by Jayce, Aven
“Everything okay with my two love birds?”
“We’re fine, Mother, and don’t ask about anything you think you heard. Sophia and I would tell you if we had any big news.”
“When? When will you know?”
We ignore her final question and she turns away, vanishing back into the pages of her book, in obvious disappointment we won’t discuss it with her.
“So later then?” he asks, tenderly touching my thigh. “We have a list of things to do after we land, but after, later tonight, when we’re finally alone?”
I nod as Leondra turns hurriedly around. “So you allow me to hear that you’ll be making love this evening, but won’t tell me whether or not I’m going to be a grandmother?”
Cove leans in and whispers so the other passengers can’t hear. It’s obvious from the looks we’ve been receiving from the people in first class that we’re not being model travelers, and they’d probably prefer to have us sent back to coach. “I’m not going to discuss this with you on the plane. We don’t have an answer right now so don’t think we’re keeping anything from you. I love you, but you need to mind your own business, at least for the rest of the flight home.”
The couple across the aisle from us applauds while Leondra shakes her head. She means well and she’s excited, but she has been disruptive and needy during the entire flight.
“Tell me the plan for the evening,” I ask.
“I want to see my father on the drive home. It will be close to visitation hours, and the facility he’s in is within thirty minutes of the airport. My mother asked him to add your name to his visitor list, so hopefully that’s been taken care of. It’ll be nice for the two of you to meet. Then I want to check in at the Scarlett, have a brief discussion with Haverty, and after that, the rest of the evening is ours. I have a few ideas of how to make it special.”
“I’m nervous about meeting your father.”
“He’s warm and kind like my mother, overly protective as well. Nothing to be nervous about.”
“Cove.” I rest my hand on his knee and give him my most tender smile. “Thank you.”
His cheeks rise and blush as a compassionate expression appears on his face. “My heart has thawed, Sophia. Thank you.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Mr. Everton, please put these on.” The guard sets a pile of clothing on the edge of the hard prison mattress and takes a step back. “We’re transferring you to another facility.”
“Where? Have my wife and son been notified?”
“I don’t have any details, just doin’ what I’ve been told. Get dressed. We gotta move.”
“Can I make a phone call?”
“Not here, not now.”
Cove Everton the second, a man who’s been beaten beyond recognition numerous times on the inside of these prison walls, is more than pleased to be handed this news, and he knows it’s not unusual for prisoners to be transferred to different facilities while serving out their sentences. If he’s lucky, the word won’t get out that he’s incarcerated on child pornography charges, so he may have an easier time surviving in a new place. Seven years. He’s served a third of his sentence and his son has convinced him to file for another appeal, even if it means doing so may put his family in danger. They’re stronger now; both his wife and his son, and they’re ready for the fight. This change, wherever they’re taking him, it has to be better than his current situation.
He takes off his prison uniform and pulls on a pair of khaki pants and a dark blue t-shirt. Undoubtedly, he’ll have a new uniform to put on at the next facility.
“Take your photos and follow me.”
He carefully takes the five photos of his wife and son off the wall and tucks them into his front pocket, nervous that he won’t be allowed to have them in his next cell. Each morning he kisses the faces in those photos. They give him strength to carry on, and hope that some day he’ll be able to hold them in his arms and tell them he’s sorry. He is sorry. Full of regret about the day he met Paul, joining his company, and never saving his son. He’d rather be in prison for killing Paul then for what he’s here for, at least then his son would have been free all of these years, and not made to suffer. He should have shot him long ago so none of this would have happened to his family.
“Thanks, I’ll take him from here.” He’s passed along to another guard and led down a hall to an area of the prison he’s never seen before. A soft light enters the room from a line of windows that cover one wall. He sees trees, a view not offered by the yard he’s used to walking around each day. He hasn’t seen a tree in seven years. This day, this moment, he’ll remember it.
“It’s amazing how you can forget about all the beauty this earth has to offer,” he whispers, lost in a gaze at the outside world. The room is quiet and he turns to see that he’s alone. He walks to the wall of windows, places his hands in his pockets and rocks on the balls of his feet while taking in the view. “It’s lovely,” he says in a soft voice. “A true miracle.”
“It’s about to get even better,” a man’s voice calls out from behind. “Mr. Everton, I’m Detective Solis. I’ve been working with the Las Vegas police department since last Friday on a murder-suicide that’s connected to you.”
“Is my son alright?”
“Mr. Everton, please have a seat.”
“Jesus, no,” his voice cracks in expectation of devastating news. “I don’t want to sit down, tell me.”
“Your wife and son are fine. They’re actually on a plane back to St. Louis as we speak, but I want to inform you about another family member, so why don’t you have a seat.”
“What was my wife doing in Vegas?”
“Please, have a seat.”
He sits behind a wooden table and nervously twitches his foot as the detective sits across from him.
“I’m sorry, but your cousin, Patrick Everton took his life last Friday evening after killing Paul Jameson. His reason for doing so is connected to you, your family, and why you’re sitting here in this prison.”
He holds in his elation over Paul’s death and tries his best not to smile, instead taking a moment to rub his eyes and focus on Patrick. “My baby cousin. We always knew he’d come home in a box one day. My family never thought he’d make it to thirty. He had a lot of issues and suffered from severe bouts of depression. But still, he’s been that way for over twenty years. Why now?”
“We have some answers for you, but also many questions we hope you can answer for us. We’d like to spend the next couple of days with you discussing some of the evidence we’ve found relating to you, your son, and Jameson Industries.”
“I don’t understand. I’m being transferred to a new facility.”
“No,” the detective shakes his head with a smile. “You’re not. Could you follow me please? Mera Calloway’s getting you out of here.”
“I’m sorry, what? I don’t know any Mera Calloway. Is this a new lawyer my wife hired to help get me transferred to a safer place? I know she was upset about my last attack.”
“If you’d follow me. I spoke with the warden earlier, and he’d like to have a word with you. He’ll explain everything before you leave.”
“I’d like to know where I’m going.”
He follows the detective down the hall, through the visitation area, and is led through two gates and out of the building. He sees the yard and some of the men from his cellblock call out to him from the other side of the fence.
“Just ignore them and don’t look back,” the detective suggests. “By the way, you doing okay? You look better than the video I saw of your fight a few weeks ago.”
“Better. I still have stitches, but I’m healing.”
They enter the main administrative office building, passing correctional officers, supervisors, a correctional manager suite, and at the far end, come to a large lobby leading to the warden’s office.
The governor of the state of Missouri and David Rosen walk out of the warden’s office. The detective nods
to the two men, but Mr. Everton never makes eye contact. He knows the power David holds in both his everyday affairs, and the underground world into which Paul was enticed.
“Thanks for bringing him in, Solis. Have a seat Mr. Everton.” The warden stands and motions toward a chair, then shakes the hand of the detective.
“We’ll be in contact with you in the morning.” Detective Solis places his hand on Mr. Everton’s shoulder, and then leaves him to speak with the warden.
“Well Mr. Everton, I wish for people like yourself there was more of a fanfare when this happens, but unfortunately we just give you your things, enough money for the bus, and send you on your way.”
“Are you saying I’m free?” He grips the arms of the chair and steadies himself. “I’m a free man?”
“Yes, Mr. Everton. You’ve been exonerated of all charges except for one. Let me pass along what the governor and Judge Burke who reviewed your case have said, and, after that, good luck, and have a nice life. Not to sound too coldhearted, but I’m sure you’d rather see your family than stick around and chat with me.”
Tears flow down his face and he closes his eyes to listen to the warden read the details. He knows there won’t be an apology, but it doesn’t matter. What’s important is walking out of the prison gates and never turning back.
“The Judge cited that newly discovered evidence, which includes a recanted testimony from Natalie Richardson, a recording on Mera Calloway’s phone of Paul Jameson admitting to his solitary founding of NOVA, and his proclamation of being the individual responsible for the arrest of Cove Ambrose Everton II through evidence planted in the Everton home, also on Ms. Calloway’s phone, and the contract killing authorized by Paul Jameson of credible witnesses during the Everton trial, have all been reviewed. Newly acquired files on Paul Jameson’s computer and the storage unit records kept by Patrick Everton have also been taken into careful consideration in the review of this case. Judge Burke also writes that in the interest of justice, he has decided to dismiss the charges of child endangerment, the charge of sexual exploitation of a minor, and the charges of the production, distribution, reception, and possession of child pornography. You doing okay, Mr. Everton?”
He nods, in a state of disbelief of what he’s hearing, while a few of the words fade and mingle into his sobs of exultation.
“The charges of tax evasion have not been dropped, but you’re being released for time served. And that’s the whole shebang. Again, sorry about the lack of a parade and trumpet blasts. It’s an embarrassment when this happens to people.”
“I’d call it a disgrace, but I can’t blame the court system. If you knew Paul, you’d understand.”
“I can only imagine,” the warden says as he taps his pen on his desk. The two men swivel in their chairs and stare at one another, neither sure what to say or do. “Well,” the warden places the papers in a file and looks at his cell phone. “Mr. Everton, you’re free to go, one of the escorting officers will take you to sign your release forms. Have a seat in the lobby for a moment.”
“Yes sir, thank you.”
“And Mr. Everton... it’s a lovely winter evening to be alive and free. If I were you, I’d never mention any of this to anyone, if you know what I mean. When the governor makes a special trip to... there are some people... what took place here... David Rosen is... oh fuck, just enjoy your freedom. I’ve heard the first breath a person takes when they leave prison is unmatched, but it’s vital after that to keep breathing. Understand, Mr. Everton?”
He nods, shakes the warden’s hand, and wipes the tears from his face as he steps out of the office. Freedom. His body and mind are euphoric. “Thank you, almighty God. Thank you,” he whispers. “Leondra, I’m coming home, gorgeous. I can’t wait to hold you and our beautiful son. Jesus, is this real... Paul’s dead? He’s really gone, out of our lives? Thank you, God, Patrick, and everyone else who helped.”
The escorting officer approaches and Mr. Everton can’t help but think he’s going to tell him they made a mistake, or his family’s going to be hurt, get in an accident or something horrific will happen before he has a chance to see them. He wants to wait until he gets out of the building to shed real tears, but the emotions are too powerful to hold inside any longer. “Keep it together, you can collapse later.”
“You Everton?” the head correctional officer walks hurriedly into the room and holds out his hand.
“Yes sir.”
“Follow me. We have some paperwork to take care of, then the Sergeant will identify you to make sure the right person is being released, and after that, I’ll watch you smile as the last door opens and you leave, a free man.”
***
“Deceased.”
“Excuse me?” My heart stops and I turn to see Cove putting money in the vending machine. He’s far enough away that he didn’t hear the officer say what I think he just said. This can’t be happening. “I don’t understand.”
“It says Mr. Everton is deceased as of today.”
“I... wait, what?” I panic, and take a step back hoping this is all a dream. Leondra walks out of the restroom where she was freshening up for her husband. He can’t be dead. Not now.
“Sophia, what’s wrong?” Cove asks, as he and his mother join me at the visitor check-in window. “What happened? You look petrified.”
Another officer approaches the three of us, pushes his way in front of the man I was just speaking to, and looks at the computer monitor for information. “Let me see that, we haven’t had any deaths in here lately. It says released, you dumb fuck, not deceased. Go back to processing the paperwork on your desk and stay away from check-in until you’ve been here long enough to know what you’re doing. That was a despicable mistake. Sorry-ass kid,” he says under his breath. “I apologize for that. On a lighter note, it looks like Mr. Everton was released three hours ago.”
“Oh Jesus,” Leondra drops her purse and covers her mouth in elation. Tears surge rapidly down her cheeks as her legs give out from under her and she collapses on the floor.
“My father’s free,” Cove whispers. He stares blankly ahead as his mother tugs at his jeans to come down to her.
“Cove,” I touch his arm and smile at the sudden glorious stream of light that enters the room from a near window and engulfs his body with warmth and renewal. He glows in the evening sunset, and his spirit blooms.
“My father’s free,” he says, quickly picking me off the ground into his arms and spinning me around in the air. “He’s free!” My hair floats through the air and we laugh and hug in absolute astonishment.
Leondra stands and embraces Cove who cradles the back of her head as he holds her tightly against his chest. I dance around the two of them as they hug and cry. Cove winks at me and flashes a victorious smile as his mother sobs in his arms.
“Oh I’m so happy, Cove,” she leans back and looks into his eyes. “How did this happen so fast?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care, let’s just hope it wasn’t a mistake. Here, take your purse and let’s get out of here. We need to find him.” Leondra takes her purse as Cove turns back to the officer at the counter. “Do you know where he went?”
“No, we just give em’ thirty bucks for the bus to wherever they’d like to go, and then send them on their way. Is he your father?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if I were him and had such a beautiful family, I’d head home, wouldn’t you think?”
“Come on,” Cove places his hand on my back and the three of us race to Leondra’s SUV she had left in long-term parking at the airport. I recognized the vehicle immediately as the one Cove dragged me into the night we were hiding from my father. It was in the back seat of her car when I first reached out to him, trusted him enough to take his hand and follow him to a hotel.
“Mother, give me the keys. I can see your hands shaking. You’re in no condition to drive.”
“No, I’m fine. Get in the car, Cove.”
“Neither one of you are
in any shape to drive right now. Give me the keys.” I hold out my hand and Leondra doesn’t argue, since her lack of focus from all the excitement would no doubt lead to an accident.
“Cove, sit in front with Sophia. I need the back to spread my makeup out and fix my face. There must be streaks of black down my cheeks from my mascara, and your father deserves to see me looking my best at this special moment.”
“You always look beautiful, Mom.”
It’s rare for Cove to use the word ‘Mom’ and I’ve come to realize it’s a very affectionate term to him. He normally calls her ‘Mother,’ but in certain moments he voices his love for her by calling her Mom.
“I can’t wait!” she shouts. “Oh, my honey’s out and in this big city all alone! We need to find him! Sophia, put the pedal to the metal, and get us home!”
“You got it.”
Cove squeezes my thigh as I drive as fast as the speed limit will allow to deliver them to the ultimate homecoming.
“I can’t fucking believe this, it’s insane that I’m going to be able to see him everyday, whenever I want. I can touch him... I haven’t been able to give him a hug in seven years... and we can have a conversation together without people listening in. We’ll be able to talk, just talk; something as simple as hearing his voice means the world to me. This is incredible,” Cove glows.
Leondra calls Lydia and Wayne to tell them the news and she weeps again as the word ‘freedom’ passes over her lips. “He’s out. I don’t know where he is, but he’s out of that cell, Lydia. We’re on our way to find him. Call Dev, would you? Let her know what’s happening,” she ends the call, and grips Cove’s shoulder with impatience. “Hurry, Sophia. I’m sick to my stomach with eagerness.”
“I wonder why he hasn’t called us,” Cove questions.
“He either can’t because he’s on a bus, or he wants this to be a surprise. Plus, you and Sophia don’t have phones right now, so if he calls, he’ll only be able to get through to my cell.”