try to weather the storm after Pauline filed for divorce and branded him a serial adulterer.

  Or end it with Beth – the woman he loved – in the hope that Pauline would stick with him and not ruin his chances of becoming President. But how could he ever trust her? She was a manic depressive who had already tried to kill herself. She was unpredictable at best and was certain to make his life hell from now on.

  He stared up at the stars, as though beseeching them to tell him what to do. But instead their cold indifference filled him with an intense rage.

  Crane took a deep pull on his cigar and spun what was left of it into the pool. His eyes felt dry and heavy and his head was starting to swim a little.

  He shouldn’t have let it come to this. He should have dealt with Pauline a long time ago, when he first realized that she would never recover from finding out that she could not conceive. That was when she started to drift away from him and into her own tortured world.

  Now he would suffer the consequences of standing by her out of self-pity and a misguided sense of duty. She was suddenly a woman scorned as well as a drug-dependent depressive. And that made her a lethal weapon.

  He reached across the table for the whisky bottle and poured some into his empty glass. No half measures. He filled it to the brim and gulped down a mouthful before topping it up again.

  His head thumped like a bass drum and blood pumped supercharged through his veins. He knew that in the morning he would have the mother of all hangovers. But he didn’t care. This was a pivotal moment in his life and he needed help in dealing with it. Alcohol was the great comforter in times of crisis. That was why he had drowned himself in booze after that night ten years ago when everything changed.

  Then, as now, he’d been confronted with an agonizing dilemma. His mind sucked him back and the images of the carnage pressed in on him.

  When he’d woken up from the blows inflicted by Lee Jordan he’d found Kimberley lying on the floor with blood on her face and head. Jordan’s gun was next to her. It was obvious he had attacked her before fleeing.

  But she wasn’t dead.

  Crane knew that as soon as he knelt beside her and saw that she was still breathing. At first he tried to wake her, but then something stopped him – the sudden realization that he had been presented with an extraordinary opportunity to solve a problem. He saw a way to avoid a costly divorce and hold onto his fortune; a way to embark on a new life with Pauline, his then mistress.

  In that moment of clarity he was seized by an impulse that was so strong he couldn’t fight it. Probably because deep down he didn’t want to.

  So he’d picked up the gun with his handkerchief, careful not to smear Jordan’s prints.

  And then
he’d shot his wife.

  It had been as simple and as heartless as that.

  The cops had never suspected a thing and the only person who knew the truth was Lee Jordan. But Jordan’s story that he had hit Pauline in self-defence when she attacked him, but had not murdered her, was never believed.

  Crane felt no guilt or sympathy for Jordan because the bastard should not have broken into their home. He’d found it almost as easy to live with what he’d done to Kimberley. The guilt was there, of course, a dull ache inside him, but he had always been able to supress it, even after he stopped drinking heavily.

  Now, as a bitter taste settled in his mouth, he wondered if it had all been worth it. He was right back where he began – in a loveless marriage and with a difficult choice to make. Only now things were much worse. He was on the edge of a precipice. And whatever decision he made, the outcome – in respect of his political ambitions – would almost certainly be the same. He’d be ruined. The campaign would be over and he’d become a pariah. It would be the end of his lifelong dream and the start of an endless struggle with shame and disappointment.

  Suddenly a thought wormed its way into his brain and he realized there was a way out for him. It sparked a surge of optimism. It was actually quite simple. He would do to Pauline what he’d done to Kimberley, only this time he’d make it look like suicide. It would be easy enough, considering her history.

  All he had to do was go upstairs and get the gun he kept in the drawer beside the bed. He’d stick the muzzle in her mouth and blow the top of her head off. Then he’d put the gun into her hand and raise the alarm.

  Sure, he would have to pull out of the race for the Republican nomination, but not for long. He’d stage a miraculous comeback before the Primaries, claiming it was what his troubled wife would have wanted.

  As the idea grew in his head he felt his face flare with hope. This was his way out. He was sure of it. It was the solution to his problem, a way of getting both Beth and the Presidential nomination. Pauline’s brother would be an issue, but he’d solve that by throwing money at him. He was sure that would work.