by Ann Raina
Josepha swallowed the bite and nodded. "Sure I can, but what will it bring you to talk to him?"
"I don't know yet."
"Kyra, you got that look in your eyes." She watched Kyra play innocent and begin to eat. "It's like looking into a tunnel. All dark, but there's a strange light at the end. Could be the sun or a train coming."
"Nice analogy."
"You aren't planning on anything stupid, are you? I mean, I'll help you the best I can, but I won't do anything illegal."
"I'm not asking for that. Okay, aside from bringing me the file." Josepha put it back in her handbag before anyone could become suspicious. "I just want to know more. I want to know if Julian lies to me."
"It doesn't matter. The case is closed. As long as he serves his time and gives you no trouble." She shrugged. "He'll be gone then. You served society and did what you wanted to do. Right?"
Kyra thought about that and added, "And I showed my father what I can do."
They drank to that.
* * * *
The situation at work did not improve by much. Ashby was ordered to check on the packing crew more often, but he had reported that only Julian Bithrell's presence caused such unrest among the workers.
"He's always giving back witty remarks or something like that. Don't you see that, Kyra? You may have tamed him so that he doesn't pick a fight every time, but that doesn't keep him from playing off one man against another."
"What do you suggest?"
Ashby thrust his arms into the air. "Let them have a boxing match! No, not really. Though it might loosen the tension or at least tell everybody who's top dog." Ashby sighed. "Put him so he works alone, so he can't quibble."
"Great. And where should that be?"
"He could collect the garbage around. That's a one man job and he doesn't need to talk with anyone."
"Thanks for your suggestion, but, no." Kyra shook her head. She went to talk with Julian in private outside the hall. "I don't want the people to get mad around you. They've been here for longer and they will stay after you're already gone. So why do you mix them up?"
"You're right." Julian looked down at his dirty hands, rubbing each other. They were slightly shaking and he held them to stop it. "I shouldn't answer them. But it's hard. I don't like to be picked on."
"Ashby already proposed to separate you from them."
"Yes." He looked back into the hall. "I could drive the loader. The man who's doing it now doesn't know shit about it."
"And you do?"
He gave a wide boyish grin. "I told you I learned many things along the way. Will you gimme a chance?"
"Sure." Kyra watched the convict climb on the seat, start the engine and drive the machine as if he had done it for years. She nodded and turned to Ashby. "He's out of the way. He'll drive the loader and you just tell him where you want the palettes. Deal?"
"Yeah…" Ashby shook his head, astonished. "I'll be damned. I didn't think he'd know front from rear."
"Only because he's tall doesn't mean he's a knucklehead."
"Didn't say that. But all this…brawling. I thought he just wanted to show off. Like arm wrestling."
"He said the same about the other workers."
Ashby grinned. "Boys."
CHAPTER 9
Kyra felt lightheaded throughout the day. She hid it from Julian. Never show a man that you got what you wanted. But Sabrina was touched by her good mood as well as customers she met. She closed five deals that day. Her popularity due to the interview had risen and was a nice bonus when talking to customers. They reacted positive to the effort of bringing a criminal back into society and Kyra found herself counseling those business owners who had yet hesitated to apply for a convict. Their support spoke in numbers and Kyra called her dad from the office to tell him of the success. He was delighted and--finally--proud. Kyra leaned back and sighed. Could the day become any better?
It was quite late when she shut down the computer and switched off the lights in her office to take Julian home. He waited in the packing area. Ashby was with him, but he refused to leave the shop without knowing if his boss was safe. Kyra was touched by the gesture and, as it had been the rule, Julian knelt so she could tether him. He suppressed a cry when she closed the handcuffs. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly and signaled Ashby he could leave. The manager turned and was gone.
"My wrists…"
Kyra looked down. "Shit! You hurt yourself. Where?" He bit his lips. "I didn't know…"
"Doesn't matter. Just let us go."
She took him to her car, feeling guilty deep inside. She wanted to stick to her rules, but did not intend to hurt the convict and forget about it. She watched him over the rearview mirror on the way home. He looked out of the window, ignoring her, keeping to himself how the day had gone. Kyra was civilized enough to want to apologize, but then, why should she? It was within her rights to shackle him if she decided it to be necessary.
Kyra was about to talk with him at home when the telephone rang. She hurried to open his cuffs and took the phone from the kitchen. It was Josepha. "How did it go?"
"With your gut feeling, Kyra, you should still be a cop," Josepha said.
"So my father tells me every time. What's up?" Kyra watched Julian take off his long pants and socks and put on the shorts she had bought him. They fit on his ass like glue. She had had his backside in mind when shopping. What does that say about my imagination?
"You read in the file that Perry Wilson was out on probation?"
"Yes."
"I tried to reach him, but his probation officer said he's off the radar. Whoosh, gone."
"What?" Kyra shouted. Julian turned to her and it was too late to hide her astonishment. She took the telephone for a walk and lowered her voice. "Say that again."
"He just vanished. Nobody knows where he is. His probation officer was pretty pissed when I asked for him and, I tell you, I didn't like explaining to him that I just wanted to have a word with Wilson. He didn't buy it."
"Hmm…" Kyra paced the living room, hesitating. Damn, she had information, but was it useful? Telling Josepha that Perry had been in her house would not improve the situation. "He must have a place to hide."
"He probably has, but who knows that?"
"Great." Kyra glanced back at Julian. He stood close to the porch door and watched the sunset. "Can you do me another favor, Jo?"
"Ah, come on, Kyra, it's late, I want to go home. So, okay, what's it?"
"Send me a pic of the escapee and some facts from his files. I want to know some more about him."
"Escapee? Wow, that's formal. He's still on probation until it's revoked." Josepha laughed. "Okay, I'll do that, but please, not tonight. I need some sleep."
"In the arms of Mr. Wonderful, I know. Tomorrow will be fine as well." Kyra wished her a lovely night and hung up. "You could have busied yourself with dinner."
"Oh." Julian turned around as if caught with something illegal. "Yes, sure. But…have a look." She frowned and came to the porch. "Mrs. Bickerham's cats, I suppose? And isn't that very un-gentlemanlike what they're doing?" Kyra laughed, seeing the fur balls mate on her lawn. "Will you go to Mrs. Bickerham now and tell her to fetch her tigers? And tell them to never return?"
"No." Kyra passed him by into the kitchen. "Let them have their fun."
"As you have yours?"
"Watching a movie can be fun." Kyra gestured him to get closer so she could close the cuff around his ankle. She had extended the chain so he could reach the opposite counter, but not the telephone at the rearmost corner of the kitchen. Julian sighed, but did not complain. He had uttered all complaints he could think of. Kyra walked over and took out bowls and ingredients for a pizza.
"You know what I mean." He joined her at the counter. The chain clanked over the tiles.
"How are your wrists?"
"Better without handcuffs." He took a knife and started cutting green peppers. His hands were still a bit shaky, but he managed. Scratches with dried bloo
d showed on his wrist bones and the back of his hands. Work had been hard indeed and he flinched when he turned his wrists. Kyra moved a step away from him. "I won't do you no harm. Didn't that evening show you? Convince you?"
"Why did your friend pretend to be a cop?" Kyra asked, unwilling to discuss that special evening with him. She was still arguing with herself if she had done the right thing. She would feel better if she had not taken him into the tub, but guilt came too late. "He could have written a letter or called. Why a cop? To pretend being an officer is considered a crime."
"He wanted to be sure you let him in to talk with me."
"So?" She weighed the flour and added water and yeast. "I could have stayed. It was just for calling the police that I left the kitchen."
"Maybe. But he counted on talking to me in private." He looked at her. "He was surprised to find me here."
"I bet. But even if you had been in a separate room…"
"He would have asked you for a glass of water, anything to get you away for a few minutes."
"Bold. And risky."
"How should he know you were a cop once?"
"Would that have changed his approach?"
"Probably."
"And then? Would he have become a postman, a worker for the Telephone Company or what?"
"I don't know." Julian put the peppers into a bowl and peeled the onions. "But it was important enough for him to come and see me."
"Yeah, just for money." She shook her head. "No, Julian, I still don't buy that part."
"You still think I got the money because of drug dealing?"
"I don't know if it was drugs you dealt with. You were never caught before. If you had committed crimes, that is."
"I told you it was a set up."
"DEA testified they got a tip from an informant."
"You checked the file?" She nodded, watching his face. His eyes narrowed, and his lips were thin lines suddenly. "You're quite influential."
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Afraid I could find something you lied about?"
"No." His face relaxed again, eyes wide and innocent. A puppy look.
"Your fingerprints were on the briefcase of the other convict. How comes that? You said it wasn't yours."
"Oh, that's the greatest and most entertaining part of that night. At least for the cops." He looked at her, smiling without meaning it, like grinning through clenched teeth. "You know, that guy comes stumbling in, almost falls flat if I don't catch him. And I--polite, but an idiot--give him back his briefcase. So, without me ever knowing what's in it, my prints are everywhere."
Kyra frowned and Julian clenched his teeth even harder. His jaw muscles stood out. "But that wasn't the only money that night. Why did you carry three thousand dollars in cash with you?"
Julian sighed. He did not like her to know the file. He felt uneasy, cornered. He started cutting onions, but his movements were abrupt, speaking of stress. "I got money for the package to be delivered. Hey, I know what it sounds like. But I needed some money. I got that package. I didn't know its contents. I took it for delivery, nothing else."
Kyra arched her brows. "Have you never learned to never, never take any package from strangers to deliver to strangers?"
Julian glared at her, the knuckles of his left hand around the hilt white with strain. "Thank you very much. My gullibility or…idiocy, like you see it, brought me to a mattress in your kitchen and a chain around my ankle! What do you want, damn it? Shall I abase myself at your feet?"
Kyra swallowed. She felt heat creep up her face. It was too late to remember that he had been convicted and already served a sentence for the crime she talked about. "You're…you're right. I apologize." She eyed him, aware that he still held the knife. Silence stretched, until he nodded and forced the strain to ebb away. She relaxed, but it took her some time to take up the conversation again. "How good a friend is Perry Wilson?" She kneaded the dough and added some flour. "Oh, put some salt in it, please." He did it, bridging the distance to her. It was an intimate moment suddenly aside the fact that she had her hands full of sticky dough. His arm brushed hers and she felt heat radiate from his skin. He always seemed to be much warmer than she. A shiver ran down her spine and she hoped he did not notice her holding her breath. He seemed dangerous and exciting at the same moment. "Thanks." He smiled, put back the salt and returned to cutting onions and garlic. He was very sure about his doings as if he had done it in a restaurant kitchen. Now, that was a thought. Him and knives and a restaurant. It did not quite fit. "Perry?" she reminded him quietly, not knowing if he was willing to answer.
He took his time, exhaling, thinking of words. "I've known Perry for some years. He's a friend, knows some people in town. He's good at organizing things."
"Which means he knows some crooks in town who need a guy tall like you for…what? Intimidating other…customers? Bad guys?"
The glare was back. Only for a moment then he controlled himself. "Can you only think of me as a criminal?"
"With that job description and that Perry involved it's hard to think of honorable work. Sorry."
"Perry's a man good with people. They like him instantly. So if he knows someone who wants their window frames painted, he tells me and I do the job." He put onions and garlic in the bowl and took the package with ham from the fridge. "More or less of it?"
"Looking into your eyes I'd say make it the whole package." She grinned and was relieved to find him return it. "Cannot let you starve."
"Thanks. Another prejudice. Only because I'm tall doesn't mean I'm eating that much more." He opened the package and cut the slices into strips.
"Yeah, I bet." She laughed, finished the dough and put a towel over the bowl. Tension seeped away and she was grateful. "I've seen you eat, Julian. Since you've been here I need to buy some more groceries. Really."
"It's only because you don't eat properly."
Kyra propped one hand on the counter and looked at him, a smile brightening on her face and touching his. "Are we discussing what I eat? I don't believe it." She shook her head, washed her hands and turned to prepare the tomato sauce.
"Let me do it."
"Yeah, right, tell me you were a carpenter once, then a clerk, then a…shop assistant and--"
"Not to forget loader driver."
"And that qualifies you for preparing tomato sauce?"
"If it doesn't…" He licked his lips and his eyes were very serious suddenly. "You can always punish me for ruining dinner."
* * * *
Saturday morning was cloudy, but still dry, and Kyra wore her running outfit when she entered the kitchen. He looked at her. Lost. Knowing what he wanted without being able to reach it. "Shall I ask you again if you want to join me for a run?"
"Do I have to repeat that I don't want to be in chains the whole time?" He sighed and shook his head, his face covered by his hands. "You won. I so want to be outside that I'll take what I can get."
"Very well." Kyra responded an honest smile to his regret. "Let's grab a bite and be on the way."
They did attract attention and Kyra had anticipated that. The neighborhood knew each other and greeted her on sight. The expressions of the men and women walking their dogs ranged from astonishment to plain disgust. In the park joggers glanced at them. Some smiled. Some shook their heads and, when Kyra had to make a break for Julian's sake he looked up with pleading eyes.
"Cut it out, Kyra. I'm joke of the day around here. Please, that's damn embarrassing."
"Only because it's the first time. They'll get used to this in a few days. Remember, Julian, you'll be in this program for another three months and two weeks. You either make peace with it or stay home."
He looked down. Kyra had bandaged his wrists to keep them from chafing, but there was still the chain reaching from the belt around his waist to a slim belt she had fitted around hers. He did not feel better than the dogs around. "Will you put me in the kennel next?"
His sullen tone made her laugh and she lowe
red her voice and her head toward his. "Only if you ask for it. And you have to ask pretty nicely or Mrs. Bickerham gets first choice."
"Hmm, if it's not Oliver…"
"I can arrange that." She beamed with delight, seeing his eyes widen with disgust.
"Don't do that. Don't ever do that!"
"What then?"
Disgust seeped away and Julian looked at her with the eager eyes of a fixer waiting for Fidelity. "Punish me," he said quietly.
Kyra stood straight again, turning away from him. "It's another half mile. Save your breath and run."
Usually Kyra could shut off her mind and concentrate on the run. She loved running for it was the sport one could always do. You could always get up early in the morning, put on joggings pants and shoes and run a mile before you went to work. She had run while she had worked for the police and she had kept the habit when she had inherited Uncle William's business. She needed the fresh air and the time without thinking of appointments or trouble with workers.
Today her thoughts cruised around Julian's offer. Or should it be called an invitation? She did not know. For half a mile she pondered over accepting the invitation and, when they reached her house again, she still did not know what to say.
"I'm going to take a shower," she announced and was upstairs the moment she released him from the shackles.
She took a deep breath in her bedroom and chose clothes to wear before she ran a hot shower. It was wonderful to stand under the spray and relax, let the water flush away sweat and dust. She rinsed her hair and, when she turned the faucets, there was a sound like the door being opened a slit. She pulled back the shower curtain to reach for the towel and there was Julian, staring at her from the threshold. "Go downstairs," she growled. "You've got no right to be here. Go!" He was gone like a ghost. One moment there, the other just gone. Kyra's heart thundered in her throat. She felt dizzy. God, he cannot be trusted! She should have made sure he was tethered before she had left.
Quickly, without ever bothering with her long hair, she dressed, but hesitated at the doorstep. What if he waited for her? What if he wanted to rape her because she had denied him release? Hell, he will need the key to the chastity device! She laughed, but it was filled with fear. It was stupid to stand in the bathroom and ponder over Julian's behavior. If he attacked her she would call the cops and he would be gone in an hour. Okay, that was if she still had a voice to call them. She braced herself and ripped the door open. No one. She could neither see nor hear him nearby. She stepped on the carpeted floor. To her right was the window overlooking the rear garden. On the other side of the floor was her bedroom. Would he hide there and wait? Was his entire demeanor just a lie? A small noise caught her attraction. She looked downstairs.
