* * * * *
By the time Headie Eddie returned, Carrie had it all planned.
A guard had come the night before and summoned Carrie to the metal bars. Before Carrie knew what he was doing, he lifted her sleeve and gave her a shot. The cure. When a female guard returned in the morning for the same routine, Carrie had begged her to give the shot to Lisbeth instead—or Ariella who had started a fever in the middle of the night.
The guard refused.
Carrie didn’t know why she had been singled out to receive the cure—whether Greg had weaseled it in, or Jamansky had—but she was far stronger than the others. She’d already received doses before prison. Now she needed to help the others. Strangely, the women in her cell disagreed.
“Don’t fight it,” Ariella had said. “Be happy, Carrie. This means you’ll survive.”
But when Headie Eddie showed up after dinner, earlier than the next dose should have been administered, Carrie was ready.
“Carrie Lynne Ashworth?” he called.
She stood, planning how to grab the syringe and run it to Lisbeth before Eddie could stop her—well, not run. Her body felt too weak. But she’d move fast enough he couldn’t stop her. A ludicrous plan, but Lisbeth was declining more rapidly than Carrie. Carrie could beg forgiveness from Headie Eddie later.
But Eddie wasn’t holding a syringe. He held a rifle and handcuffs. That had only happened one other time—when Jamansky had visited her.
“Hold out your hands,” he ordered.
Confused, Carrie obeyed.
Headie Eddie clapped handcuffs on her and then rattled his keys as he unlocked their cell door for the first time in thirty-six hours.
“Hey, Baldy,” Crazy Marge called. “Where are you taking the golden-haired one?”
“Away,” Eddie said.
“Away?” Carrie said.
He flashed Carrie the tiniest smile. “I believe you’re going home.”
Carrie’s knees gave. She grabbed the bars with her bound hands. “What?” It didn’t seem possible, yet her hope filled her soul. But the second she glanced over her shoulder, guilt replaced any hope she’d felt. Her cellmates watched her with long, empty faces. Lisbeth lay on the bed Donnelle had occupied before, pale and drawn.
“Don’t come back,” Ariella said with a weak wave.
Carrie could have said something to her cellmates—should have said anything—but everything felt inadequate. Swallowing hard, she waved back. Then she silently followed Headie Eddie past the rows of cells. Women hung out of the bars, watching them, probably wondering why the two-day lockdown didn’t apply to her.
Carrie’s thoughts swirled. Who had come for her? Her heart beat so quickly it hurt. She wanted it to be Greg, wanted to see him more than anything in the world, wanted to believe he wasn’t locked up in a prison of his own, but Jamansky told her that he would be back for her.
Still.
They left the main area and headed down a hallway. The hallway looked different than the one in which Jamansky had visited. A sign above the last door read, Exit. For some reason, that solidified it.
She was leaving.
She was going home.
Suddenly, she had a new goal, more pressing than saving her new friends or her own survival. She had to free Amber and Zach—the only thing that made leaving the others bearable.
They went through a last secured door, and David Jamansky came into view.
Jamansky.
Not Greg.
The euphoria of leaving kept her disappointment at bay. She would see Greg soon—assuming Jamansky had lied about Greg’s arrest.
Glancing their direction, Jamansky gave Carrie no greeting, physical or verbal, as if he had come as patrol chief only and not the “friend” he claimed to be. In full uniform, with three gold bars on his dark sleeve, he looked angry if anything. He stood at the same counter Carrie had when she’d first arrived, talking to the same guard who claimed they didn’t have room for her. Jamansky signed paper after paper—her paperwork—while she and Headie Eddie waited in the lobby.
The world spun. She had to lean against the nearest wall to keep from falling. She was going home.
Why her? Why, when Jamansky’s precinct had arrested hundreds of others, had he saved her?
Carrie’s gaze went to the glass doors that led to the outside world. Soon she would be reunited with May and CJ, Terrell, Dylan, Sasha, and everyone else. Well, not everyone. Not Amber and Zach, and maybe not even…
She closed her eyes, willing Greg to be the first one she saw. Jamansky had lied about Greg’s arrest. He had to be wrong. She needed Greg’s help to free her siblings. She needed him to hold her and tell her it would all be okay, that he already had a plan.
Jamansky chatted with the guard as he signed a dozen papers. Carrie studied the three gold bands on his arm, signifying his upper rank. Maybe he could help her free Amber and Zach, too. Though she didn’t know how to ask. Already she was indebted to the patrol chief beyond belief.
With a last paper signed, Chief Jamansky gave Headie Eddie the signal. Eddie pulled out his keys and released her handcuffs.
“Do I get my clothes back?” she asked the guard, rubbing her wrists.
“They burn inmates’ clothes upon arrival,” Headie Eddie said. “This uniform is your souvenir.”
He smiled.
She didn’t.
Her blue blouse, her mom’s blue blouse—and Greg’s favorite—had been burned. She told herself it didn’t matter, but she loved the way Greg looked at her when she wore it. After everything, a stupid blouse didn’t matter. It really didn’t. And yet it was just another piece of her mother—and Greg—gone.
“I’ll take her from here,” Jamansky said, striding toward them. He took Carrie’s arm roughly and said, “Let’s go.”
His cold greeting startled her, but she moved with him. Fear spread through her as he marched her toward the glass doors. This was nothing like he had treated her before—although more like how he treated everyone else. For all she knew, he could be taking her some place worse, a prison of his own if he wanted. His hand gripped her upper arm painfully. For the first time, he looked exactly like what he was: her enemy.
They stepped outside into the blinding sun. She blinked a dozen times, desperate to see where he was taking her.
“Keep playing along,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth. “I’ll release you once we get to my car.”
Her gaze flickered sideways as they crossed the hot parking lot. Maybe he’d told them he was transferring her to another prison. He seemed to need her to look scared, which she was, because part of her still felt like an animal being dragged to the slaughter house.
When they neared his car, his grip loosened on her arm, as promised. “Sorry about that. You’re illegal again now, so I had to make a good show.”
Her arm throbbed from where he’d gripped her, but she nodded.
“Your coloring is a little better,” he said, studying her in the bright sun. “Did they give you the medicine I sent?”
“You sent it?” she asked softly.
“Of course. Who else?”
Not Greg, his words implied. Her emotions swirled inside her again, thinking about Donnelle, Lisbeth, and countless others would never walk back out of that work camp.
“David,” she said, “I’m not sure what to say or how to even thank you for—”
“No need. You don’t deserve what Oliver did to you. Let’s get you out of here.”
He opened the passenger door for her, but she hesitated to get in. The interior of his patrol car looked so clean and nice. Not only was she not clean, but the stench of her prison cell had surely attached itself to her uniform, skin, and hair. At least he was offering the front seat instead of behind the metal grate, but she still hesitated.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
“Nothing.”
Gingerly she sat, trying to keep as much of herself off the seat as possible. When he turned on the car a
nd the cold air blew on her, she pointed it away to keep her smell from blowing around. Then she stared down at her dirty hands, letting the full reality sink in. She was leaving. She was free. Within the hour, she would be home.
“By the way,” he said as he pulled out of the parking lot, “I found out where they’re holding your sister and brother.”
Her breath caught. “You did?”
“Yeah. Your sister, Amber, is in Bristol, and they put Zachary in DeKalb.”
That pushed her over the edge. She hadn’t even asked him to look for them.
Tears welled in her eyes. Now she knew where to find them. It still pained her that they weren’t together, but the fact that she knew where they were solved her first hurdle. Being their sister and guardian, they would have to let her visit them, wouldn’t they? Then again, she wasn’t legal anymore, plunging her back into a life of hiding in the shadows. Unless she wanted to wind up back in Rochelle, she would have to find another way.
And her house…
She dreaded how lonely and empty it would be without them. No Zach hogging the bathroom. No Amber yelling at the door. The house across the street could be just as empty, and where was the remedy for that?
A deep ache spread through her for those she’d lost and for those she’d left behind. She lay back against the seat, no longer caring about spreading the smell.
Amber was in Bristol.
Zach was in DeKalb.
And Greg…was somewhere.
She nearly challenged Jamansky about Greg’s arrest, but she couldn’t trust anything Jamansky said anyway, so she decided she would go to Greg’s house even before her own. If he was gone, if he truly had been arrested, she would find Richard O’Brien and find out how. It couldn’t be Oliver’s revenge. Obviously, that had been a lie. But the feds could have easily found out Greg was alive and hiding. Or maybe Greg had gone looking for her and been caught. That would give her three people to free. An overwhelming prospect.
No, she insisted. Greg was home. Within the warmth of his arms, she would forget every sight, every smell, and every horror of Rochelle.
Amber, Bristol.
Zach, DeKalb.
Greg, home.
She was only half paying attention to the road when she saw a sign for Highway 47. Sitting up, she looked around. It had been six years since she had driven on Highway 47, but she knew it well enough to know that Jamansky was going the wrong way.
“Where are we going?” she said. “Shelton is north of here.”
He glanced over at her. “My house.”
“What? Why?”
“You’re staying with me for a few days while I get everything settled.”
Carrie’s heart stopped. “What?”
thirty-four
“I…I THOUGHT YOU WERE taking me home,” Carrie stuttered.
“Oh, I will,” Jamansky said. “Eventually. But my house is closer to where Zach and Amber are being held. You can stay with me until I free them.”
He had packed a lot into those few words, so it took her a stunned second to catch the most important ones.
“You’re going to free Amber and Zach?” she asked.
“Of course. What did you think I would do? Leave them to rot?” He shook his head in disgust. “Oliver might be that cruel, but I’m not. I’ve already started their paperwork. I should have them out in two or three days.”
Two or three days. Her breathing sped up. They would all be together again in two or three days.
He laid his hand on hers. “I told you, Carrie. Give me a few days, and everything will be as it should be.”
She should have thanked him again, but his hand on hers felt warm and oppressive. Politely, she slipped free and stared out the window. A few days felt like an eternity, and yet it was eternally better than never seeing Amber and Zach again. It all sounded so wonderful—too wonderful, if she was being honest.
Why was Jamansky helping her?
It couldn’t be out of the goodness of his heart because she barely knew him—and his heart didn’t exactly have a reputation for generosity.
Trees and boarded-up buildings flew by, reminding her that, with each passing mile, they drove farther from Shelton.
From home.
“David,” she said, “I can’t even express how thankful I am for your help. It’s just that…”
“You’re welcome,” he said, eyes on the road that was flying by too quickly. He was taking her to his house where she would stay with him for two days. Two or three.
Panicked, she said, “My friends will be worried about me and my siblings. I need to let them know what has happened. Not to mention, I’d feel more comfortable in my own home.” The understatement of the century. “So I think…I think you should take me home.”
“You lost your home, remember?”
“I know, but I can still—”
“Look, Carrie, I’m taking personal time to do this. You probably don’t know how expensive fuel is right now, but the feds won’t cover these miles. I’m not even scheduled to be in Shelton until later this week, so taking you to my house will simplify everything. It will save me from driving unnecessary and expensive miles. Don’t you want to be there when your siblings are released?”
“Yes, but…” More of Illinois raced by. “Maybe my grandparents can pay you for the extra fuel.”
“Grandparents?” He turned. “The Trentons are your grandparents?”
Hearing the name of another loved one on his tongue made her cringe. He knew too much.
“No. They’re…well, they’re…” Broke, she realized. CJ couldn’t reimburse Jamansky for the extra miles because Giordano had slid his greedy hand into her pocket and stolen their money. “They’re just friends, but I’d feel so much better if—”
“A few days won’t kill anyone. Besides…” His ice-blue eyes flickered to her. “I have medicine at my house. You’re due for another dose in an hour, so just clean up and rest while I figure out how to get your siblings out. Then I’ll return the three of you together, happy and healthy. No need to make your friends worry about your brother and sister when I have everything under control.”
“But—”
“It’s done, Carrie. And don’t feel like you’re putting me out either. I have plenty of room at my house.” He smiled. “My bed is plenty big for the both of us.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. “What?”
He laughed, a jarring sound to her tensed muscles. “Geez, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Obviously, I’ll take the couch. Come on, it will be fine.”
The car started to squeeze in around her. Her gaze went to the speedometer. He was pushing sixty miles an hour, too fast for her to make a jump for it, though she was still tempted.
“David…” Her throat constricted. “I need to go home.”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Tell you what. If I have time tomorrow, I’ll drive to your neighborhood and let that Richard guy know you’re okay. I’m scheduled to make rounds farther north, but I’ll stop by at the end of my shift. That way the fuel is covered, and your friends will know you’re safe.”
Clasping her hands tightly in her lap, she decided that if he told Richard what was happening, they could stop worrying about them. Or Greg would come charging after her.
Either way.
She turned back to the window. The world passed by at an alarming speed until they entered Sugar Grove and he finally slowed. He turned down a side street into a neighborhood that looked like someone had taken a white, one-story home and stamped it forty times down the street. Home after home, exactly the same. She watched them, wondering which cloned house was Oliver’s. She missed her quiet, loyal, honest friend.
“Here’s the deal,” Jamansky said. “You’re still illegal, and everyone in this neighborhood works for the government. I shouldn’t have to tell you to stay out of sight. I won’t be able to get you out of prison a second time.”
Nodding, she crouched down. The n
eighborhood looked dead, but it was the middle of the day. Everyone was probably working.
Deep within the homes, Jamansky pulled into a driveway. He pushed a button to open his garage. Once inside, he shut it again before turning off the car. The cold air stopped. The whir of the engine silenced. Everything went still as she stared at the inside of his garage. It was dark and crowded with piles of things.
Jamansky walked around the car and opened her door. She still couldn’t bring herself to leave. Not only was she physically and emotionally drained, but his home hadn’t been part of her plan. Not even a remote possibility.
For Amber and Zach, she told herself.
Just a few days.
He held out a hand to her. “Need help standing?”
Pretending not to see his offered hand, she dragged herself out of the car and followed him. Even before they reached the door, she heard loud barking on the other side.
“Hope you like dogs,” Jamansky said.
The second he opened the door, two large dogs climbed up him. German Shepherds. Carrie stopped cold, realizing what those dogs were. Patrol dogs who raided people’s homes and dragged them from their beds.
“Sitz,” Jamansky ordered. “Let her come inside and then you can meet her. Sitz, you little brats. Come on.”
Both dropped to their haunches but continued to bark like crazy.
Carrie shrank back into the garage.
He grabbed their collars and dragged them a few feet away from the door. “That’s enough, boys. Quiet down. There you go. Come on in, Carrie.”
With great effort, she entered David’s home.
“This is Bretton and Felix,” he said, patting their massive brown and black heads. “Best dogs in the world. Best friends, too. Here. Give me your hand and I’ll introduce you. Don’t be scared. They’re just a bunch of big babies.”
Definitely big. Not so much babies. They continued to snarl at her, yet Jamansky grabbed her hand and held it out to his huge beasts like a dinner offering.
“Freund,” he said to them. “Freund.”
Her heart pounded as the patrol dogs sniffed her palm with their wet muzzles. Their tails wagged like crazy, and not in the happy way. They seemed agitated, probably remembering her smell from their years of hunting her. She tried to retract her hand, but Jamansky held tight.
Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set Page 112
