by Kara Hart
“Pull over! You’re under arrest!” the car says again, completely robotic. It makes me hate the state more. But then I think of Marshall. Is he on his way to find me? What will he do if he sees my ass on this motorcycle? Will he know it’s me? Will he protect me? He sure as hell wouldn’t. It would break his damn heart.
Sirens sound in the distance. I can hear them coming closer. I flip off the car behind me and rev my engine faster, nearly sliding my bike on the ground to make a 90 degree turn into that familiar alley way. I used to play in this alley and now I’m running from the cops in it. Up ahead, there’s another set of alleys, and another after that. It’s endless over here, and us poor people know it fucking well.
I make a series of turns and finally, I stop. I get off the bike and head out on foot. I climb a fence and jump over, falling on the dirt. I pick myself back up and look around. I’m near my place now, but I can hear the helicopters coming. I reach my gate and slide the key in. I run up the long set of stairs, but I don’t go inside. I look out from the bars of the balcony. The cops’ lights are moving in the opposite direction now. They haven’t got a clue. I’m safe for now.
When the sirens finally shut off and the lights disappear, I slam my fist against the wall of my apartment and scream. “Fuck!” That’s the closest I’ve ever been being locked up before. I mean, before this, I wasn’t an angel. No “poor” kid is, they say, but that’s only because you want certain things like food, or a nice blanket, or jacket to keep you warm when it turns winter. I mean, my parents probably could have afforded those things, but asking them meant screaming. It meant they wouldn’t be allowed to buy their lottery ticket or third cigarette pack for the day.
I pace around the room and I don’t know what to do. Are the guys okay? I mean, are we going to get away with all of this? There’s no way to get ahold of them now. I’ll just have to play the waiting game. I don’t even have a TV, so I turn on the radio in my bedroom and listen.
“There may be a possible suspect in police custody as we speak, Jen…” A news reporter says this one sentence and I immediately run to the bathroom to vomit. I deserve it, of course. We robbed a fucking bank. Two fucking banks! How did I not think this would happen?
Part of me thought it would happen, but the other half thought we could win this one. My only concern is with who they’ve taken in. If it’s actually Craig or Elroy, I think the game is over. Shit, if it’s Craig, I’ll feel a little better. He’s got a tight lid on his mouth. As for Elroy, well, I think he’s got a good heart. He definitely likes me enough not to say my name, but he’s also weak. It wouldn’t be long before they convinced him he’d get a better deal if he got all of us in there with him.
Fuck.
I glance at my phone. It’s sitting next to my unloaded gun and bag of money. There was never any intention of using that gun. It’s just for show. I couldn’t stomach killing anyone, nor would I want to. I’m not that kind of bad.
There hasn’t been any activity on my phone, which I guess could be considered good or bad. Stupid or not, I pick up the phone and dial Marshall’s number, using my app that encrypts my number, as always. “Can’t talk right now. Pretty fucking busy,” he says, voice gruff and angered.
“Sorry. I just heard about the robbery. Did you get the guys? I’ve been rooting for you,” I say, trying to get some answers out of the guy.
“I told you, I can’t talk right now,” he says.
“Oh, I’m sor—” I start to apologize.
“See you,” he says, hanging up the phone.
My heart is fucking racing, but most of all, I’m thrown into a deep despair. Everything is going to be ruined. My chances of getting out of here, my freedom, and I’ll never be able to see Marshall again.
Everything is done for and I’m a wreck.
16
Marshall
I was pretty mean to Vi on the phone just now, I guess. I’m going to have to make it up to her, but if she only knew the kind of shit we just went through, she’d surely understand.
The stakes were high, so I made Adam get in the passenger’s seat. There was no way I was going to let him fuck anything else up. I knew they weren’t going to hit that bank. It was too obvious of a pick. I knew exactly which way to head.
At first, we had an officer that was chasing a young female on a motorcycle, young, fairly fit, maybe 5’ 6”. I’m surprised by the news because women aren’t usually the type of people who rob banks. No offense to women, of course. It just rarely happens. But I wasn’t interested in grabbing her just yet. I figure, if we get the other guys, she’ll come without putting up a fight.
So, we went after them. Only, we couldn’t fucking find them. Turns out, the guy was too slow in getting into the escape vehicle. When he dropped some cash and went back to grab it, his friend left him. Now, we have our key.
“Fucking hell, boys! We did it! We’ve gotten one step closer to solving this thing!” I burst into the front room of the police station with a giant Champagne bottle in my hand. I open it and out comes giant spurts of wine. Everyone holds their glasses below it, hollering away.
“Yeah, well, if you didn’t trust in me, this whole thing would have been solved today. I fucked it all up,” Adam scowls.
“Nonsense,” I laugh. “It doesn’t matter. We got one. We’ll get them all soon enough. Remember what I said when this whole thing first went down?”
“Sure do, sir. It takes a couple to understand the pattern,” he says. I nod.
“It sounds better how you said it, but that’s exactly the point,” I smile. “They’re fucking done. And soon enough, that girl and the other guy will be thrown in jail for a long ass time.”
“Damn right.” Gary, a cop of 12 years nods his head in solid agreement.
“Now, let’s finish our drinks and interrogate the poor bastard. He seems a bit frightened,” I laugh loudly and chug my cup of champagne. When I’m finished with it, I sigh and throw it against the wall. It falls right in the trash.
“Game faces,” I say, walking toward the interrogation room.
I knock on the door and open it. Adam and I walk in and sit down. “Elroy, how you doing?” Adam says, sounding very calm, like he’s going to be the one who helps him out on this.
“I need a lawyer,” he says.
“Well, I hear you, but there’s no lawyers around at this moment. It’s getting too late in the day and everyone has gone home,” he says. Tears stream down Elroy’s face. “But come tomorrow, we’ll get you that lawyer. Don’t you worry.”
“Alright,” he nods. “I understand.”
“Right now, we just need to ask you a few questions. It’s standard protocol, really. You don’t need to be worried, but mind your answers because they could be used in court,” he says.
The kid gulps down. “In court? Shouldn’t I—”
This is where I come in. I get out of my chair and place my foot on top, leaning forward. “Look, I already know what you’re going to ask because we hear it on a daily basis, kid. If you get a lawyer, all deals go out the window. That’s just how it’s gotta be. Right now is your chance,” I tell him. “If you don’t tell us some things fast, the years are going to start adding up for you.”
The kid nods and closes his eyes for a few seconds, taking it all in. It’s as if he’s dizzy. I’ve heard that that happens sometimes. You immediately become confused and wonder, “how the hell did I get here? What did I do?” when you know deep in your heart exactly what you did.
“You made a conscious effort to rob two banks,” I say. “You realize that?”
“I do,” he says.
“You committed two federal crimes. That’s as huge as you can go, big boy,” I say, taking my foot off the table. I pace around the room until I’m behind him now. “Two. That’s a prison sentence you can’t undo. A jury is going to put you behind bars for nearly your whole life. When you get out, you’ll have nothing. No job. No wife. No kids. Hell, your parents won’t even be alive. You’ll be
all alone. Then what? Did you even think about that?”
“I did not,” he says, starting to shake. I hate doing this interrogation business. I hate making them feel like shit. I know how dismal it all feels. I know how it makes me feel at night. The guilt. The shame. But I know it needs to be done. There’s the law and people need to follow it.
“Do you wish you could take it all back?” Adam asks, calm and gentle-like.
“Yes, sirs. I do. There’s nothing I wish for more right now,” he says, crying. He hangs his head and sobs as the tears start flowing.
“Shit, I just want to lock you up right now. I want you to pay for what you’ve done,” I say, playing the bad cop part up pretty damn high.
Now is Adam’s turn to soften the blow of all this. I need him to offer the plea deal that’ll get this guy’s friends out of hiding. I already know it’s going to work because of how he’s reacting.
“Stop it, Marshall. Can’t you see you’re scaring the boy?” Adam asks, standing up and facing me, like he’s angry with me. Elroy looks up and analyzes this odd exchange and his tears suddenly stop. Yes, there’s someone to his defense.
“Well, he committed a federal crime, Adam. What do you want me to do? Let him go?” I ask him. It’s almost as if Elroy is waiting for him to answer me “yes.” “You want me to just tell the boy that everything is alright now?”
“I want you to lighten up,” he says. “He’s not a criminal. Any sane person can see that. He’s a nice, young man. Hard working, probably. You can tell he just got mixed up into some shit. Hell, I did at his age too. I got into some real bad trouble. I just didn’t get caught.”
I back off and put my hands up. “Fine. You handle this shit. I can’t do it,” I say. I walk out of the room, allowing all of the tension to leave there with me.
The cops outside lightly clap and laugh a little when I’m outside of the room. They’ve been watching the little show on the monitors this whole time. I laugh with them and join them at the monitors, pouring myself another glass of that champagne.
“Watch as the guy folds all his cards. We’ve got this, boys,” I whisper. “We’ve got this.”
Adam sighs and sits back down. He throws a set of keys on the table so that Elroy can give his wrists some rest. “Here,” he says. “You don’t deserved to be all chained up, man. I’m sorry about him. He’s a little bit of a loose cannon some times.”
“A lot of cops are like that,” he says.
Adam laughs and lights up a cigarette. He doesn’t even smoke, but he’s giving the kid the illusion that they’re friends or something. “Want one?” he asks, tossing the pack his way.
“Sure.” He lights up and leans back. After a few quick and shaky drags, he asks, “So am I done for? Am I going to go away for life?”
“You could,” Adam admits. “Or you can play ball. It’s really your choice. You kind of remind me of myself. I don’t want to see you go down the wrong path. You’ve got a lot to live for. There’s so much more to be done, isn’t there?”
“I’d like to do so much more,” he says.
“Like what? Tell me?” Adam asks.
“Like, go to Europe. Like meet someone beautiful. Start a family. I’d like to live my life. Right now that sounds pretty good,” he says. “The only reason I even helped them rob that stupid bank was because it was enough money to pay my debt and leave this country. I thought I had found a way out. Now, I’m fucked.”
“You ain’t fucked,” Adam says, hitting the ash onto the table, like it’s normal. “You have options. Take our deal.”
“What’s the deal?” he asks.
“I’ll be right back,” Adam smiles.
17
Virginia
I wake up from a horrible nightmare. Nothing is right. Everything feels dreamlike in the worst way. It’s like I’m floating in space, but there’s no tether to keep me grounded. It’s just endless floating, endless blackness. Endless death. I look for my space suit, but there’s nothing on my body. That’s when I realize that I can’t breathe.
I wake up, choking on air. I grasp at my throat. “No!” I scream, sucking in air, but it feels like it’s not going in my body. Finally, I’m fully awake and I can breathe, although it’s panicked. “Whoa, whoa!” a deep voice says. I turn and there’s Marshall. “You okay?”
“What the fuck!” I scream. “Where am I? Am I at home?”
“You’re at my place,” he says, running his hands down my back to calm me down. He holds me close and I can feel his steady heartbeat. It is calming…
“How did I get here?” I ask, grasping at straws. I’m so fucking confused.
“You came over last night. You said you couldn’t sleep. Don’t you remember?” he asks, looking very concerned at me.
“Oh.” I finally remember now. All of last night’s memories trickle in. That’s right. He called me after the interrogation process. I asked to come over so I could learn more, but I must have fallen asleep pretty damn fast.
“I remember,” I say, nodding. “Sorry, I just had a nightmare or something. Jesus.”
“What happened?” he asks me. “You feeling okay?”
“Yeah, it was just like… I couldn’t breathe. Not sure what that was about,” I say, closing my eyes again and falling back on the bed. It’s light outside. My guess is that we slept in a bit.
“Vi, I’m sorry. You need anything, a Xanax or something?” he smiles a little.
“You just carry Xanax with you?” I ask him.
“You never know when you might need one,” he shrugs.
“Bad cop. Bad,” I mumble.
“It’s harmless,” he says. “Here, I’ll just get you some water. Sound good?”
“Sounds great,” I say, pushing myself out of bed as well.
“I think we’re getting somewhere with this guy,” he says to me. He hands me a glass of ice-cold water and it feels good as it hits the back of my throat. Still, there’s no taste in my mouth. I feel so numb.
“What do you mean? You think you’re getting closer to getting the other two?” I ask.
“We gave him 48 hours to sign the deal. If he signs, he’ll get 5-10 years maximum,” he says, smiling.
“And if he doesn’t?” I ask, knowing that Elroy is weak. He’ll probably take the fucking deal. I need to come up with a better plan. I need to keep aware.
“Ha, if he doesn’t… well, he’ll be locked away for a long time. Nearly his whole damn life. They all took a hell of a lot of money,” he says. “It’s a federal crime. You don’t fuck with the government, especially not in the state of Texas.”
“He’ll take the deal,” I suddenly say.
“What makes you so sure?” he asks me, looking at me carefully.
“Why wouldn’t he?” I ask him. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Depends on how much money I had,” he laughs. “If I had a rich family, I’d tell them to get me a good lawyer. I’m not a snitch. I couldn’t give a partner’s life up that easy.”
“Hm,” I shuffle and sit back down. “Well, it’s kind of exciting isn’t it?”
“It is,” he smiles again. “But it’s almost over.”
“What’ll happen to the rest of them?” I ask, feeling the pain in my stomach start to grow. I’m fucked. I’m done for. And after Marshall’s heart breaks into a million pieces, he’ll ask for the harshest sentence on me.
“No deal for them. We’ve asked them to come forward plenty of times on the news. They had their chance. They’ll go away until they’re old and wrinkly,” he says.
“Seems kind of… harsh,” I admit.
“The law is pretty harsh sometimes,” he agrees. “That’s why you don’t break it.”
He makes me sick. “Let me lose myself in you,” he says, not too long after, as he looks into my eyes. I blush, but I don’t feel that way about him right now. Every fucking time I look at him, I feel disgusted. I feel hopeless. How could I let him touch me now?
“I don’t feel that good,”
I tell him. “I’m fine to stay, but I’m having some issues.”
“Period?” he asks, the dumbass.
“Yeah,” I frown. “Takes a lot out of me.”
“I don’t mind it,” he says, putting his hand on my leg. I close my eyes with annoyance.
“Well, I do.” I move his hand away. “Sorry, I’m just really not in the mood.”
“What the hell did I do?” he asks, pacing around the room, showing his true cop behavior. “Do I deserve this? All I’ve done is be nice to you.”
Yes, you do deserve this, asshole. You’ve ruined everything. All my plans are now fucked because of you. “That doesn’t mean you get to do anything you want, you know,” I say, standing up.
He groans loudly. “Cool,” he says. “I see how it is. So you’re just going to be in one your moods again. Fucking great.”
“You know what? You’re a real asshole sometimes, Marshall. I think I’m going to take off. For good,” I say, feeling light headed. I need to be by myself. I need to get the fuck away from him for a while.
“Great! I hope you leave. I hope we never even speak again,” he says.
“Okay then,” I find myself reaching for his door handle. He walks after me and touches my arm. “Don’t you touch me,” I say, instinctually. “I need to leave. Now.”
“Fine,” he relaxes his hands. He wasn’t going to hurt me. I know that. But I need to leave and he needs to let me. “Sorry,” he says.
“Bye, Marshall,” I mutter, closing the door gently. Now begins the road to the end of life as I know it.
