by Mia Luxe
Authorities confronted Greg Plats after a tip from former crime boss Joe Maturi. This shows a rift in the family, which stuck to a strict code of silence after their arrests.
Joe Maturi had the following to say:
"Greg Plats is a violent man. He is not redeemable. When he confided in me that he killed three men in this very prison, I knew I had to do the right thing. I'm not the same guy I used to be. I'm not some mob guy. I'm scared of what my father is going to do to me.”
“It might get me killed, but I had to do the right thing. I’ve asked to go into protective custody, for fear of my father.”
Warden Dave Fields issued the following statement:
"While we still gravely need funding for more guards and security cameras, this shows the incredible ability of my facility for reforming criminals. There is not one other prison in this country that could have reformed a man like Joe Maturi.
Joe Maturi will face his parole hearing next Friday.
I read the article three times.
It doesn’t make sense.
I stand up, opening the balcony door and step into the rain, slamming the glass doors behind me.
My clothes are soaked instantly and I wrap my hands around the steel railing, looking out at the raging storm. It fills me with a pent-up energy and anger, echoing my mood.
“Joe Maturi would never give up Greg Plats. They were like brothers. Like blood.”
I talk to myself, barely hearing my own voice over the driving rain. My hands wrap tighter around the railing, my arms flexing.
“Is he truly scared of his father? The Maturi’s… they respect blood more than anything. There’s no way in hell this is real!”
My hand flashes with white hot pain and I look down where I punched a dent into the railing. Red blood is washed away instantly by the rain, my knuckles split open.
My body tenses and I want to slam my fist through the glass of the balcony door, feel the pain and sharpen my mind.
I breathe in deeply and control myself. I open the door, and step inside to the warmth, dripping in the bedroom. I throw my sodden clothes in a wet heap and pace back and forth, thinking it through.
I need more information. Something isn’t right. For Joe to betray Greg like that… to send him to solitary confinement for the rest of his life…
I stop in my tracks in front of the mirror.
“Solitary would be nothing to a man like Greg. He would kill three men in a heartbeat if it would help Joe Maturi. That man was dead inside.”
My eyes narrow in the mirror. My neck tenses, flexing with barely controlled energy. I finally understand what my enemies are planning.
“He killed those three men to prove that Joe Maturi is rehabilitated before his parole date. That Joe would throw his own family associates under the bus to do the right thing.”
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, seeing my old self fighting for control. The person who survived two years undercover rages, fighting to take control of my mind.
“He thinks he’s going to get out of jail next Saturday.”
My reflection stares back at me, my eyes wide. My fist is dripping blood slowly onto the floor, mixed with the water that drips off my wet body.
The angry face in the mirror becomes calm. I breathe in and out.
I need to become who I was. I’m not a professor anymore. I’m not soft anymore.
I’m the man who infiltrated the Maturi’s and took those bastards down.
My jaw clenches in the mirror.
“Then come for me, Maturi. This time, I’m ending it.”
His Mark
Willow - Sunday, November 9th
I almost held my tears in through the entire Greyhound ride home. A kindly old lady passed me a tissue from a wrinkled pack, letting me blow my nose as I sobbed silently beside her. The rain drove down so hard I couldn’t see out of the Greyhound windows.
It was right before your eyes the entire time. He’s got a mansion near the College, another in Portland… how did he get away with it?
I let him touch me, use me.
And my body still aches for him.
My heart aches for me to be wrong somehow.
How could I have trusted him?
I’m sobbing in my dorm when Shelly finds me. She holds me close, and when my tears stop it’s back to the old routine.
We have a tradition.
Whenever Shelly got her heart broken we get absolutely wasted.
Only this time I’m on the other end of it.
I’m about to take my first shot, but as Shelly downs hers, I put mine to my lips and don’t even sip.
“Oof, that burned,” I say, and rush into the bathroom, dumping it in the sink before she notices.
She pours us both another drink, but I wave it off. “I’m feeling a little sick,” I say, and that part isn’t a lie. The stress of the last few days has made my stomach churn.
“You’ll feel better when we hit the party. You’ll forget all about Connor.”
Shelly pauses, her curiosity overwhelming. “What actually happened between you two?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about it, not yet at least. I just want to forget.”
We put on our coats, but the thought of dancing in a sweaty, packed dorm party makes me feel claustrophobic. I push it out of my mind. I’m not going to let Connor ruin my night.
We rush in the rain to the next dorm over, the rain beating down on us.
I stop in front of a beautiful jet black Mercedes with tinted windows. All I want to do is curl up under my blankets and hide.
“Shelly… I can’t do this. I don’t want to get hammered and forget. I just want to hide in bed.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Her face is pure concern. She doesn’t care about missing the dorm party at all.
“No, I need to be alone. Try to have fun tonight!”
She smiles weakly. “Text me if you need anything and I’ll be right over!”
“Bye Shelly,” I say, and she darts away in the rain. I stand there for a few seconds more, wishing that the torrents of water could wash away the last couple weeks of my life. My hair gets soaked and I scurry back to my little dorm room.
I lie in my bed, and my body craves him. I want so badly to be in his arms, but I know I can’t.
Unless he can be 100% honest with me, there’s no future.
It’s late, and I can’t imagine going to Connor’s class tomorrow. I can’t see him, not so soon. I’ve got a good enough grade in his class that I could miss every class until finals and still pass.
“It’s so strange,” I say to myself, no more tears left. “Just two weeks ago Connor was my crush, a hot professor to fantasize about. Now he’s won and broken my heart in record time. Maybe it’s just puppy love. Maybe I’ll get over him in a week.”
I know in my heart the words are false.
Connor will leave his mark in my heart for eternity.
Echo of the Past
Connor - Sunday, November 9th
I need to keep Willow safe. Driving back from Portland through the pounding rain, all I can think about is if Willow is in danger.
Joe Maturi is in jail. He doesn’t know about Willow. Doesn’t know she can be used against you.
I can never be with her again.
I’ll just put her in danger. She would have been safer if she never met me.
I’m doing twenty over the speed limit where other cars are slowing in the rain, my Audi’s tires gripping the slick asphalt as I pass a truck.
“Call Walter,” I say to my car, and the system calls a man I haven’t spoken to in five years. My commanding officer. The man who kept me from jail, who coached me through the inquests and had my back since the first day I met him.
I can feel myself diving back into the past.
He picks up before the first ring finishes.
“Connor.”
“Walrus.”
“I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”<
br />
“I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t have to. It’s about Joe Maturi.”
I swerve into the HOV lane and slam on the gas. Walter, or Walrus, as he was known in the police station, doesn’t say anything for a second. Even with his silence I can feel his focus sharpen.
“Talk to me.”
“He’s going to make parole.”
“Bullshit! He’s on a 15 year bid!”
I clench my teeth and veer back into the left lane. The rain pounds against my windshield and my wipers on maximum barely make a dent in the onslaught. I need to get home, and fast. I need to ready myself.
“He set it all up, Walrus. Those murders at the prison. It was Greg Plats. He killed three men just so Joe Maturi could turn him in and be the hero before his parole date.”
The sound of glass breaking makes me tense. I know what happened. He threw his whiskey glass against the wall, just like I’d seen him do in the precinct when he got bad news.
“Fuck! If only we got that cold-hearted bastard on murder charges he’d be locked away for life. Jesus, I thought I’d be dead and gone before that bastard saw the light of day.”
I clench my teeth together. “Walrus, I need your help.”
“Anything.” His reply is instant.
“I need you to call in some favors. Joe’s a violent man, but he’s never planned anything like this. I need to know if it was him that came up with the idea for the murders. Do you have any connections in the penitentiary?”
I exit the highway, getting close to my home.
“There’s a guard who owes me. What do you want to know?”
“Everything. What he’s been doing in prison. Who he associates with. Who he calls. Phone logs, records of programs he’s taken. I need the info, and fast. I need to know about who the new Joe Maturi is. He used to be unpredictable, violent, and rage-filled. Now he seems… calculating. Like his father’s son.”
“I’ll make the call.”
“Good.”
I breathe in deeply, steeling my nerves.
“Fucking hell Connor, I wish I never heard from you.”
“I’ll take care of it. When Joe comes for me, I’m ending it.”
I can picture it. Putting a bullet right between his beady eyes. Splitting his skull open and sending him to hell.
I hang up, reaching my neighborhood in record time and slowing down on the slick, windy streets.
If Willow never sees me again, she’ll be safe.
Trust
Willow - Thursday, November 13th
I was supposed to get my period on Sunday.
“It’s just four days late, don’t be stupid Willow,” I say to myself.
Don’t get scared. Don’t be a cliche, the inexperienced student with her first pregnancy scare. It’s going to be OK.
I’ve had late periods before, sometimes 5 days, especially once I started taking birth control two years ago to deal with cramps.
But you never had sex before, did you?
I stare down at the pregnancy test in its plastic wrap. Maybe I’m over-reacting. But I need to make sure.
I try to reassure myself. “I’m on birth control, I’m not pregnant.”
I take my birth control box and open it up, cringing at the extra pills that should have been taken.
OK, so I missed a few days when I was drunk last month. I didn’t exactly plan to lose my virginity!
My heart starts beating quickly, and before I lose my nerve I rip open the plastic package and take the test out. I hold it between my legs as I pee, then pause.
I have the same feeling I had when I stood before the wrought iron gates of Connor’s house. The same feeling of my life in flux, about to change irrevocably.
I lift the test slowly, and my heart pounds as I see the little plus sign.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.
I throw the test in the garbage and rush into bed, pulling the covers over me. My head spins, my heart pounding so fast I feel like I’m going to explode.
I’m hyperventilating, breathing way too quickly, unable to stop. Tears well up and fall from my eyes.
This is happening.
I’m responsible for this. Every breath of air, every sip of water, every beat of my heart is going to this little human being that I’m growing inside of me.
Tears of fear wash down my cheeks, but within the nervousness is a strange joy.
Thank God I stopped drinking. I could have put my child in danger.
I’m going to have this child. And I’m going to do it without my father’s dirty money. I can do this. No matter what happens, I have to protect this child.
I grab my phone, wanting to call Connor, to tell him. I need to meet up with him and see his reaction in person. See if he has anger in his eyes, disappointment, or -
No, don’t get your hopes up. Expect him to be mad. Expect him to yell, and say that it’s my fault.
The strangest realization dawns over me.
I trust him. He wants to keep me safe more than anything.
I’ve always trusted him in my heart, it’s my brain that’s told me to stay away.
When has my gut feeling ever been wrong?
“I know he’s dangerous,” I say to myself, running my hand slowly over my belly. “But I trust him never to hurt me. And even if he’s hiding something from me, I need to give him time. You can’t tell every secret in a couple weeks. You can’t tell everything about yourself to someone you don’t know very well, can you?”
A nervous smile comes to my face, my heart still pounding fast.
Connor Bold is going to be the father of my child.
Cold Coffee
Connor - Thursday, November 13th
How’s your coffee,” asks the waitress. My mug is full. I haven’t taken a sip of the no longer steaming liquid. I picked an out of the way spot, a diner empty except for a old man at the counter picking at toast and reading the newspaper.
“Fine,” I say, my body tensing as the door opens. The waitress takes a look at my full cup, pauses, and walks away without a word.
Walrus pauses in the open doorway, evaluating the diner before stepping in. His face looks a little gaunter, but his mustache is still his pride and joy. We lock eyes and he walks to my private corner booth, murmuring something to the waitress.
“You look different,” he says, sitting down.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” I respond.
He slides a dossier over the table to me.
“This is everything I could get for you.”
The waitress returns, dropping off a cup of coffee for Walrus. I wait for her to leave and open the dossier.
I flip past the first pages, pictures of Joe Maturi in the prison. I stop at a list of classes he took while incarcerated.
“He got his highschool degree and he’s working on college level courses,” says Walrus.
I take a sip of my lukewarm coffee. My eyes narrow as I read through Joe’s transcripts.
“This isn’t the same brute we locked up.”
Walrus grimaces. “No, it’s not. He’s smarter. I didn’t believe he could make parole, but my contact in the pen said the Warden is damn sweet on Joe Maturi after he turned in Greg Plats. The Warden was taking a beating in the press. Word is… Joe’s going to make parole.”
My fingers tap against the wooden table as I stare at the list of his courses.
Philosophy of Law. Entry level Sociology. Who is the new Joe Maturi? How could I let this happen without seeing it?
The noose is tightening around my neck.
“That’s not all. Go to the next page, his phone logs. Look at the number I highlighted.”
I turn the page. The next page shows a long row of calls. I recognize some of the numbers from years ago. His distant family, cousins and nephews whose numbers I had to memorize before my undercover assignment.
One number is highlighted multiple times over the pages and pages of phone logs. I don’t recognize it.
“Who
se number is that?”
Walrus shakes his head, the tips of his mustache jiggling.
“It’s not a person. It’s a company. Ark Private Investigation. I’ve worked with these guys before. They’re technical guys. Not great at tails or physical surveillance, but they can get into any building and set up a wire.”
I shake my head. “No way they got into my home. I’ve got the highest level of security you can imagine. 15 cameras, motion sensors - I get woken up if a deer walks down the street.”
Walrus purses his lips. “And your office?”
I clench my fist, running my tongue over my teeth. Walrus must see in my face that he’s hit a nerve.
I was so focused protecting my home I didn’t protect my workplace.
Walrus pulls out his phone, and opens a picture. He leans forward, showing me. It’s a mousy looking man with glasses.
“You seen this guy before?”
I nod. “I saw him once. At the university.”
Walrus takes a harsh breath in, showing his teeth. “That’s one of their private investigators. This is looking bad, Connor. Real bad.”
The sudden realization dawns on me.
“He might have seen Willow.”
Walrus takes a sip of his coffee and looks and me questioningly.
“Willow?”
“Yeah. My student. And…”
Walrus’ lips curl up in the start of a smile that he hides behind a sip of coffee. He’s always laughed in the face of danger, even when he’s scared.
“And something more than a student. I understand.”
His face goes dead serious.
“If he saw you with her, he knows you’re together. You know Joe. He finds the weak points and he presses. If he thinks you care about her, he would have put a bug on her room and her phone. How serious is your relationship with… uh, Willow?”
I grimace. The pain is still fresh.
“We broke it off. Last weekend.”
“Good, good. If they don’t think you’re together, they won’t try to use her as leverage.”
