Run So Far

by Elizabeth Monvey

  “Don’t hurt him,” Kyle whispered. Beside him, Brian made a gagging sound but he ignored it.

  “I’ll shoot him right now, in the head, and by the time anyone finds him we’ll be long gone and no one will be none the wiser on how Delaney Vance ended up with a bullet in his brain.”

  “Don’t be stupid. They can trace the bullet to your gun.”

  “This isn’t my assigned gun, Kyle. It doesn’t have ballistic fingerprinting.”

  Kyle had a burning sensation deep inside his soul. His heart fluttered as he looked down at Del. “Please don’t hurt him.”

  “You come along peaceably. At the arraignment, you’ll plead guilty. No need for a trial.”

  “I’ll plead no contest,” Kyle half-heartedly argued back, knowing regardless, he was admitting to the crime.

  “Works still the same,” Peter replied and pulled his gun off Del’s prone body. “You say anything, to anyone, I make one phone call and Mr. Vance loses his Class A license. On top of that, your mother will suffer as well. Don’t forget I own the deed to her house and serve as executor of my brother’s estate, which includes taking care of your mother’s finances. I don’t think your mother would fare very well being homeless, do you?”

  Kyle wanted to hurt his uncle, to strike out with his fists until he took back all the threats against the two people that meant more to him than his own life. Whether or not Peter Hargidan could actually carry out all his threats or not was a moot point because the gun was still hanging too close to Del’s body.

  How had he not known how dirty his uncle could be?

  “Kyle?”

  He nodded, acquiescing. He heard Brian snigger behind him but all the fight suddenly went out of him. He wanted to collapse to his knees, but managed to hold it together as his uncle finally holstered his gun.

  “Kyle Andrew Hardigan,” his uncle said in a monotone voice, taking out handcuffs and walking toward him. “You have the right to remain silent…”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kyle sat on his narrow cot, knees drawn up with his arms around them, staring out the small window with Plexiglas covering the hole. It didn’t allow any air to circulate and it also didn’t allow anyone to hang themselves. Couldn’t allow that to happen, of course, allow people the choice of ending things now instead of letting them drag on and on.

  The flight back to Maryland had been uneventful and as he promised, he had not given his uncle any problem. A day later he had gone in for his arraignment. When the prosecutor offered a lesser charge if he pled guilty, Kyle whispered his no contest statement. In the span of a few minutes, he had been sentenced to twenty years in the state penitentiary, eligible for parole in ten. Do not pass go. Do not collect a hundred dollars. It was straight to the orange jumpsuit and chained up like an animal.

  Just before pleading no contest, his lawyer told him what rights he would be giving up but Kyle tuned him out. He already knew everything he was giving up, or at least what he was giving up temporarily. His one chance was the pictures and he hoped like hell that Del didn’t bring the camera to Baltimore to get him released. Go anywhere but here, or get any other authority involved that didn’t include Baltimore Police Department. Maybe the feds would be impartial. We are they in cases like this? Kyle could hardly think anymore.

  Once he had pulled his uncle and cousin safely away from Del he should have … he should have … shit, he didn’t know what he should have done. But he should have done something!

  “Hardigan, Kyle!” The shout came from a guard outside his cell. “Your lawyers are here to meet with you,”

  Kyle blinked. His lawyers? He had a court appointed attorney, at his uncle’s insistence since he was basically pleading guilty. Why would that guy, whom Kyle couldn’t even remember, show up here? He stood and moved to the cell door, waiting as the guards put chains on his wrists and ankles and then escorted him out. Kyle shuffled along, the chains making it difficult for him to walk.

  When he finally made it into the meeting room, three men waited for him, and he was positive he’d never seen them before. Two were dressed in a formal suit and tie and the other was dressed in a military uniform. At the sight of the military uniform, his heart started thundering in his chest. He shuffled over and sat down on the chair opposite them.

  “Mr. Hardigan,” said one of the men in the suits. “My name is Agent Trevor Grandstill with the FBI and this is Detective Michael Parkland with Baltimore Internal Affairs Civilian Review Board.”

  “Hello.” Kyle nodded to each man, but his attention strayed again to the man in the military uniform. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

  “We’re here to inform you that as of tomorrow you will be a free man, exonerated from all charges,” Agent Grandstill said softly.

  Kyle blinked. His mouth fell open but no sound came out.

  “Kyle,” said the military officer. “My name is Corporal Seth Miller, with the Army JAG Corps. I was a private in the Ranger division five years ago and I’m here on behalf of Staff Sergeant Delaney Vance.”

  “Oh,” was all Kyle could manage.

  “I couldn’t go back to active duty because of my wound, so after I healed I requested to be transferred. I’m a lawyer now and when Staff Sergeant Vance called me about your situation, saying how he had photographic evidence, I put him into the correct contacts since technically I cannot be of any service to non-active or non-military personnel.”

  Kyle looked at the two other men.

  “Yesterday afternoon,” said Detective Parkland, “with the cooperation of the Baltimore Police Commissioner, Peter Hardigan was arrested, along with his son, Brian.”

  The heavy weight that had settled on his chest from the moment he had seen his uncle in California cracked apart and slid away. He actually felt like he could breathe easier. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “Just doing our job,” Agent Grandstill said without a hint of emotion. “You’ll need to testify, of course, since you are a material witness to the murder of Trina Micarelli. Brian Hardigan pled not guilty at his arraignment so it will be going to trial. He is currently being held without bail.”

  “Yes, of course, I’ll testify,” Kyle murmured.

  “Peter Hardigan made a full confession to the cover up for his son, so you’ll be spared that,” Detective Parkland added. “But I must say, if it wasn’t for those pictures, Mr. Hardigan, well, I wouldn’t like to think about how this would have ended.”

  Kyle nodded, silently agreeing.

  The three men rose, signaling an end to the meeting. Kyle rose as well, and the guard came forward to put the chains on. He felt like crying but held back. No way was he going to lose it while still wearing the orange jumpsuit.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to wear the chains one more day,” Agent Grandstill said.

  “I assure you, knowing they’ll be off tomorrow makes all the difference in the world,” Kyle said, trying to keep the smile off his face.

  Agent Grandsill and Detective Parkland gave him a nod and left, leaving Corporal Miller behind.

  “Have you seen Del?” Kyle asked him softly.

  “I have, which is why I’m here,” Corporal Miller said. “He wanted me to tell you he’ll be waiting when this is all over. Like he promised. You know, I never knew Staff Sergeant Vance was…”

  His voice faded as he mentally looked for a word.

  “Into men?” Kyle offered.

  Corporal Milled nodded with a small smile. “I’m not passing judgment. I owe him too much. I owe him my life.”

  “Yes, he told me what happened.”

  “He told you everything?”

  Kyle nodded. “I know about his PTSD, about his guilt at not helping the rest of the team. About the bombs, and how he had to wade through the destruction.”

  “I saw him once, in the hospital. He didn’t even know who I was,” Corporal Miller said in a sad, faraway voice. “When he contacted my office, he was so alive, so vibrant. He was the man I used to k
now, before his father died, before the bombing. When Agent Grandstill told me they were coming to meet you today, to give you the good news, I had to come to give you my personal thanks.”

  Kyle swallowed the lump in his throat. “Thank you for coming here today.”

  Corporal Miller gave him a salute, then turned and left the room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Del signed the delivery slip, thanked the foreman, then slid behind the wheel of his rig and headed away from the drop site. A two-week-old newspaper rested on the passenger seat with Kyle’s picture prominently featured on the front page. The trial of Brian Hardigan had just concluded with a guilty verdict of second-degree murder. Sentencing was to be soon, but Kyle’s part was done.

  As he drove off the construction site, he wondered if his vow to wait for Kyle still stood. For a long time he’d been following the trial, waiting for the day that Kyle would return, but so far communication had been silent. In the beginning, they had talked on the phone quite a bit, but as the date crept closer the calls had become farther and farther apart. With each day that passed, with no word, Del’s spirits grew darker. He didn’t want to admit it quite yet, but the numbness he’d existed in for so long had begun to creep back into his soul. And after touching warmth, he feared the coldness settling back into his bones.

  The first time he’d seen Kyle, all he’d noticed was a shivering kid out of his league in the truck stop diner. Yet, there was something he couldn’t ignore, something intangible that kept drawing his gaze back to the handsome young man. The invitation for him to tag along to Richmond had come out of the blue, and as soon as it passed his lips even he’d been surprised.

  It had been the best decision of his life.

  For a brief moment, he’d gotten a glimpse of what peace looked like, and he missed it. He’d never been a religious man, never believed in an all-powerful deity controlling destiny, but he’d found himself wishing and praying to whatever god was listening that Kyle would find his way back to his arms.

  He stopped for the night and used his tablet to set up his next delivery, another long haul across country. More lonely nights. More time spent with nothing but his own thoughts. For years it had been enough, but now … now it wasn’t.

  Del logged off and stored his tablet before sliding into bed. Tiredness sapped his motivation to do a God damn thing, so instead of showering and washing clothes, he went to bed. In the morning, he would pick up the cargo then grab some breakfast before rolling towards California.

  ****

  Kyle stood in front of the tractor trailer’s huge front wheel and studied the tiny, fragile dandelion struggling to survive in the pebble encrusted parking lot. It was the only flower, or weed as the case may be, around. To see it resting so innocently, so trustingly in front of the massive tire that might, and probably will, crush it invoked a deep level of pity. Kyle shifted to allow the light to fall onto the yellow petals. He brought his camera up and clicked it, capturing the strength and determination of the little flower. It was a cool picture, one that would work well in his book.

  A rig pulled into the parking lot and Kyle glanced at it. The bed held machines, big ones used for pushing dirt around, obviously meant for a construction site somewhere. Kyle turned off his new camera and slipped it back into its bag before turning to enter the diner. He bypassed the line of people waiting for a table or booth and walked to the counter, sitting on the bar stool at the far end.

  “Hey, Alice,” he said.

  “Hi, Kyle,” Alice said back, setting a glass of chocolate milk in front of him.

  She was the same waitress that had served him and Del before. After the trial, he had come to the one place he knew Del had to pass through, the nearest place outside Baltimore. The press had had a field day with his family. If there was one thing the media loved it was when someone good went bad. Not that Kyle thought his uncle was truly bad because he had spent too many years fighting bad guys to ever technically be labeled one, at least in his mind. The press might call him a criminal, but Kyle never would. The man had had to choose between his badge and his son. Of course, his son would always win out.

  Unfortunately, Brian was now behind bars, serving a life sentence due in part to Kyle’s testimony as well as the testimony of the other two men in the porn film that had finally told the truth. Brian had threatened them, of course, to keep silent, but the pictures truly told a thousand words. The Hardigan name had fallen, and Kyle was sorry he had to be the one who toppled it.

  Now here he was, with a new camera, ready to see the country and get his photography career up and running. After all, he had a book to create. He had forced his mother to retire to Florida, mainly due to the gossip and negativity in Baltimore, and he had headed to the truck stop to wait. He’d taken a room at the attached hotel and had been waiting every day for Del to show up. Now that the trial was over and he was a free man, in more ways than one, he felt like a nervous bride. Which was silly, of course, although he wasn’t quite sure why.

  Still feeling a little nervous, Kyle pulled out his camera and snapped a quick picture of Alice.

  “I hope that doesn’t go into your Oddities in Nature book,” she grumbled. “I can assure you, I’m perfectly normal. It’s this place that’s abnormally bizarre.”

  Kyle grinned. “I bet you have lots of stories.”

  She winked at him as she went to take another order.

  “Mind if I sit down?” a deep voice asked beside him.

  Kyle lost the grin and shrugged. “It’s not taken.”

  The man lowered his tall frame and picked up the menu, looking it over. Kyle glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

  “So, what’s good here?”

  “The pancakes,” Kyle replied. “Ask Alice for the special ones.”

  “What’s special about them?”

  “The cook puts a little vanilla flavoring into the batter. I swear you don’t need syrup on them.”

  “Hmm,” said the man thoughtfully. “Sold.”

  Alice came over and poured the man a cup of coffee and took his order. She sent a smirk to Kyle as the man ordered the special hotcakes, then hurried off to place the order. Kyle watched the man add one sugar and lots of cream to his coffee.

  “Been here long? There’s a long line at the door.”

  Kyle shook his head. “Nah, I’ve been coming in here regular for a while so the hostess pretty much ignores me.”

  “What’s a while?”

  “Two weeks. I’m waiting for someone.”

  “Really? Who are you waiting for?”

  “My boyfriend,” Kyle replied softly. He gave the man another glance out of the corner of his eye. “Does that surprise you?”

  “No. Guess not. Wasn’t expecting you to say boyfriend, though.”

  “Got a problem with that?”

  The man held up his hands. “No, not at all.”

  Alice came back and placed the man’s dish in front of him. She smiled at Kyle and disappeared again.

  “I think she likes you.”

  Kyle shook his head. “She’s just a friend. She knows my heart is taken.”

  “By your boyfriend?”

  “Yep,” Kyle said and turned his barstool so that he faced the man. “By you.”

  Del swallowed his bite of food, and then wiped his mouth. “You’re right, these are the best pancakes I’ve ever tasted. No syrup needed.”

  “I’ve been waiting for you to show up,” Kyle told him. “I thought you’d be done with your haul last week.”

  “I was,” Del told him. “But when I didn’t hear from you I signed up for another.”

  “Oh,” Kyle murmured. “I didn’t know if you wanted us to have a low profile.”

  “Why would I want that?”

  “Well, the press has been all over me, and when my family found out, they called me a fagot.”

  Del frowned. “Even your mother?”

  “Oh, no, not her. She’s happy I found someone. I moved her do
wn to Florida for retirement, into a nice senior complex. She now has many friends to play canasta with. Actually, she invited us to Thanksgiving.”

  “Oh? Cool. Christmas too?”

  Kyle gave him a long, suffering stare. “It’s bad enough we’re going to have to gag down a turkey that’s so well done it evaporates. We might not want to ruin Christmas as well.”

  Del’s lips twitched at the mental picture, then continued to eat. They sat in comfortable silence until he pushed his plate away.

  “I haven’t been sleeping all that well,” Del admitted softly. “I’ve missed you.”

  “The nightmares have returned?”

  “Not as bad as before but still … unpleasant. I’m hoping to get back to nice.”

  “I suppose we’re avoiding a deeper issue with you, using sex to cover up your PTSD.”

  “I don’t think so. I’ve pretty much cured it with the sex.”

  Kyle chuckled. “How’s the concussion my uncle gave you?”

  Del reached up to rub the back of his head. “Healed. Man, tiny little scratch and a helluva lot of blood.”

  “That’s a head wound for you. Next time try to get the bad guy to hit your face. Heals faster and better.”

  “Thanks,” Del replied dryly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Anything else I can get you, boys?” Alice asked as she walked over.

  “Just the check, thanks,” Del mumbled.

  She laid the slip of paper down. She looked Del over, then turned to Kyle and winked. Without another word, she left.

  “I think she just figured out I’m the boyfriend you’ve been waiting for,” Del said. He took out his wallet and threw down some cash.

  “You don’t have to pay for my meal, you know,” Kyle said. “I have money.”

  “You can get breakfast tomorrow.” He grabbed Kyle’s hand. “Come on.”

  They walked out of the diner together and Kyle was conscious of several people turning to watch them. Two men holding hands in a truck stop was definitely a surprise. But happiness was radiating out of Kyle so much that it was hard for him to be self-conscious about anything. Del held his hand all the way back to the truck.