by Shyla Colt
Unsure what to say, I continue to stare at her. She’s a light in the darkness ... literally. Is that what you’re trying to tell me, Rol? To hold on to your Quinny?
“Ollie?” Concern is evident in her voice.
“I ...” I glance over my shoulder. “You’re going to think I’ve gone around the bend, but I swear Rolly was just here.”
“I don’t. What happened?”
“I smelled his bubble bath. That awful sickeningly sweet bubble gum scent. You remember?”
She comes to stand beside me. “Oh yes, I remember.”
“Then I got warm, and I looked up and saw a shooting star. I swear, I felt him grab my hand.”
“Of course he’s around. You’re his daddy, and we have a big day coming up.”
“You’re Catholic, right?”
“I am. If you’re asking me if I’m a good one, I’d say not as much as I should be, but I’m growing.”
“What does your religion say about ghosts? Aren’t they not supposed to exist?”
“Well, we believe our loved ones become saints, and they help guide us. There’s nothing to say they can’t manifest themselves in a more physical manner. I believe they do.” She grabs my hand and squeezes.
“I’ve never really been sure what I think about God. I mean, heaven is a nice thought. But there’s no real proof, and things get a little worse every year.”
“Well, Earth isn’t God’s, it’s the devil’s. The big man’s just trying to give us a chance to be saved.”
My head whips around. “What?”
“This is why we’re asked to be in the world, not of it. All of the greed, vanity, lust, and a million other things our culture has come to hold up as important are the antithesis of what’s in the Bible, which make sense because the world is Satan’s.”
“How did I not know that?”
“Well, there’s not much talk about religion openly these days,” she says quietly.
“Do you believe that?”
“Yes. The things we’re capable of doing to one another is literally inhuman. At first, they say we didn’t know any better. Neanderthals with limited understanding of the world and weak communication skills lead to savagery. But the more we learned, the more damage we did to Earth and one another. That’s not of God. At least not the one I imagine exists.”
“You think he’s up there on a cloud marking everything we do in a book?”
She frowns. “Not in my head. I can’t speak to the details from experience, but I always imagine heaven would be different for each person. That all their favorite things and people are there.”
“That sounds amazing.”
“I think so, too. What do you think?”
“I know there’s something more now. I’m open to exploring different interpretations of that.” I have to believe there’s more now. Otherwise, I’ll never get to see Rolly again, and I can’t handle that.
“Yeah?”
I nod. “I lost my faith when I discovered my dad was cheating on my mother and everyone in the town knew it. We were sitting there every Sunday with the same people talking about her behind her back. It turned my stomach. I wondered why God would allow it. My father flourished, he went on and had another family, and my poor mother was the one shamed.”
“That’s the thing about Christianity. There are plenty of people who talk the talk without walking the walk, and it makes us all look bad. I’m not the most devoted, but I try to follow my own code. Since the robbery, I’ve made it to mass a lot more frequently.”
“I didn’t know that,” I say. Six months later, and I’m still learning new things about her.
“Meh. I wasn’t hiding it, but I wasn’t advertising it either. It never really occurred to me to mention it.”
“I don’t know how to live my life without Rolly in it. Who am I?” I place my heads in my hands as the heaviness settles over me like gravity hell bent on forcing me into the earth, where his tiny body rests.
“I wish I could answer that for you, but I can’t. I promise you, I’ll be there while you figure it out.” Her voice shakes.
“Why?” Can’t she see I’m a failure at the most basic level. I couldn’t protect her. I couldn’t even protect my own child. The guilt eats at me like crows relentlessly pecking at a meal.
“Because I love you.” Her voice is sure and unwavering. It burns me with its purity.
“We both know I’m a wreck right now.”
“Yes, but you’re my wreck. Do you not want that?”
“You’re the only thing keeping the tattered pieces of my soul together. Do you think we’re going to win this?”
“I think we have to.” Her voice shakes.
Or all of this will have been for nothing. She doesn’t have to say the words for me to understand them.
“What happens if we don’t?”
She shakes her head. “Then maybe you’ll get to watch me go over the deep end, because at this point I’m hanging by threads. Between the long days in the cabin, lack of contact with the outside world, and constant fear, I’m looking down over the edge.”
I unlink our fingers, wrap my arm around her waist, and pull her to my side. I have no words of comfort. We both know how bad things can go. Empty words would be a slight to her intelligence. I return my gaze to the sky with a new perspective. Are you up there somewhere, Rolly? With my Nana and Papa? The thought pleases me. I’ll never survive if I think everything that made Roland Rolly is gone. It would make life purposeless. I glance down at Quinn. “Do you think you could talk to me more about being Catholic?”
Feeling nothing landed me alone in a drunken stupor in a hotel room. It’s time to go in a different direction.
“Of course I can.”
Her words ease some unknown tension inside of me. It’s the first positive step I’ve taken for myself since she all but pulled me from my room kicking and screaming. It’s amazing what we’d do for others and not ourselves. If she hadn’t hinged her need to be protected on my participation, I would still be there. There are days when I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. But I’m still here.
THE DAY WE’VE ALL WAITED on is here, and my stomach is knotted. I’m dressed in a three-piece charcoal suit that hangs off my frame. I hadn’t realized how much weight I was losing. I study the slender face in the mirror and adjust my hair. I’d wear makeup and a wig if I thought it would increase the odds of the jury believing me.
The rustle of fabric draws my attention to the reflection behind me. Quinn is dressed in a turquoise dress with a three-tiered pearl necklace that drapes down and has matching earrings. Her hair has been tamed, pulled back, and fluffed and curled to perfection. She turns to look at me.
“Are you ready?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for this.” I quickly tie my tie and straighten it.
“I hear you. More than anything I want it over with.”
“The protection was temporary. Have you thought of what’s going to happen afterward?” I ask.
“A lot. I can’t go back to the old apartment. What that means I don’t know.”
“Why not? Did something happen?”
“No, but I’ll never feel safe there.” She winces.
“It’s okay to speak openly. I feel the same way—”
“Yeah, times a million. I didn’t mean to be so insensitive.”
I hold out my hand. “You were being real. Where are they going to keep us during the trial?” I ask.
“Some hotel nearby I’d imagine. There’s no way we can make this three-hour drive every day. I know that much.” I keep my voice low. They don’t like it when we speculate. She rests her hand on my shoulder and steps into heels that put her at my height.
“That’s true. I don’t bother asking anymore because they never tell me, and if I guess too close, they get edgy.” I roll my eyes.
“A few more days and we’ll be done.” She kisses my cheek and walks over to the bed where our suitcases sit. We pack i
n silence, and I take her bag as we walk out of the room for the last time.
“You clean up nice,” Carter says.
“Thank you.”
He scowls, and I smirk. Quinn cups my face. “He’s so pretty it hurts.”
“You two ready for this?” Johnson asks, bringing things to a more serious note.
We exchange a look.
“We’re ready, “I say.
We follow them out of the cabin and into the black sedan with heavily tinted windows. Everything boils down to this. The thought of putting justice in the hands of others doesn’t sit well with me. I tense and peer out the window as we pull away and onto the road. Going to a quiet place in my mind, I sink back in my seat. Soon this will all come to a close.
Chapter Thirteen
Quinn
I want to say I walked into the courtroom like a boss. I want to, but I’m not prone to lies. Instead, I held my head high, focused on taking one step after another, and faked it. The aisles were full of people. Some I recognized and wished I didn’t, and others I speculated. As I lifted my right hand to swear in, the narrowed gaze of the men I swore were a part of the gang rattled me. I knew all too well what they were capable of. Clutching the edge of my skirt, I answered the questions thrown my way. It was like being in a mudslinging fight as the defense lawyer tried to get me to admit I wasn’t sure his client was the right man.
“Do you mean to tell me despite your duress, the dark hooded clothing, and the poor lighting, you can say with one hundred percent certainty, my client is the man who committed these heinous crimes against Oliver Hemnway?”
“With all due respect, sir, there are some faces you don’t forget,” I reply quietly.
“I have no further questions, your honor.” Mr. Dominguez spins on the heels of his shiny shoes and returns to his table.
“You may leave the stand, Ms. Fleming,” the judge says.
I nod my head and stand on shaking feet. He’s there. The man who nearly took Ollie’s life, and planned to do God knows what. He’s watching me with those fathomless black eyes, and smirking like he knows something I don’t. My stomach sours.
I force my hand to remain open at my sides as I retrace my steps across the floor. My vision blurs, and I struggle to contain the tears. I won’t let them see how close they’ve come to breaking me. Was this enough? Did I sound convincing? My gaze latches onto the door where I know Carter, Johnson, and Ollie wait.
The creak of a seat turns my head to the right. I focus a split second before I’m knocked to the floor by a body. My head bounces off the floor, and I fight the darkness as I tuck my feet close to my chest and push. The weight flies off me, and I scramble back in a crab walk. Allie. She lunges at me again. Stumbling to my feet, I throw a right hook followed by a jab that sends her flailing back into the arms of a uniformed man. I’m surrounded by a small army of officers and quickly escorted out.
“What the hell happened?” Carter barks.
“Some woman attacked her out of the blue.”
“We need to lock both of them down.”
“It was Allie.”
“Shit. It was my son’s mother. It’s not gang related,” Ollie says as he cups my face and tilts it back. “Are you okay, sassy?”
“I have a massive headache.”
“They’re going to clear the courtroom, you cannot be here when that happens,” Carter states.
“I think she’s got a concussion,” Ollie says, turning my head as he stares into my eyes.
“And you’re a medical expert?” Carter retorts.
“No, but I’m an ex-skateboarder. So I know the signs better than most,” he snarks.
“We’ll get her checked out after we reach the hotel,” Johnson says.
Wincing, I press my fingers to my pounding temples. Jostled and guided by officers, my stomach spins. We step outside, and I inhale deep, willing my stomach to settle. I will not hurl. I will not hurl. I will not hurl. We’re shuffled inside the town car. The first ting almost goes unnoticed. Two more follow, and I throw myself onto the ground as shots are returned. Ollie throws himself over me, and I curl into a ball.
“What’s happening?”
“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure Carter and Johnson are shooting back.” The doors open, and they fling themselves inside.
“Punch it, Johnson.”
Relief fills me as we speed away from the courthouse. Our testimony is complete. Whatever happens now is out of our hands.
“Are you okay?”
His words make me realize I’m crying. My body shakes as I release all the pent-up pressure.
“What happened?” Ollie asks as he pulls me into his lap and keeps us planted on the floor.
“We took some fire. From one of Santiago’s flunkies, I’m sure. I ended up hitting one in the shoulder, and he ran off. It’s total chaos right now. People are flooding out of the courtroom. Cops are coming in. We need to get you guys to a secure location,” Carter explains, peering at us over the seats. “Is everyone okay?”
“I’m okay,” I croak.
“Me too,” Ollie adds.
“Make sure we’re not being followed,” Carter demands.
“I’m on it,” Johnson says.
I close my eyes, grateful for the familiarity of these three men.
“Hey. You can’t sleep.”
I force my eyes open. “Huh?”
“You can’t sleep. You might have a concussion. I’m sorry Allie did that. She’s completely misplaced her anger.”
“She’s never going to see it that way. She needs someone to blame, and I’m a convenient scapegoat. I don’t think she’s going to come at me again, though.”
“What happened in there?”
“I was leaving the courtroom, and she launched herself like a damn missile. I had no clue who it was. Once I was on my back, it was kill or be killed. I got my legs up under me, kicked her off, and then when she lunged at me again, I socked her in her eye.”
“Jesus.”
“I sympathize, but I’m no one’s punching bag.”
“No, you did the right thing, sassy. I’m just sorry that it happened.”
“Me too. I’m hoping like hell it’s not going to taint the trial. I need this to be over. I want to move on with my life, and I can’t while we’re wrapped up in this insanity.”
He nods his head. “I know. It’s all I can do to keep it together while his lawyer tries to play on the client’s conscious with the no father, working mother with little money, and fell in with a bad crowd story. How anyone can look at that man and not see pure evil is beyond me.”
“His eyes scare me. There’s no humanity left in them. He’s a wild animal ready to lash out, hunt, and kill. He stared me down the entire time I spoke.”
“Did you look back?”
“No, I was afraid I’d freeze up,” I admit sheepishly.
“He terrified me. There’s no shame in being afraid of a dangerous man. That’s survival instinct kicking in.”
“We’re not going back to the hotel. We’re concerned it might be compromised,” Carter says.
“Great,” I mumble.
“I’m guessing you’re not going to tell us where,” Ollie says dryly.
“You’re starting to learn,” Carter shoots back.
“I think that’s the nicest you two have been to one another,” I mutter.
Ollie snickers. “’Cause we both know our time together is coming to an end soon. Thank God. Are you feeling well enough to get into a seat?”
“I think so,” I answer as he pulls back and we untangle our limbs.
THE NEW ROOM WE’RE settled in is worse than the last one. Small, off-white, and mid-grade in quality, the first thing I do is ditch the comforter I know hasn’t been washed in months. My mouth waters. No. I place a hand on my stomach.
“Still feeling sick?” he asks.
“Yes, and the stale smell of the room isn’t helping me.”
“You know we can’t open the windo
w.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“How’s your head feeling?”
“Throbbing, but not as bad.” Sinking down on the bed, I stare at the bathroom.
“Let me get you a cool washcloth.” He stalks off, and I lay down on my back and try to decompress.
Carter and Johnson are in the connecting rooms making phone calls and checking in. They’ll run to the store for food and clothing, and then one of them will be bunking with us in the double bed on the other side of the room. Suddenly I’m longing for the cabin.
“Come on, sit up, and I’ll turn on the television, so you can have a distraction that’ll help you stay awake.” He presses the cold compress to my forehead and the throbbing eases. I lean my head against him and stare at the screen without focusing. The connecting door opens.
“We’re coming in, guys. They got the scene settled, collected evidence, and rescheduled the court date for tomorrow,” Johnson explains.
“Did they catch anyone?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Not yet. Carter went on a clothing and food run, and we have a doc coming out to check on you, okay?”
“All right.” By now, they know what we eat and what we don’t.
“So, what happens next?” Ollie asks.
“We wait to see how the trial goes and buckle down. It could’ve been his people taking a pot shot because of the opportunity or it could’ve been more personal.”
Meaning they’re still trying to kill us.
“Our testimony’s been given. They can’t undo that,” I say, confused.
“Yes, but if the jury is hung or a mistrial happens, you’ll be needed again.”
The thought of more time living like this makes my head throb and my stomach gurgle.
“Excuse me.” I quickly stand, and jog to the bathroom where I close the door, hit my knees, and empty my stomach. My life is spiraling once more, and the rapid descent has me out of sorts. Today was meant to be the final step in ending the chaos. Instead, it’s more of the same. After wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I flush and move to the sink. I rinse out my mouth, splash water on my face, and pray the towels are at least semi clean as I dry off. A light rapping comes on the door.
