“It really is a prenatal vitamin,” he said. “We want you and your baby healthy and in perfect condition when we return you to John.”
“When will that be?”
“Won’t be long now,” he said. “Unless he fucks it up, won’t be long at all.”
Chapter Nineteen
Now what?
I had no idea what to do.
I couldn’t very well get Ronnie Cardigan out of the prison if I couldn’t even get into it.
I was truly lost.
Anna’s life was on the line. Time was running out. And the nearly impossible task before me had just become completely impossible.
When Randy Wayne Davis, the youngish control room sergeant with the bright blue eyes and bright white teeth, buzzed me into the sally port between the first of the two front gates, he motioned me over to the inside control room document tray.
“How’s it going, Chaplain?”
Not even the thick glass or the dark tint on it could diminish his bright, wide eyes and infectious smile.
I nodded without answering, leaned over so that my mouth was closer to the open document tray, and said, “How are you?”
“I’m good. Hey, I just transferred a call down to the chapel for you. You headed up front? Want me to transfer it to the warden’s office if they call back?”
I thought about it. I started to tell him what was going on and how to actually handle my calls, but decided it’d be best if he didn’t know––especially if I tried to sneak back into the institution the next night.
“Sure,” I said. “Thanks.”
“You got it.”
I started to walk away, but he said, “And hey, just wanted to say . . . All the good you do around here––for the staff as well as the inmates––doesn’t go unnoticed.”
That put a knot in my throat and a sting in my eyes.
“Thank you, Sergeant Davis. That really––”
“Randy Wayne, please.”
I nodded and started to say his name, but the phone in the control room rang and he said, “Hold on a second. Let me see if this is them callin’ back for you.”
I waited as he answered the phone.
When it took more than a few seconds I knew it wasn’t for me, but after talking to the caller for nearly two minutes, Randy Wayne fed the phone through the document tray for me.
“Sorry,” he said with a frown.
“Don’t know what’s taking so long up there,” Rachel Peterson’s voice said across the line, “but I’ve informed the sergeant of your status and told him you need to exit the institution immediately.”
When I handed Randy Wayne the phone, he shook his head. “That’s not right,” he said. “Everybody knows what happened down there and who’s responsible.”
“Thanks.”
“Wait,” he said, his big blue eyes getting even bigger, “I may know someone who might be able to help.”
I was desperate. I’d take anything.
“Give me your cell number and I’ll call you after I do a little . . . after I make a few calls.”
“How are the plans and arrangements coming along?”
I was out driving around thinking, because I didn’t know what else to do and I loved driving Anna’s Mustang, when the call came.
“I’m working on them,” I said. “Everything will––”
“Why aren’t you in your office?”
How does he know I’m not?
“Sounds like you’re driving,” he said.
“I’m working on the plan. Driving around thinking.”
“Not headed somewhere private to tell the authorities about all this?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Swear?” he said. “On her life? ’Cause that’s what it is. Her life.”
“I know that.”
“I told you to keep everything as normal as possible.”
“I am. I’m on my lunch break. I often drive around and think.”
“Not today. I want you back at the institution.”
“Okay, I’ve got to do something first, but then I’ll head back.”
“What? What do you have to do first? I wouldn’t think you’d be so reckless with your wife’s life.”
Wife again. Does he really think she is?
“My mom died last week. I was supposed to have already picked out the image and quote for her headstone. I promised I’d do it no later than today. It won’t take too long but I’ve already promised to meet the guy doing it.”
“Hurry then. And if you’re lying, it’s her life.”
“Can I speak to her?”
“I’ll call in an hour. If you’re back at the prison, you can talk to her.”
I dropped the phone in the passenger seat, not knowing what to do. All I had done was buy a little time. Very little. What could I do with it?
I gunned the engine and sped down the rural route of the flat, pine tree–lined highway, racing nowhere fast.
How can I get back into the institution?
I thought about it.
There was nothing I could do. Nothing to––
I could make up an excuse, something left behind in my office that I needed.
They’d never go for that––and even if they did, it wouldn’t get me back inside long enough to really help. And it didn’t address the most important problem––being there tomorrow night to get Cardigan out.
I could ask for mercy from the warden.
But he had none, not for me.
I could make a deal with the warden. Agree to resign at the end of the week if he’d just let me come back and finish out the week.
That might work. It would certainly appeal to him. But . . . would he go for it?
Probably not. Especially when he thinks the investigation into Hahn’s death will get me out anyway.
What if an inmate’s wife with an emergency demanded to speak to me? Or a volunteer?
I doubted even that would work.
What I had told the kidnapper was partially true. I had yet to select an image and quote for Mom’s headstone. Today was not the deadline, though. That had been the lie.
But when I became aware of where I was, I realized I was coming up on Whispering Pines Lane, the road that led to the cemetery. I slowed, tapped the blinker on, and turned down the road we all travel alone.
Had my subconscious brought me here? Before or after what I had said to the caller?
I parked as close to her graveside as I could, got out, and walked over the fall-browning grass toward her empty headstone, wondering if winter’s first green is gold, what is fall’s first brown.
Most of the flower arrangements left from the funeral were dead or nearly dead, many of the white plastic baskets tipped over.
I bent down and straightened them.
Close to the earth, touching the dead and dying flowers, my mom’s decaying body just six feet beyond. Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been by to see you sooner,” I said.
The shade from a nearby tree fell just short of her new grave, the midday sun causing the granite of the gravestone and the sandy soil of the fill dirt to gleam brightly.
The bareness of her headstone looked bad, unfinished, as if she were uncared for, which was not the case.
“I’m sorry about your headstone too. I’ll get to it soon. I swear. ”
I swear is not something I normally say, and I wondered if it was me reverting back to a more juvenile state while talking to my dead mother or my conversation with the kidnapper.
“I miss you far more than I ever thought I would,” I said. “Didn’t realize how much good the visits I thought I was doing for you were actually doing for me.”
In the far corner of the cemetery, a large, old car rattled up to a stop, and a short, stocky elderly man with a felt hat and overcoat stumbled out and lumbered over to a cement bench next to a double headstone.
“I’ve got to go, Mom,” I said, “but I�
�ll be back soon. And I’ll get your marker done. I promise. I love you. Miss you.”
I lingered for a moment more then made my way back to Anna’s car, walking not unlike the elderly man on the backside of the cemetery had.
Chapter Twenty
I drove home with an overwhelming sense of dread.
Whether from my visit to my Mom’s grave or being locked out of the prison, I felt a futility like I hadn’t in a very long time, and I wondered if I’d ever see Anna alive again.
Can’t think like that. Push it down. Put it away. Focus on figuring out how to do what you need to do. Nothing else.
Nothing else.
At home the first thing I did was go to the small bedroom Anna and I had been sharing for such a short time.
Sitting on her side of the bed, I picked up the book she had been reading for the few minutes she could stay wake each night after coming to bed. She had always had difficulty staying up late––something her pregnancy had kicked into overdrive.
Lifting the top book, Ultimate Crime Ultimate Punishment, a law text on the death penalty, it revealed a smaller book beneath it––A Good Divorce, A Good Marriage.
I knew she had been reading the law book. Though she wasn’t practicing and wasn’t sure she would, Anna had recently graduated from FSU Law School and was fascinated with all things criminal justice. With the upheaval in her life, and being with child, I knew it was too much for her to think about just now, but I hoped one day she would practice law, because I knew how good she would be at it.
I hadn’t known she was also reading the relationship book. But it didn’t surprise me. Not at all. Of course she would want to have the best divorce possible. Of course she would want us to have the best relationship possible. Of course she would do all she could to make both of those things happen.
I wondered if the experience of being shot and almost dying and the possibility of Anna never coming back to him would change Chris at all. He obviously cared about her. Could he get past the rejection and blow to his ego that her leaving him was? Would he ever take responsibility for his affairs and mistreatment of her?
It’s all moot if you don’t get her back.
Placing the books back just like they had been, I laid my head on her pillow and breathed her in, the smell of her shampoo and perfume creating an olfactory experience that simultaneously heightened both her presence and absence here.
I missed her so much. I was so tired, so sleepy, so spent in every way, I wanted to stay here like this, drift into the gentle oblivion of unconsciousness with the sweet smell of her swirling around me, but I forced myself to get up and do what I came home to do.
Going into the little living room, where on every wall were stacks of my books, I got pen and paper and wrote a note explaining everything to Merrill and asking him to square things if I failed to.
A certain hollowed-out hopelessness still sat at my center, but writing the letter––having someone like Merrill to write it to––made me feel better.
When I opened my front door to leave, I saw, to my surprise, Chris Taunton easing into the yard in a car I didn’t recognize.
He pulled in sideways, placing the vehicle perpendicular to the trailer, and rolled his window down.
“Don’t make me try to get out,” he said.
“The hell are you doing?” I asked.
He was leaned way back in the seat, sitting stiff and gingerly, and looked a half step above dead. When he reached up to put the car in park, he winced in pain.
“Something against doctor’s orders,” he said, “but I want to help you find her and get her back. I have to.”
“You’re jeopardizing her life just by being here. What if they see you? What could you do to help anyway?”
“I can’t lay there thinking about all the ways I did her wrong.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what you need to be doing.”
“Punish myself? For how long? The rest of my life?”
“No. Reflect. Repent. Learn.”
“Repent? I’ve already asked God to forgive me a thousand times.”
“Means nothing. I’m talking about making changes. Repent means to go in a different direction.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do. By the way, what happened to my car? You seen it?”
My phone rang.
I held up my hand and gave him a look that said be quiet.
“Are you back at the prison?” the caller asked.
Would you know if I wasn’t?
“Nearly.”
“Nearly isn’t good enough, John. Not nearly good enough.”
“I will be soon.”
“Why aren’t you following my instructions? Don’t tell me I overestimated your care for your wife.”
Chris mouthed, What is he saying?
“You did not. I’m trying to do everything you asked. Just like you want it done.”
“Doesn’t seem that way to me,” he said. “I want this to have a happy ending for all of us, but I’m not playing games, not making idle threats. You saw what we did to the guy who tried to be a hero. Don’t make me kill her. I honestly don’t want to. But know this––I will if I have to. Then I will find someone else to do what I need done. Understand?”
“I do.”
“I will call you again in fifteen minutes. You better be back at the prison.”
“I will be.”
I hung up.
“I’ve got to go,” I said to Chris. “You need to go back to the hospital. If there’s anything you can do I will let you know. But for now, you can’t be seen.”
I didn’t wait for him to respond. Just jumped into Anna’s Mustang and sped away.
Chapter Twenty-one
As I raced toward the prison, I tried to formulate a plan for getting back in.
I kept coming up short, but the irony of going from working so hard to figure how to break an inmate out to now trying to devise a plan to break back in wasn’t lost on me.
At a minimum I would be at the prison when the kidnapper called back. I could go inside the admin or training buildings, which were outside the fence, if nothing else. If anyone asked what I was doing, I could say I came back because I wanted to meet with the warden about my future.
Of course, I’d be surprised if anybody but Randy Wayne, the warden and maybe his secretary even knew anything about my suspension.
I arrived at the institution with one minute to spare.
The warden’s office was on the far left side of the admin building closest to the front gate of the prison, so I entered through the front door on the opposite end, something mostly only visitors did, and was greeted by Brandy Jean Bateman, the buxom blonde with perpetual relationship dilemmas, who was forever soliciting advice she never took.
“Just the man I wanted to see,” she said. “I’ve got a question for you.”
“I’ll be right back to answer it for you, but I have to run take care of something first.”
“Sure,” she said, sighing with a certain wistful resignation, as if all men made her wait. “Take your time. I’ll be here.”
I rushed past her as my phone started ringing.
Answering it as quickly as I could, I ducked into the Mens to take it.
“Are you back at the prison?”
“I am,” I said, entering the first of the two small stalls and closing the door.
“What’s that echo?”
“You really want to know?” I asked, trying to think of something to say.
“Wouldn’t’ve asked if I didn’t.”
“I’m in the restroom. All this has my stomach messed up.”
“Sorry,” he said, and he sounded liked he meant it, “this will all be over soon.”
“Speaking to Anna will help.”
“Here she is.”
“John?” Anna said.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I really am. I just miss you so much. They’re treating me very well. All I need in the world is to
be back with you . . . and a nice long bath.”
“You’ll have both very soon. I’m gonna get you out of there.”
“I know how you are,” she said. “But take care of yourself too. Not just me and everybody else. Are you eating? Have you slept any at all?”
“I’m okay. I’ll be great as soon as you’re back safe and sound.”
“I love you so much,” she said.
“I love you. See you soon.”
There was a rustling sound on the phone and she was gone.
“Why are you risking your wife’s life, John?” the kidnapper asked.
“What?”
“I told you to do exactly what I say and not to ever lie to me.”
“I––”
“Why would you tell me you’re at the prison when you’re––”
“I am. I told you.”
“You lied.”
“I didn’t.”
“You’re not there.”
“I told you,” I said. “My stomach is . . . I had a . . . an emergency. As soon as I got back, I ran into the closest bathroom. I’m in the men’s restroom in Admin right now. It’s where I’ve been since the moment I got back.”
“I meant for you to be in your office. In the chapel.”
“I will be. I just had to––”
“You better not be lying, John.”
With that he ended the call.
“What the hell are you doin’ here?”
As I pulled the restroom door open and stepped out, I walked into the warden.
Anger reddened his fleshy face, flared his nostrils, furrowed his brow.
Bat Matson was a man who expected to be obeyed.
“Answer me,” he said, his jowls shaking a bit as he did.
“I asked him to join us,” Carrie Helms said.
I turned to see Helms, Randy Wayne Davis, and Pine Tree Peavey walking down the narrow hallway toward us.
Carrie Helms was in front, Randy not far behind her, Pine lumbering after them, eclipsing everything behind him.
Pete Pine Tree Peavey was the largest man I’d ever seen in person. Not just tall, but wide, he wasn’t a narrow, quick-growing slash pine but a massive, thick-bodied loblolly pine.
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