The Walls

by Hollie Overton

  “You don’t have to call me ma’am,” she said. “Kristy is fine. And I know it’s a safe space and you’re just training, it’s just …”

  She paused, trying to find the right words.

  “It’s just … what?”

  “It looks so painful.”

  “Well, in the wrong hands it can be, but the reason I teach judo and not other forms of martial arts to kids is because of its history. ‘Judo’ actually translates to ‘gentle way’ and was created in Japan in 1882 by Kanō Jigorō. It’s derived from jujitsu and it’s the art of either attacking others or defending oneself with nothing but your own body weight. Rather than using brute strength, to succeed in judo you have to be smart, use your intelligence, and learn how to give way rather than use force to overcome an opponent. A form of judo was used in the 1800s by Japanese samurai with the theory being armor protected the enemy to the extent where punches and kicks would be ineffective. A throw, however, would shock the system enough to where it provided time to disarm your opponent.”

  “So what you’re telling me is that judo is a kinder, gentler type of fighting?” Kristy asked with a smile.

  Lance shook his head. “I’m telling you when you respect the rules of the art form, it’s a powerful way to hone both your mind and body.”

  Kristy appreciated Lance’s educational lessons even if she was still uncertain about Ryan’s training. She’d missed the signs that Ryan needed more, needed an outlet Kristy and Pops couldn’t provide. So if this was it, she wasn’t going to stand in his way.

  “Well, it’s been a bit tight around here financially but we can do a payment plan, maybe in installments.”

  Lance waved off the offer. “I just want to make things right with you,” Lance said. His gaze lingered for a moment with an intensity Kristy found slightly disarming, unable to deny how good he looked in his white T-shirt and black workout pants. She chalked it up to her lack of any male interaction and glanced away, staring out as the sun sank into the horizon.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure you’ve got bills to pay, and all this time you’re spending …”

  “Actually, I’m my own boss. My buddy Roy and I run a real estate business in Huntsville. And trust me, this is the least I can do.” Kristy glanced over at Lance, and he smiled. She nodded in agreement.

  “As long as my boy doesn’t get hurt,” Kristy said. “Because then I’d have to kill you.”

  Lance chuckled. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  Something shifted between them after that talk. Kristy still didn’t love watching Ryan and Lance practice, but after that night, Kristy found herself looking forward to seeing Lance. One night she came home from work to find Ryan and Lance gone. Her disappointment was palpable. Pops was sitting at the kitchen table, keeping Kristy company while they caught up on the day. She was just about to start dinner when she heard knocking.

  “Who’s ready to stuff their faces?” Lance joked when Kristy opened the door. She glanced over to see Ryan holding two giant grocery bags.

  “What’s all this?” she asked.

  “Where’s Pops?” Ryan asked. “Hey, Pops, get out here,” Ryan called out.

  They waited for Pops to make his way to the front door.

  “What’s all this ruckus?” he asked, looking at Ryan and Lance with curiosity.

  “I don’t have a clue, Pops,” Kristy said.

  “Well, y’all have been so generous, having me over for all these delicious meals, I figured it’s my turn. I thought I’d grill up some steaks and baked potatoes. Y’all may not know this, but I’m a world-famous griller.”

  Kristy laughed. “Too bad we don’t have a grill.”

  Lance gave her an impish smile. “You do now.”

  Kristy glanced at Lance’s pickup and saw the brand-new gleaming silver grill in the back of the truck. It was top-of-the-line and had to cost at least a thousand bucks.

  “No way. It’s too much.”

  “Come on, Kristy. Are you gonna deny your family some of the best steaks they’ve ever eaten?”

  Lance grinned, waiting for a response. She glanced at Ryan and saw those damn Puss in Boots eyes. Pops was eagerly nodding. Kristy sighed, almost relieved that she was outnumbered.

  “All right, but I’m going to pay you back when I get my next check,” Kristy said to Lance. He pretended not to hear her, ordering Ryan to put down the groceries and get the charcoal out of his truck while he set up the grill. An hour and a half later, they all sat down together, dining on the best filet mignon Kristy had ever eaten. Lance wasn’t lying. The man had a gift with the grill.

  Somehow this became a ritual, even after Ryan’s suspension ended. One or two nights a week, Lance would drop by with groceries. Kristy would open a bottle of cabernet, keeping Lance company outside while he whipped up a feast. Ryan and Pops would join them, everyone eating dinner and laughing, Kristy’s anxiety slowly slipping away.

  Occasionally, she thought she saw Lance watching her, studying her, and she’d look away, cursing herself for her growing attraction to him. A man like Lance probably had an active dating life. The last thing he’d want was to be tied down with a teenage kid and her aging father. Every now and then she wondered what it might be like to kiss him, but she’d stop herself. You’re being ridiculous. He’s just a friend.

  Most nights, after supper Pops would shuffle off to his bedroom to watch his programs, and Ryan would retreat to his room to do homework. Some people hated dishes but Kristy found it relaxing. Standing side by side, Kristy would wash and Lance would dry. He’d stand so close to her, Kristy could feel the heat emanating off him. Every now and then, when he’d hand her a plate, his hand would graze hers and she’d wonder if Lance experienced the same shiver of attraction. She wanted to reach out and hold his hand in hers but she had never been that courageous. Instead, she’d fill the silences, trying to get him to open up to her, wanting to know more about him.

  “Not many men know their way around the kitchen,” Kristy teased.

  Lance chuckled but she caught the glimmer of sadness in his eyes.

  “My mama took off when I was young and my father was shit in the kitchen. If I didn’t learn to cook, I’d have spent my childhood surviving on beans and franks.”

  “I lost my mom too. Bone cancer when I was ten. I understand.”

  She recognized that expression in his gaze, the sadness only someone who experienced being motherless could understand. Lance quickly changed the subject back to less serious topics. The more time they spent together, the more Kristy craved his company. They’d head outside to the porch swing, talking about their childhoods under a star-filled sky. Lance was raised by his father on the outskirts of New Orleans while Kristy and Pops had gritted it out here together in Conroe. Kristy wasn’t used to talking about her mother’s death—Pops wasn’t exactly a fan of reminiscing—but Lance had plenty of questions. She told him all about her mom, Sarah Tucker. How she was a simple country woman, a schoolteacher who wanted Kristy to have a different life.

  “There’s a big life outside these city limits,” her mother used to say before the mind-numbing pain in her hip made walking unbearable, before the doctors and the drugs turned Kristy into a stranger. Lance listened, asking questions, shushing Kristy when she apologized for rambling. “I like hearing your stories.”

  Kristy couldn’t deny her attraction to him, noticing the musky smell of his cologne lingering around the house for days. Sometimes she’d find herself recounting moments they shared—the smile while they all ate dinner, the hug Lance had given her before he headed home. It was probably all in her imagination, her own loneliness magnified by Lance’s kindness and devotion to Ryan. She told herself to enjoy his company while she could. He’d eventually move on, get bored by their simple family life.

  Kristy was sitting at her desk, trying to write a press release for an upcoming execution when her cell phone rang. The caller ID read Ryan. It had been almost a month since his suspension an
d she still dreaded every phone call, terrified by the thought of hearing something terrible had happened to Ryan.

  “Hey, bud, what’s up?” she asked, leaning back in her seat.

  “Hey, Mama Bear, Lance and I were thinking about heading over and grabbing dinner at Chili’s. Wanna join?”

  Kristy glanced at the clock. It was almost six and she was exhausted. The idea of dinner out with Ryan and Lance sounded better than laboring over these press releases.

  “I can swing by the house and pick you guys up around seven?”

  “Sounds good,” Ryan said. Kristy applied a bit of powder and lip gloss, telling herself she just wanted to look decent in case she ran into anyone she knew, even though the truth of the matter was she wanted Lance to compliment her in his soft, effortless drawl.

  “Darlin’, you look lovely,” he said when Kristy arrived at the house forty-five minutes later, and she felt a rush of excitement. She promised Pops they’d bring him takeout and they climbed into Kristy’s truck and headed to Chili’s, the restaurant filled with families and teenagers, forcing them to nab a spot near the back. The three of them sat in a corner booth, devouring sizzling plates of fajitas, chips, and salsa. Lance and Ryan vied for the title of most salsa demolished in a single sitting, forcing Kristy to call it a tie. While they ate, Ryan filled Lance in on the intricacies of Lincoln-Douglas debates, telling Lance about his tournament.

  “I guess intelligence runs in the family,” Lance said. Kristy smiled.

  “He surpassed me ages ago.”

  There was nothing extraordinary about the evening, but something was shifting. The ease with which they all interacted felt effortless. She was so grateful for all he’d done for Ryan. He was transforming physically, the lanky, spindly kid replaced by a solid, muscled young man. What was even more astonishing was the newfound confidence he’d gained. Ryan didn’t slump or slouch anymore, instead standing tall and proud, now towering over Kristy at five eleven. She watched as Ryan made eye contact with the waitress and bantered effortlessly with her. Miracle of all miracles, Ryan hadn’t once taken his cell phone out, because Lance had made it clear he found it disrespectful. Kristy even commented on it when Ryan went to the bathroom.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen him go this long without checking his phone,” she said.

  “Well, I reminded him that he won’t always have his mama around, so he should take advantage while he can.”

  “I appreciate that,” Kristy said. Lance reached out and squeezed her hand, releasing it just as Ryan returned.

  The evening flew by and Kristy’s disappointment was palpable when Pops’s takeout arrived. They made their way to the back of the parking lot, Lance joking about the crazy woman at his open house.

  “She wanted to turn the guesthouse into a home for her dogs. An entire house. It’s bigger than my first apartment,” Lance said with a chuckle.

  Kristy’s laughter echoed in the crisp clear evening air.

  “Son of a bitch,” Kristy heard Lance say.

  “Mom!” She heard Ryan’s warning, and Kristy stopped short. Across the empty parking lot, Kristy first saw her pickup’s broken and slashed tires, but that wasn’t what sent her reeling. Lance reached out and pulled Kristy close, trying to steady her. She gasped at the sight in front of her—her front windshield had been shattered, and spray-painted in bright red letters was the word murderer.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The squad car arrived, its red and blue lights spinning, bouncing off the trees. Kristy wished they’d turn them off, embarrassed by the crowd of prying eyes: Restaurant patrons, waitresses, even the kitchen staff were gawking at them. She wanted to go to each one of them and personally explain that just because someone wrote murderer on her car didn’t mean that she was one. Even though it wasn’t true, even though Kristy knew she was a good person, she couldn’t shake the guilty feeling that engulfed her every time she glanced back at her vandalized truck. They’d notified the manager after phoning the police. There were no cameras installed that might have captured the vandal, he’d said apologetically before returning to work.

  “Mom, are you okay? Mom? Mom!” The panic in Ryan’s voice jolted Kristy from her reverie. She looked back to find Ryan, Lance, and the Huntsville Sheriff’s Department officer staring back at her. Ryan was still waiting for an answer. Kristy forced a smile, eager to erase the worried expression from Ryan’s face.

  “I’m fine, Ry. Officer, what were you saying?” Kristy glanced back at the young patrolman, baby-faced, one of those real eager beaver types she saw at the prison, a kid who hadn’t been beaten down by life just yet. He’d written the report and snapped some pictures of the car. He reminded her of an untrained German shepherd, anxious to do his job well. Martin something, she thought he said.

  “The officer was asking if there was anyone who might have any reason to want to scare you,” Lance repeated. He was standing inches from Kristy, his arm draped around her protectively. Kristy hadn’t noticed that until now. She should pull away, she told herself, but she liked having Lance nearby, liked knowing she wasn’t alone in this. Kristy had heard about guards or even wardens at various prisons getting death threats, but Kristy herself had never been on the receiving end.

  “I’m a public information officer for the prison system. I interact with inmates at prisons throughout the state. But I also … I oversee all the press for executions at the Walls. There are a lot of people who hate what I do.” I hate it too, she wanted to say, but she didn’t.

  “Any threat that stands out in your mind?”

  The most recent incident was after Barry Reyes’s execution. Chaplain Gohlke summed up Reyes when he said, “I’m afraid that man is lost to the devil.” Anytime she’d been in a room with Reyes, even separated by thick layers of glass, Kristy could feel something sinister emanating from him. At one time, he’d been a high-powered player in the Mexican Mafia. There were rumors he’d killed at least a dozen people, but there was never enough evidence to convict him. Then one evening, thirteen years ago, two days before Thanksgiving, Reyes was speeding down the I-10 west outside of San Marcos when State Trooper Colt Reeves pulled him over. Reyes leapt out of his car and brutally stabbed the young man. Once he was done, Reyes stomped Colt’s head, grinning at the dashboard camera before driving away.

  Just before his execution, Kristy watched Reyes rant for three minutes and thirty-two seconds about his lifelong devotion to his familia. Those were his last words, his final words on earth, and he never once acknowledged the victim’s family. The fact that this man, this animal, would never hurt another soul was gratifying—one of the few times Kristy wasn’t conflicted by the work that she did. But then she walked out of the death chamber and came face-to-face with Miguel, Barry Reyes’s brother, glaring at her, hatred in his eyes. He’d yelled pinche puta (“fucking bitch” in Spanish) over and over again until guards dragged him away.

  But it didn’t make sense to threaten her now. Reyes was dead. Not to mention the fact that the Mexican Mafia preferred bolder acts of retaliation, like beheading people or firebombing their cars. They didn’t bother with run-of-the-mill vandalism.

  Still, it could be relevant so Kristy told the officer about Barry Reyes and his brother. Kristy had also received threats in the past from anti–death penalty protesters, people who claimed to believe in God as the sole authority over life and death, yet didn’t mind threatening Kristy’s life and her family.

  The officer nodded solemnly. “Ma’am, I’ll file a report, but I’ve got to be honest with you. We could have the FBI, the CSI, and Benedict Cumberbatch himself investigating this crime and there’s still a one in sixty chance this will ever be solved.”

  Amused by the cop’s knowledge of Sherlock, Kristy was also deeply disappointed. He was just as jaded as she was.

  “I understand,” she said.

  “Wait, that’s all you’re going to do?” Ryan asked the officer.

  “I’m afraid that’s all we can do,” he said ma
tter-of-factly.

  “That’s bullshit,” Ryan said.

  “Ry, please.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. But what if this is some kind of sicko who might hurt you or Pops?”

  “Then we’ll do what needs to be done,” Lance said knowingly. “Isn’t that right?” Ryan nodded, a shared moment between them.

  Something about Lance’s tone left her unsettled. Lance liked guns. He often talked about hunting, always encouraging Ryan to join him on weekend trips. He even had a license to carry a concealed weapon. It made her uncomfortable, thinking about having to hurt someone, but she could see that terrible word painted on her car. She was well versed in what people were capable of doing to one another. She’d seen small crimes spiral out of control. Maybe she’d ask Lance to teach her self-defense moves. If someone tried to harm her, or Pops or Ryan, Kristy wanted to be ready.

  “I’d never endorse violence, but stay aware and stay safe,” the officer added. “I’d also recommend that you report this incident to your superiors at the prison, ma’am. It may be an isolated event but in our line of work, you can’t be too careful.”

  She was grateful that he considered her one of them. She shook the officer’s hand and Lance did as well.

  “Here’s my card,” he said to Kristy. “If you ever need anything, please call.”

  “Thank you,” she said, watching as he climbed back into his cruiser and headed off. Disappointment flooded her, her bravado now gone. She wanted to yell at him to come back. They hadn’t caught the bad guys yet. Lance placed a reassuring hand on Kristy’s shoulder.

  “It’s gonna be okay, darlin’,” he said softly. She nodded, not quite believing it.

  “Lance is right. Probably just some assholes playing a prank,” Ryan said, as if reading Kristy’s mind.

  “Kristy, I’m gonna call you guys a cab. Y’all can head home and I’ll wait for the tow truck,” Lance said.

  “That’s not necessary. I can handle it.”

  “I know you’re perfectly capable, but it’s been a hard night and you and Ryan should get some rest. My buddy owns a body shop. I just texted him. He said we can tow the car over there and he’ll give you a good deal on repairs.”