Read A Gift of Time (The Nine Minutes Trilogy Book 3) Online
Authors: Beth Flynn
Tommy
2000,
Fort Lauderdale (After the Execution)
Tommy reflected on
the last couple of weeks as he made his
way to the little diner in the heart of an old but beautifully restored
downtown Davie.
He thought
about the progress he’d made in getting to know his daughter again, and how
concerned he’d been as to whether or not Ginny’s outburst would cause that to
crumble. It hadn’t. Mimi had told him she loved him. It was a start. A good
start. He hadn’t heard her say those words in years. His heart felt lighter in spite
of this last-minute lunch with Sarah Jo.
Jo. He
frowned as he idled at a red light, the memory of who he was meeting
aggravating him.
He leaned
his elbow on the steering wheel and pinched his nose between his fingers. The
beep of an impatient motorist behind him brought him back from his thoughts. Jo
had been pestering him for weeks to meet for a talk. He was certain she wanted
to convince him he was wrong about her, that he had no right to tell her what
she should be doing with her life.
He knew how this
would go down. She would start off with small talk, then work her way into how
difficult it was trying to arrange such a monumental move out of the country.
It would be followed with whining and trying to convince him of her love for
him and Ginny.
And it would
probably end in her being angry at his refusal to budge. He just hoped she
wouldn’t make a scene. He sighed as he pulled into the diner parking lot and
spotted her car.
Inside,
Sarah Jo drummed her fingers against the table.
“Can I get
you something while you wait, ma’am?” the waitress asked. “Ma’am?”
“No,” Sarah
Jo snapped at the waitress. “I already told you. I’ll order when my friend gets
here.”
She barely
glanced at the waitress who crept away, embarrassed by Sarah Jo’s rudeness.
Jo rolled her
eyes as she sat up straighter to look out the window. She nervously clutched
her mother’s pendant. It was a large Marcasite pendant with a ruby in the
center. Sarah Jo never took it off. When she was younger, she’d wear it tucked
inside her blouse and was always comforted by the cold metallic feel of it
resting between her breasts. As she got older, she got in the habit of wearing
it out. It was now more suited to her age and went well with her business
attire.
He’d better
not stand me up again. She rubbed the precious keepsake between her fingers.
She was starting to get upset thinking about what she would do if he didn’t
show when she noticed his car pull in.
She sat back
in the booth triumphantly. He was here and willing to talk. It was a beginning.
She watched
Tommy walk to the restaurant’s front door. She could hear him as he made his
way up behind her and casually plop himself in the seat in front of her.
“I don’t
have a lot of time.” His voice sounded tired. “What do you want, Jo?”
“Wow,
haven’t seen you in months and not even a ‘hello’ or ‘how’ve you been?’
Nothing?” Before Tommy could answer, her lips pursed in mock outrage. “What
does somebody need to do to get a waitress around here? I’ve been waiting for
you for over twenty minutes. You think somebody would’ve asked me if they could
at least get me a drink.”
“I’m not
hungry or thirsty. What did you want to see me for?”
“So that’s
how it’s going to be? Just business?”
“Did you
honestly think it could be more?”
Without
answering, she looked up at the girl who’d returned to their table.
“Two
coffees, please. And would you be a doll and bring me extra cream?” she asked,
giving the girl the sweetest smile she could muster. “And no need for menus.
We’re just having coffee. Thank you, love.”
Tommy didn’t
notice the waitress’s confused expression as she left to get their drinks.
Sarah Jo
hunched over the table between them.
“Look, I
know you’ve seen the effort I’ve been making. Stan has been on three interviews
since our talk. I’ve avoided Ginny at every opportunity, and that hasn’t been
easy. She calls me a lot. Although I have to admit, it’s been dying off a bit.
She knows I’m busy with making arrangements for the move. I just think now that
you’ve seen I can be in the same city as her and not be in your lives, you need
to reconsider your threat.” She emphasized the word with air quotes.
“Why would I
do that? Why would you even think I’d change my mind?”
The waitress
set down their coffees. Tommy politely thanked her and stared at Jo.
“Why? I’ll
tell you why, Tommy. Because it’s not easy packing up my life and moving to the
other side of the world. Show some compassion, how ’bout it?”
She loaded
her coffee with cream and sugar as she glared at him.
“Compassion?
Like you showed when you set up Ginny’s rape all those years ago?” Sarah Jo
cringed, but he pressed on. “Compassion, like when Chicky tried to get close to
Fess? How about the compassion you showed Moe? That kind of compassion, Jo? Is
that what you mean?”
His voice
was tight with anger.
“Why are you
still harping on something that happened over twenty years ago? Why can’t you
let this obsession with getting me out of town go? Why can’t you get past
this?”
He sat back.
Cocking his head to one side, he seriously considered his answer.
“It’s the
only way I can get justice for Gin without her knowing it. But I’ll know it.
I’ll know that you’ll be miserable living outside your little safety zone. The
perfect little cocoon of a life that you’ve built by crushing others.”
She started
to say something, but he held up a hand.
“Yeah, Jo, I
know now. I can look back at our friendship over these years, and I can see how
you’ve twisted certain stories, always making yourself the victim. I know how
you throw your husband’s status around to get what you want at work. How you
walk on people to make yourself look better. How you let others take the fall
when you’ve fucked up. Ginny and I have heard these stories and even
sympathized with you about some things.” He narrowed his eyes. “But we were
wrong, weren’t we? You’ve always been conniving, but we never let ourselves see
it because you were our friend. Of course, we were always going to side with
you. I’m going to guess Stan knows, too, but he’s too whipped by you to ever
call you out on anything.”
Just like
that day at her house, when he’d confronted her about what he’d read in Moe’s
journal, he knew he’d riled her. He’d hit a sore spot, and it was showing on
her face. He watched as she sat back and reached for her mother’s pendant,
fingering it frantically.
“So you think
you have me all figured out?” Her eyes flashed. “Well, good for you, Tommy. But
there’s something you need to know. I am not moving my family out of the
country, out of this state or even out of this city. You will not tell Ginny
about my part in her rape. Do you understand? Do you realize what I’m telling
you?”
He laughed
at her. “You have no choice, Jo. Not only will I tell Gin what you did, but
I’ll tell someone else, too. I bet that journalist who was so sure she could
get the scoop on Grizz’s execution would love to hear this story. I can imagine
the headline in her little magazine.” He raised his hand for emphasis as if
highlighting each word. “Prominent and Respected Surgeon’s Wife Played Major
Role in Rape and Attempted Murder of Her Best Friend.”
He gave her
a smirk before taking another sip of coffee. Of course, the threat to talk to
Leslie was empty. He was just playing with Jo’s emotions. He would never do
anything to purposely bring attention back into their lives. But Sarah Jo
didn’t know that.
Sarah Jo
rolled her eyes. “You’re an asshole.” She smiled smugly. “Well, if we’re
telling stories, then I’ll tell her one, too.” She paused dramatically, careful
not to break his stare, and idly tapped her thumb on the rim of her coffee cup.
“What story
would that be, Jo?”
“Oh, you
know the story,” she cooed. “The one when Ginny was pregnant way back in, what
was it, 1980? When she was living at that dump with Grizz?”
“Yeah, what
about it?”
“Well, you
remember, don’t you?” she asked mockingly. “She was having that awful morning
sickness, and you were so worried about her. You were stupid back then, too,
Tommy. Only you would pine over a woman who was pregnant with another man’s
child.”
She could
tell by his expression she’d hit a nerve. Time to go in for the kill. She
should have told him this when he’d first threatened her. It would’ve saved her
a lot of frustration.
“I gave you
those herbal powders to give her so they would make the morning sickness go
away. Remember how I told you I didn’t want credit for it? How I wanted her to
think the powders were from you because you were such a good friend to her?”
“Yeah, what
about them? They didn’t even work. Didn’t matter anyway. She lost that baby
shortly afterward.”
He paused
and inhaled sharply as the realization of what he was saying caught him by
surprise.
“Jo, you
didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”
“Of course,
I did, you idiot. I didn’t want her having that baby. She told me Grizz was
going to retire from the gang when the baby came. I couldn’t let him have a happily
ever after!”
Tommy felt
like he’d taken a punch to the gut. He remembered everything so
clearly—Sarah Jo calling him from her college in northern Florida.
Talking about her environmentally conscious, vegetarian, herb-making roommate.
How that roommate had concocted the perfect mixture to ease Ginny’s morning
sickness. Tommy had specifically asked for the ingredients and looked them up
in his encyclopedias, even consulted one of his teachers at school. Jo was
right. A combination of these herbs was supposed to help with morning sickness
and posed no threat to the mother or baby. He’d told her to mail him the
roommate’s remedy and, most importantly, he remembered Sarah Jo’s insistence
that he say it was his idea.
“You love
her, Grunt. Let her think this is from you. When she’s feeling better, it’s you
she’ll thank.” Sarah Jo had laughed, then added, “I swear, if you tell her
those little packets are from me, I’ll deny it. I want you to get the credit.”
As the
reality of what he’d done sank in, he felt an enormous blackness enveloping
him. He’d given Ginny herbs that were supposed to help with morning sickness,
but in truth, had caused her miscarriage. Dear God, what had he done?
Jo was
right. Ginny would remember Tommy giving her the herbs to put in her tea. He’d
never mentioned they came from Sarah Jo. Well, he’d mentioned it to one person,
but that person was dead.
“What have
you done, Jo?” He rested his elbows on the table, lowered his face to his
hands. The sound of his heartbeat pulsed in his ears, muffling the sounds in
the diner. He had an instant and intense headache. He rubbed his temples hard.
He also had
an immediate and heightened sense of smell. The combination of baking bread,
some kind of meat roasting, and the bleach-soaked dishrag that must’ve been
used to wipe their table caused his stomach to churn.
With his
elbows still resting on the table and his fingers digging into his temples, he
raised his eyes to Sarah Jo and asked in a whisper, “What did you do?”
She gave him
a victorious grin and grabbed her purse as she quickly stood up. She looked
down at him with mock pity.
“I didn’t do
anything, Tommy. You did.”
She spun
around on her heel and triumphantly headed for the door, telling their waitress
on the way out, “This place sucks, and so do you.”
Grizz
1990,
Prison, North Florida
Grizz stood over
the sink in his cell and watched the blood
trickle down the drain. The metallic smell was even more obvious as he realized
some of Robert Ringer’s blood had also settled itself in his beard.
A quick
glance in the mirror—an item that definitely shouldn’t have been in a
death row inmate’s cell—told him he was right. He grabbed the bar of soap
and scrubbed away the last evidence of what he’d done. Not that it mattered. He
wouldn’t be interrogated. The guard who’d looked the other way after unlocking
Ringer’s cell would be taking his family on a very nice vacation with the money
that would show up in his bank account. Money that, if questioned, would look
like a reimbursement from his mortgage company for a major miscalculation in
his escrow fund. That is, if anybody even bothered to look. That same guard
would make sure Grizz’s bloody clothes would be tossed in the prison’s furnace.
After
hearing Kit gave birth to a son, Grunt’s son, Grizz needed to find an outlet
for his fury. He decided on the prison’s most famous and despised serial
killer, Bobby Ringer. Unfortunately, to Grizz’s disappointment, Ringer didn’t
put up a fight. He went down too quickly, not giving Grizz the time he needed
to burn off his anger. Grizz looked down at his blood-free hands and realized
he hadn’t even bruised his knuckles. Fucking milquetoast.
He lay down
on his bed and laced his fingers behind his head. He glanced at the ceiling and
thought about her. Kit. He thought about being in the delivery room for the
birth of their daughter. Even though it was a beautiful memory, a good memory,
it made his chest feel heavy, and his soul feel empty.
Another
memory found its way into his thoughts. This one not so good.
He stiffened
when he remembered the look in Kit’s eyes when he’d refused to see Mimi when
Kit had brought their newborn to the jail. He’d had no choice. They watched him
closely back then. He wanted Kit and Mimi as far away from him as possible.
He’d caved a few times, letting Kit see him first in jail and then prison. But
after Grunt’s visit, telling him how much she was suffering and him knowing he
was being selfish and putting her in potential danger, he’d finally told her to
stay away. To have her life with Grunt. That it was okay if she loved Grunt.
His jaw
clenched at the pain that memory invoked.
He’d had a
face to face with Grunt when her pregnancy had gotten back to him. The
pregnancy was painful to hear about, but he was able to tuck it away. But then,
hearing she’d actually given birth to Grunt’s child sent him over the edge and
faded any hope, even false hope, that they’d be together again.
And how
could he even let himself hope when, as far as she was concerned, he was being
put to death? Hell. Maybe he was going to be put to death. Maybe they didn’t
care if what he had on them went public. They’d been fucking with him for five
years now.
The worst
part was they knew she’d moved on with her life. They knew it was probably
torturing him, and they were reveling in it. They were enjoying his pain.
Or maybe
they weren’t. Maybe they didn’t give a shit. Maybe what he’d found all those
years ago was no longer important. He wouldn’t know because they ignored every
attempt he’d made to set up a meeting. Motherfuckers.
He swiped
his hand over his face and tugged on his beard. He would now need to get a
message to Carter to make sure the guard was compensated appropriately. He
smiled as he thought about how well the communication system he’d set up with Carter
through her inmate/canine rehabilitation program was working. He remembered
summoning Carter almost five years ago to the county jail while he was awaiting
trial.
“You said to
let you know if you could ever do anything for me,” he’d said to her. They were
sitting in the same room Kit had been shown into weeks earlier, when he’d
suggested a middle name if their baby was a girl. Ruth, his little sister’s
name.
Carter had
looked at him wide-eyed and tried to put on a brave front, but Grizz could tell
she was nervous. A dank and mildew-laced room in the county jail with an
alleged murderer was obviously outside of her comfort zone. He tried to put her
mind at ease.
“First,
thank you for staying with her. I know she won’t let Grunt live there, and it’s
not good for her to be alone. Especially with a baby on the way.”
She visibly
relaxed and gave him a smile. She tucked some of her chin-length brown hair
behind an ear and told him, “You’re welcome, and it’s easy being there. I love
Kit more than I could love a sister, and it’s working out for me, too. I’ve
been taking home some of the animals from the shelter and, well—”
She caught
herself. She had no way of knowing if he approved of her using their land to
foster abandoned pets.
“I know what
you’ve been doing with the animals, and it’s okay,” he quietly told her. “As a
matter of fact, that’s what I want to talk to you about today. If anybody asks,
though, we’re talking about Kit and how you’re there to make her life easier.
Got it?”
Carter
nodded her understanding. They continued their discussion in hushed tones. He’d
just finished telling her what he wanted her to do when there was a quick knock
on the door, and the guard came in.
“Five
minutes, Talbot.” He shut the door without waiting for Grizz’s reply.
It was then
that Grizz asked Carter for another favor.
“I need to
tell you about the blue bandana hanging on my bike in the garage.”
Carter
listened to what he told her, nodding before the guard returned to escort Grizz
back to his cell.
Now, Grizz
sighed as he continued to stare at his ceiling. He was relieved Kit hadn’t worn
the blue bandana. He was also disappointed. She didn’t need him. It was to be
expected, and it wasn’t like he could’ve personally come to her rescue. He
could’ve arranged it, but he couldn’t be the one to physically execute it.
Execute.
What an appropriate word.
Lying on his
bed now, he crossed his legs and thought about how flawlessly the dog ministry
was working. It wasn’t his only means of communicating with the outside world,
but it was a major one. He knew the warden and guards looked the other way as
the inmates took on the responsibility of cleaning up after the dogs. Grizz
made sure they put on a show of whisking the dog’s shit to a private place to
bag it up for the incinerator. Everyone looked the other way as they surmised
the inmates sorted through the fecal matter for tiny rubber balloons filled
with contraband.
Grizz
chuckled to himself. There were no rubber balloons. Yes, Grizz had drugs
brought into the prison, but not through the dogs like the prison brass
thought. It was a decoy for what he was really doing. Sending coded messages
through tiny compartments sewn into the dog’s collars.
Each dog had
a collar that represented their stage of training. A blue collar represented a
brand new dog that had been brought to the prison and sometimes carried a
message from Carter. Yellow meant they were halfway through their training. Red
meant they were close to graduating from the program, and black meant they were
ready to leave the prison and be placed with someone that had special needs.
It was
arranged so every dog with a black collar had to go back to Carter’s
organization in Fort Lauderdale. The black collars were removed, and they were
given new ones. The collars were then sent to Carter for recycling.
Carter
checked the collars for any messages and discreetly and anonymously had the
cryptic notes sent to the intended recipients. Sometimes the recipients were
inmates in different facilities throughout the State of Florida. He didn’t use
the system very often, but it was in place for some of Grizz’s more important
business. If anyone suspected Kit’s friend was helping him move drugs or
communicate through the various prison systems, they looked the other way or
just didn’t care.
Some dogs
would be graduating soon, Grizz thought, and he needed Carter to get a message
to Bill to make sure the guard who gave him access to Ringer’s cell was
compensated. Bill would handle it electronically. Grizz smiled as he thought
how that would be one message that wouldn’t need to be delivered anonymously.
He had no way of knowing his casual suggestion to Bill—William
Petty—to seek out Carter for a job would turn into love. Just like Bill
had told him back in 1988, he’d managed to get released early.
Grizz had
known Bill had a soft spot for animals, and he’d suggested maybe he could work
with Carter on the very real and legitimate side of her rescue organizations.
Apparently, their mutual love for animals turned into a real romance. They’d
quickly married and were now living in Grizz’s house at Shady Ranches.
He did have
one request, though. He didn’t want Kit to have any knowledge Bill had known
Grizz from prison. That seemed like one part of Bill’s past he was only too
willing not to share, and the three agreed to keep it to themselves.
As Bill and
Carter’s marriage flourished, Bill continued to stay somewhat involved with her
animal charities, but Grizz knew he’d found legitimate employment within his
field of expertise—computers. Not the programming or software side of
computers. He’d continued to keep his hacking skills to himself. No, Bill
thrived in computer hardware sales. Apparently, he could sell garlic to a
vampire, and his sales commissions were impressive. Nobody ever suspected he
was a freaking genius when it came to infiltrating computer systems.
Thinking
about Bill and Carter and the home he’d shared with Kit caused his mind to
drift even more. He thought about happier times. He thought about that house.
How it was not just a house, but a home. The only real home he’d ever known. Of
course, anywhere with Kit would be a real home. He remembered how he’d made
good on his declaration to her when it was being built that he would make love
to her in every room of that house.
The memory
was so real he could smell her hair and feel her warm, sweet breath on his
neck. He let the memory swallow him whole as his hand reached inside his pants
and roughly pulled out his cock.
He let his
mind drift to a time when they’d just finished making love and were lying side
by side, Kit nestled in his arms. They were talking about whether or not they’d
just made a baby.
“I feel like
I’m pregnant,” she’d said, and the expectation in her voice was heartwarming.
He’d
chuckled and pulled her closer to kiss the top of her head.
“Kitten, I
barely just pulled my dick out of you. How could you feel like you’re knocked
up?”
She leaned
up on her elbow to look at him. “Why does every sentence in your vocabulary
have to be so crude?”
He raised an
eyebrow and gave her a serious look.
“You’re
right, sweetheart. You’ve asked me to watch my mouth before. How about this?
Kitten, I barely just withdrew my penis from inside of you. How could you feel
like I’ve impregnated you so soon?” Before she could comment, he added, “Or
would you prefer ‘throbbing member’ or maybe ‘rod of love’ instead of penis?”
She’d
started laughing then. “I get it. For some reason, crude does sound more
natural coming from you.”
“And just to
show you I don’t mean to be crude when our first son is born, we’ll name him
Richard and call him Dick. That way you’ll never associate that word with my
throbbing member.”
“You are
such a butthead, Grizz. I’m not calling our first son, Dick, especially when
your intention is the opposite. I’ll never call our son that name without
thinking of your penis.” She looked heavenward. “Which was probably your
intention all along, right? For me to always be thinking about your rod of
love?”
He
remembered thinking how much he loved her innocence. How she responded in his
arms with the passion of a woman that rivaled his own desires, but her teasing
and use of names like butthead endeared her to him even more. He’d only ever
known hard women before falling in love with Kit. Women who’d liked trying to
shock him with their filthy language and boldness in the bedroom. Their
willingness to do anything. He’d thought he liked it, too. He’d been wrong.
She reached
for a pillow that had been tossed aside and swung it at his head, but he
blocked it and grabbed her wrist, pulling her up on top of him. He gently
grabbed the back of her head with his free hand and pulled her face down to
his.
The kiss
started slow and became more heated as she felt his hardness beneath her. She
pulled away and looked down at him.
“Again?
Already?”
“Yes, again,
Kit. You want to make that baby don’t you?” he teased.
He took the
break in their kiss as an opportunity to sit up straight pulling her with him.
With his back against the headboard, he tenderly lowered her onto his hardness.
Now, on his
prison cot, he closed his eyes, letting the memory of her tight warmness
envelop him. He remembered breathing deeply to catch the scent of her that
floated up between them. The heady mixture that was uniquely Kit’s always
caused him to get hard. Then, when he’d actually experienced it, and now, just
remembering it.
She’d
started to slowly glide up and down on him. Her pace was quickening, and he
moved his hand to where he could gently massage her with his thumb, knowing the
exact rhythm that would bring her to orgasm. He realized he was going to come
quickly, too, but he didn’t want to. Not yet. He wanted to savor her just a bit
longer.
“Stop, Kit.
Slow down, baby.”
She stopped
and looked at him.
Taking her
face in his hands, he brought his mouth down to hers. “I want to kiss on you
for a few minutes. I can’t do that if you’re bouncing up and down.”