by Jill Cooper
Or my morning will be that much rougher. Hangovers and testimony don’t go hand in hand.
In the living room of our penthouse suite, the fire is roaring and even though it’s not cold outside, it’s perfect. I settle into Jeff’s arms after the wine is poured and he wraps his arms around me, nuzzling the side of my head with his nose. With a contented sigh, I relax and stroke his strong arms.
“I heard about the arrest over the wire. Must have been a rough one to get you so stressed out.”
My finger rubs the edge of the glass and it sings a harmonic twang. “I’ve done it a hundred times. There’s no problem. You just know how it goes. You’re a lawyer.”
“It’s more paperwork and crossing of I’s and T’s. I don’t get to look in the eye like you do. The system’s perfect, you know that Cass. There are never any mistakes.”
That much is true.
“So why are you so upset?”
“I can’t forget his eyes.” I pivot, tucking my legs beneath me so I can look at Jeff. “Just as sure as you are that you’ll never hurt me, that’s how he felt. It’s hard to break that fantasy. That none of us are perfect. We’re all capable of murder at any moment; under the right conditions…we’re all guilty of something.”
A morbid toast, but I sip my wine and it goes down like vinegar. I place my glass down by the fireplace when Jeff slings his arms around my neck. He draws me in for a slow, tender kiss. It reminds me of what’s good in the world.
What’s right for me?
What kind of world are we living in anyway? Where a husband can kill his wife over a piece of fish?
“I love you, Cass,” Jeffery whispers against my cheek.
“Show me,” I demand in a loving away. My eyes burning with desire for him. “Prove it to me.”
Jeffery picks me up in his arms and swings me around. He takes me through the hall, and my toe flicks the lights down low. In the privacy of our bedroom, where the scanners of Rewind can’t reach, I feel safe.
Intimate. Alone.
The desire to be alone, to really be alone, burns hot.
****
Morning brings hot black coffee and buttered toast with jam. Jeff and I circle each other as we get ready, sharing moments over the bathroom sink, playfully bumping in the kitchen as we sip our coffee, and getting in each other’s way in the bedroom as we get dressed.
In my blue skirt and black bra, I try to decide which blouse would be the best to wear. What says professional agent serving the people? It’s not every day I have to give testimony. Short as my time on the stand will be, it always makes me nervous.
Jeff’s tie is loose around his neck as he comes behind me. His hands caress my hips as he nuzzles my neck beneath my river of blond curls.
“You’re not helping,” I whisper and run my hand along his ear. He knows just how to send shivers down a girl’s spine.
“The light blue one if you’re going with the suit jacket. It screams police blue and true.”
I swat at him with a smirk, but I take his advice anyway. I grab my purse and put on a final coat of lip-gloss. “See you tonight. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck.” Jeff kisses the bridge of my nose so not to smudge my fresh makeup. “Even though you don’t need it.”
It’s something he says nearly every morning, even though some days I need luck more than others. Still, it makes me feel better, light, as I head out the door.
It’s a quick train ride to the Boston courthouse.
The line through security is long, but moves swiftly. I check messages on my phone and surf the web while I wait. People are moving through security and I take a few steps forward. The metal detector is fitted with a time travel scanner.
When it’s my turn, I hand over my badge to be scanned and put my belongings on the conveyor belt. “Morning.”
The security guard in the Rewind cap and vest studies the monitor before offering me a grin. “Good morning, Ms. Winters. You’re in the clear.”
“That’s good to know.” Inside, I’m all jitters. Even though I know I can’t be read, I’m never really sure, am I? I always wonder if today will be the day I set off the alarms. If I’ll be accused of something I can’t really deny because I haven’t done it yet.
It’s the same for everyone. We all walk through life in this semi-guilty haze. And the real horror is when we turn into Reynold Jackson.
The one who is guilty but has yet to commit his crime.
On the way to the courtroom, I bump into Xavier Daniels. He’s run Rewind for over seventy years and while older, is still resilient. Gray hair and droopy skin don’t seem to slow him down much. Thanks to the advances in time technology, people don’t age the way they used to.
Unless they’re broke. Poor. The unfortunate.
“Good morning.” I greet him as I travel past.
“Ms. Winters, it was nice talking to you last night. I’m looking forward to your testimony today.”
I nod my appreciation. Is that why he’s here? Does he always come to the courthouse to watch a sentencing?
As we filter into the same courtroom, I think the answer might be yes.
****
Reynold Jackson sits motionless through the short proceedings. His wife, Katie, sits on the other side of the courtroom. A plain, but lovely woman, she fiddles with a tissue in her hand as the monitors at the front light up.
There’s a green hue embedded around the image. Images from the future, thanks to the time travel tech that rules our world.
Their apartment is small and the kitchen, even smaller.
“I thought…it would be a nice change of pace.” Katie sets the frying pan back down on the counter and backs away from Reynolds.
Reynold slams his beer on the counter. I stiffen and suck in my breath. He pulls a blade from the butcher block and moves on approach. “What gives you the God damn right?”
When his arm lifts overhead for a deadening strike, my posture straightens. My hands grip the edges of my skirt. As a trained officer, I want nothing but to protect Katie. I guess in reality I have, but the images taunt me.
Katie screams as the blade slides into her flesh and the video is paused, but her scream continues. Her fist clenches the tissue to her mouth as her family tries to comfort and console her. Let’s face it, right now that isn’t possible.
Reynold pivots in his seat. “Katie, I would never. I don’t know what this is, but I wouldn’t-.”
“Silence!” The judge slams his gavel down and then motions for me to stand.
Nerves rumble in my stomach. It’s show time, but I never feel prepared.
I smooth my skirt and make my way toward the front. I promise, to tell the truth, turn to the microphone and look directly at Reynold. Our eyes lock and he doesn’t flinch. It unnerves me that he still refuses to admit the truth, even after watching the video has so much faith in himself to deny his crimes.
I’ve never seen such arrogance in the guilty.
The court appointed officer approaches me. “At what time did you receive your orders to apprehend the suspect?”
“Two forty-four. I was leaving Commonwealth Avenue. Retail therapy.” I give a sly smile to relax myself more than anything and polite laughter rolls through the press pool.
“And where did you apprehend the suspect?”
“Coming off the red line train. He had…flowers for his wife.” I don’t know why I add in the detail except it keeps flashing in my mind. In the back of the court, the sobbing from Katie grows.
“And your TTD link, did it identify the suspect as Reynold Jackson?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Can you point him out to satisfy the court?”
“He’s sitting behind the guilty table.” I raise my finger and point at him and Reynold stares me down, but now there are tears in his eyes. He knows what is about to happen.
I’m not dismissed. The judge speaks his sentence. “Reynold Jackson, by the power of the Global Community and Rewind Protection, I here
by sentence you to a swift and merciful death.”
Not a sound rolls through court. I suck on my bottom lip and study Reynold. His shoulders round and he hunches forward as if he’s been struck. The denial on his face gives away to fear, pain—the inevitable acceptance is sure to follow.
“We will leave it to the court scheduler to appoint a time for sentencing to be carried out. Before then you will have time to make your peace with family and friends, if they do allow it. Thank you for your service, Officer Winters. You’re free to go.”
I nod my thanks and step down as I walk past Reynolds he grabs my hand. I jerk backward, but his grip is strong. Officers are on him in an instant and jam him on both sides with their electric batons.
Reynold’s head rocks backward and his grip loosens. Where he is struck surges with a blue electrical charge. He collapses, his head on the table, but it was just a tap, and he will recover, at least until sentencing.
I hurry away as my nostrils burn with the smell of his flesh and open my palm; he’d slipped me a piece of paper.
Quickly I glance over my shoulder to make sure no one noticed. I unfold it and read the words Xavier is setting me up. Please, help me.
I stick the note in my pocket and don’t give it another thought. There’s no way Daniels or anyone else could manipulate the system. I hurry along with my day. I head into the lobby, but then when I remember I left my purse behind, I do an about face.
What was it my mother always told me? Something about losing my head if it wasn’t attached?
I head back toward my seat and see the soft blue purse resting on the floor. I bend down to pick it up and then I hear voices. It’s the judge and Daniels. I peer up over the chairs and see them huddled together in a powwow at the bench. Xavier whispers in the judge’s ear, who only looks serious as he nods, going along with whatever he is told.
And Xavier smirks.
A cold smirk that trembles my skin.
3:Present: Donovan
Lara Montgomery and I were supposed to leave it all behind. Run away, a fresh start. With the help of some powerful people, I was sure we’d be successful. I never thought they’d stop us from getting away. I hadn’t thought they suspected.
But as I sat in the Montgomery living room with colorful ‘welcome home’ balloons deflating all around me, my stomach sank.
They knew. They saw.
They stopped us. Dead in our tracks.
“Where is she?” I had seen Miranda angry before, but never like this. Her mouth bared her teeth as she slammed her fist into the agent’s chest. “You tell me where you have taken her or I swear to God I will call the press. I will call anyone who will listen to me! You bring me back, my daughter!”
Her voice shook with anger, concern, but never quivered with tears. She was in full-on mama bear mode and the homicidal look in her eye would be enough to scare even the toughest man.
The agent took her by the elbows and pushed her back gently. “I know you’re concerned for your daughter, but there are things you don’t know. Things you can’t understand, Mrs. Montgomery. But I promise you on my oath to protect this country; we’re not going to harm Lara. And she will be back.”
“Not good enough.” Miranda gritted her teeth and shook her arms free. “Don’t handle me like I’m a problem. I don’t trust anything you say. I tried for Lara, but this ends now.” She pulls her phone from her pocket.
The agent stands up straighter. “Go back on our arrangement and you void your plea deal. Put your phone away.”
Miranda glares at him. She’s about to launch another tirade, but John Crane steps up. Lara’s father isn’t as gaunt as he was in prison. He’s put together, clean-shaven, and calm as he puts his hand on Miranda’s shoulder.
She looks to him and her nose flares. “You think I care about that now, John? Our daughter?” It’s only now that her voice shakes with emotion.
“It’ll be harder on Lara if you go to prison. Jax.” John’s eyes flicker to Jax who is leaning against the wall. I’ve seen Jax go through some horrible stuff in the last year, but I’ve never seen his eyes look so empty. Void, even though he’s in the room, it’s as if he isn’t there.
He thinks this is entirely his fault. Maybe it is.
Maybe if he had come clean long ago. If he put my mom in prison ten years ago, none of this would’ve happened. Hard to say when time travel is involved.
Miranda finally nods. John reaches her in a way few others can. They’re close and as John rubs her shoulders; his nose is nearly touching her fine curls. They’re nearly spooning right in front of Miranda’s actual husband—at least still on paper.
Her voice is the calm before the storm. “Leave us alone. Get out of here and don’t come back. Not without our daughter.”
“First thing in the morning. She’ll be returned to you unharmed. You’ll see, the government isn’t the enemy.”
I snort as the door opens. I’ve heard that before and don’t believe a word of it. They wanted to control and hurt Lara, no matter what they said. I knew it. Everyone knew it, but there was nothing, not a damn thing, anyone could do about it.
The agent leaves us and the deafening silence hangs. It is only broken by the whispers between Miranda and John. Her head is leaned against his. “Our baby… I need our baby back.”
“I know.” John whispers and strokes her arms. “But she’ll be fine. And she’s going to need us to be strong. All of us.”
“She was held captive for two years. I know she changed it, but…she screams at night.” Miranda whispers. “Those memories will never leave her. She must be so scared, John.” Miranda crumbles against John. Her emotions finally getting the better of her.
And my own emotions? They’re building in my chest. I don’t know what they’re doing to Lara, where she is, or if they’ll ever let her go.
We got so close breaking free. To slipping away.
I slide down to the sofa and hang my head. I’m glad the twins are upstairs and don’t see us like this. If they knew the danger Lara was in. God, if they knew…I grip my head in my hands and I steel myself from the coming tears.
But I don’t want to cry. I’m the strong guy, right? Supposed to hold it together for Lara, whose been slipping. I don’t want to admit that the agent was right, not to myself or aloud. Lara didn’t want her parents to know.
And I promised I’d take care of her no matter how much time she had left. Fine job I’ve done of that.
I’m a heel and want to kick myself, but someone sits beside me and grips my knee. “You all right?” Jax asks.
Glancing up, I shrug. “Worried about Lara.”
Once Jax and I were close. He worked with my dad, but he knew all of my mother’s murderous secrets and did nothing. I know he was wedged into a hard spot and Lara loves him like a second father, but what he did—it’s unforgiveable.
Jax glances back at Miranda and John. I can’t imagine what he feels when he looks at them. At how seamless Miranda accepted him back in her life. “I’m worried too, but we know how resilient Lara is. We all know the stories.”
I nod, but can’t keep the truth from spilling out. “But it’s chipped away at her. She’s great at being strong, but at what price, Jax?”
Jax’s face falls. “You blame me, just like everyone else, huh?”
“Lara doesn’t blame you.” It’s not exactly an answer, but how can I feel anything else? Lara is my girl and she’s missing. She’s been hurting a long time. If I didn’t get angry, what kind of boyfriend would I be?
I rise and Miranda turns to me. “Are you going?”
“I’d like to wait here, if that’s alright with you. For Lara to get back.”
Miranda nods and relief softens her features. “God, yes. Please.” Miranda extends her hand and I squeeze it. “She’s going to need you, Don. I know I don’t have to tell you.”
“I just need to go make a phone call. I’ll be back.”
“Okay.” Her words are soft as she leans in and ki
sses my cheek. In the last year, as my own family was torn apart, in many ways Miranda has been like a mother to me, too.
Upstairs on the second level, I take out my phone, but I pause as I hear the sound of laughter and fun coming from Molly’s room. Depression spirals down on top of me as I slide into Lara’s room and sit on her bed.
Wish she were there. Wish she could tell me what it is I’m supposed to do.
Instead, I dial a secret, memorized number. It only takes a few rings for Senator O’Reily to answer. “Are you ready?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and my heart is bombarded with pain. “They took her, Marcus. She’s gone.”
Marcus lets out a long, drawn out sigh.
“What do we do? What do I do?” How do I get her back?
“I don’t think there’s anything we can do other than wait. I can bring the matter up tomorrow on the floor. Launch a hearing into how she is being treated.”
I’m so angry I can’t sit still. I grandstand even though no one is in the room to see it. “There’s no time for a hearing.”
“It’s the only thing I can do. I’m a politician. Did they say how long they’re holding her?”
As if, their word can be trusted. “Until tonight.”
“It changes the timetable, but it doesn’t mean we abandon the plan altogether, Don. You and Lara will still get your second chance. It’s the only answer for you or the country. Of everything, I am sure of that.”
“And if they’re lying? If they never let her go?”
Marcus doesn’t have an answer and I don’t want to wait around for him to make up some patronizing tale to calm me down. With a grunt, I end the call and lean up against the wall. I’m in Lara’s room. The pink and brown décor with sparkling pictures hanging up are a constant reminder of her absence.
“Damn it, Lara.” My brow creases. “Where are you?”
