by Harlow Stone
“Oh, one more thing. I found Lucy Greer. She died.”
I can see the defeat on his face, upset that he doesn’t have something more substantial since my absence and phone call.
“I know.”
* * *
With nothing to look at, I’ve kept my eyes closed, but I can’t fall asleep. I heard the guard come down the hallway, but he said nothing to me. I can see his back from where he sits at his desk at the end of the hallway. He didn’t bother to greet me, and I’m thankful.
I hear the door open again just a few moments later, and the sound of shuffling feet.
Great, a drunk person.
Hoping I don’t have to share my cell, I keep my eyes closed and feign sleep in the hopes they’ll keep me and the newcomer separated.
“If you don’t wake up right now Jayne Elle O’Connor, I promise to vomit all over your selfish ass for not coming to see me as soon as you got back!”
I bolt upright in bed and can’t stop the happy tears gathering in the corner of my eyes. Miller opens the gate to my cell and kindly shoves Laura through before closing it again. I make my way to embrace my best friend who is closer to a sister to me, but stop short when I feel the burning slap across my cheek.
“That’s for not telling me you were home! For leaving me for so long and not letting me know you were okay! You damn well deserved it too!”
I don’t move. Jimmy wasn’t kidding when he said she can hold a grudge, and as much as I want to correct her and let her know it was for her own well-being that I stayed away, I don’t. She’s been drinking and she’s slightly wobbly. So I stand my ground, waiting for her to unleash whatever it is she needs to on me.
I know I would do the same if I were in her shoes. I’ve lived for nearly a year knowing that she was well and truly okay. She has lived in fear that I could be dead or dying in a ditch somewhere.
She hasn’t taken her eyes off me. Much like everyone else from my past who I’ve encountered, she studies me intently, taking in my new much firmer body, my purchased face and dark brown hair. After what feels like an eternity, and mostly likely due to the alcohol, she loses it.
Her chin quivers and her face falls, along with the tears gathered in her honey colored eyes. I pull my dear friend close and hold her tighter than I’d been able to the last time I hugged her. Too many stitches prevented me from giving her a proper embrace.
I let her weep onto my scarf for however long she needs to, knowing she needs this reassurance that I am in fact alive.
After a small eternity, she pulls back. She reaches behind me to grab the pillow off the top bunk and motions to the small bottom one. I climb back onto the bed, knowing this is our time to share.
I get in first, with my back once again to the wall, and she settles herself on the outside facing me. She adjusts her too-tight jeans and pulls her grey cardigan around her body before she settles onto the pillow.
We stare at each other for a few moments, much like we used to in this same position. From high school and on, this was the way we would have our heart to hearts. Vent about first loves, teething children and insufferable men. This is how we shared our secrets and stories.
“You’re still beautiful,” she says after a long perusal of my face.
“Where were you? Why are you back? You know everything I want to know, so just start from the beginning, I have all night.”
I laugh a little.
“How did you get in here anyway? What did Miller say when he called you?”
She gives me a smile before diving in.
“He was smart enough to tell me that being an unruly drunk in front of the police would land me in the drunk tank. He told me that my blood alcohol content would be taken and he’d be outside of the station around eleven o’clock.
“Of course he told me all that shit before he dropped the bomb you were in here. After I lost my shit, I told Brad to hand me the tequila and watch the kids. So, here I am. Half-drunk and here overnight so long as I, and I quote, ‘behave myself and dry out by morning’.”
She follows this up with a tipsy smile before sobering, at which point I lay it all on her. It takes a few hours and a lot of questions from her. But I start at Denver and end with Canada. Not surprisingly, her choice words for Ryder are more colorful than mine. And after a good curse fest of her proclaiming him ‘that lying sack of shit cheating whore of a hooker’s son’, we finally find slumber.
Chapter Twenty-nine
“Knock, Knock!”
I feel Laura move on the bed and I crack my eyes open to greet the dick behind the voice. There’s no clock in this cell so I have no idea what time it is, but I feel like I just got to sleep. Laura sits up on the bed, holding onto her temples from what I’m sure is a massive headache, courtesy of the tequila she drank last night.
I finally let my eyes settle on the sorry excuse of a detective standing on the other side of the bars. I wish our places were reversed, but there’s not much I can do about that right now. Wish in one hand, shit in the other—we all know which fills up first.
“We meet again, Ms. O’Connor. Up and at ‘em. We have a lot to talk about.”
“Is my lawyer here yet?”
“No, but he should be shortly. You and I can get started.”
“You and I will do no such thing until my lawyer is present.”
He sighs, as if it’s a big deal to him. He’s only upset because he knows his presence bothers me and he’ll do whatever he can to make my life miserable. I’m sure of it.
“Very well. I thought we could have a coffee and catch up, but stay in here if you wish.”
I know his game and I’m not about to play. The lousy fuck doesn't want to have coffee with me. He wants some sort of a confession as to what happened, anything to nail me to the wall.
“I hate that prick!”
“You and me both, Laur.”
We don’t sit long before the desk guard comes down the hall.
“Monroe?”
Laura stands up.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Time to go Curly Sue, your night at the hotel is over.”
I embrace my girl one last time, knowing there’s nothing else I can do to keep her in here with me, and not wanting too. Well, sort of. But I know she needs to get home, and it won't be long until I’m called back to the interrogation room.
“I love you, Laur. Give the kids a hug and kiss for me.”
“I will, I promise. I’ll call Jimmy as soon as I get out to find out what’s going on.”
Once again I’m left alone in my little cell. I stretch out my legs, but refuse to use the open toilet where anyone could see me. I had my privacy taken away from me once, it won’t happen again.
I do my best to wash my face and rinse out my mouth just in time to hear a set of footsteps coming back down the hall.
“O’Connor, lawyer’s here.”
I’m led by another young rookie cop to the interrogation room. Miller greets me outside the door and I notice the distinguished gentleman inside the room through the blinds.
“Really, Jayne? He’s your lawyer?”
I give a slight shrug of my shoulders.
“I don’t know, who is he?”
“That’s Andrei Patrov.”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“If you associate with the Russian mob it should.”
This is news to me. Seeing as I don’t know any Russians that I can think of.
“Well, is he any good?”
“You could say that,” he says.
I can tell by the expression on Miller’s face that he must be good, but maybe not entirely legal in his endeavors.
“Well, that’s all that should matter.”
I open the door and enter the room to greet an attractive man. I’m assuming in his early forties with light brown hair and sharp midnight blue eyes.
“Ah, Ms. O’Connor. Pleasure to meet you.”
I note the light Russian accent
and extend my hand to greet him. “You as well.”
“Detective Miller, could you please allow us the room so I may speak with my client confidentially.”
Miller wastes no time in closing the door.
“Alright, we’ll cut the shit and get straight to the point. I’m Andrei Patrov, if you have not heard of me, you will.”
This statement is followed by a shark of a smile, which I don’t find scary but definitely threatening if he wanted it to be.
“I know most of what you are dealing with, having been briefed on the flight here. Mr. Callaghan joined me midway through my flight as well as my cousin, Ivan.”
The look I give him must show my confusion.
“My second cousin, to be exact. He works for Mr. Callaghan and served with him overseas. Now, we need to go over what you are going to say. They no longer wish to hear a recount of what happened to you in the room, they know this already. They wish to find out how each of the men ended up dead.”
I lean back in my chair and rub my hands over my tired face. I’ve thought about this a million times. I know what he would want me to do in this situation, but he’s not here anymore to confirm it for me.
“May I call you Jayne?”
I nod my head in the positive.
“Jayne, this not my first case involving murder, in fact I have done this more than a dozen times. You will say part of what you originally did. You were knocked out, the contusions on your head and lack of blood supporting that claim. You heard a struggle, you heard the men in the room. However when you woke up, they were both dead and bleeding out on the floor.”
I look Andrei in the eye through all of this, knowing this is very much similar to what I had planned to say, but in the same sense I feel as though lying taints Cory’s death. Would he have been okay with that? With what I’m possibly about to do? Lying to the police?
Probably.
But he’s not here to confirm it for me. Since I no longer have Lilly, or any immediate family to worry about, what’s keeping me from spending time in jail?
I know what’s keeping me from there; it’s that I don’t feel as though I deserve it. I feel like I should be free because justice was served no matter how long I drew out Andrew’s torture. The sick fuck deserved it and then some. He killed my family and he tried to kill me for Christ’s sake. He ruined my life.
Fucking right he deserved it!
That thought in mind, I nod in acknowledgment to Andrei Patrov.
* * *
I’ve been in this tiny interrogation room for two hours. I was let out to use the washroom, for which I was thankful. But being back here is like listening to a broken record.
I’ve learned that Andrei Patrov is a lion in battle. He fights when it’s needed and calls Braumer’s bluff more often than I expected. He definitely knows his way around the law and what to do to get me out of here. I’m only half listening to what is being said around me, not because I’m not interested in my fate, but because I can’t be bothered to listen to the same thing over and over again.
Braumer’s questioning once again pulls me out of my head.
“Please explain, Ms. O’Connor, why partials of your fingerprints were found on the knife used to torture and kill Andrew Roberts?”
“I told you before, I used it when I woke up to cut the bloody rope off of my wrists.”
He slams his hand down on the table.
“Here’s what I think! I think you used it to kill him after Cory used it to cut you free. I think, Cory was too weak to fight anymore from the stab wound to his chest, he died and you then took the opportunity to avenge his death by killing Andrew Roberts! Isn’t that how it went down?”
“That’s enough! My client will not be badgered or belittled by you or anyone else in this department. Unless you are here to charge her with the death of Andrew Roberts, then this conversation is over. If you need to speak with her again you will contact me directly.”
I’m led out of the room. My feet don’t move me quick enough. I have no belongings to collect since Denny drove last night and I never bothered taking my bag with me, my pockets too were empty. At the moment even if I did have belongings to collect they would have to be pretty damn important for me to stop and pick them up.
I storm out the front door and take a huge lung full of fresh air. In doing so I start to crave a cigarette to taint the freshness—and a whole lot of alcohol.
“You need to stay close, O’Connor. I will do what I can to help you and also try to find out why that man despises you so much.”
“No need to put it kindly, Patrov. He fucking hates me.”
Andrei chuckles at my choice of vocabulary and does nothing to correct me.
“Thank you, for your help. My ride is over there and I desperately need a shower.”
“You go. If I need you I will be in touch.”
I walk down the sidewalk, cutting through the parked civilian vehicles when a black town car cuts off my path to Denny. The window is rolled down by the time it comes to a stop and there in the back sits Foley.
“Be smart, Ms. O’Connor,” he says.
“Go fuck yourself, Foley.”
I move to go around his vehicle but his words slow me down.
“Claudia Becker is pregnant. I trust you won’t get in the way, or contact Mr. Callaghan. If you do I will make sure you regret it.”
I waste no time in rushing over to Denny’s Suburban. I don’t wait for hugs, I don’t say hello.
“Get me the fuck out of here, please.”
He wastes no time in doing just that.
Chapter Thirty
I sit low on my haunches when Norm comes barreling out the back door of Jimmy’s shop. I missed my girl, clearly she felt the same. We have not for one night been separated since the attack. The only thing that kept us apart was me being in the hospital. Before that, she was with me every day since my family died—she even attended the funeral.
I give her as much love for as long as I can before I head inside to shower. I feel like a layer of filth is on me, not knowing who stayed in that cell before Laura and I did. I climb the steps up to the apartment and am greeted by Jimmy and some other large male who I’ve never met before. I don’t get a chance to speak before Jimmy has me in his arms.
“Fuck. Had I of known you were going to end up in jail I wouldn’t have gone out last night. Worst fucking part is I didn’t find out until this morning, and those cunts at the station wouldn’t let you have any visitors aside from a lawyer.”
“I’m alright Jimmy. But I need you to let me go so I can shower. I feel like I caught an STD in that place.”
He gives me a quick kiss on the head before letting me go.
“Laura called, she’ll be over soon.”
“Alright. Give me thirty, or an hour please.”
I let him go and walk toward the hallway. I realize I forgot to ask who the big bastard on the couch is.
“Who are you?”
“Ivan. You met my cousin today.”
His accent is much more pronounced than Andrei’s. He’s also about one hundred pounds heavier with a huge head. I wouldn’t want to piss him off.
“Yes I did. Nice to meet you, and thanks. But I need some time.”
I point my thumb in the direction of the bathroom and don’t bother with any other pleasantries as I head to the heaven that is the shower.
* * *
I soak, scrub and shave every nook and crevice on my body, not stopping until the water runs cold. I blow dry my hair and paint my face. Not because I need to, but because I crave to be in control of what I put on and how I look, ultimately hoping it’ll change how I feel.
The only thing I want to do when I leave the bathroom is sleep, and maybe manage something small to eat. I also need to talk to Denny and see if Maverick made any progress at the cabin. I hope they did, but somehow I know he would’ve told me on the drive back to Jimmy’s if anything substantial were to come up.
I put on a loose
fitting pair of worn in ripped jeans and an old worn out long sleeve black top. I have no desire to impress, I have nowhere to go. I just need comfort and armor at the moment.
