The Getaway Car

by Leddy Harper

  When I reached for the door, my heart ached, a physical pain that clenched my chest until it was too difficult to breathe. And when I turned toward the restrooms, noticing the nacho cheese rack, my eyes burned from the sorrow that needed to escape. I’d been in here more times than I could count after I returned to Iowa without Talon, just hoping I’d run into him. Yet none of those instances ever had me feeling like this—like I had no motivation to do anything.

  “Ma’am?” I heard from behind me, so I turned around and noticed the cashier smiling. “Do you need help finding something?”

  Yes, but nothing you can help me with.

  I took the few steps to the counter and handed her the folded bill. “Twenty on pump nine, please.”

  She paused for a moment, brow furrowed in confusion. “Nine? I’m sorry…there is no pump nine.”

  I glanced out the window to see which one Jarrod was at, but his truck wasn’t there. I wandered closer to the door, hoping he’d simply moved to another space. Just then, the cashier called out, “Miss? Don’t leave without your money.” I peered over my shoulder and noticed her holding up the cash.

  “Thank you.” Lost in a dense fog of confusion and utter heartbreak, I took it from her and went to the door. I was seconds from pushing the glass open, both hands in front of me, when something on the bill caught my eye. “You smell good,” was scrawled across the front in blue ink.

  After a moment to calm my racing heart, I flung open the door. I frantically checked the entire lot, but I didn’t see Jarrod or Talon. My excitement tanked. Just when I thought I couldn’t feel worse, I was left stranded at a gas station full of memories after my hopes crashed and burned for the umpteenth time. My shoulders slumped, my energy completely drained.

  I took a few steps away from the entrance to let a woman by.

  And that’s when I realized I didn’t even have my phone.

  I’d left everything in the truck—my wallet, keys, and phone. This must’ve been what Talon felt like the night I took off and left him with nothing and no way to get anywhere. Once again, regret stabbed me in the chest. Over the years, I’d said, “I’ve made my bed, now I have to lie in it,” too many times to count. Every time something happened to me, that was my reasoning. But now, as I stood alone, I realized it had all been building up to this moment.

  Because this was my bed.

  And I wasn’t just lying in it, I was dying in it.

  Then I reminded myself that I’d been here before in some odd, twisted way. I’d been left with nowhere to go, and still, that hadn’t stopped me. It wouldn’t now, either. I put one foot in front of the other and made my way toward the road, determined to walk until I found a way home.

  I didn’t make it to the end of the parking lot before glancing up and finding a dark vehicle parked across the street. It sat idle, and the more I focused on it, I noticed a man, dressed in black, leaning against it. It took two seconds to break free from the debilitating memory and understand what was right in front of me.

  I ran to him and fell into his chest with my arms around his waist. He growled in pain, but he refused to let me go when I tried to release him after remembering his injuries. I had no idea what was going on—where Jarrod was, how Talon knew I’d be here, or how he’d gotten out of jail. Yet none of that mattered, because I was in his arms, the heaven I never imagined I’d experience again.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, out of breath while craning my head to see him.

  “I was hoping you’d get in my getaway car and leave with me.”

  I had to fight my tears, though this time, they were caused by sheer happiness. “Where are we going?”

  “South.” His smile stretched, calling attention to the swelling and deep bruising on his face.

  “Oh, yeah? There are a lot of places south of here.”

  “And I’ll go to any of them as long as you’re beside me.”

  “Does this mean…?”

  “This means I’m free. You’re free. We don’t have to worry about anything other than where we’ll pull over and stay the night. And gas…and food.”

  “I don’t have any clothes, Talon.”

  “Good thing for you there’s a Walmart in almost every town.”

  Laughter bubbled in my chest. “What about my stuff?”

  “Sell it. Throw it out. Donate it. I don’t care. Willow said she’d pack it up and Jarrod can store it in the apartment over the garage until we figure something out. It doesn’t matter to me, sweetheart. All I care about is having you…being with you.”

  There was nothing more I wanted than to get in his car and just go. But I had too many unanswered questions lingering inside—not that any of them would keep me from going with him. I just needed to hear him say it before I could relax and leave it all behind. Leave it buried in Fleetwood, never to think of it or Billings again. “What happened, Talon?”

  “Sweetheart, we have a long trip ahead of us. Let’s leave that for the drive.”

  As much as I longed to take his hand and do just that, I couldn’t. “When I didn’t hear anything, and they kept you for so long, I thought…”

  “I’m so sorry.” He leaned down and claimed my lips.

  I wished it would never end, yet it had to. I gently pulled away, not to reject him…to make him aware of how serious this was for me. “You can tell me all the details in the car, but right now, I need you to tell me something—anything.”

  He nodded, understanding my plea. “They’re still waiting on the phone company to turn over the records for his cell during the time you were attacked. Depending on what they can find, and what can be proved, they might need us to come back for a statement or something. As it stands, divers found a body in the lake, and likely, will find more when they broaden their scope. For now, they’re focused on the bridge.”

  “Why there? What would make them think to look there?”

  His entire body deflated, and once again, he didn’t have to speak for me to read his mind. When he touched my face and the moisture in his eyes caught the lights over the pumps across the street, I knew.

  “They found my mom, didn’t they?”

  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” It was a whisper, yet it reverberated in the still air around us like roaring thunder. “I didn’t want to be the one to tell you.”

  I couldn’t speak, so I let my forehead fall to his chest and focused on the rhythm of his heartbeat. Regardless of my assumptions, nothing could’ve prepared me for hearing the truth. The only thing that kept me upright were his arms as they wrapped around me, holding me close.

  Pushing past his obvious pain, he lowered his head to mine, bringing his mouth closer to my ear. “In a way, she saved you. She’s the only reason they had anything concrete against him. Please, sweetheart, trust that even in death, she was looking out for you.”

  I didn’t point out that if he hadn’t killed her, there wouldn’t be a need for any of this. Because in the end, even I didn’t truly believe that. It was selfish. There were others, and without my mom, there would be no way to hold him accountable for any of the things he’d done.

  “Why, though? Why’d he do it? He let me live…”

  He ran his finger beneath my eye. “He said it was an accident. I don’t know how true that is, but from what he claims, she was upset and took off; he went after her to calm her down. She swerved and ran off the bridge.”

  “And then what? He just watched her car sink to the bottom? He didn’t try to help her?”

  Rather than answer with words, he offered the truth through compassionate eyes.

  “And the missing person’s report?”

  Talon shook his head. “He never filed one.”

  I took a deep breath, needing a moment to absorb the truth. I was glad it had finally come out, and that I had some answers after all this time, except it didn’t change anything. It would never bring my baby back, it wouldn’t take away the years I’d lived in fear, but in some twisted way, it brought me to
Talon.

  If I hadn’t needed to run, I never would’ve gotten into his getaway car.

  I shifted in his hold and craned my head. With my hand on his cheek, I uttered the words I’d longed to say to him, but this time, I made sure he heard me. “I love you, Talon.”

  Without words, he told me everything. However, that didn’t stop him from saying, “I love you so damn much. Now let’s go. We have a date on Bourbon Street.”

  The Truth About

  The Shadowman

  Daniel Culberson

  While sitting on the thin mattress with my back against the cold, concrete wall of my cell, I couldn’t help but think about how far I’d fallen. More than one bad decision had landed me in a federal prison—each one progressively worse than the last. At some point, I’d smothered my conscience in order to survive the guilt. And now, there was nowhere to escape it. Remorse and self-hatred kept me company during my lifelong sentence.

  I used to be a good person.

  If someone needed a shirt, I would’ve given them the one off my back. If they needed a dollar, they’d have the last one in my wallet. I may not have been the smartest in school or the best in academy, but I was reliable…and everyone had known it. I’d welcomed a friend into my home after he’d caught his wife cheating. I had mentored kids who’d aspired to work in law enforcement. I was dependable. Honest. I was everyone’s shoulder, their listening ear, and their sounding board—ready and willing whenever they needed it.

  I used to be respected.

  My job—my sole purpose—was to keep the citizens of Marion County safe. And I’d spent years doing just that. My hard work and determination had paid off, and eventually, I was promoted to Captain. I’d followed the rules and upheld the law.

  Until I didn’t.

  And now, I was no better than the man in front of me.

  A criminal.

  “Word around here is you used to be a cop.” For such a big guy, my cellmate could speak in a hushed tone better than anyone I knew. He sat on the edge of his bed, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, glancing between me and the hallway outside our cell.

  Law enforcement never fared well in prison—after all, officers of some kind were responsible for these men being in here. Not a single one had walked inside and locked themselves up of their own volition. And even though I wasn’t accountable for the incarceration of any prisoner in this facility, that didn’t mean I was interested in admitting the truth.

  “I’ve heard that rumor, too. Kinda silly if you ask me.” I flipped the page in the book I wasn’t paying any attention to.

  “Yeah,” he said with a scratchy chuckle. “Does seem funny. It had us all rolling when we read the article. Couldn’t stop laughing…if you ask me.”

  I stopped pretending to read and slowly lifted my gaze to his.

  “You ain’t gotta worry about me, Culberson. You didn’t lock me up.”

  All I could do was nod and wait for more.

  “So it’s true? You killed your sister? Dumped her in a lake?”

  Out of everything that had been said about me, mention of Mandy gutted me the worst. She was my fucking sister, for crying out loud, and everyone had made it sound like I’d shot her in the back and left her for dead. No, I wasn’t innocent in what happened to her, but I loved her and I never would’ve intentionally hurt a hair on her head.

  “She drove off a bridge. It was an accident.”

  “But you were there, right?”

  I gritted my teeth and said, “Yes.”

  “And you didn’t try to save her?”

  “I did. But there was only so much I could do. It was deep where she went in, and I didn’t have much time to get her out. The car sank quickly.”

  “Did you at least try?” he pressed.

  “Of course I did.” It didn’t matter that it was the truth; no one believed it. Then again, I couldn’t exactly blame anyone for doubting me—my reputation hadn’t been the most upstanding once it had all come out. “But the water was cold and murky. I couldn’t even find the car.”

  The corners of his lips turned down, but when he ran his finger along his chin and nodded slowly, he came across as more of a contemplative mob boss than a frowning inmate. “Okay…but why not call for help?”

  “Are you Diane Sawyer or something?” I opened the book again, hoping he’d get the hint.

  He didn’t. “Nah, son. Don’t get it twisted.” He chuckled, even though he hadn’t said it in jest. “If anyone’s the bitch, it’s you. I knew something was wrong with you when you showed up, but I kept my mouth shut. I let it play out. Now…I got your number.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He popped his knuckles and leaned forward a little more. “You’re the guy who watches while his sister drowns to death and don’t do nothing about it. You’re the monster who attacked your niece and killed her baby.”

  “That’s not—”

  “Around here,” he continued, not batting an eye over cutting me off, “if you got busted for sellin’, you’d fit right in. Gun trafficking…you might get a little more respect. Fuck someone up for talkin’ shit to your girl? You aight. Hurt a kid?” He shook his head and tsked. “Goner.”

  There wasn’t much to say—nothing I could say. The truth wasn’t much better than any excuse I could’ve come up with. A lot had happened, and it was the first time I believed my world would crumble around me. I’d panicked, and then I’d spent the next four years trying to cover it up, only to make it worse.

  “We heard you took a plea deal.”

  I shook my head and dropped the book to the thin mattress. When I met his stare, I quirked a brow and shrugged with one shoulder. “Seems to me you’ve got my whole story, Davies. You’ve read articles, maybe watched some news, and you’ve talked to a few of the others about me. So what do you need me for? Doesn’t feel like you’re looking for real answers.”

  I’d spent the first year of incarceration alone, with very little yard time and even less group activities. It was basically solitary without the punishment. Apparently, it was the guards’ way of keeping an ex-member of law enforcement alive in prison. After that, they had moved me and given me a mate. Unfortunately, that guy had complained every day for the past seven months, saying how much I scared him. Fed up with listening to that asshole, they moved me a few weeks ago. I didn’t think anything of it…until I met Davies.

  Just the sight of him was intimidating. Add to it the group he hung out with in the yard and his natural snarl, and he was someone no one wanted to fuck with. I didn’t frighten easily, and for the most part, Davies couldn’t do anything to me I wouldn’t do to myself if I had the chance.

  “I figured you’d want to set the record straight.”

  “About what? Taking a plea deal? I’d imagine that’s a matter of public record.”

  His grin sent chills down my spine. Over the last few weeks, he’d kept to himself, so this newfound interest in my life—as well as his demeanor—set me on edge. “Nah, I know all about your deal.”

  No one knew all the details. Even without much information regarding my conviction, it was easy to assume I’d taken one, considering I got life without the possibility of parole, yet I sat in a medium security prison. I should’ve been in maximum security due to my sentence alone—more than thirty years remaining, and a prisoner automatically got max—but I was able to work the system.

  The feds get hard-ons for the guys at the tops of trafficking ladders. I was merely a small fish in a rural pond…who’d happened to have information on bigger dealers. Over the last couple of years, I’d been called a snitch and a rat, amongst other things. They could say whatever they wanted, but at the end of the day, I was still in prison—for the rest of my life.

  I’d made a deal to secure my place in a lower-level penitentiary. As soon as the guards were placed outside my room at the hospital, I didn’t have to guess why. The gig was up. And I’d accepted long ago that if the day ever came when I found myse
lf in cuffs, I wouldn’t contest it—providing the evidence was irrefutable. Which it was. I’d done enough to Maggie; dragging her through a trial would destroy her. So, when that day finally came, I did what I had to and made a deal.

  “Then why are you asking about it?” Getting mouthy was a bold move, and if I didn’t watch out, it could come back to haunt me. Yet I didn’t care much at this point. Lying down and rolling over would only make me someone’s bitch. I’d die before that ever happened.

  “It wasn’t a question. I said… We heard you’d taken one. Heard you basically drew a map to your dealer’s front door. Sounds like a pussy move to me.” He eyed me from my prison-issued shoes to the top of my head—and made sure I watched him do it. “You a pussy, Culberson?”

  “If that’s what you want to think. There are bodies on the bottom of a lake that would beg to differ…if they could.” I added a smirk for the hell of it. There wasn’t much I could do to make this worse.

  “Like your sister? Oh, wait…they found her, didn’t they? I guess it’s a good thing your niece got away before you added her to your body count.”

  My face flamed, and I had to grind my teeth to keep from fighting back. This son of a bitch didn’t know the first thing about Maggie—or how I’d gotten here. He saw what everyone else did, which was a man who had manipulated his power and slaughtered innocent people.

  But there was a whole story beneath it all that no one knew.

  His sneer only further raised my blood pressure until I couldn’t bite my tongue any longer. “You don’t know the first thing about me or what I’ve done. If you’d rather believe what you’ve read in a paper or heard on TV, there’s nothing I can do to stop you. Just keep in mind that I never testified. I never offered details other than what they were after—which were the names of my suppliers.”

  “Then, by all means, correct me.” He leaned back until his shoulders rested against the concrete wall along the side of his bunk, an arrogant, daring smirk on his lips. “I’d love to hear how different your story is.”