No Stopping

by Nolon King

  Confused, Jasper reached to turn the station.

  But the beeping only got louder.

  He looked over at Carissa. “What’s that?”

  She appeared equally baffled. Then her face began to melt.

  “Mom!” Jordyn cried out. Her face was dissolving, too.

  The brightness was suddenly everywhere, the sun now blinding him.

  Screaming, Jasper opened his eyes in the middle of a surgery, blinding light above.

  The doctor yelled something to a nurse.

  Then Jasper faded away.

  Epilogue 1

  Mal sat alone on the lounge chair of her hotel room balcony, staring at the moon above a glittering ocean.

  The cool and salty night air blew her hair back. She loved watching the moonlight as it glistened on the waves.

  Such a beautiful night to die.

  She was sitting with a half-empty bottle in one hand, her bottle of pills in the other, trying to think of a single reason not to end it all.

  Her phone rang, again.

  Still Tim.

  She let the call tickle her voicemail, wondering if her mailbox was full by now. It had been three days since he’d told her the news about Emma and Maggie, three days since she’d breathed a word to anyone other than room service.

  The world was a shit show, and Mal was exhausted by it all. Tired of pretending life could promise more than suffering. She tried to think of anything good that she could hold on to. A lone example of things working out for the better.

  Three days ago, the world found out about the pedophile network. Several high-profile politicians, businessmen, and actors had either been arrested or gone into hiding. A few had killed themselves. While that might have seemed like a victory in the battle between Good and Evil, it was chased by terrible news the very next day.

  Victor Forbes had been caught, by none other than former Sheriff Claude Barry. To make matters worse, Forbes somehow ‘hung himself’ while in custody at Creek County Corrections.

  A hit job for sure, and Gloria Bell’s reelection bid was sure to be collateral damage. That corrupt fuck Claude Barry would be back in power.

  Additionally, several people arrested as part of the network would probably go free as Forbes was one of the only people able to testify against them.

  Good Guys take one step forward and ten giant steps backward.

  And in the category of Not Sure If It’s Good or Bad News, this afternoon, Barry also happened to nab another person on the Most Wanted List — Jasper Parish.

  Yet another ding on the Sheriff’s Office. Mal could only imagine the damage control Gloria and Mike must have done on her behalf. She’d ignored calls from both of them today, along with one from the front desk and a knock on her door.

  Maybe someone would come by to question or arrest her.

  Can’t arrest me if I’m dead.

  Another drink from the bottle.

  Mal hated what her life had become. Hated herself for letting it get that way. Loathed herself for losing Ashley and for being so damned weak that pills were the only way to feel any happiness.

  At one time, she’d thought she could do this. But now, she knew better.

  She wasn’t cut out for this world.

  Mal had failed everybody who ever mattered to her. She couldn’t even do the one real job she had in life — protecting her daughter. To hell with trying to protect Maggie and Emma.

  There was no protection from the wolves of the world. She could run, or even hold them off for a bit. But she couldn’t ever hide. Eventually, they found her, devouring her weakest parts until all that was left was a husk of who she used to be.

  She opened the bottle

  Fifteen pills inside. She’d counted them every few hours for the last three days.

  Fifteen ought to do the job.

  She tilted the bottle back and poured some in her mouth, using a gulp of wine to wash them down.

  Mal was about to pour more down her throat when her phone rang.

  Oh, come on, Tim. Just let it go.

  She felt bad for the guy. Genuinely liked him. Maybe something could’ve come from it. But she was done. Mal glanced at the screen, maybe she’d say goodbye. But the Caller ID said something different.

  It was Colleen Price, Jessi’s mother.

  Her heart started racing, fearful something had happened to Jessi.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mallory. It’s Colleen. How are you?”

  Oh, just about to end my life, and yourself?

  “Okay. You?”

  “Jessi saw the news and she wanted to talk. Would that be all right?”

  “Um … ”

  “Just a few minutes.”

  Mal set the bottle of pills between her legs. “Okay.”

  She pressed the phone to her ear, waiting to hear Jessi’s voice.

  “Hello, Mrs. Mallory.”

  “Hi, Jessi. How are you.”

  “Okay. Did you see the news? About Mr. Jasper?”

  “Yes. Yes, I did.”

  “Why did they arrest him? He’s not a bad guy, is he?”

  “I don’t know, Jessi. I guess the courts will figure that out.”

  “But he saved us. Twice. Bad guys don’t do that, do they?”

  “It’s complicated. Sometimes bad people do good things. Sometimes good people do bad things.”

  “But Paul, he was a bad person doing bad things. All the time.”

  “Yes, Jessi. He was a bad man.”

  “Do you think Mr. Jasper killed those people like they say he did?”

  Jessi sounded like she desperately needed Jasper to be good. She wouldn’t know how to think of him if he wasn’t. Mal felt the same conflict about Jasper, even after all she’d done.

  “Deep down, I think he is a good man who has been hurt a lot. And he helped us. Way I see it, that makes him more good than bad.”

  “That’s how I see it, too,” Jessi agreed.

  Mal stared down at her bottle of pills through a long moment of silence. She felt more determined than ever to end things tonight. But what would that do to the girl if she did?

  Jessi would know, either soon or when she got older, that she was the last person Mal spoke to. What would that do to her already fragile psyche?

  “I miss you, Mrs. Mallory.”

  Keep it together.

  “I … ” Her voice cracked. “I miss you too, Jessi.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Mal wiped at the tears and forced a laugh. “Yeah, of course. Are you?”

  “I’ve been having nightmares a lot lately. The therapist says it’ll be a while before I’m better.”

  “I’m sorry. I get them too.”

  More silence. Mal wasn’t sure if Jessi was crying, too. And that only made her cry harder. She wanted to hug her, promise everything would be okay. But how could she lie to her like that when things weren’t okay and they never would be again?

  Mal heard Jessi cover the phone as she whispered something inaudible to her mom. When she got back on the line, she said, “Mrs. Mallory?”

  “Yes?”

  “Could I see you sometime?”

  No, Jessi, you can’t see me. Mrs. Mallory is going to take a bunch of pills and wine and never wake up again. Sorry. Nice knowing you. And good luck healing from all that other shit and now this, too.

  “Sure,” Mal lied.

  “This Saturday? For lunch? Mom says she’ll treat.”

  Mal couldn’t help but laugh at the sweet offer of her mom treating, as if that would be the thing to make her accept the invitation.

  Her tears flowed as she had flashes of Dodd standing over her, ready to kill her and Jessi.

  Then she thought of Ashley when she was four or five, lying next to her in bed, asking Mommy to tell her a story to help her fall back asleep because the dark was so scary. Bedtime stories were sweet, comforting lies, told in worlds where either there wasn’t any real danger or the good guys and girls never left evil undef
eated. Lies to help with falling asleep or living life without losing your mind.

  “Can you, Mrs. Mallory?” Jessi repeated, sounding on the verge of tears.

  It would break Jessi if she said no. She was in a vulnerable place, and, for whatever reason, be it their mutual survival or Jessi’s need for someone strong —ha! — to help her through this, Mal had an obligation.

  Jessi needed Mal to tell her a comforting lie and stave off the pain.

  As much as she needed the agony to leave her, ending her life now would be selfish. It wouldn’t just destroy her, it would ruin Jessie, her ex, and the memory of Ashley.

  “I’d like that very much,” Mal said, wiping her tears away.

  “Thank you. I’m gonna go to bed now.”

  “Okay, honey. Sweet dreams.”

  Jessi’s mom came back on the line. “Thank you for that. I’m not sure what’s wrong, but she really needed to hear from you tonight.”

  “It’s okay,” Mal said through her tears. “I think I needed it, too.”

  Mal hung up, went to the bathroom, then threw up the pills and wine.

  She had more to live for than herself. And for now, that would have to be enough.

  Epilogue 2

  “I’m not letting you do this.” Jasper’s lawyer, Lucas Cahill, sat beside him in the hospital room, shaking his head.

  Cahill was a heavyset man in his fifties with gold wire-rimmed glasses and sandy-brown hair on the verge of graying. He often reminded Jasper of a man who might be running a small family ice cream shop, friendly looking, with a kind smile. But his blue eyes told a different story. The man had seen things and could be a honey-badger in the courtroom.

  He was a mob lawyer Jasper had helped out of a jam in exchange for info on a mobster he didn’t work for.

  Jasper had just told him everything that had happened since he’d last seen him, and the man was now staring at Jasper with both dumfounded admiration and annoyance because Jasper had already spoken to deputies without his lawyer present, giving them a full statement or confession while out of his fucking gourd.

  “I don’t know what the hell you were thinking, talking to them.” Cahill shook his head again. “I’ll get it all thrown out, don’t worry, but you’ve been beaten half to death and are obviously over-medicated.”

  Jasper asked him to set up an estate providing money to a few important people in his life, and to set aside enough for Spider’s medical bills. She’d miraculously survived the gunshot wounds but was in a coma, according to Cahill.

  “So, let me get this straight … you want to confess, and not only to the murders of Calum Kozack and Brianna Gilchrest, but also to these other people?” He held up the sheet of paper where Jasper had written all of his victims’ names. “People they ain’t even lookin’ at you for?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “As your lawyer, I’d highly advise against this. You’ll never get out of prison if you cop to all this.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You don’t care about freedom? If we’re just talking the Kozack case, I can get you down to ten years, maybe less given the circumstances. They don’t even have bodies. No bodies, no evidence, except your confession to Kozack, inadmissible and obtained under extreme duress. I ought to have Oliver Kozack brought up on charges. We can sue the fuck out of him.”

  “No. Kozack is in tight with the law here. No way that’ll ever fly. Besides,” Jasper shook his head, “I want a clean conscience.”

  “Yeah, well, you can have that on the beaches in the Bahamas, too. Say the word, and I’ll get this dismissed. Even if you do confess, you’ve got a psychiatric disorder. We can get you off on insanity.”

  Jasper pounded his cuffed fist into the bed’s metal railing. “I’m not insane.”

  Cahill smiled. “Okay, but clearly, you’ve got doctors saying—”

  “I don’t care what the doctors say. I am sane.”

  Cahill frowned. “I don’t give a good goddamn if you’re one thousand percent sane. You got doctors on the record stating otherwise, you take it, son. It’s the difference between you doing time in a federal fucking prison and a psychiatric hospital.”

  “I don’t want to be in a fucking mental facility.”

  “You know what happens to ex-cops in prison, right? They will kill you.”

  “I’d rather be dead than turned into a vegetable with all the damned drugs.”

  Cahill sighed. “Sounds to me like you want to be punished. I don’t know what kind of shit’s in that head of yours, but as your lawyer, I strongly advise you to talk to a therapist and take some time to think about this.”

  “I’ve made up my mind. I’m pleading guilty. I’ll get a public defender if you—”

  “No, no. I’ll do it. But, please, think about it. Give it twenty-four hours.”

  “Fine. Twenty-four hours. But I’m telling you now, I’m not changing my mind.”

  Cahill gave Jasper one last look, then shook his head one final time before leaving the room.

  He was all alone, if he didn’t count the sheriff’s deputy standing outside his door, which he didn’t. Jasper wished he could see Jordyn, but it was probably best she didn’t come. He didn’t need her getting into any trouble. Best she lay low in the safehouse. He’d left enough cash for her to get by.

  He turned on the TV, watching Sheriff Barry being interviewed about Victor Forbes’s mysterious death. Then he was asked about Jasper.

  “The fact that our own Sheriff’s Office didn’t know this man was still alive and hunting our citizens is terrifying to me. Gloria Bell must be held accountable for her negligence.”

  Jasper’s mind was too fuzzy from the drugs to follow the conversation. He knew just enough to be annoyed, so he killed the TV.

  The door swung open after a knock, then Mallory entered. She turned and thanked the deputy at the door for letting her in — probably against the rules.

  She held flowers, blue and yellow ones, maybe irises then set them on the table next to his bed. “How are you?”

  He hated the way she looked at him, with way too much pity.

  “Oh, just another day at the office. Yourself?”

  “Okay.”

  “To what do I owe the pleasure? You here to make sure we keep our stories straight?”

  Mallory shook her head. “I worried about that at first, but I couldn’t give a shit now. Barry is going to get in, so it’s all kind of fucked. Mostly I came to suggest you keep the confessions to yourself.’

  “What?”

  “They don’t have bodies, they don’t have cases.”

  Jasper stared at her, confused. “Weren’t you trying to nab me for the same thing not too long ago?”

  “Well, a lot’s happened since then.”

  “Yeah, a lot of people have died. And, to be honest, I’m not sure how much more I can take. I … just want to stop the grind, stop the killing, and stop the death I bring to—”

  “Jessi and I wouldn’t be alive if not for you.” Her eyes were wet.

  “Are you going to cry, Detective?”

  “No. Fuck no.”

  “Good,” he teased. “I’d hate to lose respect for you.”

  She smiled.

  “Thank you, I appreciate you coming down here, but … I’ll be fine. I’m ready to pay for my crimes.”

  Mallory nodded. “I understand.”

  “But will you do me one favor?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Can you look out for my daughter?”

  Mal stared at Jasper for a long moment, then gave him a sad-looking smile. “I can do that.”

  “Thank you. I just want to stop all this before she pays for my sins. Before she gets k—”

  Then he remembered, again.

  And he felt like an idiot.

  “I’m sorry. I … I get confused sometimes.”

  “It’s okay.” Mal squeezed his hand.

  He blinked his stinging tears away. “The worst part is forgetting she
died, then remembering. It’s like I’m in this dream where everything is okay, then, BAM, reality hits. I’m awake, and she’s gone again.”

  “I know the feeling all too well. I dream of Ashley all the time. And they’re so real sometimes. It’s great while I’m in them, just like old times, one big happy family.” She let go of his hand to wipe a falling tear. “If that’s the only way I can have her, the only way I can remember her as she was, then I’ll take it. No matter how much it hurts to wake up.”

  “I just want to say sorry for all the shit you’ve been through, Mallory. I wish I could’ve stopped him before it all started. You don’t deserve it.”

  “Thank you. And, I wish I’d taken the opportunity to take care of him sooner, too.”

  Jasper saw something in her eyes, a familiar pain he recognized immediately. “You’ve hurt people since then, haven’t you?”

  Mallory looked back at the door, making sure it was still closed, then back to Jasper. She nodded.

  “Who?”

  “Just some rapists. Hurt them, not killed them.”

  “Ah. Be careful, it’s a slippery slope. You’ll end up where I am before you know it, getting people hurt or killed by all the collateral damage.”

  “Good thing for me I don’t have anybody close anymore.” She gave him an awkward smile. “Were you serious about that lottery number?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “So, who sees things, you or … her?”

  “Sometimes I do. But mostly her. When she’s here.”

  “Can I ask you something?” She looked scared, desperate. Or maybe bereft of hope.

  Broken.

  “Sure, what is it?”

  “Will I — Never mind. It’s stupid.”

  “No, what is it? Ask.”

  Mallory turned away, wiped her cheeks, then looked back at him and laughed uncomfortably. “No, really, it’s stupid. I don’t even think I wanna know.”

  “What is it?” He met her gaze.

  And in that moment, he felt their connection, their shared pain, and how they’d always be connected by their trauma. Friendship forged in misery.

  “Will I ever … will I ever be happy again? Is that something you can even tell?”