by Melissa Hill
As she listened to an ex-prison guard give an account of how the cell block operated, she just couldn’t imagine being locked up in such a cold, windowless and impossibly tiny space, little bigger than a shoebox.
And it must have been doubly difficult here, Leonie realised, because the breeze carried sounds from the city across the water; people going about their daily business, laughing, working and enjoying themselves – a cruel reminder of the freedom the prisoners themselves had forfeited.
She shuddered, listening to the guard give a detailed account of a highly regimented prison life at Alacatraz – how inmates were only allowed to talk during meals and recreation, how receiving and sending letters had to be approved by the warden, and visitation rights had to be earned etc.
She wandered slowly from place to place – the visitor’s area, recreation ground, library and solitary confinement cells, each place just as eerily creepy as the last.
Alex was right, this place would give you the willies and Leonie wished she hadn’t been so offhand about coming here on her own and doubly glad she hadn’t opted for the night-time tour! How spooky would that be?
By the time she reached the dining area – a large sunlit room surrounded by high barred windows, the voice in the headphones had changed to that of an ex-Alcatraz inmate recounting his time here.
As she listened to the man’s deceptively ordinary and rather harmless-sounding voice, Leonie tried to remind herself that this guy had likely committed a terrible crime to have ended up in here in the first place. Still, it was incredibly difficult not to feel sorry for him all the same. Who knew what circumstances led people to this cold, miserable hunk of rock surrounded by water? She smiled, thinking that if Adam were here, he would no doubt be amused by this sort of thinking, and while she was no liberal, she did wonder if…
Leonie stopped short as something the prisoner had said suddenly caught her attention.
‘It’s like time stands still here, yet life goes on all around…’
She stood rooted to the spot, almost afraid to move, as in her brain the gears slowly began to click into place.
Time stands still here. She’d heard that very same expression somewhere before hadn’t she? Sometime very recently. But where?
Leonie looked out the window, where a single seagull drifted along in the wind, the perfect metaphor for the freedom such a place denied.
This place…
Suddenly it hit her. Yes, the expression was familiar but she hadn’t heard it, she’d read it, or at least a slightly different version of it.
In this place, sometimes it’s like time almost seems to stand still.
And with a burst of comprehension that made her dizzy, suddenly Leonie knew exactly where to look for Nathan.
‘You’re not seriously suggesting…’ Alex didn’t know what to say.
On her return from Alcatraz, Leonie had practically launched herself off the ferry and back on to dry land, eager to return to Green Street and read through every one of Nathan’s letters again, this time with a completely fresh eye and taking into account her suspicions.
And having done that, she was more convinced than ever that she was right.
‘Don’t you see? It all makes so much sense now,’ she tried to persuade Alex when her friend returned home from work that evening. ‘All those references to ‘this crazy place’ and ‘feeling scared and lonely’…I assumed he must have been talking about the break up from Helena, but that wasn’t it at all! And we always thought that it seemed odd that he never once talked about coming to see her, or tried to arrange a meeting with her. Because he couldn’t!’
Alex studied the letters all laid out on Leonie’s coffee table. ‘I don’t know, it’s still a hell of a reach…’
‘No it isn’t.’ Leonie swung her legs beneath her on the sofa. ‘It’s exactly what we thought before. He kept writing to her at this address because he had no way of knowing that she’d died. Oh, Alex I don’t know why we didn’t figure this out before!’ She was beside herself with excitement.
But everything fitted. The heartfelt, reminiscent approach, the apologetic tone. And as for the plea for forgiveness…well it made complete sense now, didn’t it?
‘It would certainly explain the federal-type postmark.’ Alex admitted grudgingly, as she tried to weigh up what Leonie was suggesting. ‘Not that I know much about these things, but I’d have thought it would be clearer on the envelope where they were coming from.’
‘Not necessarily. I’m sure there must be some privacy issues with things like that, mustn’t there?’
‘Maybe, but assuming for a second that this is what you think it is, then how does it change anything?’
‘It changes everything Alex!’ Leonie couldn’t believe she even had to ask. ‘For one thing, it’s more important than ever that we find him now. Think about it, the poor guy languishing in a place like that – ‘
‘Um Leonie, I wouldn’t be so quick to sympathise. Who knows what we’re dealing with here? These guys are experts at manipulating people and now that I think about it, this may be exactly what’s going on with these letters.’
‘Oh come on,’ Leonie couldn’t believe her attitude.
‘I’m serious! Admit it; you were taken in by this guy from the off.’ She shook her head incredulously. ‘Talk about ‘you had me at hello’!’
Well she might have a point there Leonie conceded; from day one Nathan’s words had made a huge impression on her, and she supposed she should try and look at things a bit more cynically, but if anything, what she’d recently discovered made her more determined than ever to let him know why his letters remained unanswered.
‘Look none of us know why he’s there, so there’s no point in speculating,’ she said. ‘But at least now that we know where he is, we can send the letters back and maybe include one of our own telling him the news about Helena.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Of course. Isn’t that what we’ve been trying to do all along?’
‘I don’t know,’ Alex looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m really not sure we should get involved in this kind of thing.’
‘But we’re already involved, how can we just turn our backs on it now? Not when we finally know where to find him –’
‘I wouldn’t hold my breath about that; we’ve got not nothing but a first name… in reality Leonie we’ve still got very little at all.’
‘Yes, but there must be records we could check, or people who could help point us in the right direction …’
Alex looked to be in two minds. ‘Well, there is this guy from work – he works with the crime reporters,’ she murmured. ‘I suppose I could ask him to check the fed databases tomorrow.’
‘Could you?’ Leonie could barely contain her delight. ‘That’s fantastic!’
‘Don’t get too excited; like I said we don’t even a have a surname. But from the postmark, I guess we can assume the facility is in California so that narrows it down somewhat…’ She trailed off, deep in thought, and Leonie could tell she’d now slipped into investigative mode. While Alex had been content to give up the search after discovering Helena had likely passed away, this new information had renewed her interest in the letters and the mystery surrounding them.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ she asked.
‘I guess you could go through these again with a fine tooth comb, and with this in mind, see if you can figure out anything else that might point us in the right direction. But Leonie,’ she added, a distinct warning in her tone, ‘we’ve got to be very careful here. If we do find this guy, we can’t just go rushing in there without knowing exactly who we’re dealing with.’
‘I know.’ Leonie was duly chastened.
‘Nathan might be looking for forgiveness, but like I’ve said all along, who says he deserves it? And if he is where we think he is, then a judge has already decided that maybe he doesn’t.’
Chapter 29
Dear Helena,
You don�
�t know how much I’ve enjoyed writing these letters and thinking back over our time together in the process. Although I think I can safely assume you haven’t especially enjoyed receiving them.
In which case you’ll be happy to learn that this will be my last letter to you. Things have gotten so bad lately I’m not sure how long I have left, so I thought it best to finish this thing on my own terms while I still can.
In any case, I think it’s time I let you go once and for all. In this crazy place, sometimes I wonder if I’ve wasted my life, if I’ve ever done anything good. Most of the time, I just feel so alone and scared of what tomorrow will bring.
So my love, I guess this is it. Through my own stupid fault, I never got a chance to tell you face-to-face that you mean more to me than anyone I’ve ever met. And while they say a man shouldn’t waste time and energy on regrets, this man knows for sure he messed-up when he didn’t grab the chance with both hands to be with you forever.
I’m sorry for chickening out, and for making the wrong decision.
But sorry doesn’t do justice to how I feel about not being able to see your smile one last time.
Please forgive me,
Nathan.
Days later Leonie and Alex were still knee-deep in the search for Nathan’s whereabouts. Despite Alex’s colleague’s best attempts, they still had no luck locating him in any of the federal prisons databases. Granted, without a surname they knew it was a long shot, but even despite this, Leonie had been quietly confident they’d find something eventually.
Once the initial excitement of figuring out that he might actually be in prison had worn off, Leonie had started to think seriously about what his crime was. She couldn’t imagine it was anything terribly serious like murder or suchlike, chances were his offence would be more of the white-collar variety. Maybe insurance fraud or something?
Anyway, it didn’t especially matter what Nathan was there for, what was really crucial now was to locate the facility he was being held in.
For her part, she’d trawled through old new stories on the internet looking for a mention of his name in connection with a crime of some sort, and had read back through the letters dozens more times in the hope of finding something, anything that could give them a clue to his whereabouts.
It was strange, but she still sensed that there was something else they were missing about this whole situation, something important that could very well hold the key to the entire mystery.
‘Did you notice that he mentioned something in this last one about ‘chickening out’?’ Alex said holding up one particular letter. ‘I think that’s the first time he’s made any direct reference to what he might have done.’
‘I wonder what he did do?’ Leonie asked, swinging her legs off the end of the window seat. It was Thursday evening and while she and Alex had decided to have a quiet night in with a movie and a takeaway at Leonie’s, neither of them could resist going through the letters one more time.
‘I know,’ she said to Alex. ‘It’s funny how when you read these again – knowing what you do now – they take on a totally different significance. When I read that one initially, I actually thought that ‘chickening out’ might refer to something about Helena. That maybe she’d decided to leave the husband to be with Nathan, but he got cold feet and took off? Yet somehow I couldn’t see him having cold feet about wanting to be with her full time.’
‘So what did he chicken out of then?’ Alex mused. ‘Something to do with the crime, I suppose. Maybe he gave himself up?’
‘I have no idea, and it’s driving me crazy that we can’t find out,’ Leonie said frustrated. ‘All we know is that no matter what he might have done to end up in there, the poor guy still thinks Helena refused to forgive him, without realising that she probably never even got the chance to decide.’ She looked at her friend. ‘Talk about forgiveness, Alex I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if we don’t find him at this stage.’
‘Well I think I need a break,’ her friend replied, shoving the sheaf of letters aside and stretching languorously on the sofa. As she did she knocked over the wooden box containing the empty envelopes, and they fell to the floor.
‘I’ll get those,’ Leonie said as Alex reached down to pick them up. ‘There’s Coke in the fridge if you want it.’
‘No offence, but I’m think I’m more in the mood for something stronger. I’ve got a couple of beers in the fridge downstairs. Fancy one?’
‘Good idea.’ Leonie agreed and while Alex popped downstairs to her own place, she picked up the envelopes and began loading them back into the box.
And as she did she noticed something. Something strange.
Her heart sped up as the significance of what she was seeing struck her, and she stared at it almost immobile for the few minutes before Alex returned.
‘Here you go …what?’ the other girl asked, seeing her frozen expression.
‘The first envelope,’ Leonie said uneasily, handing the envelope to Alex. ‘It’s different.’
Her friend frowned and set the bottles of Corona down on the coffee table. ‘Different in what way?’
‘Take a look at the front of it.’
It was the letter she’d opened by mistake around Valentine’s Day, Nathan’s first (or in reality his most recent) letter. She didn’t know why she hadn’t noticed it before – possibly because at the time she’d been so rough with the envelope it was difficult to spot, but now that she had realised the difference, and more importantly, what it could mean – it sent a shiver down her spine.
‘There’s no postmark on this one.’ Alex said, seeing it immediately.
‘I know.’
‘So it didn’t come through the mail?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Shit.’ Leonie could tell by her expression that Alex had come to the same conclusion. ‘So he’s out?’
Leonie’s thoughts whirled. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what to think at all now.’
The most recent letter was markedly different to the others in the sense that it had no postmark on the envelope, and although the handwriting was the same, it only had Helena Abbott’s name and the apartment number written on the front of it. Which could only mean that someone had dropped it off by hand.
‘Looking back, I suppose that first letter was always that little bit different to the others, but once I’d opened them all I never really noticed it. It was only a short note, whereas the others were longer and more detailed …’
‘None of that really matters now,’ Alex said quickly. ‘What matters is where this guy is. All this week we thought he was in prison, which I’ll admit at first I thought was a long shot, but like you said it fit.’
‘It did. And reading through them again, I’m still convinced that’s the case. But -’
‘But people in prison can’t put notes through letterboxes Leonie.’
‘I know. But maybe he could have had someone else drop it off –’
Alex shook her head. ‘There are far too many maybes here,’ she interjected exasperated. ‘Maybe Helena’s dead, maybe she’s not, maybe Nathan’s in prison, maybe he’s not!’ She threw up her hands in despair. ‘I don’t know and to be honest, I’m not sure if I even care anymore. We’re tying ourselves up in knots with this thing.’ She looked at Leonie. ‘I’m sorry and I know this means a lot to you, but all this is turning out to be a complete waste of time. We don’t know what the story is behind these letters, and if you ask me we’ll never know.’
‘No, we can’t just give up,’ Leonie argued, although she two was thrown by this most recent discovery. She’d been so sure …but then again as Alex kept pointing out, they really couldn’t be sure of anything any more, could they?
‘But what else are we supposed to do? We’ve already tried everything we can think of at this stage to locate either one of them. It’s not as though we can go around state penitentiaries asking if they have any inmates called Nathan, or keep grilling every person called Helena Abbot to see i
f its her. She could very well be dead, and we don’t even know his surname!’ Alex was just about at the end of her tether.
‘I know,’ Leonie shook her head at the hopelessness of it. ‘I know what you’re saying and I’ve racked my brains too. I don’t want to give up but it’s hard to see what else we can do to find them now, short of talking out a full page ad in a newspaper or – what?’ She stopped short when Alex gave her an odd look.
‘That’s it!’ the other girl exclaimed, wide-eyed.
‘What?’
Alex slapped a hand to her forehead. ‘Why the hell didn’t I think of it before?’ she groaned, while Leonie just sat there, waiting to hear what she had in mind. Alex took a notebook out of her handbag and began writing furiously in it. ‘Up to now we’ve been trying to pick out a needle in haystack,’ she said, ‘When all along we should have been using a damn magnet.’
The following morning Alex pitched to Sylvester her grand idea for a potential Today by The Bay slot.
Deciding it would be best not to betray her connection to the origins of the story, she began by telling her boss that some interesting letters had been sent by a member of the public to the station. The truth, or indeed any other explanation would have greatly lessened the likelihood of his allowing her to run it.
‘I think it’s right up our street,’ she told him. ‘The guy has been sending love letters to this girl who no longer lives at the address, yet they can’t be returned. I think whoever sent them to us thought they were too important to ignore, and while they couldn’t find the guy, maybe we could.’
‘I think I like it,’ Sylvester said, after some thought. ‘And the public will go crazy over it.’
