by Brook Wilder
He didn’t even wait for an answer, he just jerked open the door and slid his bulk into the driver’s seat, making the car dip lightly as he did. Carla didn’t even try to provide an answer. Instead, she too opened her door and tentatively slid inside, hugging the passenger’s side door to put as much space between them as she could.
Maurice started the car and the tension in the air between them was enough to choke on as he started the drive back towards her home.
“My address is–”
“I know,” he said simply, with a leering grin towards her, “I know where you live, I know everywhere you go. Remember that.”
That silenced her, making the uncomfortable prickling of her skin double as her whole body screamed for her to get away from him, but there was nothing she could do. Not for herself, and sure as hell not for Joel. The thought broke her heart and the miles sped by in a unseen blur, mountains and blue skies on either side but she didn’t see those either. It was only Joel. Just him. She held his image in her mind like a talisman, using it to give herself strength because, just then, she felt like she didn’t have any at all.
“I want to thank you for something else, Carla,” Maurice said, his face still pointed forwards but his eyes kept shifting over towards her. She ignored him but that didn’t stop him, “I wanted to thank you for getting my merchandise back.” That finally caught her attention and she whipped her head towards him.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if it weren’t for you I would be out hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of marijuana. Because of you, I got it all back. I know it was completely unintentional on your part but still,” he paused, leering at her as they pulled into the driveway of her home, “I can be a very generous man when I’m feeling grateful.”
His hand moved, as fast as a snake, to brush across her thigh as he pulled the car to a stop and she jumped out while it was still moving, uncaring of anything else except for the need to get away from him. Disgust made her heart beat race and her breath gasp from her lungs as she turned to slam the door shut, but his next words stopped her, shocking the hell out of her.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at work, Carla.” It wasn’t a question as he stared at her, his voice nonchalant as if nothing had just happened.
“Excuse me?” she spat out, some of her shock and anger leeching out in her words and he just shrugged again, uncaring.
“I said I’ll see you at work tomorrow. And I will, Carla, I will see you, otherwise I’ll take everything I have and take it back to the police and you can kiss your freedom, and whatever slim chance your boyfriend has goodbye. Do you understand me?”
Carla stood there for a long moment, unable to force out even a single word in answer, but that was enough for him. Maurice nodded his head.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, smirking at her before reaching over, slamming the passenger door shut and backing out of the drive. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, his words echoing over and over in her mind like landmines exploding. Finally she forced herself to turn around and walk inside.
It felt like years since she’d been home, so much had happened, so much had changed in so short a time that she could barely even process it, but two things kept running over and over in her mind. The first was what Maurice had said about getting all the weed back, but she knew that when Hot Wheels had been detained, she’d only had a small portion of it. And the other was the name and phone number she’d seen scrawled on the desk of that police officer. The name had been a Mr. Smithe, John or James, she hadn’t been able to make out the first name, but it was the phone number that she tried to recall and couldn’t.
It didn’t matter though, she had a name and if there was anyone who knew something about it, it would be Honey. With a curse on her lips, she dialed Honey’s number, hoping that there was finally something, anything she could do to help Joel. She just prayed she wouldn’t be too late.
The phone rang and rang and she held her breath but finally Honey picked up. After a rushed explanation of what had happened, she asked if he knew who Mr. Smithe was and after a brief, confused argument about why she would need the number of the attorney that was on the club’s payroll, he finally gave it up. Carla hung up the phone before he could ask any more questions, immediately dialing the number Honey had given her with trembling fingers.
“Hello, this is James Smithe, how can I help you?” the voice came over the phone smooth and cultured but with an innate strength that allowed her a calm breath for the first time since earlier that morning.
“Mr. Smithe, my name is Carla, Carla Jensen. I’m calling on behalf of a client of yours, Joel Lasseter–”
“I’m sorry,” he said, interrupting her quickly, “Hold on a moment.” There was the sound of shuffling around and movement that came over the other line before he finally spoke again. “I needed to get to a more…private location before speaking to you. Now, what is this about Joel?” There was a new note in his voice that made her speak up instantly.
“I’m assuming you were notified by the police that Joel is being held for questioning? He’s been arrested.”
“Shit,” the curse sounded so foreign coming from him that it took her aback for a moment,but he kept on talking, “they must have delayed getting ahold of me. It doesn’t help that I’m out of the office today, so they would have the perfect excuse if they called and I wasn’t in. Where is he?”
Carla quickly rattled off the address of the police station before starting to tell him what had happened before stopping her.
“I’m sorry, miss. Thanks for calling me, really, I mean that. But believe me, the less I know the better, for you, and for Joel. I’ll be in touch.”
“Just…just promise me you’ll help him. Please?” Carla pleaded softly and there was a moment of heavy silence before he answered.
“I’ll do what I can. That’s what I’m paid to do, and I’m good at my job, Miss Jensen. Very, very good,” with that, he hung up the line and she was left listening to nothing before she finally lowered her phone and stared blankly into space.
Guilt and worry and fear twisted all together inside of her, eating away at her, and she hated that there was nothing else she could do for him. Nothing but stay there and wait and pray.
Chapter 27
Carla gripped the steering wheel of her truck in a white-knuckled grip. She was still not even sure who got it back to her, either the police or someone from the club, but there it was sitting parked in her driveway that morning when she woke up. She was too numb still to question it too much further other than to be grateful that it was there. Maybe in a few days she would be up to solving that mystery, but right now, the only thing on her mind was making through the next eight hours.
It was going to be hell. She was sure of that. How could it be anything else? Maurice had made it clear that he had obliterated all of her other choices and now she was going to have to keep playing his sick game of cat and mouse. The only problem was that she was most definitely the mouse.
Her heart thudded slowly and painfully in her chest. What the hell was she going to do? How could Maurice possible expect her to show up to work and pretend that everything was normal? That her life hadn’t suddenly been flipped upside down and he had been the one responsible for it all.
She shook her head. No. It was past the point of blaming anyone else for what had happened. She had played her own part. She had known going in, Joel had made sure that she had known, that she’d been taking a risk, knowing things could go south. But even with all of that, she also knew that Maurice held hers, and in some part Joel’s, life in his pudgy, fat hands.
Carla shuddered as she pulled down the long drive of Honey Bud Farm, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu. She parked, sitting there for a long moment just trying to make sense of how her life had led her back to this place, back to this time. It was only a short time ago but she felt like she was such a different person than she had been before meeting Joel. She was stronger
now. She knew it. Now, she just had to prove it to herself and that started with her getting out of the damned truck.
With a deep breath, she forced her shaking fingers to grasp the door handle and push it open and she took a deep breath of the crisp Colorado air. It calmed her. The scent of pinecones and evergreens soothing her and the sweet smell of rich soil did its part as well.
She sank her booted feet deep into its softness and drew on the familiarity to calm her racing nerves. She didn’t know what to expect, she wasn’t even sure if she was supposed to just go back to her old job, but it was easy and Carla hoped the repetition would distract her thoughts from everything in her life that seemed to be spiraling out of control. It certainly hadn’t helped that she’d returned home to find that her rent was overdue and the landlord was only giving her a few days to pay. But she didn’t have any money, and honestly with everything else that had happened, it seemed so insignificant in comparison that it was just a drop in the ocean of worry that ate at her gut as she clocked in.
Carla swept into the greenhouse, instantly soothed as she looked around at the space full of thriving life and she sank easily back into her old job of caring for the marijuana plants and propagating seedlings and new varieties. It was such a simple thing, but it helped to ease a little of the ache that had been her constant companion since Joel had been taken. Her heart was still breaking for him, her mind constantly turning to thoughts of what he was being forced to go through because of her.
She thought of Maurice’s revelation about using the GPS on her phone to track her and just the thought sent chills shooting through her. She had barely been able to sleep the night before knowing that no matter where she went he would be watching her, tracking her like an animal.
The door to the greenhouse swung open not that much later and she froze in horror for a moment before she looked up and realized it was Eric their driver, not Maurice.
“Hey, Carla. Good to see you again. How was your vacation?” he asked, as friendly as ever, but Carla just barely kept the confused look off her face.
“Vacation?”
“Yeah. Maurice said you had taken a few days off. That’s why you were gone,” he said with a shrug and she let out a shaky breath.
“Oh, right. Of course. Yeah, um. The vacation was good. What can I help you with?” she asked, desperate to distract him before she had to come up with any lies about her supposed ‘vacation,’ but just then, Maurice swept inside. He cast one narrow-eyed look towards Eric and Carla could read the expression in them easily. He wasn’t happy to see the other man there. Carla didn’t know what he was planning now, but with the threats he had hanging over her she didn’t want to. She’d never been so grateful for the perpetually stoned driver than she was just then.
“Eric, what are you doing here?” Maurice sneered and Eric opened his mouth to answer but Carla beat him to it.
“He was, uh, he was just in here asking for my help. For, um, something in the fields. We should probably go, actually.” She hastened forward, giving Maurice a wide berth, but even still, as she passed him he reached out a hand, stopping her in her tracks with his abhorrent touch.
“Now, Carla, just remember that little chat we had. You don’t want to go and do anything foolish now, right?” His voice was sickeningly sweet and she yanked her arm away without answering. He knew he had won. She could see it in his triumph filled gaze, the same one that swept disgustingly over her body, up and down before finally letting her go. She took a shaky breath as she led Eric outside, finally, blessedly shaking Maurice’s gaze as the greenhouse door shut after them.
“Hey, is everything alright?” Eric asked softly, his expression confused, but concerned as they walked further away from where Maurice was still in the greenhouse. She cast a gaze back over her shoulder, but just shook her head, knowing she couldn’t tell him anything even if she did appreciate it.
“Yes, Eric. It’s okay. Or at least, it’s nothing you can do anything about. I just have to take care of myself. But maybe,” she said before she could stop herself, “Maybe you could just stay a few extra hours today? I don’t want to–” Carla cut off her words abruptly, but she could still see the understanding that dawned in Eric’s eyes.
“Yeah. No problem, Carla. Anyway, I don’t actually have a problem in the field,” he said abashed, “But there is something I wanted you to look at with the newest shipment before it goes out.”
“Of course, Eric. Let’s go take a look.” Anything was perfect as long as it kept her away from Maurice.
The rest of the day passed quickly after that with Maurice keeping his distance for the most part. There were a few moments where he’d walk close, only to turn away once he saw that Eric was there and every time her nerves ratcheted up another notch. Because she knew that Eric wouldn’t always be there. That someday soon, very soon, she would have to face him alone and she was terrified of what would happen if it came to that.
By the time five o’clock came around she was practically counting down each second, barely waiting until the hour struck to clock out and run to her truck. She got in and slammed the door, revving the engine and backing out all without even daring to breathe. It was only after she had pulled out of the drive that she looked into her rear view mirror and there he was.
Maurice was just standing there, not really doing anything at all but there was something about his body language that screamed of barely held back violence and, even at that distance, she could see the rage building in his dark beady eyes.
Carla bit back a shocked cry. What was she going to do? Her thoughts tumbled torturously over and over but as she drove, they started to firm. She threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin. She had to be strong. For herself, and for Joel.
It wasn’t until a half hour later that she realized she wasn’t driving towards home. No, she was headed where she always did when life seemed on the brink of overwhelming her, the one person who could make her feel safe and sane and, most importantly, hopeful. That could make her feel like no matter what happened they could take it on. She was running towards him. Towards Joel.
The drive to the police station where he was still being held seemed to take forever and the sun had dipped below the mountain tops, sending spears of light slashing across the highway as she drove, slowly darkening the sky to a soft indigo. It cast the world in its purple light and she felt like she was walking into a dream as she pulled into the parking lot she’d become terrifyingly familiar with the day before and parked her truck.
Again, she found herself staring at the same red brick walls and the big, heavy double steel doors that were as intimidating as they were effective. The difference was that this time she was going in of her own free will instead of in handcuffs. But Joel was in there and she had already arranged the night before, in a desperate one AM call to the lawyer Mr. Smithe, that she would be able to see Joel.
The attorney had assured her that they wouldn’t legally be able to bar her from a simple visitation, but he would have to stay locked up. She could only talk to him through the bars of the temporary cell they had him locked up in and there would be an officer present at all times to supervise. She didn’t care about any of that though. As long as she got to see him. To ask him what she should do next because she felt lost without him. Like a part of her had been locked up right along with him.
Carla forced herself out of the truck, slamming the door behind her and leaning on its steel frame for a just a moment before she felt like she could walk without her knees giving out from the trembling. It didn’t matter that she was afraid, or that the last thing she wanted to do was walk back into the place where it had all come crashing down. Joel was locked up in there, partially because of her. She recalled the phone, the GPS tracker that had led Maurice straight to them on more than one occasion and that guilt that sat low and hard in her stomach grew even bigger.
Carla threw her shoulders back, determined not to give in to the fear or the panic or even the guilt as s
he walked inside and up to the first desk she saw.
“H–Hello. I’m here to see Joel Lasseter. His attorney arranged the visit,” Carla tried to make her voice sound strong but knew she failed when the officer looked up at her with one eyebrow arched mockingly. It didn’t matter though because, a moment later, he was leading her back through the police station, through one set of iron bars, down a short, cement block hallway where they finally stopped.
Carla looked at the officer in confusion but he just waved her forward, towards a cell that was just visible from where she was standing.
“I’ll be right here the whole time,” the cop said shortly before he waved her on again, “You have ten minutes.”
Carla didn’t waste any more time and she pushed herself onwards the next five or six steps until she could look inside. It was a small cell, no more than a ten foot by ten foot square with a cement floor and cinderblock walls, and the front was open but for the bars painted a chipped blue that separated them.
