Miscarriage Of Justice (20 page)

Ethan heard the door slam and turned back just in time to hear the heavy footsteps hurriedly retreating down the hall. Had he been feeling well, he’d have chased after the would-be intruder. Instead, he slowly made his way over to the door. As he’d expected, the knob was unlocked. Whoever the guy was, he’d almost gotten inside! Had it not been for the noisy racket of the table falling, and the computer crashing to the floor, the intruder surely would have been in the room right now. That wasn’t a pleasant thought.

Locking the door again, Ethan shuffled back to the bed. Easing down, he sat on the edge of the mattress, thinking. One thing he knew for sure was this hadn’t been an hallucination. Someone had definitely made a genuine attempt to get in and had been scared off. Obviously, they’d either expected him to not be there, or thought he’d be sleeping. The fact the prowler had run away when surprised by the unexpected noise told him it hadn’t been anyone with a legitimate purpose. But, it also could mean the guy had been nothing more than a common burglar. No, he thought then. That didn’t add up. The footsteps had come directly to his door, as if his room were their only focus. Ethan’s brainstorming spell didn’t net much except that he determined he’d be finding a new place to live, and soon!

He was doubtful the guy, or guys, would return that night, yet his instincts, or good sense, warned him to not take the chance. Though he didn’t feel like working, or doing much of anything, Ethan summoned all of his energy and strength to struggle over to the sink. Retrieving a table knife from the silverware drawer, he turned back to the wall beside the door. Working the knife behind the baseboard, he pried it from the sheetrock. Then, finding half a dozen large nails, left over from one of his night raids on Mariana’s house, and using the broken table leg as a hammer, he nailed the thin trim board across the door. The hotel manager would likely not be impressed by the holes in the wall, but he’d deal with that later. Looking thoughtfully out the window, he wondered if he even needed to worry about someone coming in that way. His room was on the tenth floor, which meant he was one hundred or more feet off the ground, with only a rickety fire escape to provide access. The fire escape was old and rusted, and he would’ve been afraid to use it, even in the event of a fire! Shaking his head, he turned away from the window. No one in his right mind would try climbing up that thing!

Propping the table back up with the broken leg, he picked up his computer. Surprisingly, it didn’t appear to have been damaged by the fall. Turning it on, he waited for everything to load. To his relief, it all seemed to be working fine. “It’ll probably break now, a day after the warranty expires,” he grumbled.

Worn out from the whole ordeal. Ethan laid back down on the bed. Sleep seemed a long way off as his mind continued whirling at full speed. No matter how remote, the possibility did exist that the incident was somehow connected with his time in Granite Hills. In his fifteen years there, he’d made a few enemies. Not intentionally, but given the climate and the timbre of the men inside those walls, the result sometimes was inevitable. It was simply impossible to consistently keep everyone happy—anywhere, but especially in prison. Living in close quarters with that many criminals, rubbing shoulders with them every day caused many rifts and quarrels. Tempers flared and feelings were hurt.

However, he could point to no single incident, which would have been of such importance or magnitude that the grudge would survive long enough to lead to any kind of attempt at retaliation. Most of the malcontent was forgotten rather quickly, and if it wasn’t, the matter was settled on the inside. So, while he had to allow for the slim chance that this had something to do with his time at the state penitentiary, he instinctively knew it wasn’t the case. He also knew, or was reasonably sure, with whom the responsibility lay, one Mariana Clark!

He shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d spent several months now antagonizing and harassing the woman in every way imaginable. She was well aware that he was behind the letters, the calls and everything else. It was only natural that eventually she would reach a breaking point. That she would attempt some form of retaliation or striking back should have been a foregone conclusion. Still, he’d been caught off guard. But, now that he was duly warned, he would be prepared. Like a Boy Scout, he’d be ready and waiting the next time, should there be a next time. Sleepily, he pulled the covers up over his head. He’d be ready just as soon as he was over the flu!

Morning brought a welcomed change for the ailing Ethan. His legs were still shaky and he easily ran short of breath, but the fever and dizziness both were gone. For the first time in more than a week, he walked to the corner diner for breakfast.

Feeling his strength coming back, Ethan returned to his room. Time to pack up and move.

Carrying his few possessions down to the car, he wasn’t exactly sure where he would go, except that it would be away from this place. Careful not to overexert himself, he made several trips. The ride up and down the elevator supplied him with much needed rest in-between each trip.

Not having many possessions, the job didn’t take long. In less than an hour, he’d loaded the TV, computer, dishes, his clothes and a few other items into the backseat of the car. By ten o’clock, he was standing in the hotel lobby informing the desk clerk, the same grizzled old man who’d rented him the room more than five months earlier, that he was leaving.

They hadn’t spoken more than a half dozen times since that first day, but Ethan soon discovered the old man hadn’t changed.

“I’ll have to check the room before you can leave,” the man droned in a near monotone.

Ethan was thinking that if he wanted to, he could just walk out, without waiting on the old geezer. He didn’t need this guy’s permission to go anywhere. But shrugging, he said nothing, and followed the clerk to the elevator. Watching as the grumpy old man inspected the room, he was amused by the incompetence the guy demonstrated. Making only a show of inspecting, the desk clerk nodded curtly and then satisfied, marched back to the elevator.

Smiling smugly, Ethan tagged along behind. The old man hadn’t even noticed the six nail holes in the wall!

Neither spoke on the ride down. Reaching the front desk, the clerk asked, “Do you have a forwarding address?”

“No,” Ethan said dryly. Was the guy an idiot? In all the months he’d been a guest in the hotel, he’d never once received any mail. That was by design. So, why would he need a forwarding address?

Walking out the door and down the steps to his car, Ethan still wasn’t sure where he was going. He drove aimlessly, not giving any thought to his direction. Nearly an hour later, he noticed he was heading down the freeway toward Cedar Springs. He shrugged and kept driving. “Might as well find a place there. After last night if anyone wants to find me, they obviously can.” Besides, he thought, Cedar Springs was home. And, he’d be closer to the action, namely, Miss Mariana Clark.

Thinking of Mariana, Ethan scowled. Thanks to his bout with the flu, she had enjoyed an unexpected weeklong reprieve. He hadn’t even called her. Then he smirked. That could be easily remedied.

Pulling out his phone, he dialed her house number. There was no answer, not even the machine picked up. Undeterred, he called her office.

“Yes, she’s in,” the receptionist said sweetly in response to his question. “May I tell her who is calling?”

“Ethan.” he said wondering of Mariana would be gullible enough to take the call.

She was.

“Hello?” came the hesitant voice of the D.A.

“Hi!” Ethan greeted her cheerfully.

Mariana’s whole demeanor suddenly changed. “Why are you calling me?” she raged.

“Well, I’m at your house,” he lied. “Just wondering what time you’ll be home and if I should wait for you.”

He hung up before she had a chance to reply. “That should plant a little worry in her mind,” he said.

Tossing the phone onto the passenger seat, he drove the rest of the way to town, wondering why it had been so easy to get a rise out of her. If all this bothered her, perhaps she should have considered the ramifications of her trumped up trial sixteen years ago, he thought.

As he rolled into Cedar Springs, he made a sudden impulsive decision. This time, instead of renting a hotel room, he was finding a house. A real house. “On second thought,” he mumbled to himself. “I could settle for an apartment. After all, there is only one of me.”

One thing he was sure of, whether in Granite Hills or a hotel, his days of living in the confines of a one-room prison were over. This was his hometown, and now that he was back, he needed a permanent residence. A place that he could call home.

After more than four hours of traipsing from house to house, viewing over a dozen apartments, walking up and down steps, all with an eager real estate agent by his side, he finally chose a small one-bedroom home. Located on the opposite side of town from where he’d grown up and then lived with Jenna and their sons.

The house would afford him a bit of privacy. Not that he needed to hide out or mask his identity, but it lessened the odds of running into former acquaintances and having to answer all of their unwanted questions

Moving in took no longer than it had taken to vacate the hotel. But unlike the hotel, the house, while partly furnished, didn’t come with a bed. Although it wasn’t that big of a deal, it did threaten to have a profound impact, and soon. He was getting too old to be sleeping on the floor!

Immediately after unpacking the car, he made a quick trip to the closest furniture store. Without much thought, he bought the cheapest bed they had, along with a few accessories, bedding and such. When the store manager offered to make the delivery the next day, Ethan balked.

“How about today?” he asked in a surly tone. “Unless you’re going to let me sleep here tonight.”

The manager, it seemed, wasn’t too fond of that idea and begrudgingly agreed to deliver it himself later that afternoon.

Ethan left the store in search of a suitable place to eat. The one drawback of leaving the hotel in Fulton and moving here was the absence of the
Wagon Wheel Grill
. He’d grown quite accustomed to the convenience and the tasty food of the corner cafe.

The greasy spoon restaurant he found could not compare in any way to the diner. He’d keep looking. Later. Right now, he didn’t have much of an appetite.

He arrived home just in time to meet the manager from the furniture store as the delivery van backed into the driveway. Minutes later, the bed was unloaded, leaning against the living room wall, unassembled.

“Did you need some help setting it up?” the man volunteered.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “I may not have a pickup to haul it, but I’m not helpless.”

Duly chastened, the man meekly turned and without another word walked back to the van.

Ethan watched him drive off and then set to work on the bed. Not having any tools, he belatedly realized, he should have taken the guy up on his offer. He shrugged. Too late now.

Rather than make another trip to the store that night, he fastened the frame to the headboard, screwing the nuts finger tight, and then slipped the box springs and mattress into place. The bed was a little shaky, but it should hold up for one night. He only planned to sleep on it, not do jumping jacks.

Plugging in the TV, he found the one local channel came in great, but he wasn’t really interested in watching a documentary on the mating habits of fruit flies. “A satellite would be nice,” he complained, switching off the TV. Nice maybe, though not necessary.

At the moment, he still had plenty of money, but with renting the house, and the added cost of everything that went along with it, he was mindful of the fact his cash would soon begin to dwindle away. That meant getting a job. The prospect of a job was most unappealing. He’d never been afraid of hard work, having done more than his share in the past but a job would undoubtedly put a damper on his harassment of Mariana.

“Speaking of Mariana,” he said thoughtfully and looked at his watch. It was eight thirty. Grabbing his phone, he once again dialed her number. To his surprise, she picked up on the first ring. He couldn’t believe she still answered the phone every time he called.

Must be a mental or psychological thing, he thought. She just can’t let a ringing phone go unanswered.”

Waiting for her to say hello a second time before he spoke, Ethan whispered, “Goodnight dear.”

“Stop calling me!” Mariana screeched. “You’re supposed to be…” she broke off her sentence mid-stream.

“I’m supposed to be what?”

The phone slammed down on the other end and the line went dead. Ethan laid the phone on the floor beside his bed. “I’m supposed to be what?” he repeated, to himself. Dead? That seemed to be the most logical answer. Then he shrugged. Whatever it was, it did seem to support the theory that the friendly hometown D.A. had been behind his mysterious visitor the night before. It also suggested that simply moving to a new house in a different city wouldn’t solve the problem. The intruder would be back. That was an unnerving thought and he wasn’t sure what he was going to do about it. Whatever he did, he vowed to not let up on harassing Mariana. For now, that was the single most important goal. It was what kept him going; to torment her, just as she’d tormented him for the last fifteen, almost sixteen years now. To make her think twice before again, so willingly, sending an innocent man to prison. Judging by her reaction, he apparently was doing a fine job, so far.

And yet, he still couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of depression. It seemed to grow worse with each passing day. Was it guilt that plagued him? Did his conscience play a part in the dissonance he felt? Or, was he simply a victim of courting much too lofty expectations?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Wednesday morning, Mariana stormed into
Arimante’s
restaurant. Without waiting for the man to acknowledge her presence or send his cohorts away, she purposefully walked directly to his table at the rear of the dining area.