Marshall: A Bad Boy Romance

by Kara Hart

  “So you’re going to talk?” he asks me. I choke. “I figured you would.”

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “I just don’t want to be involved in this. I want my time back, the time before I agreed to any of this.”

  “I never meant to use you,” he says. “But I needed to escape this hellhole and you were my ticket out of here. Anyway, it’s almost over now. Soon, we’ll all have a little closure.”

  He hangs up the phone before I can even respond. “Fuck!” I hiss, stomping my heel against the ground.

  I have to turn him in. I’m not the same person I used to be. I can’t just sit by and let him leave the country. He could hurt others. He killed someone out of sheer anger. I’ve never met anybody who’s done anything like that before. Marshall, a cop, hasn’t even killed a man.

  Today is a day of thought. When Marshall calls, I don’t answer. Everything is hanging on a thin line and I have no idea what they’re planning over there, or what the FBI knows. Everything I do or say can be used in a court of law, right? The best bet for me right now is to watch my tongue and form a plan. I’m going to turn Craig in. After that, I might have to turn myself in.

  25

  Virginia

  I know exactly where Craig is. The one catch is that turning him in could implicate me. At this point, it’s pretty clear that Craig is losing it. He’s been holed away for too many days out there. Out in the swamps, there’s nothing that you can do. You just have to wait.

  That’s why he built the damn place. He wanted somewhere safe. Now, after he told me all the details of the murder, it makes sense. He built it after everything went down. He knew how fragile he was. He knew this case wouldn’t just go away. They never do. No one like him gets away with murder. Eventually, it all catches up to you. So he built the cabin. He found a way to hide.

  Only, he told the girl he was going to use. He got sloppy drunk and spilled it all to me. I’m the wrench in his plans and if I don’t turn him in now, he’s going after me. At least, that’s how I’m feeling. Paranoid much? Probably. But I can’t take any chances now.

  I take out my laptop, sliding my black leather gloves on. The same gloves I used in our heists. They’ve been cleaned and carefully put into my bag. Now, I’m using them one last time.

  I take out my laptop and glance at the blank screen. I begin typing: I never wanted to be typing these words. I never thought I’d be in this position, stuck in the middle of two crimes. The first crime was a bit foolish, I’ll concede. We needed money and we studied hard. It wasn’t the crime of the century, but it was well thought-out. You see, I was leaving this place behind. We all were. We were going to Europe to disappear forever and start our new lives, separate from each other. Texas has represented a lot of things to a lot of people, but to us, it represented our hell. I won’t apologize for the crime all three of us committed, but I will say this. We weren’t trying to hurt anyone. You have to realize, our backs were against the wall. We had no choice, but to survive.

  I’m the girl you’ve been looking for and I can tell you that Elroy and I had no idea Craig murdered someone. I spoke with him recently and he explained the whole thing. Now, I feel sick to my stomach. I can’t think about anything else. He used us as a means to escape. But now that this is ending, I know I can’t let him leave. I have to tell you where he is.

  I want some semblance of normality in my life again. Falling in love with Marshall has given me something real to fall into. At first, I thought I could manage my emotions. I thought I’d keep him close, while having fun too. It was dumb, I’ll admit, but I thought I’d be in Europe by now, surrounded by Cliffside views.

  I take a break from writing. Marshall. This is going to Marshall. The man who changed my life forever. My eyes start to water, but I hold back from crying. I miss him so much and it’s only been a day. I grab my phone and look at his number. I text him, “I love you, my handsome man.”

  He texts me, “Missing you like crazy.” And then, only seconds later, he says, “I’ve been thinking. After this whole thing is over and done with, let’s do something special. Let’s go to Mexico and get away. Let’s get lost down there for a week. I want to get to know you better so bad, Vi. I’m sorry I’ve been so consumed with work. It’s not fair to you and I’m working on a way of getting out.”

  Getting out? My heart sinks while reading. He’s so good to me. He’s done so much and worked so hard to make this work right and all I’ve done is lie to him. And now, he’s talking about throwing his career away, all so he can have more time with me, the liar.

  My hands are shaking. I can barely breathe. I hold my phone and type the words: “All I want is you. I hope I’m good to you. Mexico sounds wonderful. I would love to explore the world with you.”

  Huge dreams. I’m diving into the unrealistic, thinking about all we could do together. We could go to South America and hike the mountains of Peru. We could boat across Venice, while eating big globs of pasta. We could head to the streets of Bangkok and backpack across the lush terrain of Thailand. Then, we could take a road trip across America. I could see it all, while being with the one I love.

  They’re just pipe dreams. It’s never going to happen like that. When he finds out who I really am, he’ll cuff me, throw me in my jail cell, and never talk to me again. I’ll have to become a different person in prison. I’ll have a new life, one defined by small quarters and bars that extend all around. Small windows and decaying food. I’ll lose all semblance of life, while Warren carries a broken heart throughout his career as a cop.

  I set my phone back down and look at the laptop. There’s more to be said, so I continue to write. “The directions will be listed below. You’ll find him there. I’m sending you this, at the risk of losing everything. The truth is, I haven’t spent the money yet. It was supposed to be for a home and a new job. But now, I’m thinking of giving it back. Funny, right? I know it doesn’t make a difference, what I do now. I committed the crime. Your job is to seek justice. My job is to thwart justice. Who will win? My guess is that, in the end, no one will come out ahead. It’ll just be the age-old cat and mouse chase. I have no doubts in my mind that you’ll lock me up. But it won’t change anything in the end. Anyway, I hope this helps your prior investigation on the murder. That’s something I can’t stand behind. Goodbye and good luck finding me.”

  I print it out and carefully grab the paper, holding it away from me. I don’t want to get any of my hair on it, any of my saliva, or anything. I quickly fold it and throw it in an envelope. I drive 40 miles out and drop it in a box, near a few shacks, in a poor neighborhood. There are no cameras around here, so I should be safe.

  When I head home, I’m exhausted. Come tomorrow, Craig will be in their custody. As for me, I’ll be holding my breath and hoping for better days.

  26

  Marshall

  “Who is she, anyway?” Adam asks me, in a room full of FBI Agents. I glance at him with a hurried look of disgust and anger.

  “Don’t question me about my business,” I tell him. “She’s a woman I’m saying. Let’s leave it at that.”

  He has no business asking me who she is. Frankly, I’ve been nice to him up until a certain point. Him envying me and thinking I’m some sort of badass has now turned into him thinking I’m some sort of hedonist. Maybe I used to be. Maybe I used to sleep around with any woman I saw as a catch. That was then. Now, I’m devoted to one woman and I’m not letting the department get involved in my love affairs.

  “Come on, man. Just tell me about her,” he says. I know where he’s going with this.

  “What is this new obsession with my love life?” I ask him. “It’s getting weird.”

  The way he looks at me now is so different. It’s like he’s questioning my motives, every second of the day. It started at the first stake out. Once I proved he was wrong, he felt thwarted. Now, he’s got it in his head that my girl is a bank robber. The whole thing sounds fucking ridiculous, even when I say it in my head.
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br />   “I just want to be closer with you, man. We’re partners, after all,” he says, in a friendly tone. Still, his eyes reveal everything. “I don’t know. Maybe we can go on a double date sometime, or something. I’m seeing someone too now, actually.”

  “Oh yeah?” I laugh because I know he’s bullshitting me. He’s spent his nights hunched over at his desk, researching the case. There hasn’t been any time for him to find somebody. “Who is she?”

  “Some girl I went to college with. I called her up the other day. I thought we could catch up and she ended up having dinner with me two nights ago,” he says.

  I’m staring directly in your eyes, man. How could you lie to me like that? Partners? Fuck that. We’re so far removed from each other.

  “That’s sweet, but I don’t really do the double dating thing. It gets… awkward.” I chuckle and drink the bitter coffee. It’s lukewarm at this point. The styrofoam cup in my hand feels out of place. I want to get the fuck out of this room. I’ve never liked working with the feds. No cop does. But Adam? Hell, he’s loving every second of this. He feels like a fucking superstar.

  Policing used to be an honorable profession. I suppose it still is in some places. Down here, in this county, it’s nothing but an ego-game. It’s just a department full of guys trying to climb their way to the top. Ever since the new team came in, it’s been worse. It’s like they’ll do anything to get ahead. They’ll even chat it up with the feds.

  “Suit yourself,” he says, looking over at Freddie Macker, the fed who showed up at my door, violating my privacy. Freddie smiles. They’re buddies, after all. Soon, they’ll all go out for beers, like all men working for the government do after a long day. Adam will make the suggestion to look into my affairs. Adam, my partner. My friend.

  I haven’t been clean all of these years, but I sure as hell have done my job well. There’s paperwork I’ve fucked up on, there’s evidence I’ve withheld. Back when I first started, we were taught different procedures. We were told to go with our gut. Turns out, my gut was good. I put a lot of bad men behind bars. But how is that going to look to a federal agent, who’s trying to take over this case?

  They’ll clean up shop. They’ll try to get me on some bullshit, but we all know they’ll just fire me. There won’t be any going to any other departments. My career will be over. The life I’ve made will fall to pieces.

  “What do we know about the guy?” I find myself asking. I might as well be proactive on this. “Craig Richardson. Where was he last seen?”

  Freddie glances at the bulletin board posted in the office. It has all of Elroy and Craig’s history up there, but it’s not clear how they met or what woman is involved.

  “After the murder, he went off the grid for a while. Word on the street is he took a number of odd jobs. He was a dishwasher for three months, before screaming at his manager and breaking a rack full of dishes. He worked on a farm out in Louisiana for a bit, but that didn’t last too long. Someone told us he sold marijuana to some friends of his, but at this point, we can’t confirm the validity of that,” he says. “All in all, we don’t have much. The guy doesn’t use a smartphone or anything. He hasn’t had internet for years, or even a registered place.”

  “Any bills? Anything we can trace to him?” I ask him. Adam won’t keep his eyes off me. The jealousy is palpable.

  “There’s no paper trail. The man must’ve paid with cash,” he says. “We’ve found a number of bills related to his mother, as she was the sole provider for the family. But even then, nothing points to him. We’ve sent our guys out to different properties and each time we’ve come back empty-handed.”

  “Fuck,” I whisper. “A real mastermind, huh.”

  “Maybe,” he nods. “He definitely thought this through. I think he knew we were going to hear his name sooner or later.”

  “Sir,” a man walks through the door, holding an envelope in hand. He’s looking at me. “This came in for you today. Just wanted to send it your way and make sure you got it.”

  “Who the hell would be sending you something at the station?” Adam asks.

  “No idea, but we’ll find out soon,” I say, ripping open the envelope.

  I start to read the words aloud: “I never wanted to be typing these words. I never thought I’d be in this position, stuck in the middle of two crimes…”

  I look up at the guys in the room and it’s pretty fucking clear to everyone that I’m holding something big. Everyone is waiting for me to continue. This is good news, whatever is revealed. Only, Adam is looking at me in a different way, as if I’m the one behind this somehow. Still, I tune him out and read the letter.

  “…anyway, I hope this helps your prior investigation on the murder…” I finish the letter and set it down, slumping back in my seat.

  “Jesus Christ,” Freddie whispers.

  I smile and nod. “Jesus Christ is right. We just witnessed a miracle,” I say. “We got him, right?”

  “Don’t be too sure. Could be a trap. Could be nothing,” Freddie says. “Either way, we have to send our men in now.”

  “No,” I tell him. “This was our case from the get-go. It’s our boys in there or nothing.”

  Freddie groans. “Are we really going to play this game?” he asks me.

  I stand up and face him. “I’ve worked my whole life for these guys. Hell yeah, we’re going to play that game,” I say.

  He sighs. “Fine. Your guys can go in. But it’s their lives that are on the line,” he says. “We’re going in behind you though. Our government orders it.”

  “Deal.” I shake his hand. “Adam, you coming with me?”

  “Yes, sir,” he says. I nod. “Gear up, boys! We’re about to have ourselves a little fun!”

  Louisiana is hot, muggy, and full of dark mystery. It takes hours to get there, which means hours of silence with Adam. Finally, when we’re close, he turns and asks me a revealing question.

  “Who wrote that letter?” he asks.

  “Excuse me?” I laugh at the absurdity of the question.

  “I just mean, it’s pretty good timing right?” he asks.

  “What are you insinuating?” I ask him, turning grim. We turn off our lights when we get close and start driving a little slower. We park the car a block away and prepare to head out on foot.

  “Nothing at all,” he says. “Forget I said anything.”

  There are noises everywhere. Crickets, winged bugs, croaking gators… Louisiana always gave me the creeps, but it’s these parts that especially freak me out. As we walk up to the sheltered cabin, I hold my breath.

  We get to the front door and move into position. I motion with my hands, keeping my pistol out. My heart is beating wildly. I motion. “1-2-3-” And we bust the door open, moving in.

  We’ve got men with high-powered rifles, dressed in the nicest swat outfits our taxpayers can buy. “Craig Richardson!” I scream, holding my gun out. I look through the night vision goggles and see movement in one of the rooms. The door is open. “Down on the ground!” I scream.

  He aims his pistol at me and I fire twice. One bullet clearly hits his abdomen, while the other hits his chest. He hits the ground fast and our men move in to arrest the bastard. It all happens so fast and I’m left, leaning against the wall, catching my breath. I’m dizzy with fear. I almost just lost my life. Worst of all, I almost lost the chance to have another day with Virginia.

  “We need a medic,” I say.

  “They’re on their way,” an officer says. I close my eyes and somehow, I know Adam is staring at me. I may have just killed our suspect and that doesn’t look too good.

  27

  Virginia

  I’m sitting at my favorite coffee shop, the one I went to the day after the crime. It’s been a long time since I’ve let myself go out like this, but I need more information on what happened last night. The radio let me know that Craig was caught, but when I got here, all of the news networks were saying that he’s dead.

  “…shot dow
n by Warren Marshall…” were the first words that I heard. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I can’t believe it. Craig is dead? Why? But I already know why. He was already on his last leg. No doubt, he came out firing.

  Now, however, I’m learning that he’s still alive. He’s in critical condition. I call Marshall, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, another guy does. “This is Adam, Marshall’s partner. Who’s calling?” he asks.

  “I’m, uh, his girlfriend,” I say. “Where’s Marshall. Is he alright? I just the saw news.”

  “Oh, his girlfriend. We haven’t met yet, though I’m curious. How can a woman fall for a guy like him?” he asks.

  “Excuse me?” I blurt out. Already, it’s obvious this guy is not someone I want to be talking to, but I keep myself on the line because I need Marshall. I need to know that he’s okay.

  “It’s a joke. Er, sorry,” he says. “He’s pretty busy right now, but if you’d like to come in, you’re more than welcome to.”

  “I’ll be there in less than an hour,” I find myself saying.

  “Good, good. We’ll talk then. Thanks, uh…”

  “It’s Virginia,” I say. “Goodbye.”

  I hang up the phone and run out the door. I get to the station in fifteen minutes. I shouldn’t be anywhere near here, but there’s so much I need to find out. What happened in there? Is Craig really alive? I have to admit, I don’t want him to die. Even if he does hold the power to give me up, I don’t have it in me to wish someone to die.

  At that station, all eyes are on me. It’s quiet in there, somber even. “Wait over here,” the FBI guy says to me. “Marshall’s busy right now, but he’ll be out soon enough.”