Aaron wanted to plead with the man, but that would only make him weak. He needed to show he was at the man’s mercy, but not look like a shriveling coward. He kept quiet.
The cop stood by the door. “You’re lucky it’s me keeping an eye on you. Another cop might just haul you in. You broke the law. End of story. No, ifs, ands or buts.”
“And I really, really appreciate it,” he said.
“You know, I wasn’t sure about you, but I believe you, Aaron.”
“Thank you, Officer. I mean it.”
“Now that we understand each other, I think it’s time you went home, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Aaron started for the door. “I’ll just say goodbye to my friends and—”
The cop stepped in front of him. “No, you won’t. No good-night kiss for you. You’re not going to be rewarded for breaking the law.”
“Come on. I can’t just—”
“Yes, you can, unless you want me to arrest you in front of your friends?”
“No, of course not. So you want me to walk out of here without saying goodbye and head straight home? I can do that.” He went to leave, but the cop didn’t move out of his way.
The cop shook his head. “Not this way.”
“Then how?”
“The window.”
“The window?” Aaron asked, confused. “You want me to climb out of the window?”
The cop nodded.
Aaron turned and saw a small window at the end of the stall line. “I can’t climb out of that.”
The cop pointed past him.
Aaron turned and saw a larger, rectangular window closer to the floor. “You’re joking…”
The cop stepped up to him, their noses almost touching. The man’s eyes cut lasers into him. Aaron swallowed, a lump in his throat. He wanted to step back, but didn’t.
“A small inconvenience for breaking parole,” the cop said, his breath smelling of cinnamon, “and a show of faith that you’ll do as I ask.” The man stepped back and to the side, leaving a path to the door. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs, let them hang from his forefinger. He looked pleased.
“Okay, I’ll do it.” Aaron headed over to the window. He pushed on the glass and the window opened out. Without bothering to look back at the cop, he climbed out, and tumbled to the ground. After dusting himself off, he glanced around and was glad to see that no one was near. He hurried to his car.
During the drive home, he trembled, first from nerves, then from anger. He couldn’t wrap his mind around how the cop had been keeping tabs on him. And then there was how he left the bar. What would he say to Hanna? He pulled out his phone, wanting to call her, then thought better of it. He’d wait until he got home to call. As he was shoving the phone back into his pocket, it rang. He felt his heart sink, thinking it was the cop, but it was Hanna calling. He clicked ignore, not about to chance talking while driving, and there was no way he was pulling over. He needed to get home.
Twenty minutes later, he pulled into his driveway, parked the car and ran inside. He shut the front door, then leaned against it. He thought he’d feel better, safer, but he didn’t.
In the kitchen, he chugged two beers, then hit the shower, taking a long, hot one.
Back in his room, he lay on the bed with the lights off, thinking. He checked his phone and saw he had a missed call. It was Hanna, again. His stomach churned with anxiety. She was probably worried about him. They’d been having a great night and then he took off without saying a word. He wanted to call her, but what would he say? That he suddenly felt nauseous, threw up in the bathroom and needed to get home? Maybe he could just send her a text, letting her know he was okay, just too sick to talk, like the time he’d gotten food poisoning in prison. His stomach had cramped up. Aches and pains had racked his body and he had thought he was going to die.
Conjuring up that horrible time, he called Hanna. She picked up on the third ring.
“Aaron?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, whispering harshly.
“Where’d you go? Are you all right?”
“I will be, I think. Had to…leave. Must’ve eaten something bad…before I got to the bar. I was going to call, but I just want to sleep.”
“You want me to take you to the hospital?”
“No. I’ll be okay. Had this once before. Just need to puke and sleep it off.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” She sounded worried.
“Yeah.”
“Okay… Well, feel better.”
“I will. And Hanna…”
“Yeah?”
“I had a great time tonight, with you.”
“Me too. Sorry it had to end for you like it did.”
“Okay, I think I’m going to puke again. Mind if I talk to you tomorrow?”
“Sure, go. Have a good night, err, I mean, feel better.”
“I will. Good night,” he said, and hung up.
He connected his phone to the charger and lay back down, feeling better after speaking to Hanna. But damn, this was no way to start a relationship, lie after lie.
He couldn’t live like this, couldn’t do this to her. She deserved to know him. The next time they spoke, he’d tell her the truth. Feeling good about his decision, he closed his eyes, and an hour later, fell asleep.
Chapter Five
Aaron awoke the next morning to the aroma of freshly cooked bacon and coffee. His stomach grumbled. He sat up, stretched, then hopped out of bed. Surprisingly, he’d slept well, and felt rested. The clock on his nightstand displayed that the time was 10:32 a.m. He usually slept with his door closed, but he knew his mother had opened it to allow in the smell of her cooking. He was lucky to have her in his life.
After a quick shower, he dressed, then met her downstairs.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” she said, facing the stove.
“Morning,” he returned, taking a seat.
His mom came over and slid scrambled eggs onto his plate. A large mug of steaming coffee had already been set out, along with a plate of bacon. He heard the toaster pop, and a moment later, his mom placed four pieces of browned white bread on the table. She sat across from him, half a grapefruit sitting in front of her.
“Smells delicious,” he said, sticking a fork into his eggs.
They ate and talked. Her date had gone well and she was planning on going out with the guy again, tonight. He wanted to tell her about Hanna and what a great time he’d had with her, but, of course, he didn’t. She would be pissed, and he didn’t need his mother angry or worried. She could be mean. Besides, once he told Hanna about his situation, there might not be any more him and her to talk about.
After breakfast, he cleaned out the gutters and mowed the front yard, using the riding mower. He usually enjoyed the relaxing chore, but today was different. He purposely left his headphones in his room so that he wouldn’t be tempted to listen to the music on his cell phone. He didn’t want to be distracted, wanted to keep his thought process as unhindered as possible, because there were two things he needed to think about: Hanna and the cop.
Every time a car drove by the house, he glanced at it, checking to see if it was the gray sedan, and when it wasn’t, he checked to see if he could make out the driver of the vehicle, wondering if the cop was perhaps driving a different car, even a personal one.
When it was time to mow the backyard, he was able to relax more and enjoy the day, replaying yesterday’s evening with Hanna. He imagined them getting together, being a couple, and it brought a smile to his face, but then the reality of the situation came roaring back, like a tidal wave, and the blissful daydreaming he’d been doing was replaced by a queasy feeling in his gut. The huge hurdle of his ex-con status worried him to the point of sickness.
He kept his cell phone on him all day, taking it with him everywhere, even when he went to the bat
hroom. Simply having to carry the thing was a constant reminder of the cop and the dreadful feeling that went along with him.
When he was halfway done with the backyard, the phone vibrated in his pocket. His mood dimmed until he saw it was Hanna calling. He killed the mower and chatted, feeling guiltier with each passing minute. He knew he should jump to the subject he’d been avoiding and tell her the truth about himself, but he decided that was something he needed to do in person. She asked him how he was feeling. It took a moment for him to remember his stomach bug lie, then he told her he was feeling much better, just a little drained. She understood, saying, “Those things can take a day or two to recover from.”
They spoke for twenty minutes—Aaron forgetting about the rest of the lawn—before his mom called from the house.
“Just a sec, Hanna,” he said, then he covered the phone with his hand and called to his mom, asking her what she needed.
“I’m going to the grocery store to pick up a few things and I need to know what you want.”
“Be right there.”
He placed the phone to his ear and said, “Sorry about that. My mother needs my help with something. Talk to you later?”
“Yeah. I should get back to work, anyway. Don’t need Mike on my ass.”
He laughed. “It was nice talking to you.”
“Then make sure you call me later.”
“I will.”
“Okay, bye.”
“Bye.”
His heart swelled. He really liked her. Dread tied a knot in his stomach. He didn’t know how he was going to tell her the truth about himself, but he would, regardless of the outcome. Hanna deserved to know who she would be dating.
He hopped off the tractor and headed into the house.
“I’ll go,” he told his mom when he entered the kitchen. “I want to get out anyway, before I’m stuck inside for the night, again.”
“You’ve been out for a little over six months. Haven’t you made any friends at work?”
“They go out at night, like normal people. Besides, I see them all day, and the people from my past, well, I don’t think I should be hanging out with them.”
His mother nodded. He could see pity in her eyes. She caressed his cheek. “I know it’s been tough, but it’s better than it was, and it will only improve with time. Most important thing is you’re home. You’ll be off parole in a few years. It’ll go by fast, you’ll see. In the meantime, have you thought about registering for classes down at the college?”
“Not yet. I’m still getting used to things, but I guess I should at least check the place out.”
“Yeah. See if anything interests you. Sign up for a few classes. Or don’t. I just want to see you happy.”
“I’m fine, Mom.” He hugged her, and then snatched the shopping list from her fingers.
“Be back in a bit,” he said, turning to leave.
“You’ll need this,” she said, and held out her credit card.
“The shopping’s on me this time.” And before she could shove the card in his face, he ran out of the house, but his mother was fast, catching him by the collar like a Keystone Cop. She slid the credit card into his pants pocket, then returned to the house.
As he pulled out of the driveway and onto the main road, he looked around for the cop. He wanted to turn around and go back home, hide in his room where he was safe. His conversation with Hanna had erased all thoughts of the cop. Now that he was on the road, they came roaring back. He wondered if the pig had been watching his house, waiting for him to leave so he could pull him over and fuck with him.
He turned on the radio, found a rock station playing a song he liked and got into it, letting the music pump him up. He couldn’t live in fear like this. The cop wasn’t using all his time to watch him. The man had a job and couldn’t keep an eye on him all the time. The pig had wanted him to be paranoid and it was working. He needed to forget about the bastard, but he found it impossible, his eyes on the lookout for the unmarked gray sedan.
When he made it to the Stop and Shop parking lot, he breathed a sigh of relief, and felt ridiculous. He glanced around and used the rearview mirror to check for the cop before exiting the car. Even though he was probably being silly, it made him feel a little better. He grabbed the nearest shopping cart, found that the wheels rolled smoothly, and then headed into the store.
The shopping list contained a lot of items, the house apparently lower on supplies than he realized. He started in the fruits and vegetables area, then went aisle to aisle, gathering the items listed, plus the things he wanted, which included a twelve-pack of Labatt Blue.
At the checkout, he used his own money to pay for a third of the bill, putting the remainder on his mother’s credit card. She’d be pissed when she saw the bill, wanting him to save his money for something important, like college classes, clothes or car repairs. But he paid no rent and didn’t go out, which allowed him to keep most of his paycheck, after paying the cable bill and electricity. So he liked to help out more than she knew whenever he was able to. Every time he attempted to give her money, she always told him that cutting the grass and doing chores around the house saved her a bundle of cash, so it wasn’t like he was freeloading. His mother had always been there for him, supporting him through it all, visiting him every week and sending him care packages and money.
Aaron pushed the shopping cart to his car and transferred the groceries to the back seat, not wanting the food near anything toxic in the trunk, like the windshield washer fluid, oil or cans of spray paint.
After returning the shopping cart to the cart corral, he was headed back to his car when his phone rang. Checking the screen, he saw that the call was private. His gut churned and his mouth went dry.
He glanced around, looking for the cop, not finding him.
“Hello?” he said, answering the call.
“I’m so glad our last conversation set things right,” the familiar voice said.
“I told you I’d pick up.”
“I’ve got something for you to do.”
A car horn honked, startling him. Aaron turned and saw the grill of a rusted old pickup truck, then realized he’d stopped walking to his car when the cop had called and was now standing in the middle of the lane. An elderly man with a full white beard, missing his two front teeth was sitting behind the wheel and waving his arms for Aaron to move out of the way. Aaron held up his hand and mouthed “sorry,” before hurrying to his car and climbing behind the wheel.
“Still there, Aaron?”
“Yeah. You have something for me to do?”
“I need you to collect some money for me.”
Silence.
Aaron let out the breath he was holding. The cop was dirty. “Go on.”
“There’s a guy who owes me. He’s an older man, runs a liquor store over in Harriman. You know where that is?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. It’s a simple job. Do this for me and we’re square.”
“What do you mean ‘collect’? And why do you need me to do it?”
“Like I said, guy owes me money and doesn’t want to pay, so I’m sending you to get it.”
“I won’t hurt anyone.”
“Who said anything about hurting?”
“So what, I just go to him and tell him you sent me?”
The cop laughed. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow. Just be ready when I call.”
Aaron looked at the phone, seeing that the call had ended. He sank in his seat, feeling numb. What the hell was he getting himself into? His throat constricted, as if the cop had strung a noose around his neck. This was bad, really bad. Collecting for a dirty cop? Some kind of protection racket? He was going to have to get money from a guy who didn’t want to give it. He wondered what kind of person wouldn’t pay a dirty cop, but the answer was simple: a really mean and nasty in
dividual with some kind of underworld standing.
The cop had said the guy was an old man, but that didn’t necessarily mean feeble. Lots of mob men were older, especially the bosses, and would kill a man without blinking.
Aaron’s pulse quickened as his mind raced with ridiculous ideas. He sat up, wondering if the liquor store was a mob front, the cop planning to use him to rob it.
He shook the idea from his head, telling himself he was being ridiculous. The old man who ran the liquor store was probably just a stubborn old goat who lost money in a poker game and didn’t want to pay. Yeah, that was it. But as much as he wanted to believe that was the case, he couldn’t quite convince himself that he was simply collecting money from a run-of-the-mill store owner.
If Aaron was going to be honest with himself, he had no idea what he was walking into, and he had no one to turn to for help. Reporting on the cop would do nothing. Aaron was practically at the bottom of the food chain, the rapists and pedophiles the only category of people below him. He knew things would be tough, that he’d have to take a lot of shit, at least until he was off parole, but this was absurd. It’s too bad he wasn’t a vicious killer, otherwise he’d just kill the cop and be done with all this.
Ready to leave, he started the car and drove out of the parking lot, obeying the speed limit and keeping an eye out for the cop the whole way home.
Chapter Six
That night, Aaron tossed and turned in bed, hardly able to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. He couldn’t stop wondering about tomorrow and what the cop had in store for him. He forced himself to think about Hanna, from hanging out with her at work to meeting up at the bar, kissing her.
The damn cop had ruined everything.
Hanna was the sunshine in this dark, stormy nightmare he was caught in. He knew it was only going to get worse. He wished he could go back and make different choices, better ones, but doing so only brought more grief, because wishing was foolish. The best thing he got from the past was to not repeat it. Yet here he was, trapped, going down another bad road.
By six a.m., his body was exhausted and his mind was no longer able to process anything. Weariness took over. He fell asleep, only to wake up on the floor, unsure how he arrived there. He shot to his feet and saw the time was 9:02 a.m. He had less than an hour to get to work.
The Unhinged Page 6