by London James
I roll my eyes at his more than obvious attempt to scare me into witness protection. He looks down for a moment, a sheepish expression on his face. Slowly, he raises his eyes to me again.
“I'm simply trying to make you understand the danger you're in if you don't come in, Ms. Nelson,” he says. “The last thing I want is for anything bad to happen to you.”
Yeah, the last thing I want is for anything to happen to me either. I don't want to die. And I sure as hell don't want to die because of something my brother did.
“How long have you been involved with this, Rory?” I ask. “How long have you been laundering money for the cartel?”
He says nothing though. He just continues staring at his hands, as if he can find the meaning of life on the back of his knuckles or something. It's the FBI agent in the room – who hasn't spoken until now – who answers for my brother.
“We're relatively certain his involvement with the cartel started shortly after he and his partner, opened their accounting firm,” the man said. “But we've had an open investigation into them for the last eighteen months or so after some other information we received pointed us in their direction. We finally had enough to move on him.”
I turn back to my brother, my anger only deepening. “Is that true, Rory? You've been working for the cartel for years now?”
He continues to remain silent but gives me a small nod. I just shake my head, beyond disgusted at this point. And just when I think things can't possibly get any worse, Marshal Parr opens his mouth and speaks again.
“It's really not that bad, Ms. Nelson,” he says. “We'll provide you with a new name, a monthly stipend, a place to live, and we'll help you find a job. Not only –”
“Yeah, and are you going to help me make new friends? Are you going to help me rebuild a life it's taken me this long to build?” I clap back at him. “Are you going to give me back all of my achievements? The sense of accomplishment I feel from having come from nothing to doing something I love?”
Parr lets out a small breath, and his lips compress into a tight line. He knows those aren't things he can give me. Knows that I see through his paper-thin attempts to put a positive face on this shitshow.
“Of course not,” Parr says softly. “All I'm saying is that you're young enough that you can build those things again. But, not to put too fine a point on it – or use another scare tactic – you can only build them if you're alive to do so, Ms. Nelson.”
“Do you really believe they'll come after me?” I ask.
“No question about it,” Parr tells me. “It's kind of their thing. They don't just punish those betraying them; they punish those closest to them.”
I sigh and look around my apartment. Yeah, it's not much, but it's mine. Everything in it is mine. I've worked hard to fill my place with my things. Yeah, they're material things. Things that can be replaced. And I'll always have my memories. But I'm not going to lie and say that the idea of picking up and leaving everything I've worked for behind doesn't hurt me. It hurts me pretty deeply, in fact.
And it's happening all because of my brother.
“I assume I'm not going to be able to take my things?” I ask.
Parr shakes his head. “Unfortunately, no,” he replies. “You'll need to pack a bag. You can take a maximum of one box of personal effects. Your place will be cleared out by our people once we're gone.”
“And what happens to my things?” I ask.
He shrugs. “We find it best to make a clean break of things,” he says. “Plus, it eliminates the risk of being compromised. We don't know if anything in your place has been tagged with a transmitter or transponder.”
“I really doubt –”
Parr holds up his hand. “We can't afford to take chances,” he explains. “It's better to make a clean break once you enter witness protection. And believe me, it's not going to take that long for you to adjust. It's not as daunting as –”
“Save it,” I say. “I'm going somewhere without my things. Without my name, even. I'm going to have to start my life from scratch. With nothing. So yeah, it seems very fucking daunting. I appreciate you trying to put a good face on it, but please don't fucking patronize me. You don't know what it's like. You can't possibly know.”
“No, you're right,” he says softly. “And I apologize for patronizing you.”
His apology is sincere, and I can tell he feels bad for me. I know it's not his fault, but I'm lashing out. My anger and my grief over the life I'm losing are overflowing, and I just don't know what to do with it all at the moment.
“Where?” I ask. “Where am I being relocated?”
“Colorado,” he says. “It's a small town called Dove Falls.”
I let out a long, pained breath, and can't keep the tears from rolling down my face. I bury my head in my hands for a moment, trying to get myself under control. It takes a couple of minutes, but they all give me the time and space to compose myself, which I'm thankful for.
I sniff loudly and wipe the tears from my face. “Sorry,” I say to Marshal Parr. “I'm not usually this emotional.”
Rory chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. “She doesn't cry in front of anybody. Not even when we were kid –”
“Shut up. I don't want to see your face, and I don't want to hear your voice,” I hiss at him, then turn back to Parr. “I assume you'll be taking him elsewhere. That's fine. I don't care, or even want to know –”
“Actually,” Parr says, his voice grim. “He's going to Dove Falls as well.”
I shake my head. “Absolutely not,” I protest. “I will not live with him. I can't even stand the sight of him. There has to be something else you can do.”
“Isla –”
“I told you to shut up,” I growl at my brother.
“Listen, we've had to put this together on the fly,” Parr says. “We have some very credible threats, and we need to get the both of you out of town immediately.”
“Marshal, I don't want –”
He holds up a hand to cut me off. “I understand where you're at, Ms. Nelson,” he says. “In your place, I probably wouldn't want to share space with him either. But, getting you both out safely is the priority here. Everything else, we'll figure out afterward.”
I fight off another wave of tears, needing to be strong at the moment. “When?” I ask.
“Tomorrow morning,” he replies. “I need you to get your things together tonight.”
I lean back in my seat, pick up my glass of wine, and down it in one, long swallow. The men in the room are all smart enough to not say a damn word about it.
“Fine,” I say quietly. “It's not like I have much of a choice in the matter.”
Parr nods grimly. “I am very sorry about this, Ms. Nelson.”
“It's not your fault,” I tell him.
“Agent Pendelton here will have some men stationed outside your building tonight,” he says. “They’ll keep an eye on you until we put this place in our rearview.”
“Is the threat that real?”
He nods, and when he speaks, his voice is solemn. “Afraid is it.”
“Fine.”
“Isla, I –”
I turn to Rory, expecting to feel absolute fury. I'm shocked though when I find that I suddenly feel nothing at all. As I look at my brother, the architect of the destruction of my life, I can't even work up so much as a spark of anger anymore. There's nothing but a cold, dead spot in my chest.
“From this point on, you are not to speak to me, Rory,” I instruct, my voice dripping with ice. “Not one word. I will never forgive you for what you've done to my life. Ever. As far as I'm concerned, I no longer have a brother. Now, get out, so I can enjoy the last few hours I have in my home in peace.”
Rory stands with his head down, his shoulders slumped, looking utterly devastated. I watch the three of them walk out of my apartment, closing the door softly behind them. And when they’re gone, I sink to my knees and sob like I’ve never sobbed before.
&nbs
p; Chapter Three
Isla
One Year Later...
If I'm being honest, Dove Falls isn't all that bad. I miss certain things about Los Angeles, but truth be told, it's mostly the friends I had to leave behind. With some distance and hindsight, I realize that I don't miss the city itself. It's crowded, dirty, grimy. In some places, you can't walk down the street without fearing for your life.
On the other hand, L.A. is a vibrant place. There's always something going on, something to do, and it's packed to the gills with culture. Museums, art galleries, concert halls, and theater. Yeah, New York City has L.A. beat in some categories, but Southern California has a vibe all its own that makes it unique.
Dove Falls though, isn't too bad, all things considered. It's clean. There's a lot of wide open space. It's picturesque and beautiful. And it's the kind of place you can still leave your doors unlocked at night in. I never have to worry about walking down the street by myself after dark.
Yeah, there are some things I can't get here that I could in L.A. – Indian food, a vibrant art scene, or some of the other cultural things I loved about L.A. But, there's something a lot more wholesome that, in my mind, more than makes up for it – and, I'm not so far away from Denver that I can't go and get those things I miss if I really want them.
My initial dislike for the place was simply because of how I came to be living there in the first place. Over the months though, I've let myself open up to it a bit. I've made a few friends – though, I am having some difficulty opening up to people. And nobody knows the full story of how I came to be living there. Nobody.
I've been teaching at the local high school for the last six months. It's been difficult getting back into the groove again. These aren't my kids, and it's not my usual surroundings. I spent the first few months getting acclimated to the place. Dove Falls is a relatively small and insular place, and I'm – well – an outsider. It's taking some time for people to warm up to me.
But since this is my new home – regardless of how I ended up here – I'm doing my best to make the most of it. I've gotten to know a couple of my fellow teachers, making friends with them as best as I can, and things have been a lot smoother since then. It almost feels like, I'm starting to be accepted by the locals. Slowly. But it seems to be moving in the right direction.
I'm walking across the parking lot toward my car, a particularly long day ending. The kids are already gone, the final bell having rung more than an hour ago. The sun is already slipping toward the craggy peaks of the mountains that surround this little slice of heaven. Dove Falls sits in a valley, and we're surrounded by mountains, seemingly endless swaths of forest, and more natural beauty than I've ever seen in my life. Maybe more than I ever knew existed, really.
It's peaceful, serene, and that tranquility has done a lot to help me transition into this new life. Not that I don't still have trouble with it. I've had my good days, and my bad days, over this past year. But I want to believe I'm starting to turn a corner and am having more good days than bad.
My relationship with the town didn't start off all that well, but it's really grown on me over time. I didn't think it would. I honestly never thought I'd think of anything outside of Southern California as home, but this place is really making me reconsider that position. At least, somewhat, anyway.
“Hey, Penny,” I hear someone call from behind me.
The name Penny still hits me wrong, almost every time I hear it. It's not my name – but now, it is my name. Even after a year though, it doesn't sound right to me. It doesn't feel right.
I choke it all back and put on a smile as I turn around to see Veronica Murphy – the woman who, I guess, would be considered my best friend – hustling across the parking lot to catch me. She and I really seem to have hit it off pretty well, and I've come to like her quite a bit. She's smart. Funny. She's got a really sharp, dry wit that I appreciate.
“What's up, Roni?” I ask.
“Friday night, drinks at McGill's?” she asks, arching an eyebrow. “I know of a certain English teacher who might be interested in learning some History with everybody's favorite teacher.”
I laugh. She's been trying to set me up with David Finley – the school's eleventh grade English teacher – for forever. He's a nice enough guy; I just don't feel that spark with him. And more than anything, that's what I need. I need to feel that spark, that intense connection with a person, otherwise, what's the point?
“How about, I'll meet you there for drinks,” I tell her.
I emphasize the ‘you’, to emphasize my lack of interest in David – something Roni doesn't miss.
“He really likes you; you know.”
“He's a nice guy, Roni. I just – it's just not there for me.”
“How do you know? It's not like you've given him a chance.”
I shrug. “I just know there's nothing there,” I explain. “It wouldn't be right for me to waste his time like that. And I don't want to waste my time either.”
“But, how are you going to know it's a waste of anybody's time unless you try, Penny?”
“I just – I just do,” I say. “I've hung out with him before, and believe me, that spark isn't there.”
I know she's not going to understand. Hell, there are days I don't fully understand it myself. But I just can't be interested in somebody if I don't feel that spark between us. If I don't feel that pop, or connection to them. I know it sounds all ridiculously new-agey, or metaphysical, or whatever you want to call it, but I usually have to feel something – something deep within me – before I can even generate interest in somebody.
It's not logical, I admit. It's all feeling. I just know that to be truly happy with somebody, I have to feel like they set my soul on fire. Somebody who makes my head spin, my heart flutter, and makes me feel – everything.
Maybe it's a childish or naïve way to look at love and relationships. Unrealistic, perhaps. But I've always known what I wanted in a partner I want to open up to, a partner I want to share myself, and my life with – and thought that maybe I even had it a couple of times. They ended up not working out for one reason or another, but a couple of guys I've dated in the past really made me feel intensely, so I know it's out there I know it's possible – and I'm not willing to settle for less than what I want.
Roni looks at me, a sympathetic smile touching her lips. “I don't want to tell you your business or anything, but do you think that maybe your standards are a bit too high? Like unreachably high?”
I shrug. “Nothing wrong with having high standards.”
“No, of course not,” Roni soothes. “But, at some point, you have to realize that nobody is ever going to check off every single box on the list you have in your head. Sometimes, you need to compromise. Find a happy medium. Decide what's most important to you.”
Intellectually, I know she's right. Somewhere deep down, I know that I'll never find somebody who checks off all the boxes. It hasn't stopped me from hoping, and it hasn't stopped me from trying. I don't want to settle for less. I want to believe that there's somebody out there for me who can absolutely light me up inside.
“Yeah, I guess,” I say as noncommittally as I can.
“So, you'll talk to David if he happens to show up at the bar?”
I have to physically restrain myself from sighing or rolling my eyes because I don't want to hurt Roni's feelings. She's married – married her high school sweetheart in fact – and for some reason, feels like my life won't be complete without a man, so she's practically made it her mission to set me up with somebody. It's like she's living vicariously through me or something. She's persistent though and knows that if she keeps at it, eventually, she'll wear me down.
I let out a breath. “I'm not promising you anything,” I say and chuckle. “I mean, I already know it's not going anywhere –”
“All I ask is that you keep an open mind, and an open heart,” she tells me. “You just never know what you might let in if you do.”
Fra
nkly, I'm not trying to let anything in right now. I'm simply trying to get my life back to normal. Or at least, back to some semblance of normal. For the past year, I've been trying to put together the wreckage of my life and make the best of the situation. Tried to move forward with this new life and new reality I'm being forced to live.
Though the passage of time is making things somewhat easier, in some respects, this new existence still feels like an ill-fitting set of clothes on me. No matter how much I tug and pull on it, I can never get it to settle on me properly. It just hasn't felt quite right in all these months, and part of me suspects, it never will.
But this is the new life I have to live – thanks to my brother. Asshole.
“No promises, Roni,” I say and laugh.
She raises her hands. “Fair enough.”
I laugh and shake my head. She reaches out, taking my hand, and gives it a squeeze. I can't be mad at Roni – she's only trying to do what she thinks is in my own best interests. I know she wants to see me all happy an in love like she is. Personally, I'm glad that she's so happy. I think it's a beautiful thing. But I just don't think it's in the cards for me. I haven't completely given up hope yet, but I'm coming close.
There's just too much going on in my life – not to mention in my head – to make room for all of the complications a relationship would inevitably bring with it.
“So, we'll see you there on Friday?” she laughs.
“Only because I know if I don't show, I'll never hear the end of it.”
“That's very true,” she says, a wide smile splitting her face. “I'll see you tomorrow.”
I turn and head for my car. All I want to do is go home, put on some music, pour myself a glass of wine – or twelve – and relax for a bit. I have some papers I need to grade, but they can wait for a while.
I park in my carport and grab my bag out of the backseat. The apartment complex they set us up in, is actually pretty nice. I have my suspicions that the entire complex is owned by the Marshal's service, and that it's filled with people in witness protection like me, but I can't confirm it. It's not like I can go up and ask my neighbors if they're hiding out from the Mafia, or some Mexican drug cartel, or anything.
