by L. S. Scott
I sat in the living room close to the door with my bag at my feet, chewing my finger nails, waiting. Headlights flashed across the window around 9:30 and an unfamiliar sounding truck pulled up the short paved drive, close to the garage door. I found it strange. Jaron always parked on the street. But when I peeked out the window, it was Jaron’s rigid figure walking up the steps.
I pulled the door open and threw my arms around his neck. He buried his face in my neck and took a deep breath and his body began to relax in my arms. He pulled back to look at me. His face was scruffy, his eyes blood shot, dark and haunted.
“Let’s go,” he said pulling my hand.
“Let me grab my bag.”
I stepped in to grab my duffle bag and Tiffany was standing beside it, her face wary, and her eyes begging me not to go. I hugged her.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you. I love you.”
“I love you too.” I started to pull away and she pulled me back. “Something’s not right Natalie,” she whispered.
I pulled away and looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
Her eyes were trained on Jaron standing in the door watching us. I looked from her to him and back.
“Everything’s going to be ok,” I said, unconvincingly, because I didn’t believe it myself.
I walked to the door and Jaron immediately took my hand and pulled me.
“Jaron. Stop pulling me I’m coming.”
When I got to the end of the porch, it donned on me, I didn’t recognize the truck he was driving. I stopped cold in my tracks and pulled my hand from his. He turned, slicing through me with a steely gaze, a look that knocked me back on my heels. I almost didn’t recognize the man standing in front of me, the man I loved.
“Come on Natalie,” he ordered, moving toward me.
“Whose truck is that,” I questioned, side stepping his attempt to grab my hand.
“I doesn’t matter. We need to get home.”
“What’s going on Jaron?”
I couldn’t hide the apprehension that was griping my core. Tiffany was right, something was amiss.
“I’ll explain on the way home.”
“No,” I shook my head slowly. “Explain now.”
He stepped to me, standing inches from me, my back against the brick of the house. I dropped my bag and place my hands on his chest. His heart was racing out of control.
“Jaron, you’re scaring me. Calm down and tell me what’s going on.”
“They issued the warrant Natalie.” His words were low with the same sense of finality I heard over the phone. “We have to go.”
My mouth opened but no words came out as my head turned from side to side, conveying my refusal to go with him. His breathing became heavier and his pupils began to dilate. It was like watching David Banner trying to control himself and keep the Hulk at bay. When his hand knotted in the back of my hair, I knew the Hulk had won.
“Jaron calm down.”
I grabbed his shirt to try and keep him close to me and relieve the tension on my scalp. He stopped pulling when the door opened and Tiffany stepped onto the porch. We both looked at her.
“Natalie,” she gasped tearfully.
“Go inside Tiffany,” I ordered, my eyes pleading.
Jaron’s jaw clenched and twitched.
“Tiffany, please. Go back inside.” Reluctantly she stepped inside and closed the door.
“She gonna call the law. We have to go now.”
He let go of my hair and wrapped his hand around my bicep, descending the steps with me in tow, stumbling behind him. When I regained my balance I dug my heels in the lawn.
“I’m not going Jaron.”
“Natalie, God Dammit, come on.” He gave my arm a hard jerk and pain shot through my shoulder.
“Jaron you’re hurting me,” I cried.
He pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me, pinning mine to my sides and carried me the last few feet to the truck.
“Get in the truck,” he growled, setting me down inside the open door. I braced my hands on the frame.
“No!” I pushed back into his chest.
“Natalie, get in the truck!”
“No!”
“Get in the fucking truck!”
“No!” I turned to face him and before I could blink a hard right connected with my face. I crumpled.
The sound of a roaring engine and sirens pulled me from my unconsciousness. My eyes blinked quickly to the fog. I was lying in the seat, my head near Jaron’s thigh. I could feel the road rough and jarring beneath us. I could feel us sliding around corners on loose gravel. I sat up and quickly buckled my seat belt. Jaron glanced over at me then turned his attention back to the winding county road in front of us, checking the mirror frequently for the flashing lights. When we hit a long straight stretch I could see them round the corner at the other end. They were gaining ground.
We slid into our drive way and Jaron stopped in his usual parking spot. He put the truck in park, killed the engine and took a long, deep breath, exhaling slowly. I looked around for the lights. They were distant but approaching fast. I looked at Jaron, baffled, wondering what the hell he was doing, what was the point. Now he was trapped. He sat there for a minute with his eyes closed, a strange sense of calm washing over him.
When the sirens came within earshot he snapped out of his meditative state and jumped out of the truck. He reached for me and I pulled away, frightened by the bizarre behavior and the crazy look in his eyes. It was clear that my Jaron had checked out and the Jaron Detective Bryant had warned me about was in control, or out of control. I reached for the passenger door, but he grabbed my shirt and dragged me across the bench seat.
“Jaron please let go. You’re scaring me,” I begged and cried but my plea fell on deaf ears.
The four police cars that had been chasing us turned in the drive and sped toward us. The mad man disguised as the man I love, snatched me by the hair and pulled me out of the truck. I dug my fingers into his wrist and cried out at the searing pain shooting through my head as I hit the ground. I scrambled to get to my feet, trying again to relieve the tension pulling on my scalp.
It took only seconds for the officers to stop the cars and surround us. Jaron wrapped an arm around my neck and continued to try and drag me toward the house.
“Come on baby we gotta go home. We gotta go home,” he kept repeating, seemingly oblivious to the flashing lights, the guns pulled and aimed at us, the sound of Detective Bryant’s voice ordering him to the ground or my crying.
“Jaron, please stop. You have to stop,” I begged, pulling at his arm around my neck, fighting for every breath.
His chest started to heave with deep sobs against my back.
“Everything will be ok when we get home.”
“No, Jaron.”
“We’ll be ok, we’ll be together forever. We’ll be home.”
His ranting started to make even less sense. He kept pulling, inching us closer to the front steps.
“We’ll be together baby forever. All this will be over.”
My heart dropped and my mind reeled with understanding. Jaron’s timer had run out and he was imploding, full nuclear melt-down. And I knew, without a doubt, if we made it inside the house, that neither of us would be coming out alive.
I took a deep breath and tensed my entire body to stop his movement. I leaned my head to the side as far as I could so he could hear me and as best I could, between the sobs, and gasping, I began to sing. My voice was barely more than a whisper, but loud enough for him to recognize.
Desperado, why don’t you come to your senses
My body shuddered as I took a breath.
You’ve been out riding fences, for so long now
His feet stopped digging into the ground and some of the tension left his arms.
You’re a hard one, but I know that you got your reasons
He pressed his lips to my ear, “I love you,” he whispered.
Before I could
reply, our bodies were being thrown off balance. We hit the ground with a thud and all the air was pushed out of my lungs. Arms and legs were flying everywhere. All I could see was dust and grass and feet. Two arms were wrapped around my ribs, squeezing me. I could feel Jaron’s chest against my back. His legs wrapped around mine.
“No!,” he screamed as if he were being tortured.
There were officers trying to subdue him from behind and another trying to pulling his hands from around my waist. In shock I lay still, being wrestled around on the ground. Every attempt to pull me free resulted in his grip tightening. An excruciating pain shot through my abdomen as my rib snapped and pushed a muted screamed from my body.
“Blake you’re hurting her. You gotta let her go,” Detective Bryant shouted, on his knees beside us.
He loosened his hold for a split second, enough for his hold to be broken. I was pulled from his arms and he was pressed face down into the dirt.
“No, Natalie, please don’t leave me. Natalie, Natalie!” he cried in a hoarse, grief- stricken voice, his tortured soul spilling out all around me and puddling in the ground with his tears.
Battered and unable to move, I rolled over and watched the blurry scene through tear filled eyes.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I cried.
Sorry for what, I was unsure. Sorry I couldn’t help him. Sorry I didn’t realize how troubled he was.
With the commotion still going on, I felt two hands, firm but gentle, roll me to my back. I looked up wild eyed to see two paramedics kneeling over me. The terrifying and heart wrenching sound of Jaron screaming and the officers yelling on the ground a few feet away, rang in my ears.
“We need some help over here,” on officer yelled. “We’re gonna have to sedate him.”
“Taze him,” another officer yelled.
“I did! It didn’t phase him.”
One of the paramedics jumped up and ran to help. Within minutes the sound of Jaron’s tormented pleas grew silent. Without his voice demanding all of my attention, I could focus on what was going on around me.
“Oh my God. That is the strongest S.O.B. I’ve ever took down.”
“Yeah no shit. I’ve never had anyone walk through a tazer.”
The officers gathered their senses and dusted themselves off as Jaron was being strapped to a gurney.
“We can’t transport both of them,” the paramedic pointed out to Detective Bryant.
“I’m ok,” I said, clutching my ribs as I sat up.
“No,” Bryant said.
“Ma’am, we need you to lie still. You have some broken ribs and possibly other broken bones. We need to get you to the e.r.”
“Ok, but, I can ride in a car. You can take me.” I looked up at Bryant. “Really, I don’t need an ambulance ride.” The paramedic and Bryant exchanged a look.
“Ok, let me give you something for the pain and we can lay you back in the seat,” said the paramedic.
I resisted reaching out and grabbing hold of Jaron’s hand as they rolled his limp body by on the stretcher. My eyes filled with fresh tears as my heart ached worse than my broken and battered body. I watched as they lined the stretcher up in the open ambulance door.
“Wait,” I shouted, holding my hand up.
I pulled my other arm free from Bryant, who was helping me into the car. I walked quickly, pain shooting through me with every step, and stopped at Jaron’s side. I looked down into his dirty, but still gorgeous face. He was peaceful, his eyes barely a slit. I leaned down and kissed his lips and his cheek and then pressed my lips to his ear. “I love you Jaron Blake,” I whispered. Seconds later he was loaded and the doors closed.
Tri County Gazette
Local man, Jaron Blake, pled guilty to two counts of involuntary manslaughter, in connection with the deaths of Billy Brannen and Jack Trigg. Mr. Blake was sentenced to twelve years in prison.
The arrest was made three weeks prior to sentencing, after a dramatic high speed chase and hostage situation.
The death’s occurred almost two years prior. The investigation began when the bodies were discovered by fisherman in an overflow channel of the Arkansas River. The black SUV, registered to Mr. Trigg, was later pulled from the water, as well.
Reports are that the two victims had assaulted Mr. Blake and threatened an un-named female, outside his home on the night the deaths occurred. The presence of the SUV at the Blake residence was corroborated by a witness, and played a part in the negotiation of a plea deal, reducing the charges from first degree murder to involuntary manslaughter.
**********
The door to his office blew open and slammed shut. He watched with wonder as his beautiful wife crossed the room with purpose.
He eyed her closely as she stood with her arms crossed and toe tapping anxiously as he finished up his phone conversation.
“Yes, I appreciate the support Governor. Ok, give my best to the family. I sure will. Goodbye.” He laid the phone receiver softly on base.
“You have to help him Greg,” Janna said, her brows stitched together tightly over her glittering blue eyes.
He rose from his seat and rounded his desk. “I’ve pulled every string I can to get him the best therapist and make sure he’s protected. What else do you want me to do?” he asked with a shrug.
“You have to find her. It’s killing him not knowing, not hearing from her. He can’t concentrate on therapy when she’s all he can think about.”
Greg swept her wavy dark hair from her shoulder.
“Darling, Natalie ran because she’s scared and she has every right to be, he was going to kill her.” Janna winced at his words, but she knew it was true. “You know that I love Jaron like a brother and I will do everything in power to help him, but I am not going to hunt that girl down. And neither are you. If and when she is ready, she knows how to contact us.”
“What am I supposed to tell him,” she looked to him with a look of helplessness in her eyes. He reached out and pulled her close in a warm, comforting embrace.
“You tell him the truth darling. Natalie is letting go, and he should to. He needs to focus on getting better.”
“He won’t. He will never let her go.”
“Well, for the next six to seven years, he has no choice.” Greg’s words were harsh but true and held a finality.
Chapter Twenty-one
I rolled to a stop in front of the soaring office building and peeked out from under the sun visor, mesmerized by the sparkling plate glass, of the impressive Flynn Tower, that seemed to extend all the way to the fluffy white cloud drifting above it.
This was it, the day I had worked my ass off for, the pay off. My opportunity to see all my hard work, come to fruition. The hours of studying, the crappy part time jobs, the gallons of peanut butter I ate because I couldn’t afford anything else. Six long years of suffer age, before I finally graduated college, with my MBA.
Scoring this interview for the much sought after Flynn Resorts internship, in Las Vegas, was a miracle and only the first step, acing it and getting that internship was the next. The field had been narrowed down to three candidates and I bet the farm on it. My entire life was packed in the back of my truck and I made the twenty hour drive from Arkansas to Nevada by myself. If I didn’t score this job, I hoped I could find something.
I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. I had followed all the successful business woman dress code rules. My hair was pulled back neatly in a very professional up do, and my make-up was applied sparingly to play up my natural beauty. I scrimped and saved for the entire last year of college to buy the suit I was wearing and it was well worth it. The gray pencil skirt hugged every curve and though it covered my legs all the way down to the top of my knee, it left very little to the imagination. My crisp white fitted shirt was tucked tightly into the top and my wide ruby red belt matched my high heels. I spent the last six months learning to walk around in those puppies and hoped I would look natural walking down the street. Simple diamond
studs in my ears finished the professional look.
I dabbed my nude berry lipstick on, with the tip of my finger before grabbing my burgundy clutch and fitted gray jacket and sliding out of the truck seat. My heels clip clopped on the concrete as I crossed the parking lot. I felt sassy, like Dolly Parton in Nine to Five and I hummed the song as I walked the sidewalk to the flashing cross walk sign. I pushed the button and waited for the illuminated pedestrian to signal my time to cross, just the first of three crosses I had to make to reach my destination. Talk about country mouse, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. The atmosphere of the big city was both exciting and stressful for a small town girl like me. Even the city I attended college in was just a speck in comparison.
The light changed and I crossed with the rest of the well-dressed walkers to the center curb to wait for the next light. While we waited, a black Escalade pulled up to the curb in front of the Flynn building. The truck rocked slightly as the door opened and someone stepped out onto the adjacent sidewalk. I couldn’t see them, but I imagined a wealthy, gray haired business man, in his three piece suit and brief case, standing on the other side of the SUV.
The light changed and the small herd of people that surrounded me began to cross. Just as I reached the end of the crosswalk that led me right past the tail end of the parked Escalade a push from behind sent me tumbling forward. I reached for the back of the truck and my hand just missed it. I felt helpless as I fell toward the pavement in slow motion. I squeezed my eyes tight, a million profanities sounding off in my head. I was preparing for the impact when I felt a strong arm wrap around my waist. I dropped my clutch to the concrete and griped the old man’s wrist, hanging on for dear life and hoping I wouldn’t drag him down with me and cause him to break a hip.
When my eyes opened I spotted my dainty, worthless handbag lying beside my right shoe. My heart was pounding and my skin burned hot with embarrassment. On any other occasion I would probably be galled by the rudeness of the group of people simply stepping over my accessories, but today I was grateful for the lack of attention being paid to my humiliation, with the acception of the gentleman whose breath was warming the back of my neck.