by K. M. Hodge
“Yes, and there’s a recording on it. Would you like to hear it?”
“No, not really.”
His lawyer leaned over to him. “Cooperate.”
“Can you just give me the gist of it?”
The detective’s nose twitched and she took a short breath in and out before continuing. “It’s the last five minutes of Mr. MacAvoy’s life. We had some experts verify with a certain degree of authenticity that this is indeed MacAvoy’s voice. In the recording, he is talking to another man, someone we suspect is now running the show. You’re a lucky man, though, because the conversation exonerates you of the murder charges. The accomplice charge, however, will still stick. I’ll let your lawyer talk that over with you.”
The detective stood up and walked out of the room without even a sideways glance.
Zane rotated towards his lawyer, whose grin swung from ear to ear. “Sooo...?”
His lawyer sat forward. “So, I’m pretty sure I can get a plea deal with the prosecution. Time served and a lengthy probation period. Your medical license might not be as easy a fix.”
“Of course not.” He rubbed his eyes and groaned.
“I’ll get something written up and send it to you.” He stood and patted Zane on the shoulder. “Are you okay, kid?”
“I’m in prison, I haven’t seen my family in weeks, and I might lose my medical license. I’m great, thanks.”
“Hang in there, kid. We’ll get this straightened out. I promise.”
Zane cleared his throat and wet his lips. “Um, do you have any word on my mom? Is she okay?”
His lawyer nodded. “Yeah, she’s okay, man.”
The man averted his eyes, making Zane question the validity of his claim. He reached out to touch the man’s arm, but the guard stepped forward. “No touching.”
He retracted his arm and slumped back in the chair. “Is she really okay? She hasn’t been by to visit.”
His lawyer slung his briefcase strap over his shoulder and turned to walk out. “Pretty soon, you’ll be able to ask her that yourself.”
Zane wanted to believe him, but the last year hadn’t exactly been going his way. As the guard led him out of the holding room and back to the bunks, he snuck off to the corner to pull out the watch. He turned on the screen and a short message greeted him.
“Your silence has been rewarded. Enjoy your freedom.”
He let out an anxious sigh. Henry.
He hid the watch behind a loose brick. He wouldn’t be able to contact his family without everyone in Ocean City knowing the message.
I’ll never be safe, not really.
The watch’s message made it clear that the eyes of Maryland would always be on him.
***
St. Rita’s Hospital
Danville, Virginia
August 21, 2026
7:00 AM
~~~
“How ya feeling?” Jason brushed Sally’s hair away from her face.
“Mmm... sleepy.” She nuzzled against his bare chest and deeply inhaled.
“Want me to make you some breakfast?” Even though he needed to get up, he let himself enjoy a few extra minutes of holding his beautiful wife. “I can make pancakes.”
“Sure.”
He kissed the top of her head and slipped out of bed, then tossed on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt. The lawyer would be coming by to discuss Zane’s plea agreement. He knew Sally missed the boy, but she never said anything. Sometimes she even changed the subject mid-discussion. The MDNA didn’t feel it was safe yet for her to come out of hiding, and everyone agreed, Jason included.
A knock at the door broke his train of thought. “The lawyer’s early.”
Sally crawled out of bed looking like some undead creature from a horror movie. Her mussed hair, set jaw, narrow eyes, and the plethora of scars that marred her naked body made her look menacing. Which, maybe, she was.
“Get dressed and I’ll start on coffee and breakfast.”
Sally grunted her inaudible response and shouldered past him.
He smiled and said, “Love you, too, babe.”
Before she turned into the bathroom, she flipped up her middle finger in his general direction, making him chuckle.
The knock at the door became more insistent.
“Coming!” Jason jogged to the front door and opened it wide. Instead of the lawyer, he was surprised to find Mari standing before him.
She glanced up at him for a moment and then looked away. “Are you going to let me in?”
“I don’t know. Depends. What do you want?”
“To tell you I’m sorry. I’m not sorry that I did my job, but I am sorry that the boy got caught up in all of this.”
“Okay. Is that all?” Jason didn’t feel like getting into this with her, and he certainly didn’t want her talking to Sally. He knew she’d done what she had to do, but it still hurt.
Mari handed him an envelope. “For Sally. I managed to get a letter out of the prison. No one writes letters anymore.” She met his gaze with her tear-filled eyes.
Jason clutched the paper in his hand, grateful for what she’d done.
Mari turned to walk away. “I’m sorry I bothered you. I’ll go.”
The neighboring door slammed shut.
“Marianna?”
Manny. Jason leaned against the doorframe, looking back and forth between the two ex-lovers.
“What are you doing here?” Manny asked.
“Nothing. I’m leaving, actually.”
Manny stepped forward to block her exit. “Wait. Don’t go. Can’t we talk?”
She stared down at her shoes and tried to sidestep Manny, but he continued to block her way.
“I have to get back to work,” she said.
He touched her cheek, and Jason saw her tense shoulders start to relax. He felt a bit like a voyeur but couldn’t look away. As angry as he was with the two of them right now, he knew it would pass. In the end, he wanted them both to be happy.
When she tipped her chin up, Manny bent and kissed her.
Jason stepped back into the penthouse and closed the door, giving them their moment.
The door clicked shut as Sally walked in from the other room. “Who was at the door?”
“Mari and Manny are out there. She brought you this.”
“Oh.”
“From Zane?”
She ripped open the envelope and pulled out the letter, sinking down on the sofa to read it out loud to him.
Dear Ma,
I’m sorry. The words seem so trite, but I can’t think of anything else to say. I see it now, the big picture of what you’ve been doing. I know now that you did the best that you could with what you had, and that a lot of lives were saved because of your actions. Somehow your infinite bravery must have skipped a generation, because I find myself afraid now all the time. Don’t worry. I’m protected in here for now. They tell me to play the game and everyone will come out on the top. So I’m going to ask you to retire. Stop fighting the good fight. Let someone else step up and take over the crusade. When I get out of here, we can start all over and live a normal life, whatever that is. Please consider it, for my sake and Jason’s. I heard you got married. He’s a good man and will make you happy. You’ve earned it.
Love always,
Zane
Jason let out a shaky breath and sat down beside his wife. He held her while she clutched the letter and cried.
The boy would be okay. They all would.
After a few moments he gave her a squeeze and kissed her temple. “Come on, I’ll make you those pancakes.”
Sally let out a half-sob, half-laugh, and nodded.
***
Richmond County Jail
Richmond, Virginia
August 25, 2026
Noon
~~~
The humid air smacked Zane in the face the moment he stepped outside and, for the first time in his life, he welcomed it.
Freedom.
He stretched
his arms over his head and smiled up at the morning sun. A car waited for him across the street. He slung his bag over his shoulder and jogged over to it, his breath quickening in excitement. He couldn’t wait to get back to the hospital and see his family again.
The automated car weaved in and out of traffic, getting him to his destination ahead of schedule.
He stepped from the car and started up the path to the emergency room entrance, but he paused midway to catch his breath and calm his heart rate.
Get yourself together!
As he walked through the ER doors, his feet shuffled him forward of their own free will; he was just along for the ride. Then he saw her. Their eyes met and his heart felt like it may jump out of his chest, just so that she might hold it in her hands and keep it safe.
Her hand rested above her stomach as her eyes seemed to register what they were seeing.
In unison, they broke the spell they were under and ran to each other. His arms encircled her waist and her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.
He felt the comforting weight of her body as he lifted her momentarily off the ground and spun.
“Julie.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck. He never wanted to be apart from her again. “I missed you.”
She took him by the hand and led him to an empty exam room where they did sutures and ultrasounds.
As soon as she closed and locked the door behind them, he grasped her wrist and brought her down onto the exam table, kissing her hard. He was rough—rough enough that he knew he would leave bruises—but she never once complained. She seemed almost as happy to be with him again as he was to be with her. When he had at last spent himself in her arms, he fell fast asleep in a precarious stage of undress.
When he awoke an hour later, he found her lying beside him on the exam table. He closed the distance between them with a kiss, waking her from her nap.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” she said.
“Miss me?”
Julie choked back a sob.
“Hey, I’m sorry. Don’t cry.” He smoothed back the matted hair from her forehead.
“I’m pregnant,” she said through the tears.
“You’re what?”
“Pregnant,” she said, leaving no room for misinterpretation.
Zane’s finger haphazardly glided up her bare thigh as he contemplated what she had just told him. “You’re sure?”
She chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure.”
He rested his hand on her bare abdomen. A broad smile crept across his face and a stream of joyful salty tears slid down his normally stoic features.
He had a sudden impulse to see the baby. Hopping off the exam table, he threw on a pair of scrub bottoms and picked up a portable ultrasound wand.
When Julie saw what his intentions were, she laughed a little.
“Humor me,” he said.
She nodded and lay down on the table.
A ripple of pleasure washed over him as he waved the wand across her stomach where the baby would be. On the exam room screen, a picture of Julie’s bladder and womb appeared before him. Inside the vast empty space of her womb was a small glob. The computer’s estimated day of conception was the night they had first been together at Charles’ home.
With a press of a button, the room filled with a sound that made him gasp. There was nothing so wondrous as hearing the sound of his child’s heartbeat for the first time.
In that moment, he knew his own heart had found a new home. Somewhere in that cluster of cells was part him and part her.
Julie.
Zane looked away from their child to look into the eyes of the woman who would be its mother. He put down the wand and kissed her.
This child would be a new hope for them, and for their families. This child would not be born under The Syndicate’s thumb. No, this baby would be free. Zane took their intertwined hands and placed them above their baby’s home. Like his father before him, he hoped to be better, to give the child everything it needed to be happy.
Epilogue
It’s a beautiful day to be on the beach. The sun hovers over the horizon making the water glisten, dazzling my tired eyes. The only man I have ever called Dad stands beside me. Even though he is a terrible surfer, he always makes it a point to come out with me. We paddle our way out past the breaker and sit on top of our boards, taking in the salted morning air.
“It’s so beautiful,” he says with a relaxed grin.
I watch as he squints up at the inked, early morning sky, and points up until I see what he sees.
“Full moon,” he says.
We look up at the faint outline of the ethereal shape.
“Ma is going to be extra crazy today,” I say.
Jason laughs a little. “Your mother doesn’t need a full moon to be crazy.”
I can’t argue with him there. I think about today and how they will be making it legal. It has taken a long time to sort out the legality of my mother not really being dead and, until today, they had never gotten around to making their union legally binding. It wasn’t until my eighty-year-old father-in-law’s second heart attack that they thought it might be a good idea to get their ducks in a row.
“Are you nervous? This time will be the real deal?” I already know the answer.
His gaze falls away from the moon and he looks over at me and smiles. “Yeah, I’m a little nervous, but only that I’m going to kill myself out here like your mother predicts. Legally binding myself to your mother is just a formality. I made the terrifying leap to be her husband twenty years ago. I was terrified back then.”
I feel my chest tighten at his words, knowing what the next words will be. It’s a part of our story now.
Whenever he went on book tours and someone asked what he thought his greatest accomplishment was, he would always say the same thing: “My biggest accomplishment in life was convincing my wife to marry me.”
When the familiar phrase falls from his lips now, I have to look away.
He taps me on the arm and points behind us.
“This one’s mine,” he says as he drops down onto the board and paddles out ahead of the wave.
I watch my nearly seventy-year-old stepfather ride the wave all the way to the shore. Hot tears slide down my cheeks but I don’t bother to wipe them away. There’s another wave coming and I take it.
***
With the sun now high overhead, we stand beside my parents as they recommit themselves to each other. My pride kept me from witnessing their union all those years ago so, today, I am attentive to every moment. I notice how the sunlight reflects off my ma’s bright white hair that she has piled high on top of her head in a mess of curls. They can’t take their eyes off each other as they hold hands, barely acknowledging the officiant who feeds them the words to say.
They say people don’t change, but sometimes I think they do. Small little changes over time that add up over a lifetime are huge. For my ma, the passing of time, coupled with the love of a good, kind man, has calmed her. He provides balance to her wild and reckless nature with his measured and cautious one. He would tell people that his life was cheerless and hollow before her, and that she imbues him with joy.
They make their relationship look so easy and effortless. Ma says love is wasted on the young. If you saw them standing here, teetering on the edge of seventy years old, just as in love as the first day they met, you might be inclined to agree with her.
Twenty years have passed since I met my wife and we conceived our first born, Alexis. Our relationship has not been as easy. Over the years we have overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles. We were so young when we met, and had to experience the growing pains of young adulthood together.
I catch her looking at me now out of the corner of my eye. I can tell by her smile that I’m going to get lucky tonight. For a married man with two teenage daughters and a crazy job that keeps him out the house eighty plus hours a week, getting lucky is as good as it gets.
My g
irls stand beside her. They aren’t so much girls anymore but women, and I wonder where the time went. My brilliant, thoughtful daughters are an endless source of joy and worry for me. I realize that all parents worry, but not all parents have to look over their shoulder on the playground to make sure criminal organization members aren’t stalking after you and your family.
The Syndicate, and groups like them, still exists. The consequences of their struggles for power have stumbled into my ER countless times, but Ocean City and my family have come to an understanding. We each let the other be. We’ve become something of legends there. Almost no one ever leaves that place, so our leaving and the circumstances around our leaving have created quite the stir.
Jason ended up writing a three-book series on The Syndicate, and became wildly popular for a while. When death threats started to roll in, he took the cue to be done and never spoke of The Syndicate again. He has too much to lose now.
So he did a total three-sixty. When my daughter Alexis turned four, he started a children’s book series based on the stories he had been telling her as a game.
As the years pass by, I’m beginning to see the value in writing things down, cataloguing the moments that punctuate my life—especially for my daughters. There is so much technology out now that you can download the brain’s experience from beginning to end. But I find I like the old-fashioned way of writing it down with pen and paper, instead. Jason must be rubbing off on me.
It’s hard to remember what my life was like before he was in it. He’s been more a father to me in these last years than the man who conceived me in a back alley and the one who raised me, combined. I look away as he kisses my mother, concluding the ceremony.
When I go to hug him a minute later, his damp, smiling eyes meet mine before his arms envelop me. He hugs me extra hard today.
“I love you, son,” he says, and I feel my own eyes start to dampen.
“I love you, too,” I say as I pat him on the back.
As we walk to the bar at the end of the beach, I clasp hands with my wife, who has been smiling at me more than usual. I can’t remember the last time she’s smiled at me like this. She’s almost glowing.
We eat our meal as a family. My wife’s hand rests easily on my thigh, distracting me. I’m late to notice that everyone is clinking their glasses and asking for a toast.