They walked down a long corridor with large wooden doors. The attendant led Dane into a room, austere with peeling walls. A woman sat at a large desk behind stacks of folders.
She watched him behind giant coke-bottle glasses. Her hair was a helmet of Aqua Net, and a blue suit with huge shoulder pads made her look like a linebacker. Her voice was tinny and high. “All right, Mr. Scoffield. I’m here to determine which of our housing units will be best suited for your situation and to answer any questions you have. Go ahead and sit down.”
He perched on the edge of the gray chair, leaning forward on the table, hands splayed in front of him.
“No need to be nervous now. I’m just here to talk to you.”
Dane tried to relax his shoulders, but they drifted back up, tense and tight. “Is this where I’ll stay?” The Missouri State Penitentiary had a terrible rep. “The Walls,” one of the deputies had called it. The riots had been famous, even in Texas. Suddenly he longed for Huntsville. Its history was no better, but at least it was the devil he knew. Two high school buddies had ended up working stints there, though he’d never heard from them after.
She shuffled through some papers. “Yes. You’re a pretty standard case. No history of mental illness. No medical problems. No special dispensations by the judge or contingencies on your sentence.” She flipped through the papers. “Medium sentence. No special risks.”
So his wall-slamming incident hadn’t followed him. Maybe Justin had helped. Dane breathed a little easier. He’d feared solitary confinement or something worse. He’d never known anyone on the inside, so movies and television were his only clue. The head-bashing-with-a-pipe scene from On the Yard had popped into his head more than once. He wondered about cigarettes and contraband and prison hierarchy and, grimly, if he’d have to fight off people trying to poke him. He wondered how far he’d go for his own protection, if he’d end up fighting and getting even more time. His shoulders tensed again.
“Hey.” The caseworker tapped on the table to get his attention. “You’re going to be fine.”
He tried to really look at her now. She wore a soft pink lipstick, something a child might choose, and this made her gentler somehow.
“Let’s try this again. I’m Maggie. I’m going to get you assigned to a hall and your inmate paperwork complete.”
“I didn’t mean to kill that guy.”
Maggie lifted a stack of papers and tapped them lightly to straighten the edges. “I don’t judge on that. I just look at your needs, what skills you have, and where you’ll fit best. You’re a mechanic?”
“Yes.”
“We can’t get you in the shop right off. But maybe a transfer if you have good behavior.”
Dane nodded.
She pulled an oversized manila envelope forward. “These are the effects you had on you during your arrest that you will be allowed to keep with you if you want them.” She pulled out a list. “You also had some things that will be kept in storage for your release, or we can destroy them—boots, spiked belt, jeans, a watch chain, keys, cash.” She made a note on the form. “I’ll get the cash put in your inmate account.” She dumped the contents of the envelope on the table. “These you may take to your housing unit. Inmates are allowed approved personal items.”
His T-shirt came out first, one he’d bought at the truck stop along with the Show Me one for Stella. It was black with a small emblem on the chest in the shape of Missouri. He resisted the urge to grab it and see if it smelled of her like his jacket had.
Second was his wallet. “Your IDs are in your case file,” Maggie said. “But there were some inconsequential scraps of paper, receipts, and whatnot in there.”
She peered into the bag. “One last thing.” She reached in and pulled out a bit of pink fabric, the one he’d torn from Stella’s shirt. “It was short enough to meet regulation. Is it important?”
He swallowed. He had no idea if he’d ever see Stella again. “I’ll keep it.”
She laid it on the T-shirt and wallet, and pushed them toward him. “Next we have some forms.” She pulled a sheet of paper from a folder. “This is where you’ll list the visitors you’ll be allowing to see you.”
Visitors. Ryker, maybe? He didn’t have any other family. Stella’s image drifted forward, but he shoved her back. She wouldn’t want to come. “I have a brother.”
“Good. Put him down. Any others?”
He hesitated. “There was a girl.”
“A girlfriend? That’s fine.” She tugged another page from a blue folder. “We have very strict rules of decorum on visits. She can only wear certain things. She can’t bring anything in on the visits.”
“Will I get to really see her? Or just through glass?”
“If you have good behavior, you’ll be allowed to sit with her in a visitors’ room.”
“I don’t know if she’ll want to come.”
Maggie rolled a pen toward him. “You can write her first. You are only allowed twenty names on the list. But I wouldn’t wait too long. We have to mail her a form for her to return. Then we do a criminal check. Once all that is done, then you can have her visit. Same with your brother.”
“So I’ll know if she’s willing based on whether she returns the form.”
“It’s better to write her first before the form arrives, if you’re not sure.”
“I don’t even have my brother’s address right now. He just moved.” Hell, even Stella could have blown out of town.
“You can always add him when you get it.”
Dane stared at the form for names and addresses and numbers. He didn’t know anything.
He pushed the empty paper back at her. “I’ll do this later.”
Maggie slipped the form back in the folder. “I’ll arrange for some paper and envelopes to be sent to you. You should write your girl. It’s important to have visitors, to keep some link to your old life.”
He didn’t want any links to that.
Maggie pulled out another paper. “You’ll want to contact your bank to have some money moved into your prison account, so you have money for stamps and incidentals you might want to buy from the store.” She pushed another form at him.
This, at least, he could fill out. Nothing personal. Just lines on a page, black and white questions with simple answers. Completely unlike a letter to Stella.
If he even sent one.
31
Stella’s Determination
––––––––
“LOOKS like you got something interesting.” Bobby, the seventy-year-old postal carrier, still as spry as the WWII soldier he once was, handed the stack of mail to Stella.
She pushed aside the spindle of kiddie perfume necklaces she’d been assembling and set the pile of catalogs and bills on the glass counter. Faceup, right on top, was a rough gray envelope clearly marked “INMATE, Missouri State Penitentiary.”
Stella’s heart skittered. “Who all have you already told?” she asked. He loved gossip more than any old biddy in town.
He lifted his hands in innocence. “Just pulled it out of the bag!”
“But you sorted it this morning.” Stella considered his path. There were three carriers in Holly. Bobby had this side of town, including Grandma Angie’s house and Vivian.
“I might have mentioned it to a few folks. Not too often a hardened criminal writes one of our own.”
Stella snatched the envelope and hid it under the register. “You tell my mother?”
“Now, I just dropped the mail in her box by the door like the proper carrier I am.” Bobby rocked back on his heels, the rough canvas bag pinched to his side. It was hard to be mad at a man with such a merry twinkle in his eyes, but she was pretty furious.
“Well, keep this to yourself. I can’t have Vivian storming in here. She’s managed to stay away this long.” In fact, hardly anyone had seen Stella’s mother at all since the funeral. Beatrice had driven the block a time or two and reported that Vivian must be holed up at Grandma Angie’s hous
e.
“Ain’t right for a mother and daughter to be at odds.” Bobby leaned an elbow on the counter like he planned to sit and chat a spell.
Stella returned to the spindle of necklaces, knowing full well how to get rid of Bobby. She opened one of the caps on the miniature hearts, revealing the spray nozzle. Bobby had hard-core allergies. “How about you do a little test of this, see if maybe one of your granddaughters would like it?”
Bobby backed away swiftly. “No, no, thanks. I must get back to my route.” He saluted her and spun away, striding toward the door in long lanky steps.
Stella waited until the door clanged shut to pull the envelope back out.
She didn’t have cause to know his handwriting. He’d never given her anything. The address was neat and perfectly aligned, as if he’d used a ruler. “Stella Ashton. Good Scents. 432 Main. Holly, Missouri 65624.”
Beatrice pushed through the curtain to the main shop. “Mail call?”
Stella slid the stack of bills along the glass without looking up.
Beatrice came up behind her and squeezed her shoulders. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She leaned over to peer at Stella’s envelope. “So you have. You going to open it?”
Stella laid the letter back on the glass. Dane had been gone three weeks. She hadn’t known what to do, where to go, and Beatrice didn’t seem to mind having a houseguest. With Vivian leaving her alone, it seemed well enough to hang around and help Janine plan her wedding, a welcome distraction. The bracelet on her wrist tinkled against the counter, the orange and yellow one Grandma Angie had made for Joe. It comforted her to wear it, to know that someone so close to her had suffered an impossible love as well.
Beatrice collected the other mail. “You afraid of what it says?”
Stella shook her head. “I’m sure he wants to see me.” Loneliness had to be kicking in.
“You want to see him?”
Stella ran a finger across the address. He had held this envelope, sealing it in some forlorn cell. She didn’t know what he hoped for, and she didn’t know what he could say to make her come. She didn’t know herself.
Beatrice patted Stella’s shoulder and moved out from behind the counter. “Why don’t you take the day off? Read your letter. Think about things.”
The door jingled, and a cluster of giggly teen girls arrived. One of them held a tiny case that held a band instrument—Stella never could remember which was which. A flute, maybe. Or a clarinet. She thought of the band rehearsal when she was stuck up on the tower, and knew exactly where she needed to go.
“I’ll do that,” Stella said.
When she spoke, the girls silenced, looking at her with alarm. One elbowed the other. The youngest one looked absolutely petrified, as if Stella might attack.
Stella wanted to tell them to stop staring but instead picked up her envelope and exited through the back curtain. She was beyond tired of trying to fit in.
The air outside had cooled considerably. Stella walked the block to the Mustang, the water tower just visible among the trees. Instead of getting in, she opened the door and pulled out a sweater. It would be even colder up top. She was about to walk away when she turned back to the car and opened the console, tugging out the triple-strand bracelet she had made for Dane. Instead of wearing it, though, she tucked it into her front pocket.
Stella jogged lightly for a couple blocks, pulling a hood over her hair. A few cars passed, but she didn’t recognize the drivers. Funny how she’d been so cocky just a month or so ago, climbing the tower in the middle of the day, not really caring if she got caught. This time she had to be more careful.
She looked around. The school maintenance man was backing a lawn mower into the shed at the tower’s base. She slowed her step. He came back out, dusting off his hands, and lowered the overhead door. Stella turned at the next block, taking the long way around, hoping he’d be gone when she made it back. She passed a green house where an elementary school friend had lived. They used to jump off the front porch wearing capes and playing Wonder Woman. The girl had moved away years ago.
Around the corner, a charred foundation was all that remained of the Muellers’ house, burned down a decade before from a kitchen fire. The Muellers were still around, living a block over, but had never rebuilt.
She turned up the last street back toward the school and the tower. The maintenance man was loading a coil of rope into the back of his truck. Stella slowed down again, but he quickly jumped into the front seat and took off down the road. A straggler teacher walked out the front of the school and hurried to her car. The front lot was mostly deserted. Unless she was unlucky, Stella should make it up without incident.
She stayed on the opposite side of the street for as long as possible, then quickly crossed behind the line of bushes that grew alongside the chain-link fence. She ducked through the cut section that never seemed to get repaired and waited near the base of a tree, checking if anyone had seen her move inside.
So far, so good. She jumped up and grasped the bottom rung of the ladder, swinging her legs and catching the bar with the backs of her knees. As she pulled herself up, her head went woozy. She sat a moment, holding on to the ladder, legs dangling, waiting to see if she would still be frightened by the height. She wouldn’t have Dane this time.
The world righted itself, so she stood up, taking a few quick steps to get past the trees and check if she could spot any twitching in Old Lady Springer’s curtains.
All good. She climbed swiftly upward, pausing only a moment at the first break in the ladder to remember Dane behind her, that first time they were together. The wind picked up and blew her hair all around her face. She’d stopped using so much hair spray, preferring the looser flowing look now. She just wasn’t the same girl as that night at the Watering Hole. She wouldn’t be again.
She checked that the envelope in her back pocket was still secure and then moved upward again, not stopping until she was at the base of the platform. The sight of the town brought on another wave of lightheadedness, but she pushed it aside, bracing her elbows on the metal so she could wriggle through the opening.
Then she was up, unable to stand without feeling sick, so she crawled to the silver dome to sit with her back against it.
Only when her heart slowed and her breathing seemed back to normal did she tug the triple-strand bracelet from her front jean pocket and fasten it to her wrist. Then she pulled the envelope out and clutched it tightly in the whipping wind.
She considered for a moment just letting it go, tumbling through the air over Holly, landing on someone’s lawn or a windshield or maybe the creek they’d jumped. But then, it could make its way to Darlene or even the parking lot of the bar. Maybe the sheriff would pick it up and use it against Dane somehow.
She tore open the flap. Inside was a single sheet of the same rough gray paper, the writing neat and aligned.
My dearest beautiful Stella,
She had to stop already, her heart beating so hard she could barely breathe. She leaned against the wall, the cold of the metal biting into her back through her sweater. She’d only known Dane two weeks. This was so crazy. She’d let boys come and go by the dozen. Why did this one stick?
She turned back to the letter.
I shouldn’t write you. I should let you go, make the escape you’re wanting. But seeing you so upset in the courtroom that day was so hard. One of the things they tell you here is to make amends. And I want to make amends with you.
I should have held my temper. I should have walked away. And you were right, if I’d done the right thing, I wouldn’t have been in that bar at all. I would’ve waited for you like you asked.
Stella had to break away from the letter again. So hard. So many things to go back and change. How did anybody live with this much regret?
A bird landed on the rail of the tower, cocked its head at Stella, then flitted down to sit by her. She was yellow, so bright, like a canary, but that would mean she was a lost pet, as that sort
of bird didn’t live around here naturally.
“Hello, birdie,” Stella said, grateful for the distraction. “Are you lost?”
She lifted her hand, and Grandma’s yellow bracelet flashed in the afternoon light. Stella understood then, and looked into the sky. She wasn’t alone. Somebody was looking after her, God, or Grandma Angie, or maybe just the universe. The canary flew in a tight circle, then landed on the rail again.
The paper fluttered in the wind, and Stella gripped it tight. “Let’s finish this,” she said to the bird. “And then I’ll figure out what to do.”
I won’t ask for you to visit me, even though I want to see you so much. I understand that I’ve done a lot to screw everything up, and very little to earn any piece of you. But if you are willing, I can’t think of anything that matters more to me than you. I don’t want you to wait for me. And I don’t expect to see you at the end of all this. But if you’d come see me just one more time, I will make that enough to last me. Because it is you, it will be enough.
The cold bit into her eyes, and she knew she was crying again, blasted stupid emotion, such weakness. Stella looked out over Holly, the streets laid out between the trees, and beyond, in the deeply forested land that led to the Ozarks, some of the most beautiful country on earth.
How far did she have to go to get away? Jefferson City was almost 200 miles away and like another universe from this small town. She’d been there once, and remembered vaguely the massive Missouri State Penitentiary, huge stone walls right on the river, like a castle. She remembered being frightened by it, and astonished that normal houses sat just across the street from the imposing watchtowers. She knew there had been riots there, and that it was a very bad place to be. She couldn’t imagine the things Dane might be seeing or enduring. She looked down at the paper. But he’d asked her to visit, just once. And she would do that.
She folded the letter back into its envelope. The bird still waited on the rail, hopping side to side and occasionally spreading its wings. “I’m going to go,” Stella said. “At least once.” The canary flew in a little circle, then took off across the sky, a tiny yellow dot on the horizon.
Tangled: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle of Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Royalty) Page 130
