by Alison Cole
We all laugh at what I say - the ironic thing is, we would love to feel stupid. But that all depends on the magistrate's decision.
"When would you leave?" dad asks.
"That day, ideally. Depending on flight availability, we'd probably hole up in a hotel somewhere and then go to the airport," Marcus says.
At home, I make a meal from some of our favorite comfort foods. Because our immediate future is so uncertain, I am feeling the need for something familiar and comforting. Marcus gives Lizzie her bath and we both put her to bed. Downstairs, I am cuddling with Marcus on the couch, just staring into the flames in the fireplace. Soon, we are making out and our hands are roaming over each other.
"Got to have you now, Johanna! I want it hard and fast. I want to forget all that's happened," Marcus says in a low, grating voice.
"Take me, luv! I want you just as much. Against the wall - now!" my voice is oddly low and breathless.
Mere seconds later, we are leaning against the living room wall, yanking all our clothing off. This will be no tender coupling. Our wanting for each other is so sharp and intense that we want it to happen now. As we bare more and more of our skin, our hands rove and tweak at sensitive areas. I am so wet and ready. We work feverishly to ratchet the desire even higher.
Marcus lifts me as I wrap my legs around his trim waist. His fingers play with my pussy and clit bringing me to a climax quickly.
I moan softly and allow my fingers to rove over his sensitive nipples and that special spot just behind one ear. As I lick the area under his ear, I feel his fingers moving jerkily against my pussy. Hot liquid slides out of my pussy as I come hard, once again.
"Oh, now, Marcus! I'm coming!"
With that, Marcus lowers me and impales me on his stiff, upright shaft. His torso holds me against the wall and we move urgently against each other, reaching for our orgasms. He begins breathing hard, the air hissing out from between his clenched teeth. His cock throbs and jerks inside me as he comes.
I begin to spurt against his pelvis as my pussy clenches hard around his cock. I throw my head back and moan low in my head. The intensity of my orgasm makes me want to wail, but I don't want to wake Lizzie.
When our frantic lovemaking is over, we lay back down. My legs are trembling with weakness - I suspect that Marcus's legs are trembling just as badly. I feel waves of sleepiness overtake me.
"So...sleepy," I tell him.
We gather our discarded clothing and walk upstairs, our arms wrapped around each other. In bed, I relax under the covers and seek Marcus's warmth...
Chapter 18
On Monday, we finally have a practice. However, before practice begins, we sit down to talk about the pending sentencing hearing and how this could affect our band.
"How many of you are ready to leave if the news is bad?" Tim asks.
Everyone's hands go up - even Lizzie's plump hand goes up.
"Good show. Okay, this is what we'll do. Have the equipment and instruments packed and ready to go on Tuesday night, just in case. We should all have our plane tickets by now, so, just in case, we can get to the airport and be ready to go through security screening and customs. I spoke to Nigel and told him what's happening and, while he's not happy that we may need to flee England, he supports our decisions. Initially, we would work with him from the U. S., but eventually, he and our business manager would join us over there.
"Now, how is everyone feeling after battling the flu?"
"Good, just coughing," says Laslow.
"I'm coughing less, but still feel the need for the nebulizer," I say.
"Progress on all sides. We have water on the side table for anyone who needs it. Drink away and don't hold back. It's better for our vocal cords."
We began practicing, moving through several songs and two play sets when Nigel rings the outer bell.
"Hello, all! Are you all ready to start on tour?"
We all cheer and nod. "Yes! We are!"
"I just got word earlier today that we will be flying out of Heathrow on Thursday afternoon - I know, that conflicts with your plans to fly out of the country pending the magistrate's decision. My thinking is that, with heightened security, you lot would be save in any European city on our tour. I am in the process of arranging for a British security company to accompany us as we go from city to city. They would man the main doors of hotels, as well as near your rooms. I also want them to man entrances to auditoriums, as well as entryways to the backstage area. I am planning to make photos of both women available to every security person so that, in the event that they try to crash any of our concerts or get into hotels, they can recognize them more quickly and call law enforcement," Nigel says.
"Nigel, how certain is it that a security firm would be able to forestall any attempts that either woman could make?" asks Marcus.
"Very high probability, Marcus. I have been speaking with the owners of several British security firms and have requested to see every officer's credentials before I hire a firm. Everyone in this band is very important to me, and, knowing that crazies are out there, willing to harm you lot is highly upsetting to me. I have been working on identifying the strongest security firm so that every officer is ready and able to leave on tour Thursday. I have been speaking to the managers of hotels in France, Italy, Germany, Belgium, Greece, Luxembourg, and every country in which we are scheduled to perform. Every one of them has heard of the kidnapping and trials. They have assured me that security officers are welcome to provide protection. Remember, these security officers won't be protecting just us. They will be providing protection to every hotel guest there, just by their very presence."
"Yes, that's a good point," says Laslow.
"Okay, then, everyone. Let's take things one day at a time. We do have a lot happening now. First, the sentencing. Pending what happens there, we either make plans to flee the country or we go home and get ready to leave for Europe the next day," Tim orders.
With that, Nigel leaves and we resume practicing. By the end of the day, we have our songs memorized. Marcus has a good day as well. He catches up on his backlog of articles. As we go home, we chat, feeling good about the day.
At home, after we have dinner and clean up the kitchen, I bathe Lizzie. She goes to bed, leaving me free to start choosing what to pack. I choose clothing for a winter in Europe and pack these items. I decide to pack Lizzie's things tomorrow. Marcus runs upstairs and packs his clothing. As he finishes, he looks at me.
"Johanna, I'm thinking it's a good thing that the tour is so close to the sentencing. We have more luggage, so we can set these packed bags close to the bedroom door - and start packing more bags, just in case. We can pack mainly winter things because it's just as cold in New York as it is here. We'll have time to buy new clothing over there as the seasons change, but we will need much more clothing if we end up staying in the U.S. for any length of time. What do you say?"
I sighed. "I wish it wasn't so necessary, but I agree with you. You're right. I don't want to wake Lizzie, so I'm delaying packing her clothing until tomorrow. Let's pack extra things for us right now. We can move that to the garage later on. I'll pack my music and a music stand as well. It's a good thing we have a larger vehicle because we can stash all that in the rear before we go to the hearing on Wednesday. Hopefully, it won't be necessary, but at least we won't be caught short of time, scrambling to get out of Great Britain."
"That's my goal, luv. To get you, Lizzie and me out of harm's way, just in case. The juries did find both women guilty, but until we hear what the magistrate says, it means as much as warm spit in a bucket," Marcus says.
"Ewww! Couldn't you have found a better analogy?" After we lug several heavy bags downstairs, I cough, feeling breathless. "Treatment time. I'm taking this downstairs," I tell Marcus, pointing at Lizzie's closed bedroom door.
After my nebulizer treatment, I drink water, feeling better - if a bit trembly. Marcus runs my machine upstairs and, as he comes down, we hear the phone ring. He grabs it.
>
"Hullo?"
"Marcus? It's the prosecuting barrister here. I want to give you and Johanna some preparation, just in case. Both juries have found Cara and Melanie guilty, but that means nothing. The magistrate could decide, based on their mental health diagnoses, to keep them out of prison."
"Sir, we've been talking about that, actually." He scribbles a two-word note and hands it to me - "prosecuting barrister."
"And?"
"Uhh, we're trying to make sure that we're all protected. Beyond that, I'm reluctant to say anything," Marcus tells him. He presses the button to place the call on speakerphone so I can hear the rest of the conversation.
I exhale in relief. He's being cautious. Good.
"Okay, then, don't say anything more. I'm grateful you realize that the probability exists for them to be free this week. I'm glad you realize there's danger in that. Too many crime victims have assumed that, just because there's a sentencing hearing, the perpetrators will be locked up."
I speak up.
"Sir, we know mental illness is unpredictable. I don't trust either Cara or Melanie to behave and stay within the bounds of the law," I say.
"Good. Okay. I just wanted to let you know about the possibility. Some magistrates will send defendants to jail while others will take a softer stance. Goodnight." He hangs up.
"I'm glad he called us," I say. "That confirms that we're right to be making these preparations...and thank you for not saying what they are!"
"Hell, Jo, I don't know if he's in the pay of the tabloids. No way will I put you or Lizzie in danger," says Marcus.
We practice the following day, then, at the end of the day, we sit down to talk.
"Okay, instead of practice tomorrow, we're going straight to the court house. We'll listen to what the magistrate says, and see if he sentences either woman to any time. Depending on his decision, we will either fly to Europe tomorrow afternoon or Thursday. Have you exchanged your U.S. tickets for tickets to Europe?" Tim asks us.
Marcus nods. "Did that yesterday. I didn't realize the proximity of the start of the tour to the sentencing hearing - I think we've been so focused on illness, practice, and two criminal trials that I overlooked it."
"It's natural, because I did, too," Linny says.
After talking for several minutes more, we all head home. As he's driving, Marcus brakes suddenly, swearing under his breath.
"What?" I ask curiously.
"Look up ahead. Those pedestrians aren't pedestrians."
"Paparazzo? Rag journalists?"
"You've got that right. Hang on tight..." Marcus makes a sharp right turn and accelerates. I look out the wing mirror, searching for cars in pursuit. I see nothing.
"I don't see anyone."
"Good. I don't want them to know it was us. From the front, we look like any largish vehicle. They may not have known it was us. Still, I'd rather exercise too much caution so we don't have slavering dogs at the walls, wanting to get to you and Lizzie," Marcus says.
We enter the alleyway to the back entrance of our house. Spotting nothing, Marcus enters the key code and the gate opens. After we enter the gate, it immediately begins to close. We unlock the back door and enter the house quietly. Even little Lizzie senses the need for quiet and she says nothing. She doesn't even engage us in her usual babble as we move quietly from room to room, making sure the home is empty of everyone but us. Once we assure ourselves that nobody is in the home, we let out huge sighs. I set Lizzie on her feet and take her jacket and hat off.
I make dinner for the three of us and we eat.
"Marcus, would you mind bathing Lizzie tonight? I want to get her packing done," I say.
"Sure. I'd already planned on that, because I knew you'd need to do that," he says. After the packing is done and we put Lizzie to bed, we spend a quiet evening downstairs. As we stare into the fire, I see several flashes just beyond the front wall.
"Marcus..."
"I saw them too. Stay here," he says. He walks to the front window, avoiding walking straight at it. Once he's next to the window, he peeks out, keeping himself hidden. "Ahh! Looks like camera flashes. They can't get over the wall, so they're satisfying themselves with snaps of that."
"Oh, thank God you thought of putting up a high wall!" I say.
The next morning, mum shows up early and rings me when she's about a block away.
Marcus slips his jacket on and goes out to the back yard, where he enters the code for the gate. Mum drives in and stops so Marcus can jump into the front seat.
In the house, I have made flapjacks with potatoes. Mum sniffs appreciatively as she removes her coat, scarf and gloves.
"Gamma!" Lizzie holds her arms up to my mum, who lifts her out of her high chair.
After a few minutes, mum tells Lizzie she'll help her finish her breakfast.
"Brekky, gamma! Brekky!" Lizzie screams.
After Marcus and I try to eat, I give up. My stomach feels as though a tight metal band is encircling it.
"Let's go, luv. Mum, Lizzie, we'll be back as soon as everything's over," Marcus says.
In the car, I sip tentatively at my travel mug of coffee. I can only force down small sips.
"Luv, I know you're nervous. I am, too. All we can do is try to relax and wait for what he's going to say.
I nod, taking deep breaths to contain my nerves.
In the court room, we take our seats. The press and public crane their necks to get a look at us. I grip Marcus' hand firmly in mine and feel my heart trying to jump out of my throat and mouth.
I turn as I see Tim, Laslow and Linny join us. Five minutes later, Nigel shows up. He gives us a smile that tries to reassure us and he winks at me.
My mind flits back to the beginning of this ordeal - my first sight of Cara and Melanie at our concert, nearly one year ago. Seeing the police talking to an angry Cara. Taking the rubbish outside to toss it and seeing Cara with a vacant look on her face as she stands across the street. Spotting her as Lizzie and I leave the shop after finishing our grocery shopping. Fleeing our old flat and hiding out in one of Marcus' dad's houses. Seeing Lizzie kidnapped.
Cara Wells is brought in first. She is wearing ankle shackles and handcuffs. Large, muscular guards stand behind her.
The magistrate comes in and we all stand respectfully.
"Miss Wells, please stand."
Cara and her barrister both stand.
"Miss Wells, you were arrested for stalking Marcus Hadley, after you had been warned more than once that what you were doing constitutes stalking behavior. You followed the Hadley family all round Saint Albans. You attempted to kidnap an innocent infant. When you were questioned, you professed not to be sorry for your actions. You attempted to rationalize them. When I ordered a psychological evaluation, the psychologist identified, not one, but three diagnoses based on your testing, one of which is a true mental illness.
"I have here a pre-sentencing report that reveals that, if you have any other opportunity to inflict harm on any of the Hadley family, you will do so. Because of all of this, I have decided you are much too dangerous to be allowed to walk free -"
"NO! YOU CAN'T LOCK ME UP FOR ACTING ON MY LOVE! LOCK THAT LITTLE BITCH UP! SHE STOLE 'IM FROM ME!"
The guards jump on Cara and force her to stand, walking her out of the court room forcefully. We can still hear her screams from another room.
"Take her to a cell right now!" the magistrate orders. "You -" here, he points to the defense barrister. "You will inform Miss Wells of the sentence I am imposing on her..."
"Yes, sir," the defense barrister nods.
"As I was saying, Miss Wells cannot be allowed to walk free..."
THUMP! The wall reverberates as something big hits it from the other side.
"Gerroff me!"
Cara's wails become quieter and fainter.
"Cannot be allowed to walk free. She will go after Mrs. Hadley and her child. When she doesn't get Mr. Hadley, she'll attempt to harm him. I am sentencing her to life beh
ind bars. She will not have the opportunity to get out early. She will die behind bars. Period."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," says the defense barrister. He swallows, as if the sentence is being imposed on him.
I look at Marcus and the boys.
"She's in prison for life! Thank God!" I gasp and wipe tears from my cheeks. I see the press writing feverishly.
Outside the courtroom, we are escorted to a small room and offered hot tea.
I feel better now, so I accept the offer. As we wait, I sip the hot, sweet brew. We talk.
"Well, that's one down, one to go," Marcus says. "Let's see what happens with Melanie, then we'll know if we have to flee to the U.S."
One hour later, we file back into the courtroom. I grip Marcus's and Laslow's hands nervously.
Melanie is escorted in. She, too, is restrained by handcuffs and ankle shackles. She sits down. Her hair is no longer styled in an outrageous Mohawk. Her hair is now shoulder-length and a mousy brown.
The magistrate returns to his bench and we stand once again.
Miss Stabb, will you and your barrister please stand?"
Melanie and her barrister both rise.
"Miss Stabb you helped a friend inflict harm on an innocent child and her parents. You know that Miss Wells has long been fixated on Mr. Hadley. You decided to help her in whatever way you could, regardless of what she asked you to do - and regardless of the effects of your actions on an innocent baby, her mother and father.
"During your questioning after your arrest, you professed no sorrow for what you did. No remorse, Miss Stabb."
"But..."
"Quiet, Miss Stabb. It is my turn to speak," warns the magistrate.
The guards move closer to Melanie, prepared for her outburst.
Melanie sighs gustily, but she doesn't say anything more.
"You showed no remorse. Instead, you promised that, if you had the opportunity, you would help your friend to get to Mr. Hadley in any way you could. You have a mental health condition that makes you crave crisis and drama. These are like drugs to you - when they are not present, you crave them. When they are present, you overdose on them - and you want more. No medication exists for your condition. All that does exist is face-to-face therapy and learning how to develop empathy for others.
