Eventually we called Dad and he met us there. We told him what had happened and we devised a plan that would keep Jake out of jail and Dad in office. We would turn in all the money—both from the bank and the plane—and say that Jake was working undercover for the sheriff’s department. I had taken some time to think about it, to weigh what I was about to do, and decided it was the thing to do. Since then I had reexamined my motives and choices and actions and had reached the same conclusion. If Jake had hurt or killed anyone things would be different, but as it was all he did was make some stupid choices with some good intentions. He was just a boy trying to save his mother––something I could certainly understand.
And though everyone had agreed to keep the deaths and arrests concealed until after the election, Jake, Dad, and I had told our stories to FDLE and the FBI, and it looked as if they believed us. It would be a while before everything was over, but I suspected that what we did wouldn’t just keep Jake out of jail but save his life, and might actually be the thing that won Dad reelection.
Once the results were posted, most people slowly scattered, rushing off to pick up their kids from football, volleyball, or soccer practice, or to cook supper and eat with their families.
Unlike usual I was in no hurry to leave. I had no place to go really, and what I was witnessing was a small-town way of life that was as valuable as it was vulnerable.
“Congratulations,” I said to Dad when he walked up.
“Thanks,” he said. “And thank you for what you did for Jake—and me. I really appreciate it, son.”
I nodded.
“Still haven’t found Jensen,” he said. “Search will intensify now. Won’t be long.”
“He saved our lives,” I said.
He nodded.
We were silent a moment, him shaking the hands of the people who walked by and congratulated him.
“You’re not gonna charge him, are you?”
He shook his head. “There’ll be some pressure to because of how violent and excessive he was, and some’ll say I’m not charging him because you and Jake were involved, but no, I’m not. I’m calling it what it was. Self-defense.”
I nodded. “Heard Fred dropped out of the race,” I said.
He smiled.
“Should make the general election a lot easier.”
“Will.”
“I’m looking into the disappearance of R. L. Jenkins,” I said. “Just wanted you to know.”
“Who?”
“The minister from Marianna Merrill saw lynched when he was little.”
He nodded. “Didn’t figure you’d wait. I’ll help as much as I can. When the election is over … we’ll really dig into it … providing you don’t have it solved by then.”
We fell quiet a moment.
A few more people came by. He heard a few more congratulations and shook a few more hands.
“I’ve got to get back over to the office to meet with FDLE and the FBI,” he said. “We’re going to schedule a press conference for later tonight. Wanna come?”
I shook my head. “No thanks.”
“Can’t blame you,” he said. “They’ll never know all you did. How relentless you were—as usual, how you put things together and figured things out that no one else would have. How you saved lives—and souls,” he added, nodding over toward Cody and Carla. “But I do. I know it all. And no dad could be more proud of his son than I am of you.”
My eyes stung and I had to take in a deep breath to gain control of myself.
“Thank you,” I said.
He extended his hand not as a dad but as a man shaking the hand of another man he admired and respected, and I shook it.
As he walked away, I couldn’t remember him ever saying anything to me that meant any more than that.
I was overwhelmed.
Leaving the bank parking lot, I walked over to the small lakeside park next to it and sat down on one of the benches.
Sitting there alone in the evanescent evening, I thought about all that had happened and my part in it. I thought about my friends and coworkers and whispered a prayer for Merrill again. I thought about my family and my life and I gave thanks. I thought about Mom, her dying, her death, and knew that she wouldn’t be the only one dying before she wanted to. We all would. All we could do was live while we had life in our lungs, do the best we could, enjoy the journey, walk humbly, act nobly, and be the best version of ourselves we could possibly be in any given moment.
I thought what a fine thing it is to be alive and I was filled with hope and thought my dark night of the soul might be about to break for the dawn, but even if it wasn’t I felt somehow I would be okay.
I found myself accepting what was instead of futilely fighting against it, embracing everything––even having to give up of Anna––and I felt peaceful.
Later, in full evening, when everyone had gone back to their lives, back to their loved ones, I still sat alone.
Across the way I saw Anna pull up and park next to my car.
Searching around until she found me, she walked over without ever even glancing at the election results.
She sat down on the bench beside me and a long moment passed before either of us spoke.
Eventually she said, “Birth control pills make me sick. I mean really mess me up, my hormones, my … everything. I can’t take them.”
I looked at her. I knew she had a reason for telling me so I waited.
“Chris confessed to me last night that he’s been poking holes in his condoms in hopes of making me pregnant. Said he was afraid of losing me. Wanted some insurance. Something to bind me to him forever.”
I took her hand.
“Can you believe that?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said.
She turned and looked at me, studying my face. It was obvious I hadn’t given her the response she’d been expecting.
“It was a dishonest act of desperation,” I said. “It shows cowardice and control issues and a level of obsession I wouldn’t expect from Chris, but I can certainly understand it. I wouldn’t be surprised by anything you’d inspire a man to do.”
“Would you do it?” she asked.
I didn’t answer.
“Would you?”
I shook my head. “No.” I said. “I wouldn’t.”
“What’s that line about honor you’re always quoting?”
“‘Yet this inconstancy is such … as thou too shalt adore … I could not love thee, dear, so much … loved I not honor more.’”
She nodded appreciatively, gazing out over the lake.
“Said he did it so when I found out he’d had an affair I might not leave him.”
“Oh, Anna, I’m so sorry,” I said. And I really was.
“What should I do?” she asked.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“I left him,” she said.
With those words my heart did something it hadn’t done in a while. It leapt.
“I’m not going back.”
“You’re not just acting out of anger or …”
She shook her head. “I’m really not. All the things he’s done are just symptoms.”
I nodded slowly, thinking about it, trying to contain myself.
“We should’ve never married, never been together in the first place. I’ve only stayed out of obligation and some misguided notion of honor.”
I nodded.
She turned and looked at me, our longing eyes locking.
“I want you to think about something and answer me honestly,” she said. “Don’t worry about hurting my feelings or discouraging me. I want the truth. All I have room for in my life now is truth.”
“Sure,” I said.
“Do you think there’s a man out there who can love me even though I’m carrying another man’s child?” she asked. “Even though I’m a damaged, soon-to-be-divorced, soon-to-be-single mom with bumps and bruises and baggage? I know it’d be an awful lot to ask of a man. I know it’d take someone ver
y, very special to love me and my baby the way we deserve. And I know it won’t be easy to find such a person. I realize that. I mean … So all I guess I’m really asking is if … if you think such a person exists.”
“I do.”
About the Author
Multi-award-winning novelist, Michael Lister, is a native Floridian best known for literary suspense thrillers and mysteries.
The Florida Book Review says that “Vintage Michael Lister is poetic prose, exquisitely set scenes, characters who are damaged and faulty,” and Michael Koryta says, “If you like crime writing with depth, suspense, and sterling prose, you should be reading Michael Lister,” while Publisher’s Weekly adds, “Lister’s hard-edged prose ranks with the best of contemporary noir fiction.”
Michael grew up in North Florida near the Gulf of Mexico and the Apalachicola River in a small town world famous for tupelo honey.
Truly a regional writer, North Florida is his beat.
In the early 90s, Michael became the youngest chaplain within the Florida Department of Corrections. For nearly a decade, he served as a contract, staff, then senior chaplain at three different facilities in the Panhandle of Florida—a unique experience that led to his first novel, 1997’s critically acclaimed, POWER IN THE BLOOD. It was the first in a series of popular and celebrated novels featuring ex-cop turned prison chaplain, John Jordan. Of the John Jordan series, Michael Connelly says, “Michael Lister may be the author of the most unique series running in mystery fiction. It crackles with tension and authenticity,” while Julia Spencer-Fleming adds, “Michael Lister writes one of the most ambitious and unusual crime fiction series going. See what crime fiction is capable of.”
Michael also writes historical hard-boiled thrillers, such as THE BIG GOODBYE, THE BIG BEYOND, and THE BIG HELLO featuring Jimmy “Soldier” Riley, a PI in Panama City during World War II (www.SoldierMysteries.com ). Ace Atkins calls the “Soldier” series “tough and violent with snappy dialogue and great atmosphere … a suspenseful, romantic and historic ride.”
Michael Lister won his first Florida Book Award for his literary novel, DOUBLE EXPOSURE. His second Florida Book Award was for his fifth John Jordan novel BLOOD SACRIFICE.
Michael also writes popular and highly praised columns on film and art and meaning and life that can be found at
www.WrittenWordsRemain.com.
His nonfiction books include the “Meaning” series: THE MEANING OF LIFE, MEANING EVERY MOMENT, and THE MEANING OF LIFE IN MOVIES.
Lister’s latest literary thrillers include DOUBLE EXPOSURE, THUNDER BEACH, BURNT OFFERINGS, SEPARATION ANXIETY, and A CERTAIN RETRIBUTION.
About the Author
Multi-award-winning novelist, Michael Lister, is a native Floridian best known for literary suspense thrillers and mysteries.
The Florida Book Review says that “Vintage Michael Lister is poetic prose, exquisitely set scenes, characters who are damaged and faulty,” and Michael Koryta says, “If you like crime writing with depth, suspense, and sterling prose, you should be reading Michael Lister,” while Publisher’s Weekly adds, “Lister’s hard-edged prose ranks with the best of contemporary noir fiction.”
Michael grew up in North Florida near the Gulf of Mexico and the Apalachicola River in a small town world famous for tupelo honey.
Truly a regional writer, North Florida is his beat.
In the early 90s, Michael became the youngest chaplain within the Florida Department of Corrections. For nearly a decade, he served as a contract, staff, then senior chaplain at three different facilities in the Panhandle of Florida—a unique experience that led to his first novel, 1997’s critically acclaimed, POWER IN THE BLOOD. It was the first in a series of popular and celebrated novels featuring ex-cop turned prison chaplain, John Jordan. Of the John Jordan series, Michael Connelly says, “Michael Lister may be the author of the most unique series running in mystery fiction. It crackles with tension and authenticity,” while Julia Spencer-Fleming adds, “Michael Lister writes one of the most ambitious and unusual crime fiction series going. See what crime fiction is capable of.”
Michael also writes historical hard-boiled thrillers, such as THE BIG GOODBYE, THE BIG BEYOND, and THE BIG HELLO featuring Jimmy “Soldier” Riley, a PI in Panama City during World War II (www.SoldierMysteries.com ). Ace Atkins calls the “Soldier” series “tough and violent with snappy dialogue and great atmosphere … a suspenseful, romantic and historic ride.”
Michael Lister won his first Florida Book Award for his literary novel, DOUBLE EXPOSURE. His second Florida Book Award was for his fifth John Jordan novel BLOOD SACRIFICE.
Michael also writes popular and highly praised columns on film and art and meaning and life that can be found at
www.WrittenWordsRemain.com.
His nonfiction books include the “Meaning” series: THE MEANING OF LIFE, MEANING EVERY MOMENT, and THE MEANING OF LIFE IN MOVIES.
Lister’s latest literary thrillers include DOUBLE EXPOSURE, THUNDER BEACH, BURNT OFFERINGS, SEPARATION ANXIETY, and A CERTAIN RETRIBUTION.
___________________
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Table of Contents
Front Matter
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Rivers to Blood Page 21