Road to Justice

by Glenn Trust

  85.

  Road to Justice

  They drove for twenty-four hours, stopping only for gas, convenience store snacks, and restroom breaks. Sole paid for everything with the stash of cash he carried from the sale of his home in Georgia. In one small town, he found an old-style five and dime store on the courthouse square and bought everyone underwear, a change of clothes, toothbrushes and other necessities.

  Since the discussion of the danger he had placed them in, Sole had focused on driving, ashamed, and aware they felt betrayed by the man they had trusted. Once or twice, he caught Jacinta looking at him in the rearview mirror. He thought he saw her smile, but couldn’t be sure.

  Sandy’s face bore no expression. When his eyes met Sole’s, they pierced, assessing, questioning, analyzing. He spoke little and watched everything Sole did.

  Isabella’s silence during the journey was deafening. Mostly, she looked out the window at the passing countryside. When she spoke, it was in answer to a question about food, or restroom breaks. Otherwise, she remained silent, lost in her thoughts and regrets.

  By the time they pulled into Rochester, Minnesota, nerves were frayed. Fatigue had set in hours earlier. Sole found a budget motel and paid for two rooms.

  He came out with the keys. “Two rooms,” He said as he climbed into the truck. “One for all of you and one for me. Unless …” He looked hopefully at Isabella. “Unless you want to share one with me and give the young people some privacy. I made sure it has two beds.”

  Isabella stared at him. For a moment, he thought she might tell him to go to hell. She nodded.

  “Alright. Separate beds. The kids should have their privacy.”

  Sole pulled the truck along the row of rooms and handed a key to Sandy. “We leave early in the morning.”

  Sandy took the key. “You going to tell us where we are going?”

  “Tomorrow,” Sole said. “When we are on the road. When I am sure no one is following, and there are no ears around, listening to hear what the strangers in the parking lot are talking about.”

  “Tomorrow,” Sandy said firmly. “No matter who is following or what ears are around.”

  He helped Jacinta from the truck, and they went into their room. Isabella sat in the passenger seat, facing away from Sole and did not move.

  “I know you’re angry,” Sole said.

  “No. Don’t do that.” She shook her head. “You don’t understand anything about how I feel right now, John.”

  His heart jumped in his chest, hearing her say his name. “You’re right. I don’t, but you can’t sit out here alone in the dark.” He stretched out his arm and offered her the key to their room. “Here, take it. If you want, I’ll stay out here in the truck, and you can have the room.”

  She pushed the pickup door open and stepped out, carrying the plastic sack with the few items they had purchased. “Open the damned door and get inside,” she ordered.

  He nodded, and they entered the room. Once inside, he looked at the beds and said, “I’ll take the one near the door. You take the other.”

  “You never stop, do you? On alert every minute. Doing things, saying things that telegraph the danger we are in.” Isabella shook her head, incredulous. “You’ll take the bed near the door, protecting me.” A smirk flitted across her face. “Like that will make a difference.”

  “It might. Besides, I can’t help it. I got you into this, and the danger is real.”

  “Fine, you take the bed nearest the door.”

  She went into the bathroom without saying anything else. In a minute, he heard her washing and brushing her teeth. He sat on the bed nearest the door, contemplating the mess he had made of things. When she came out of the bathroom, he looked up.

  She was dressed in the sweats he had bought her at the five and dime. Pulling the covers back on her bed, she climbed in, propped the pillows up, and laid back. She turned her head toward him.

  “You say I’m angry.” She shook her head. “Maybe a little … a lot at first, but I’ve had a day, and God knows how many miles to cool down and go over things in my head.”

  “Okay,” he said softly, not sure where this was going.

  “What happened with Krieg is not your fault,” she said sighing. “Sandy would have met Jacinta, and Krieg would have been unstoppable. They would be dead, or we would be on the run anyway. You stopped that from happening, saved their lives.” She nodded, looking into his eyes. “For that, I will always be truly grateful. I don’t have the words to say how grateful.”

  “You don’t need to …”

  “I’m not finished,” she interrupted, sharply, not willing to be thrown off course, now that they were talking on her terms. “It would be a lie for me to say that I don’t have feelings for you. I do, John, and you know it. But too much has happened.”

  He listened without responding. Every word was true, and there was nothing to say.

  She shook her head. “This mission of yours, it will be the death of you. Forget that we are on the run and will probably be that way, always looking over our shoulder, for the rest of our lives. Yes, I am upset about that … furious about it to be truthful.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “But I am also terrified that one day I will get a message or see it in the news that you have been killed … dead in some unspeakable way. I couldn’t bear that, John.” She took a deep breath and continued, “So, when we get wherever you are taking us, what there is between us will end.” She shook her head. “It has to.”

  She turned over and pulled the covers tight around her. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

  Sole lay on his back on the bed. His dreams of simple domestic happiness with Isabella were now dead.

  He would continue on the path he had chosen. He had no other choice. It was the only way to protect those he loved.

  ***

  They spent the second night in Cincinnati, after winding all day through back roads, ever alert to the possibility that someone was following. Sole was determined not to repeat his carelessness.

  On the third day, they arrived in Gainesville, Georgia. Sole drove to the address Billy Siever had provided. When they pulled into the driveway of the small frame house, Siever came out of the front door, smiling.

  “Right on time,” he said and descended the porch steps as Sole and the others climbed out of the pickup. He looked at the plastic bags with their few purchases. “You travel light.”

  “Matter of necessity,” Sole said and stepped forward to shake his friend’s hand. “It’s good to see you, Billy.”

  “And you, John.” Siever looked at the others. “Introductions are in order, I’d say.”

  Sole introduced the group, providing first names only to Billy. When everyone had smiled and shaken hands, he suggested they go inside and get off the street.

  Billy walked them through the small house. It was a rental property he owned, a small but lucrative side business of his. He showed them their rooms and made sure they were comfortable. There were two bathrooms, and the women immediately closed their doors and began showering off the travel grime. Sandy crashed on the bed in the room he would share with Jacinta.

  Sole and Billy retired to the kitchen to talk things through.

  “Here.” Sole pulled a roll of bills from his pocket and handed them to Billy. “Should be enough for several month’s rent, food supplies, and such. I’ll send more when that runs out.”

  Billy did not reach for the money. “You have quite a way of insulting your friends, Johnny Sole.”

  Sole looked around and shook his head. “No last names, Billy … ever. We can’t allow anyone to discover who they are or that I was here.” His eyes narrowed. “This is critical. No one.”

  “Alright.” Billy nodded. “But I’m not taking your money. Give it to them if you feel the need, but not me.”

  “Fair enough.” Sole laid the money on the table and continued. “There’s something else I have to ask you to do.” He reached in his pocket and put a slip of
notepaper on the table between them.

  Billy looked at it. The paper bore the logo of a motel in a place he had never heard of—Rochester, Minnesota. On it, Sole had printed out in block letters a name and telephone number.

  “Luis Acero?” Billy looked up. “Someone I should know?”

  “Someone from the past … my past … a snitch and drug dealer, but he owes me. I want you to contact him and find out about getting new IDs for them. He knows the street and can point you in the right direction.”

  “Hell, John. I’m a lawyer. I can get new names for them, no problem and without calling some shady underworld character.”

  “No.” Sole shook his head. “New identities … no court records of name changes … untraceable. They’ll need everything, Social Security numbers, driver’s licenses, a Green Card for Jacinta.”

  “False identities? Forgery?” Billy took a breath. “Remember I am a lawyer, John. I could be disbarred, or my ass could end up in prison, or both.”

  “I know. I’m asking a lot, and I’m sorry. I understand if you say you can’t, but the only other way is for me to contact him, and that would be dangerous for them. I have to go in the other direction to make sure the people who are looking for me don’t find them.”

  Sole waited while Billy thought it over.

  “How do you know he will do anything for you?” Billy asked after a few seconds. “What does he owe you?”

  “His life. I killed the man who was going to kill him.”

  “John, for the record, I did not hear what you just said. From this point on, consider me your lawyer.” He looked at the roll of bills on the table and peeled off a twenty. “You’ve paid me, and now we have attorney-client privilege, but do not repeat what you just said to anyone under any circumstances.”

  A look of amusement crossed Sole’s face. He had killed in cold blood, more than once in the last year, but now he had an attorney, along with the privilege of confidential communications. He almost laughed.

  “I’m not kidding, John,” Billy snapped at him, and then said more softly. “I’ll do what you ask. They’ll have new identities. I’ll help them find work. I owe you that. You took all of the heat for that stolen car when we were kids. You’re in the position you’re in because you were a cop, and you were a cop because you were a Marine, and you were a Marine because the judge said join up or go to prison.” He shrugged and smiled. “You see. It all goes back to two punks taking a joyride in that asshole preacher’s car. I got off, you didn’t.” He looked Sole in the eyes and nodded. “I haven’t forgotten, John. I owe you.”

  “You don’t owe me, Billy. If you do this, do it because you’re my friend.”

  “I am your friend, John.” Billy smiled. “Always have been.”

  ***

  When Isabella came from the bedroom, showered and clean, she found Billy Siever still sitting at the kitchen table. He looked up from the notes he was scribbling on a pad of paper and smiled.

  “Feel better?”

  “Much,” Isabella said, looking around the kitchen and into the living room. “Where’s John?”

  “Gone.”

  “But …” Her eyes widened in surprise.

  “To protect you.”

  She shook her head. “No. He was … I wanted to tell him …”

  “He said it was better this way. He told me what happened, some of it at least.” Billy leaned forward, elbows on the table hands folded, speaking softly. “John’s a good man. He never meant to hurt you … doesn’t want to hurt you again. That’s why he left without saying goodbye. He said it was easier for everyone that way.” Billy smiled. “I think he meant it was easier for him. He has feelings for you.”

  She listened and blinked back a tear without speaking.

  “Sit down, Isabella,” Billy said. “There are some things he wanted me to go over with you.”

  By the time John Sole had driven an hour, Isabella, Sandy, and Jacinta were sitting in silence at the kitchen table trying to digest everything his friend Billy Siever had told them and what the future held for them.

  Life would go on, but they could not go back to Creosote. As long as they used the new identities he would provide and kept a low profile, they could live ordinary lives, go to school, get jobs, have a career, do whatever they wanted, and they should be safe. John would check in from time to time, calling Billy so as not to worry them or draw attention to them. They would not know where he was, and there would be no link from him to them.

  For the next week or so they would stay around the house. Once he had their new identities and papers, they could go out and begin to live normally again.

  Isabella had laughed and said, “Normally. What’s that?”

  “That’s for you to decide, Isabella.” Billy looked into her eyes. “That’s John’s gift to you, the only one he can give.”

  Billy left them with the cash, telling them John wanted them to have it and would send more but not directly to them. It would always come through Siever. There would never be any contact with him again.

  When they were alone, Isabella cried. Jacinta did too. Sandy put his arms around both and held them close.

  ***

  John Sole was on the road. He drove without a destination at first, putting as many miles as possible between him and the small rental house in Gainesville.

  A little over four hours after leaving Gainesville, he passed through Nashville and picked up I-40 west. He drove into the night.

  In Memphis, he turned north on I-55 toward St. Louis. From there he exited the interstate highways and took back roads through Missouri, traveling ever west and away from Gainesville.

  He found a farm road outside Otterville, Missouri and pulled off the asphalt to sleep. He woke when the sun popped up over the fields sending its rays through the windshield. He blinked in the morning light, sat up, and started the truck. He was on the road again.

  The miles behind lengthened. The miles ahead stretched even farther. For the moment, he had no idea where they would lead.

  In the afternoon, a storm brewed ahead, flashing streaks of lightning that seemed to touch the road. He stared at it through the windshield, driving directly toward it. Drops of rain spattered the glass. He turned on the wipers and pressed forward into the storm.

  The words Isabella had spoken as they fled Creosote rang in his ears. She was disbelieving at first, then angry, then frustrated, then afraid. She had a right to be all those things and more.

  Her eyes had flashed at him. “You’re on a road you think will lead to justice, but there won’t be any justice, just more killing.”

  He knew she was right.

  End of Book 2

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  From the Author

  This is the blah, blah, blah section. You know the author’s “glory page” where he gets to tell you grandiose things about himself and the deeper meaning of his work. Whatever.

  It’s also where you get to see the confident poised picture of the author, maybe smoking a pipe, or leaning back with an “I told you so,” disaffected, or slightly superior look on his face. I don’t have any of those pictures so I thought you might like to see a picture of Gunner the Dog. He’s better looking than me anyway.

  Here he is doing one of his favorite things on one of our camping trips. If you really want to know more about me (God knows why) keep reading.

  I write books. Seriously, that's what I get to do every day. It's great, and I have you to thank for it.

  I have been fortunate to author some that have achieved bestseller status, including The Hunters Series of mystery suspense thrillers. It took me a lot of years to get to that point, but I wouldn't trade any of them for a minute. I love writing books for you and the journey that brought me here.

  I am a native of the south, Georgia specifically. I spent much of my life there, but I have lived in many other places as well. We moved a lot when I was young. Eventually, we ended up back in Georgia in my teens where I finished school and went to work.