Sweet Dreams Boxed Set

by Brenda Novak

  Angela looked desperate to be saved, but hell, it had been her idea to stay with her mom. If he didn’t get some rest, he wasn’t going to be able to handle another long drive like today. He walked off, leaving them both staring after him.

  ***

  It was nearly two in the morning when Jason sat up in a cold sweat. Another nightmare, he realized; a regular occurrence since his first night behind bars.

  Angela had yet to come to bed.

  His mouth felt dry. He needed water.

  He climbed out of bed, and made it to the top of the stairs when he heard Angela telling everyone goodnight. Then Samantha called out to her daughter.

  “What is it, Mom?”

  “As your mother I feel it’s my job to warn you not to get too excited about that man upstairs.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He’s a player, plain and simple. Those kinds of men don’t stick around for long. Trust me.”

  “Not all men are like Dad,” Angela said.

  “This has nothing to do with your father.”

  “It’s late, Mom. I’ll talk to you tomorrow when you’re sober.”

  “Oh, here we go, time for a lecture from my little girl. I had a couple of drinks. So what? When are you going to loosen up and live a little?”

  “Good night, Mom.”

  Jason went back into the bedroom. He climbed under the covers and feigned sleep. Angela’s footsteps echoed down the hall on the way to the bathroom. It was another few minutes before the bedroom door opened and closed. “Are you awake?” she asked.

  He looked toward the door, where Angela stood motionless in the dark. Moonlight spilled in through the open blinds, and he could see she was wearing nothing but a T-shirt that hung to her knees. “What’s wrong, Angela?”

  “That’s the first time you’ve called me by my name.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She climbed into bed next to him, pulled the blankets around her, and stared at the ceiling. “What’s wrong with me?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I asked you to bring me here. Why? My mother has never had a kind word to say to me, but I wanted to see her.”

  “She’s your mother.”

  The mattress moved as she turned toward him and said, “You really are innocent, aren’t you?”

  “I am.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything. For the way you’ve been mistreated. Spending eight years in prison for a crime you didn’t commit. The thought of it is unfathomable.”

  She had no idea: the noise, the violence, the night screams, and fighting for survival every day.

  “My mom has been an alcoholic for as long as I can remember. My grandmother said that’s why Dad left her.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah…me, too.”

  Silence.

  “What is your family like?”

  There was a long pause before he answered. “My father passed away while I was in prison, but he was a wonderful man. We used to spend a lot of time together. He liked to tinker with cars and go fishing. Mom was and still is a rock—always there when we needed her, always calm during intense situations.”

  “Intense situations?”

  “My sister, Tracy, was a rebellious teen, and that’s putting it mildly. She dabbled in drugs, ran off to Mexico with friends and ended up in jail. Mom and Dad spent a lot of time in the principal’s office. And then I ended up in prison. Things haven’t been easy for Mom.”

  “What about now? Did your sister finally grow up?”

  “I haven’t seen Tracy in a while, but Mom says she’s doing well.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Me, too. Now shut your eyes and get some sleep.”

  “Good night,” she said, rolling to her other side.

  “Pleasant dreams.”

  The idea of leaving Angela here with her mother no longer seemed so appealing, but Samantha was family, and under the circumstances, it was the best he could do. He would push off in a few hours while it was still dark.

  Chapter Eight

  Angela woke up feeling better than she had in a very long while. She stretched her arms over her head, yawned, then glanced at the other side of the bed. The sheets were cold. Nobody was there.

  She sat up.

  Sunlight poured in through the window. The smell of coffee and bacon wafted through the room. She knew Jason would be ready to go, but first she needed to borrow a computer. She searched through her bag and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, went to the bathroom to brush her hair and teeth, and then headed downstairs to the kitchen.

  Mom stood at the sink washing dishes, while Gordon sat at the kitchen table devouring a large helping of eggs and bacon.

  “Good morning,” Angela said.

  “There she is, my sweet girl.”

  She knew her mom was putting on a good show because Gordon was in the room. “Where’s Jas—Rob?”

  “I thought he was with you.” Her mom looked over her shoulder at Gordon. “Have you seen him?”

  Gordon shook his head and tossed in a “nope” for good measure.

  “Did you two have an argument?” Mom asked. “What did you say to the man?”

  Angela rolled her eyes. “Stop it, Mom. Everything’s fine.”

  Gordon set his mug down. “I didn’t hear anyone come or go.”

  Angela ran to the front door, opened it wide, and looked outside. The gray, billowy clouds from yesterday had disappeared, leaving a blue sky in their wake. Her car was still in the driveway.

  Her stomach turned. He must have taken off by foot.

  He was gone and he wasn’t coming back.

  She ran upstairs, changed into jeans and pulled on a pair of hiking boots. When she returned to the kitchen, Mom and Gordon were right where she’d left them. “I need some cash, Mom.”

  “Why?”

  “And a laptop.”

  “You hardly ever see your daughter,” Gordon chimed in when he noticed Samantha hesitate. “Just give her what she needs.”

  When her mother refused, Gordon got up from the table and disappeared. When he returned he was holding an ultra thin laptop.

  Angela liked this man.

  “That’s mine,” Mom whined.

  “I gave it to your mother for her birthday and she’s used it twice.” He handed the laptop to Angela. “Password is ‘princess’”.

  “Good one,” Angela said as she watched him open his billfold and pull out all the cash he had, which amounted to just over two hundred dollars.

  She took the money, thanked him profusely, then ran for the door. “I’ll return the laptop and pay you back on my return trip!”

  “Where are you going?” her mother asked, following her down the walkway. “Don’t go running after that man!” Gordon appeared close behind her and tossed Angela a bag of snack food he’d quickly pulled together for the road.

  Angela didn’t pay Samantha any attention. She put the laptop on the backseat and then climbed in behind the wheel. The engine fired up on her first attempt and the tires screeched as she pulled away from the curb.

  An hour later, Angela had already traded her car for another and was on the freeway. Knowing that Jason would have to trek for at least an hour on a secondary road, she’d made a speedy and even trade for a dented 1990 Volvo 240.

  After thirty more minutes at the wheel, she worried she had either passed Jason by without noticing him or he’d gotten a ride from a stranger. She was thinking about heading back to her mom’s house to see if he’d returned after all when she spotted a tall figure up ahead. It was Jason. He was walking along the highway, his left thumb out, trying to hitch a ride.

  She drove past him and then pulled over to the shoulder of the road, the tires spitting up gravel and dirt as she slowed. When he approached the car and opened the passenger door, surprise lit his features. “Angela, what are you doing?”

  “I can
’t let you do this alone.”

  “Well, I can’t drag you into my mess.”

  “You already have. I’m going with you.”

  “I have no idea what will happen. You could get hurt.”

  “I want to help you, Jason. You can’t spend the rest of your life in prison for something you didn’t do.”

  “This is not a good idea.”

  “Please get in. I can help you.”

  ***

  After realizing she wasn’t going to give in easily, he climbed in and pulled the door closed. “Whose car is this?”

  “I traded in my wreck for this one,” she told him. “Even exchange.”

  “You got ripped off.”

  She merged back onto the road. “But now, if anyone realizes I’m missing, they won’t be able to find my car.”

  “Not until the car dealer recognizes your face on the news.”

  “I’m trying to help. Don’t be a jerk.”

  He smiled.

  “If you’re hungry, there’s food in the back, compliments of Gordon.”

  He gave her a long look. “I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. I don’t like goodbyes. Never have.”

  “No big deal,” she said with a shrug.

  He knew that wasn’t true. He could see the hurt in her eyes, feel it hanging heavy in the air between them, but he let it go. What more could he say? He liked Angela, and he didn’t want to see her get hurt.

  After grabbing some chips and water from the back, he flipped through the radio stations until he found one report about the riot that had broken out at San Quentin. Not one word was said about an escaped convict.

  “Maybe they don’t know you’re missing,” Angela suggested.

  “Not possible. They take a count every night. They had to have known by six o’clock the day I went missing, if not sooner.”

  “That could mean the prison hasn’t told anyone outside of the prison walls, which could mean there’s no nationwide manhunt, right?”

  “Wrong. More than likely it means that the FBI doesn’t want me to know they’re on to me, so they’re keeping the media out of it. Personally, I’d rather know what’s going on. I’m sure they know that.”

  “So, what are you going to do? What’s your next step?”

  “I have a few people I want to talk to, but I need addresses. Maybe a library.”

  “Not a library,” she told him. “We need to find a Starbucks. Most of them have WiFi. I borrowed my mom’s computer so we could do some research and find out what your friends have been up to.”

  ***

  It didn’t take long to find what they were looking for. Angela parked the car but reached over and stopped Jason from exiting the vehicle. “Hold on.” She crawled over the middle console, hopped onto the back seat, and rummaged around in her bag. “Don’t forget your hat. I found an old pair of aviators at mom’s house, too.”

  He smiled as he obligingly put on her attempt at a disguise.

  She drew back and took a good look at him. “Perfect. You could be anybody.”

  He took a glance in the rearview mirror. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve done this before?”

  She grinned, then slipped on a baseball cap of her own, along with a pair of sunglasses. “First, we’ll find a table,” she said as they walked toward the coffee shop. “Then I’ll get us both a coffee. I used to study all the time at Starbucks. Most people keep to themselves. Just act normal. We’re just two people on a ride across country, doing some research.”

  “Got it.”

  Everything went according to plan. It wasn’t crowded and they found a spot in a quiet corner. He couldn’t recall if he’d ever been to a Starbuck’s before or ever had their coffee. “This is good. What is it?”

  “Caffè Mocha.”

  “Where did you get the money?”

  She turned on the computer and typed the password princess. “Mom’s boyfriend, Gordon, loaned me a few hundred dollars.”

  He watched her closely. “You seem to really know your way around a computer.”

  “Well, I took a few computer science courses and dabbled in web design and basic programming, but the medical field is where my passion lies.”

  “So, what’s the deal with you, Angela?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What’s your plan? What do you want to be when you grow up?”

  “Why is it so difficult for anyone to believe that I just might like my job at the morgue?”

  “I didn’t mean to assume. Do you like your job?”

  “I do,” she said. “But my plan was always to go back to school…med school…and become a family doctor.”

  “What stopped you?” he asked before taking another swallow of coffee.

  “I had just turned eighteen when my parents divorced. I was angry with both of them at the time. Then my dad disappeared and I didn’t want to live with mom, so I struck off on my own. But keeping a roof over my head and food in the fridge wasn’t cheap. I managed to put myself through two years of med school, but it was costly, so I decided to drop out of school for a while. That’s when I snagged a job at the morgue. The years passed and before long, it no longer seemed feasible to go back to school and saddle myself with debt.”

  “So now what?”

  She shrugged. “Working at the morgue isn’t bad, but I guess I would prefer to help people while they’re alive and keep them out of the morgue.” She paused before she added, “These past few days have opened my eyes, made me see that I never should have given up my dream. I believe I have you to thank for that.”

  “How so?”

  “Look at you…accused of murder and yet you haven’t given up. You’re determined to do everything you can to fight for your freedom.”

  “It sounds like you really might believe I’m innocent.”

  “Would I be here if I didn’t?”

  The corner of his mouth turned upward. Angela Chack was full of surprises.

  “Okay,” she said, “we better get busy. What’s the lawyer’s name again?”

  “Michael Gabaldon.”

  It was quiet while she did her research. He’d been doing some research himself over the years. But he only had so many hours a week on the computer and he hadn’t wanted anyone to know what he was up to. There was only so much planning he could do within the confines of the prison walls without giving himself away.

  “It sounds as if you worked with your lawyer for years,” she said as she typed. “What made you think, after all those years, that he had something to do with your incarceration?”

  “I was a cocky twenty-seven year old when I went to prison. The last time I saw Mike, I had already spent three years behind bars. I was no longer the same naïve young man. Prison life tends to make a person grow up fast. I learned some non-verbal survival methods in prison, including how to decode the human face.”

  She raised a questioning brow.

  “If I wanted to survive in that place, I needed to stay alert, and learn to read involuntary facial expressions: anger, surprise, contempt, and so on.”

  “And you saw something in the lawyer’s face that you hadn’t seen before?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Can you read my face?”

  “Easy.”

  “Okay…so?”

  “You’re feeling pretty good about yourself.”

  “And what makes you say that?”

  He placed the tip of his finger on her face, near her nose, and gently traced it to her mouth. “You have a tiny line that runs from the edge of your nose to your outer lip. You’re happy. Not a fake happy either because your muscles are engaged.”

  Now that she was conscious of him watching her, she made a face, trying to mask whatever it was she was feeling.

  He laughed.

  Smiling, she went back to focusing on the task at hand. “Like taking candy from a baby,” she said a few minutes later. “Internet searches these days make it so that anyone can be an investigator.”
r />   He tried to read the screen. A glare prevented him from doing so. “What did you find?”

  She took the pad of paper, wrote down Mike Gabaldon’s address, then slid the paper his way. “He lives in Davis, California.”

  As Jason pondered all the things he wanted to ask the man, Angela sipped her coffee and continued searching his case. “Who is Stephanie Carr?”

  “She was a receptionist at the time of the murder. She’d only been working at the office for about a month.”

  “It says here that she was a key witness.”

  “That’s true. She pointed at me in the courtroom and said I was the killer. She also testified that she’d seen Dirk and me inside his office the night he was killed.”

  “I thought you said the office building was empty.”

  “I thought it was, but I didn’t see any reason for her to lie. I figured she must have been in the parking lot when Dirk and I returned to the office, but I never saw her. My lawyer knew this, assured me he’d done everything he could to try to disprove the girl, but it ended up being her word against mine.”

  “What about the police? Surely they must have done some investigating.”

  “In the end,” Jason said, “nobody could disprove Stephanie Carr’s testimony.”

  “So she lied. But why? Maybe she was working with your lawyer.”

  “She and Mike Gabaldon have always been on the top of my list of people I need to talk to. Can you find a location for her?”

  Angela nodded. “She lives in Carmichael.” She tapped her finger on the table next to the computer. “Was her desk close to Dirk’s office?”

  “No. Different floors. The receptionist was the first person you saw when you walked into the building. Dirk’s office was on the second floor.”

  “How would she know that you were in his office unless she walked in on you two?”

  “At the trial she said she had a letter for Dirk and when she brought it upstairs, she saw the two of us arguing, so she left. She also said she saw me jump up out of my chair and pull something, possibly a weapon, from my pocket.”

  “Did she say it was a knife?”