by Jamie Hill
Chapter Four
Metropolitan Correctional Center
General Population
Chicago, Illinois
The noise was interminable. Incessant banging of cells doors, arguing, laughing, television—there was never a quiet moment. Sometimes he wanted to curl up in ball and shut the world out. Other times he wanted to find something sharp and slice it across his wrists. If it wasn’t for the thought of his family, out there waiting for him, he would have done that long ago.
His lawyer said the trial was going to take place soon. There had been delay after delay, until he seriously thought he might lose his mind. A freaking year had passed but finally, finally, he’d get his day in court. That’s all he’d ever wanted, to be able to tell his story.
The prosecution said they couldn’t offer him outright immunity, but he knew in his heart once the truth came out he’d get a reduced sentence. And once the judge saw that he’d been a model prisoner, perhaps he’d be released in lieu of time served.
That small sliver of hope kept him plodding along, day after day.
Time dragged.
Twice a week he got to go outside, to an exercise area on the roof of the triangle-shaped building.
Twice a week he was allowed library privileges.
Besides his family, he missed his computer and phone most of all. He was given weekly, ten minute access to the prison phone line, but those calls went to his lawyer. He didn’t try to call his family any more. He understood why they didn’t take his calls. Once he got out, he’d explain it all to them in person.
He prayed his wife would come to the trial. He needed to see her face, to see that she still loved him. Still had faith in him.
It was all that kept him going.
His roommate stuck his head in the cell. “Cubbies are on TV, man. I got five pretzel sticks says the Dodgers kick their ass.”
He felt his jumpsuit pocket. “I got a stick of gum says they don’t.”
The black man’s face lit up. “Juicy Fruit?”
“Is there any other kind, Raymond?”
“You’re on!” Raymond motioned the way to the TV area.
They headed out and he glanced up at the large clock on the wall. Lights out in two hours. They wouldn’t get to finish the game, which was probably being played on the west coast. Oh well. Two hours of distraction never hurt. He’d take whatever small measure of solace he could get.
* * * *
Topeka, Kansas
Doug opened the front door to the pretty, blonde-haired marshal from his office. “Hey Olivia. Thanks for coming.”
“Anytime, cowboy.” She entered and glanced around.
He closed the door and locked it. “Christine Scott, this is Marshal Olivia Newman. She’s going to drive your car to the airport and leave it in long-term parking. While she does that, I’ll pull my Expedition into the garage and we’ll load up.”
“Oh.” Christine blinked, appearing surprised. “I guess that makes sense.”
He exchanged glances with Olivia. “Every now and then, something we do makes some sense.”
“Occasionally.” She nodded.
Christine rubbed her temples. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—oh, never mind.”
Doug smiled. “Just yanking your chain. I need your keys, please. Then get the kids and your bags together. We’ll leave in just a few.”
She headed into the other room, and he turned to Olivia. “Any questions on your end?”
“Nope, I’m good. I’ll drop off the car and my ride will pick me up. I think we’ve got it under control.”
“Keep your eyes open and call me if you see anything suspicious.”
Olivia nodded as Christine returned, holding out her keys. “My house keys are on there.”
“That’s fine.” Doug glanced out the window one more time. “She’ll leave them at the office where they’ll be safe. Olivia, you’re good to go.”
“All righty folks. Travel safe.” She snatched the ring and tossed it in the air on her way to the garage.
“Thank you,” Doug called after her, and watched his co-worker drive away.
“Why did she call you ‘cowboy’?” Christine asked.
He shook his head, not wanting to start a long story at that moment. “Later. Right now, it’s time to go.” He motioned to Christine to wrap it up. “I’ll pull into the garage, you bring the kids and the bags.”
She nodded wordlessly.
He hated seeing the expression on her face at that moment. As he jogged out to the driveway, he wondered how it would feel to pull her into his arms and kiss away all her fears.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. He had to keep his head in the game. Wondering what Christine’s lips tasted like was not where his mind should be.
Doug drove in and parked, then hopped out to help her load the bags. “Everybody in.” He lowered the hatch, watching as the kids got settled in the back, fastening their seat belts. Looking across the top of the SUV at Christine, he raised his brows. “Ready for this?”
She nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” They both climbed in and buckled up.
“Where are we going?” Ethan asked, before they were out of the driveway.
“To a safe house. The service keeps a few different places around town. It won’t be fancy, but it’ll have the necessities.”
“Like air conditioning?” Peyton sounded irritated.
He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw her fanning herself. Doug turned on the switch to send A/C to the back seat. “Yes, it’ll have air conditioning, and running water. Some gruel and hardtack to eat.”
“Delightful,” Christine deadpanned.
Ethan piped up, “What’s hardtack? Is it like beef jerky?”
Doug smiled at the boy’s reflection in the mirror. “Hardtack is a type of cracker made from flour, water and salt. It’s non-perishable, so sailors used to take it on long sea voyages. Cowboys and soldiers packed it, too. It was easy to carry.”
“Cool.” Ethan leaned forward, looking around, trying to capture every sight and sound.
“Who cares?” Peyton muttered. “I don’t eat hardtack.”
Doug shrugged. “Well, you’re not getting any of my Ho Hos or Ding Dongs.”
“Oh for Pete’s sake.” Christine stared out her window. “You sound like another one of my children. I’ll bet you drive your daughter crazy.”
Doug blinked. “My daughter?”
She looked at him. “Daisy, isn’t that her name?”
He smiled. “Daisy. Oh, yeah.” He thought for a moment about what to say, then decided not to let her off the hook so easily. If she assumed Daisy was his daughter, he’d play along. “Daisy and I have an understanding. She knows better than to stick her paws into my snack foods. We got that straight right from the beginning.”
“But you give her Cheetos?” Christine’s expression was that of the perfect reproachful mother.
He almost couldn’t keep from laughing. “Absolutely. She loves it when I toss them up in the air so she can catch them with her mouth.”
Christine looked as if she wanted to say something, but Peyton leaned forward and spoke up first. “Did you flash your gun and badge at her, too?”
He winced. That one stung. But the girl was intentionally being a pain, and he wasn’t going to let her walk all over him. “No, Daisy has never seen my gun. She’s a naturally well-behaved individual.”
“Well isn’t that special.” Peyton sat back.
He waggled his brows at Christine. “Good breeding.”
She rolled her eyes and returned to looking out the side window.
Doug made a series of turns and drove until he was satisfied no one was following them. He hoped the Daisy conversation was over, but should have known better with a ten-year-old in the car.
“How old is Daisy? Can I meet her?” Ethan asked excitedly.
Doug thought about that. Three years old or twenty-one dog years? “She’s three. We’ll have to see, maybe you can meet s
omeday.”
“What about her mother?” Christine said softly. “Is she still in the picture?”
He glanced sideways at her, amused that she wanted to know. “Definitely not.” He added under his breath, “Maggie was a real bitch.”
Christine’s eyes sparkled. For a second she seemed pleased at the answer, but it was almost like she forced herself to reprimand him. “What a thing to say!”
He shook his head. “I only speak the truth. You need to know that about me. I’ll always be honest with you, Christi.”
She gazed at him questioningly. “Christi?”
He grinned slyly before pulling into the driveway of a small brown, single story house. He kept going, driving straight into the open garage. Doug parked and looked at her. “Trying it out.”
She nodded but didn’t respond. Christine suddenly seemed tongue-tied, and a bit choked up.
It’s the situation, Doug told himself, and the end of a very long day. She’s exhausted. That’s all it is.
“This is it?” Peyton asked, her voice monotone and sounding less than thrilled.
He glanced at Christine. “Another one of those rhetorical questions.” To the backseat he said, “Yep, this is it. Everybody out, and grab your luggage. I’m no bellhop.”
The kids piled out of the car.
“What’s a bellhop?” Ethan asked, looking around the garage.
Doug and Christine exchanged glances. He smiled. “Do the questions ever stop?”
She shrugged. “Only when he’s sleeping.”
“Then let’s go find him a bed.”
* * * *
Christine followed Doug and the kids into the house. Sparsely furnished, it did seem to have the necessities and thankfully felt nice and cool. She noticed groceries on the kitchen counter and paused to glance in the sink. Spotless. A good start.
“Three bedrooms.” Doug gave them the tour, leading them past the living room down the hall. “Peyton, why don’t you take this first one? Ethan can sleep here.” He paused in front of the last door. “Christi, this is the master bedroom, I believe it has its own bath.” He opened the door and glanced inside. “Yep. This would be yours.”
She looked around nervously. The room appeared nice enough, and clean. The bathroom sparkled which made her feel slightly better. But something about the arrangement seemed off. She finally drew up the courage and asked Doug, “Are you, uh, staying?”
“Of course. I’ll ride the sofa.”
“You don’t have to do that. Peyton and I can share a room.” She felt guilty at the idea of him without a bed to sleep in.
Doug smiled. “Ah, well, I appreciate that. But I’m happiest out here where I have the best vantage point. Sofa suits me just fine. Really.”
“All right, then.” She hoisted her biggest bag onto the bed and gasped when he removed it, setting it on a nearby chair instead.
“This isn’t the Holiday Inn. I wouldn’t suggest unpacking any more than you absolutely have to. If we need to leave in a hurry, I want us to be able to do just that.”
Her heart pounded. Just when she was starting to feel better, his comment raised her hackles again. “That’s reassuring.” Not.
He glanced behind him, she assumed to make sure the kids were still in their rooms, before taking a step closer to her. So close, she caught a whiff of his sporty cologne. The tantalizing scent distracted her for a moment, until she shook her head to clear it.
“I told you I’d always be straight with you, Christi. I’m doing everything in my power to keep you and those kids safe. We’re going to be in close quarters and it won’t be a cakewalk. But if everyone cooperates, things will be just fine.”
She struggled to pull her gaze away from his dark eyes. When her sights settled on his lips, she knew she was in trouble. Desperate for something to lighten the mood, she said, “If you keep using words like ‘hardtack’ and ‘cakewalk’, Ethan will never leave you alone. He’s like a little sponge, soaking up everything around him. When he hears something new, he doesn’t simply let it go. He asks questions.”
His gaze darted from her eyes down to her mouth, then back up again.
She sensed he felt the same heat between them that she did. Is he going to kiss me? Part of her wished he would, while the other part prayed he wouldn’t. She needed to remain focused, and not on his oh-so-kissable lips.
Doug smiled. “How am I supposed to know which words Ethan understands and which are new to him? I guess he’s just going to have to ask away.”
“I guess,” she agreed, her heart beating louder than ever.
“I’ll, uh, give you some privacy.” He took a step backwards.
Stay. She didn’t dare say it, but thought it anyway. She felt much more at ease with Doug in the room. “Thanks,” she finally mustered.
He backed out and Christine turned away. What is wrong with me? They were in the worst situation of their lives, and suddenly all she could think about was kissing their Witsec marshal. Dumb, dumb, dumb.
She unpacked her toothbrush and a few toiletries, then sat down on the side of the bed and let the tears flow.
When she’d pulled herself together, she checked on each of the kids. Ethan was playing his handheld video game and Peyton thumbed through a magazine. Neither had taken time to unpack, which, in this case, was fine. “I’ll be out here in the living room if you need me,” she told each of them.
“With Doug?” Ethan piped up.
“For a while, yes.” It was early for bed, but Christine wondered if that might not be the safest choice for tonight. She’d check out the rest of the house and then turn in.
She found Doug in the front room nosing around. “Nice enough place,” she offered.
“Not bad. There’s cable.” He tossed the remote control to the TV on the sofa, then went on opening and closing closet doors.
“Looking for anything special?”
“Just looking.” He finished his examination then went into the kitchen, returning with a can of Mountain Dew. “There’s snacks in here, and pop. Get you anything?”
“Something diet?”
He made an ‘uh oh’ face, but went back into the kitchen. “Not sure if we have any—yes! Diet Coke. Thank you, Ben.” He brought back a second can and handed it over.
Christine chuckled, chose one of the two easy chairs and sat, accepting the drink. “Thanks. Who’s Ben?”
“One of the marshals I work with. He did the shopping. Said if you want anything special to make a list, and he’ll get it next time.”
“Oh.” Her mind raced. “We shouldn’t be here that long, should we?”
“Too soon to tell.” He grabbed the remote off the sofa and sat in the other overstuffed chair. “We’ve got lots of people working on this case, so please don’t think just because I’m sitting here doing nothing, that nothing’s happening.” He turned on the TV and began surfing channels.
“I don’t think that,” she said truthfully. “You’re doing something very important.”
He glanced at her. “Looking for Honey Boo Boo?”
Christine bit her lip. “You’re protecting us.”
He smiled. “Damn straight.”
She raised a brow. “But if you’re seriously going to watch that show, I might as well turn in right now.”
Laughing, Doug raised his hands in surrender. “Kidding, I was just joking with you. We can watch whatever you like.” He handed the remote over.
She accepted it and pointed it at the TV, pushing the up button and scanning shows as they went by. She couldn’t help adding, “I hope you don’t let Daisy watch that, either.”
“Daisy watches no TV. Never had the interest.”
She glanced at him. “How did you manage that? Most parents use it as a babysitter at one point or another, even the good ones.”
He laughed again. “Did I hear a backhanded compliment in there somewhere? Like you don’t really think I could be a good parent?”
“I didn’t say that. My first
impression of you was that you didn’t care for children, is all. Perhaps I was wrong.”
“Perhaps you were.” He motioned toward the TV. “Jurassic Park is on. Unless you have something against dinosaurs, that is.”
“I like dinosaurs. Ethan loves Jurassic Park.” She raised the volume and set down the remote.
“Hey, Ethan!” Doug called loudly. “Want to watch a movie?”
Both kids ventured out and their faces brightened when they saw what was on. They sat on the sofa, but as the show went on moved over to sit on the floor by the adults. Doug brought out more pop and some bags of chips, and Cheetos which he kept for himself.
By the time the movie ended, Ethan’s fingers were orange. He was sprawled across Doug’s knees, looking quite comfortable, as they laughed and joked about the merits of the movie’s two sequels.
“You need to wash your hands,” Christine told her son.
“Yeah, ya little oinker.” Doug poked him in the ribs.
Ethan grinned. “What I need is someone to toss me Cheetos in the air, so I can eat them and not get my hands dirty.”
“Dream on, buddy.” Doug scooped him up and stood him on the floor.
“Just once! Can’t I try it, please?”
Christine shook her head. “Good grief, no. Go get washed up.”
“Daisy gets to do it,” Ethan protested.
Doug cleared his throat. “Well, now, you see…there’s something I didn’t tell you about Daisy.”
The three of them looked at him.
His face turned a faint shade of pink. “She’s a… Golden Retriever.”
“A dog?” Ethan and Peyton yelled in unison.
Christine couldn’t believe her ears. “Daisy is a dog? You told us she was your three-year-old.”
“No, you assumed that. She is three. And she does eat Cheetos. She doesn’t watch TV. I never lied.”
“And her mother…” Christine let the sentence trail off. It had bothered her slightly when he’d called the other woman a bitch. Now she could see how he’d been toying with her.
Doug chuckled. “Yeah, well, like I said. I didn’t lie.”
She rose and walked to the sofa, picking up a throw pillow. She spun around and smacked him squarely on the shoulder with it.