Authors: John Gilstrap
He didn't know how to interpret the look he received in return, but he knew better than to pursue it. Instead, he laid his head back down and tried to relax, wondering whether his nightmare had finally ended, or if it was just beginning.
April knew the instant that she heard the heavy door open at the end of the short cellblock that the approaching footsteps were coming for her. She'd been transferred to a four-person cell and relegated to a top bunk. From her perch, she could tell that none of the other ladies had stirred an inch at the sound of the approaching guard.
April's bare feet landed soundlessly on the concrete floor, and she was waiting at the barred wall when Detective Tom Stipton stepped into view. He looked tired and jumped when he saw her so close to the
bars.
"You know something," April said, anxious to hear it, no matter what.
He looked so grim. "Before I go into the details for you, April, I want you to know that Justin's going to be just fine."
"You've found him?" she gasped. Behind her, her cellmates grumbled for silence.
Stipton nodded. "Yes, but-"
"And he's alive?"
"Well, yes, but he's had a tough go of it. Apparently, the plot to kidnap him was interrupted by-"
"Wait," April said, holding up her hand. She smiled and her vision blurred with tears. "Before you get to the rest of it, just tell me that first part again."
The grimness left Stipton's eyes and dimples formed in the corners of his smile. "He's going to be just fine, April."
TOM STIPTON PULLED his unmarked vehicle up to the curb and threw the transmission into park. Neither he nor April said anything for a long time as they took in the war zone that was The Pines. "You could do better than this," Tom said.
April offered a half-shrug and a quarter-smile. "I tell myself that my ship will come in someday, but it keeps getting stranded on the reef." She didn't like the feeling of sadness that dominated the car. "But, hey, it's better than the digs I almost had, right? At least here I can come and go as I please."
Tom forced a chuckle. "Well, I think I'd avoid that mall for a while. They're still not real happy about the DA looking the other way on this."
"That reminds me. I need to write him a thank-you note."
Tom cringed. "Um, I'm not sure that's the best idea. He is, after all, an elected official, and this decision is going to be controversial enough without a record of your thanks. Take it from me that he was happy to do it."
"Can I thank you, then?"
Tom smiled. "Sure you can. It's not necessary, though."
April leaned across the seat and gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek. "Thank you, Detective Stipton. And that comes from Justin, too." They both looked to the back, where the boy was sound asleep in a car seat.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Tom asked with a conspiratorial twinkle.
"He's the one I really did it for. He's been through too much to lose his mom just because she was a little crazy one day."
April held Tom's gaze long enough for it to become uncomfortable for both of them, and then they both broke away. "Why does a cop car have a kiddie seat anyway?" she asked as she climbed out of the car.
"We keep them in the trunk all the time," he answered, climbing out himself. "You know, just in case."
April laughed at the absurdity of it. "You mean you keep it back there with the bulletproof vests and the tear gas?"
Tom laughed along with her. "Don't forget the road flares and shotgun." He waited while she lifted out the sleeping boy and rested him on her shoulder. "Want me to walk you to the door?"
This was getting awkward. "You know, I do this all the time. I really don't need a bodyguard."
"But you're not armed anymore."
"Well, don't tell everybody, okay?" She laughed. They stood there together for a long moment. "Tell you what. You want to escort me, then you call me for a date and escort me to a nice dinner, okay?" Tom's smile became bigger. "I might just do that." "And I might just say yes." She bounced her eyebrows playfully and walked away, enjoying the sensation of his eyes burning into her back.
Turning the lock on her door, April stepped into her dingy little apartment and instantly knew that something had to change. Tom was right: she didn't belong here. She had dreams, and none of them centered around this shit hole. These two bedrooms and roach-infested kitchen were too much of a shrine to what she used to be; a shrine to William and all the misery he'd brought into their lives. She had talent, dammit, and where the talent fell short, she had more drive and desire than any five people she knew. It was about damn time for her to start believing in herself as much and as deeply as her father had believed in her.
It was time for a huge change.
The first step was to exorcise the remnants of her worthless husband from this place. Laying Justin gently onto his own bed, she watched him sleep for a moment before heading into her bedroom to begin the great purge. She wanted to feel sad as she gathered up William's clothes from where they lay on the floor and draped over the footboard of the bed. She'd have settled for something other than hatred. It was wrong to hate the dead, wasn't it?
She walked to the living room to deposit the first armload of clothes, then returned to the bedroom for more. The closet was next; first the stuff from the hangers, and then the shoes and shirts and pants and underwear that littered the closet floor. How had she ever convinced herself that she needed this man?
This was a question to be answered years from now, when she had the luxury of looking back on things objectively. Right now, she felt too much shame.
She finished the final scrapings of the floor on her hands and knees, straining to reach all the way to the back wall for a stray white athletic sock, which, for some reason, appeared to be stuck to the wall. More accurately, she supposed, it appeared to be stuck into the wall.
"What is this?" she asked the room. She reached in even farther and had to tug hard to pull it clear from the hole in the wall. But it wasn't just one sock, it was four of them, and the hole had to be the size of a saucer. As the socks tumbled free, a $20 bill tumbled out, too.
April frowned as she slid under the hems of her own dresses, and over her own shoes, to get a better look.
As she moved in close enough to see into the hole, more money came into view. Wincing at the thought of what her fingers might find, she reached in and touched stacks of bills. She pulled out first one, and then two more: twenties, tens, fifties, and hundreds, in no particular order, but there had to be hundreds of dollars here. Thousands, maybe!
Gathering the money in her arms, she hurried out to the living room and piled it onto the coffee table for sorting. Even as she separated the stacks by denomination, she knew that she was looking at more money than she'd ever seen. William must have--
The realization of what had happened nearly made her scream. She fell back against the threadbare sofa, her hand clasped to her mouth. He'd had it all along! The bastard had had the money from the very first minute! None of this had had to happen to Justin. He'd never had to be sucked into Williams world of booze and drugs.
Jesus, they were going to bury her baby alive! April's entire body went cold, and grief descended like a great black cloud. "Oh, God!" she whispered. When Justin walked into the room, she felt suddenly wrought with shame.
"Mommy?" Justin said hesitantly, his own face clouding with sadness. "Don't cry, Mommy."
April held out her arms, and the little boy ran to her. She gathered him in and kissed his hair and his face. "Oh, baby, I love you so, so much. I'm so sorry." The tears burst from her in a rush.
"Be okay," Justin croaked through tears of his own. "Be okay."
"You bet we will."
April wondered if she'd ever be able to let go of her little boy again. Holding him close like that, after he'd been ripped so far from her, felt like perfection. She held him there on the couch until she lost track of time.
When someone knocked on the door, she nearly didn't answer it. But the visitor was persistent, and when she finally caved in to ask who it was, Tom's voice greeted her.
"Just a minute!" she called. Moving quickly, she scraped the piles of cash onto the floor, and from there shoved it all under the sofa. That was drug money, she knew, and she didn't yet know what she was going, to do with it. Until she did, she didn't need anyone asking tough questions. "This is our little secret, okay, Justin?"
"Secret," the boy echoed, but he clearly didn't know what she was talking about.
When she opened the door, Tom had his back turned, looking out toward the playground. He turned and greeted her with a huge smile. "I'm back." he said. He held a shoe box in his hand.
"So you are," April replied, nervously adjusting her hair. She stepped off to the side. "Would you like to come in?"
Tom shook his head. "Um, well, no, actually. At least not now. I'm still on duty. This came for you in the mail today, addressed care of the police department. Thought you might like to have it."
Curious, she took the box and opened it to reveal an orange stuffed tiger. From behind, Justin recognized it instantly and squealed with glee. He rushed up and grabbed the toy, giving it a big hug. As he pulled it free of the box, a note fluttered to the floor.
"Have you read this?" April asked as she bent to pick it up.
"Well, under the circumstances, we didn't want it to be a bomb or anything."
It was written in blue ink on expensive stationery: To whom it may concern,
Our lawyer tells us that you wish to remain anonymous, and we therefore are sending this in care of the police department. Meet Tiger. He once belonged to a very special boy who never got a chance to play with him. Now he belongs to your little boy, whose name we're told is Justin. And such a pretty name it is.
We hope one day that you'll feel comfortable enough to drop us a line, just to tell us how he is doing. You probably already know this, but you have a terrific little boy on your hands. It was an honor to call him ours, if only for such a short time.
Very sincerely yours, Susan and Bobby Martin
I THINK THIS is the one," Bobby said.
Susan shook her head. "Nope. If it were, I'd know it. A woman can feel these things."
"I can feel things, too, you know."
They sat on the hardwood floor, just outside the bathroom off the foyer, waiting for the timer to ring.
Susan teased, "Not every shot hits the target, you know."
"But this one did. I'm telling you, this one did."
Susan cocked her head and frowned. "But suppose it didn't? We've been disappointed before, and I don't want-"
Bobby took his wife's hand gently into his own. "If it didn't, then we'll try again. But this one did."
She smiled and shook her head. He was hopeless.
When the timer dinged, they both jumped a little. It was time to go look.
"Think we should give it another couple of minutes?" Bobby asked quickly.
She gave him her scolding look. "I already put on an extra thirty seconds."
They stood, and Susan opened the door. Bobby put his hand on hers and pulled it closed again. "Hey," he said softly. "I love you. No matter what, I love you."
Susan kissed him lightly and hugged him. "I love you, too."
And then they stepped inside together.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents