He didn't know for sure, and Palmer
reckoned that he would never be able to
answer the conundrum fully, but it all
boiled down to one question: could he fix
things?
Palmer walked back to his desk silently and sat down, opening up a small black
folder that he kept in the very back of his
desk. He picked up his phone and
punched the number 9 to get an outside
line. It was now or never.
Palmer found the number he was
looking for in the folder and punched in
the first digit.
“Welcome back, Mr. Wade.” Wade was sat down onto his chair in the questioning room and took a breath. He was finally back in New York, and just as expected, a monster of a headache was awaiting him.
He sat across from his parole counselor, Officer McDaniels. It hadn't been very long at all since Wade had last spoken to him on the phone and made the promise not to get himself into any trouble. Things hadn't quite worked out so well after that phone call, and Wade knew he was going to catch an unimaginable amount of heat.
Wade remained silent as McDaniels looked him over. He was flipping through Wade's tattered file, sighing heavily.
“It's just strange to me...” he began. Wade swallowed.
“...why someone would spend 3 years
of their life acting as upright as you did to get let out early, if their only intention was to get sent back as soon as possible.”
The officer's voice was cold and stiff. “...It wasn't exactly my 'intention',” Wade said coolly. He'd had enough of people criticizing him. He was going to take this opportunity to fight back, no matter how futile it would be.
“Your conduct says otherwise,” McDaniels started.
“My 'conduct'?” Wade shot back. “...I saved a girl from getting shot!”
“You skipped parole the very same day you were released,” McDaniels broke in, his voice becoming harsher with each syllable. “You broke the law. You somehow have managed to lose all of the paperwork sent to you, but that doesn't really matter anymore, since you're going right back to your cell!”
Wade stood his ground.
“Somehow saving a life seems to mean a lot more to me than it does to anyone else!” he said defiantly.
“The fact that you broke the law in order to get into that position to begin with makes your actions, no matter how heroic, null and void!” McDaniels shouted. He threw Wade's file onto the table.
“You're 18 years old, you've got no ambitions, no plan, no discipline, and most importantly, no respect for the law... and those four things mean a lot in my book.”
Wade threw his chained hands into the air.
“What did you expect me to do?” he yelled back. “You stuffed me in some shoddy apartment somewhere downtown that I end up getting robbed at ”
“...Allegedly.”
“- You expect me to return to society with next to no money, no belongings but the clothes on my back, no help, no support but a job at a factory I probably would have been fired from regardless ”
“Look, I get it. You got dealt a bad hand, but that's too bad, because a lot of us are,” McDaniels answered, adding, “You're not sitting in front of me because of your 'lack of help'. You're here because you threw what 'help' you had aside, broke the rules, and crossed state lines. Don't expect me to feel too much sympathy.”
“Oh, come on!” Wade responded. “I cross state lines, and I get treated like I killed a guy!”
“...I wonder why that is.”
Silence filled the room. Wade broke his stare with McDaniels and looked down at the table.
“Wade, do you have any goals? Any dreams? Any idea of what you want to do with your life?” McDaniels asked pointedly.
Wade gave a half-hearted and quiet laugh to himself.
“...Actually, I do.”
McDaniels set his hands on the table and watched Wade intently.
“Share it with me.”
Wade looked up at the wall just above McDaniels' head.
“...I want to help people.”
“'Help people'?”
Wade moved uncomfortably in his seat.
“I – I want to fix problems. I want to rescue people in trouble.”
Officer McDaniels eyed him carefully, clarifying, “You mean, you want to be a hero?”
Wade shook his head roughly.
“No. I just want to be the good guy. But it seems like after doing that, I'm being treated like a bad guy.”
Officer McDaniels and Wade stared at each other.
Wade put it all on the table. He had presented the reason he found. His new calling. His purpose.
But it was beginning to look like he wouldn’t be able to fulfill it.
Palmer stood on the front porch of the Wallace residence and rang the doorbell. He straightened his suit jacket and took a step back, trying to put on his best smile. He would need all the help he could get to pull this thing off, and Harmony Wallace was the biggest piece of the puzzle. None of it would work without her support. Palmer just hoped she would be up for it.
After a few seconds, the front door unlocked, and Palmer came face to face with Harmony.
“...Detective?” Harmony's face seemed as if it was instantly drained of all color. Palmer looked at her, trying to be as friendly as he could, given the circumstance.
“...Mind if I speak to you for a minute?” he asked.
Harmony took a step outside, when a voice came from her end of the doorway.
“Harmony, honey, who is it?”
Harmony shot a look inside, worried.
Palmer held up his hand.
“Five minutes,” he said quickly.
She didn't have much time to respond to him, because immediately an elderly woman appeared in the doorway.
“May I help you?” she asked suspiciously.
Palmer placed a hand in his front pocket and pulled out his badge.
“Yes, ma'am. I'm Detective Dan Palmer, with the Munich Police Department. I was wondering if I could speak with Ms. Wallace.”
Palmer saw Harmony open her mouth to protest, but her mother quickly smiled.
“Well yes, of course! Come on in.”
Palmer entered the house, and followed Mrs. Wallace toward the residence's living room, where an elderly man sat in a wheelchair. The man turned to look at him.
“...Dan?” he heard the man say quietly.
“Dan Palmer?” Palmer halfway didn't believe it. He looked at the man, doing a double-take.
“Mr. Wallace?” he asked his old school teacher.
Mr. Wallace chuckled lightly and moved towards him.
“My goodness, boy! Come on in,” he said brightly.
Harmony looked over at Palmer, confused.
“You two know each other?” she asked.
Palmer smiled.
“...Mr. Wallace was a professor of mine in High School...I – oh, of course! Wallace! Why didn't I make the connection?” Palmer turned to Harmony. “Of course, you'd be his daughter!”
Palmer watched as his former English teacher inched towards him in a wheelchair.
“Well, you've certainly become quite a man,” Mr. Wallace chuckled. “Detective, you say?”
“Yes, sir,” Palmer nodded.
Mr. Wallace laughed to himself.
“I always knew you'd do well, Dan. So, is my daughter in any sort of trouble?”
Palmer looked over to Harmony, who stared back at him with the type of expression that could only mean 'he doesn't know'.
“Uhh...no, sir.” Palmer lied. “I actually just need some information from her concerning the day care she works at. We've had some calls, and I'm just seeing if she knows anything that I need to.”
Mr. Wallace studied Palmer for a quick moment.
“I see...well, have at it!” he said. “Join us for lunch!”
Palmer held up his hand, saying, “I'd bette
r not. I need to get back to the station as soon as possible. Rain check?”
“If you're sure.”
With a quick goodbye, Palmer headed out the front door with Harmony in tow.
He turned around to face her, looking at her seriously.
“You haven't told them what happened, have you?” he charged, concerned.
Harmony waved him off, saying, “I’ve got everything under control. Why are you here?”
Palmer took a moment to get his thoughts together.
“Are you still interested in helping Wade?” he asked.
Palmer was surprised at how quickly her expression changed from pure frustration to pure curiosity.
“I...well – yeah, I am. How?”
Palmer looked at her.
“I pulled a few strings, called in some favors and managed to get the parole board that sentenced Wade together for a short hearing. If you testify that Wade saved you, and was acting in the interest of the public good, then we might be able to get his sentence shortened.”
“...Testify?” Harmony asked, unsure of herself.
Palmer put his hands up to try and reassure her.
“It'll just be a room of board members, nothing too big. I can prep you on how to give your statement, what things you should say, and what things you should leave out. They might ask to question you, but we can run through that as well. Would you be willing to?”
Palmer held his breath, awaiting the moment of truth.
Surprisingly, Harmony nodded.
“Of course. When do we start?”
Palmer smiled.
“I'll give you a call later today about it, okay?”
Harmony nodded as he began to leave. “Okay. Thanks, detective!”
Palmer gave her a quick wave and headed towards his police cruiser.
“Have a good afternoon!” he called.
Harmony returned his wave, and walked back into her house smiling.
Palmer turned the key in the ignition and pulled out as quickly as he could. The hard part was over, and everything had gone far smoother than he had originally predicted, but it wasn’t over yet. He would need to hurry to make sure everything else went according to plan.
CHAPTER 14
Harmony sat with Detective Palmer in front of the large group of board members in New York City. Her first time out of state had been quite underwhelming, to say the least. She had spent the entire time in transit with Palmer, and had spoken very little to him. She wasn't allowed to go anywhere, and she needed to be near him at all times.
She didn't mind it too much, however. It wasn't like this was a vacation. Her only purpose for being in the city was to help Wade, and it had taken quite a stretch of the imagination to sell her parents on the idea that she would be gone for two whole days.
As hectic as the traveling had been, the big moment was even scarier for her.
The detective had run her through the entire process several times over, but it was different in front of such an important group of people.
At first glance, they didn’t seem all that thrilled to see her, or the detective, and it finally dawned on Harmony that it was this group of people that had put Wade in jail in the first place. She could reasonably understand that they would all be upset about having to go to work on a weekend just to hear her talk in a shy voice about what had happened.
Palmer had been amazing for her to watch. She was shocked at how professional and eloquent he presented himself, as if he had been through this routine plenty of times before. He spoke with a strong voice, and left little room for argument in the things that he said.
When the floor was finally given to her, she leaned up to the microphone and hesitantly made eye contact with them. Her nerves were starting to get the best of her, but she told herself to relax, and remember the purpose of her being there.
She was in the room to help save Wade, just as he had saved her. He had put his life on the line for her. The least she could do was tell her story.
She gave one last look to Palmer, who nodded to her, smiling, and then she turned to speak.
Why were prison cells always the same color?
Wade had been to more than one prison in his lifetime, and for some reason, each time he was placed into a cell, the wall was always painted the same boring color. Was there a manual out there for 'How to Build Monotonous Prisons', or was it just the cheapest paint on the market?
He lay on his bunk and sat up to look outside his cell's barred window at the prison's work yard. His prison status was listed as 'processing', technically, and younger adults were kept out of General Population for their first month at the state pen.
In other words, he had about 30 days of safety before being forced to dive head first into true prison life.
He wasn't in juvie anymore. The chances of murder, rape, and abuse were much higher here, and it was only a matter of time before he would be thrown into the middle of it.
Wade dug in his pocket and pulled out the one item they had allowed him to keep: the small black leather notebook he had 'picked up' in Munich.
He opened it up to the first page and took out his small, prison-issued writing pencil. He placed the lead on the page and looked up to the ceiling. He quickly scribbled the one word that he couldn't get out of his head.
'Harmony'.
He heard a buzzer, and the door to his cell slid open. A security guard stepped up to the doorway and looked in.
“Got a visitor, Wade.”
Wade picked himself up off of the bed. Who on earth would want to see him? Did anyone even know he had been transferred to prison?
“Any idea who it is?” Wade asked.
The guard simply shook his head and motioned for Wade to follow him.
Wade rose to his feet in bewilderment, and was escorted out.
Wade sat restlessly in his chair in the middle of the visitation room, looking around. The entire area was empty, save for a few guards, which was highly unusual. He had toyed with the idea that she had come to visit him, but he quickly cut off the train of thought, not wanting to be disappointed. Chances were that it was McDaniels, wanting to tear off another strip in front of him yet again. Wade honestly didn't know how much more he could take. Going to prison was hard enough: he didn't need a lecture about it every 2 hours.
The door to the visiting room opened, and Wade turned his attention to the man entering. There, wearing a full suit and tie, with a bright smile on his face, was the detective that had arrested him. Wade half wanted to jump up and kick him in the chest, but he held back his anger toward the man that had taken him out of society.
“Detective...?” Wade said loosely, trying to keep himself calm.
“...Palmer,” the man finished. “It's kind of hard to remember ”
“What are you doing here?” Wade spoke, cutting him off sharply, adding, “New York is a little outside of your district.”
Palmer held his hand up as if trying to make peace.
“Oh, I'm not anywhere near my jurisdiction to be a threat to you.”
Palmer took a seat and Wade sighed heavily. He wanted to go back to his cell. The only thing worse than having to listen to McDaniels was listening to the man that had sent Wade back to the confines of prison.
“What do you want?” Wade said, signaling Palmer to get to the point.
Palmer looked at him and smiled.
“I'm just dropping by to tell you that we managed to get your sentence reduced to a week.”
Wade's brain stopped in its tracks.
“...A week? How?”
“Harmony and I testified before the parole board at a hearing.”
Wade looked at Palmer. Harmony was here?
Palmer continued speaking.
“They came to the conclusion that your act of civil service was enough to kick out your parole violation, and they're prepared to give you another chance at recidivism.”
They were letting him go? Wade almost didn't believe it. He had been facing thre
e more years of time, and yet because of a single hearing, it was dropped to a week?
“...So, what happens to me now?” Wade asked.
Palmer leaned back in his chair quite comfortably.
“Presumably you'll be released back to where they first sent you, except you're not going to be getting any free passes next time around.”
Wade stared up in disbelief. Was he really going to get another chance?
“Thank you,” he told Palmer.
“Hey, don't thank me, thank yourself...” Palmer began. He leaned forward and locked eyes with Wade.
“...But understand this: risking your life as a free man by skipping parole, of all things, is stupid. Don't do it.
“You don't have to keep living in pain. There are people out there, millions of them, that have it worse than you do. You're blessed, no matter how bad things may look some times. No matter how alone you may feel.
“You want to start feeling something besides pain? You start living. You start making your life mean something. Find something to live for, and live for it. Because everything else, it's just scenery flying by.”
Wade looked into Palmer's eyes, and understood. They were connected. They had both lived in pain. They both had their doubts. But Palmer had somehow found a way out, and now he was trying to be the guiding light for Wade. Could Wade have given Palmer too tough of a break?
Wade nodded at him. Palmer returned in kind, and stood up.
As he made his way towards the room's exit, Wade couldn't help but smile. It seemed that things were beginning to look up.
CHAPTER 15
Wade walked out of the front entrance a week later, and rubbed his wrists gently. He hoped that would be the last time he would wear handcuffs. He turned back around and took a last glimpse at the outer walls of the prison, promising himself he would never be back.
Things had changed since his last time outside. At first, he had felt as if he had nothing to live for. Nothing to spend his time achieving. Nothing to make him happy, or at peace. Things were different now. Palmer had convinced him that he could change. He could keep living.
Wade turned towards the city street and began walking towards his waiting cab.
He had surrendered himself to the fact that he had nothing tangible to live for, but he didn't care, because for Wade, life wasn't about finding pleasure and peace. He had decided that even though he could never make himself fully happy, he could spend his life committed to making sure others were. Even though he would walk the earth yearning hopelessly for some type of total satisfaction, he could do everything in his power to help the people that he met along the way. And for the moment, that would suffice.
Fallen Angels - Book 1: Welcome To Munich Page 7
