“If I talk, too? There are a lot of people in this mess. I will only tell what I know. My side. It’s about the AS, and I know someone in that other room will want to fucking know all about it. But Peter can’t go back to that prison with Tatum Black.”
Peter nodded, probably because he knew my restrictions on our info made sense. I’d really been telling Peter what we were doing, not Hanlon. We couldn’t afford to stir up everyone who’d ever been in the AS over this without some clear contingency plan in place.
“We’re not spilling on anyone but Black. Anything else you gotta dig up on your own. We might come under fire anyway, but there were a lot of people in the AS, which I think you know.”
Peter turned and stared at me, adoration in those pretty honey eyes. Heat settled low in my belly. I didn’t deserve the admiration, but I wanted it.
The door to the room opened, and Hanlon stood up and walked over there. Three men were visible, crowded in the hallway, maybe four. I couldn’t tell. Hanlon turned back to us with a long sigh. “We can’t let Peter go tonight. Not a chance. But we can put him in a single cell here, in town, until we figure it out or he runs out his current sentence.”
Laughing, I grabbed Peter’s face and cupped it in my hands, kissing him long and hard. The heat of his mouth had me searching deeper and for more. If I got into trouble for a kiss, oh well. There would be a whole lot of nervous people ready to fucking murder me off soon, so this was the least of my worries. Peter pulled back while he panted for air and pressed his cheek against mine. Hanlon talked quietly with the men in the hallway, not bothering to close the door.
“What are you doing?” Peter whispered. He searched my face and his brows furrowed.
“Helping.”
“Why?” The hope in his eyes just about had me crying, too.
“Because you need it, and I should have been braver a long time ago.”
Someone cleared their throat from the hallway and snagged our attention. “The consensus seems to be that we can see about medical parole,” Hanlon said.
Peter leaned back and grimaced. “Well, first fuckin’ time I was glad I got shit wrong with me.”
Hanlon shook his head. “It’s a gift, and if we don’t find a body, it’s one we’re taking back.”
“Oh, you will,” he said faintly.
Hanlon and I shared a look. I’d never heard anyone sound so lost. I held Peter tighter.
“And you might want to think about what you’re going to tell your job,” Hanlon said. It took a moment before it clicked in my brain that he was talking to me. I stared at him, and all the breath left me as Lon Wiseback leaned around the door to glare. A million things ran through my mind, none of it useful.
“Hi,” I said weakly. He only shook his head.
With Peter warm and in my arms, I couldn’t bring myself to panic much. I wasn’t fired until I had the paperwork in my hand, and I’d been hurt at work. I dropped my cheek to the top of Peter’s head. Much as I didn’t want to job hunt, Trident Falls had been killing both of us, and if Black was finally brought to some real justice… maybe it was time for me to start a new life, a better life, one with someone I cared about.
12
Peter
The three weeksthe cops made me spend in jail in New Gothenburg to finish out most of my sentence had been boring, but I would take that over the hell of my time at the real prison any day. I patted down the suit I’d worn to court; it was the outfit I’d had in storage. I had my wallet back, but my phone was missing, not that it would have been useful anyway, with no one paying the bill. I leaned heavily on the cane Dr. Bond had given me. My wheelchair never made it out of Trident Falls, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. If it wasn’t for Drew, I wouldn’t have made it out alive, either. I could replace the damned chair if I needed another one. I slung my suit jacket over my arm, even though spring wasn’t very warm yet, and blinked upward at the blue sky. Seagulls called to one another and fluffy white clouds sped past. It had been a long time since I’d really appreciated the world.
The sun on my face had me feeling alive. I sucked in deep lungfuls of air while I waited on the busy sidewalk in front of the courthouse. I couldn’t wait to see Drew. My stomach churned and twisted. What if he’d changed his mind?
The thought lingered like poison. Drew hadn’t been allowed to visit because he was still technically a Department of Corrections employee—until they decided what they were going to do about him. So far he hadn’t heard anything. But I’d been allowed to call him every day for thirty minutes, and he’d always—always—answered the phone on the first ring. I would have probably called more often and annoyed the hell out of him, but I wasn’t allowed. Something told me he would have answered each time.
Whatever was going on at the jail today ended up in my favor because they’d made me a free man a full half hour before they’d said I was scheduled to be let go, and so here I stood, waiting for Drew. The bus from the jail only brought people to the courthouse, for some stupid damned reason, and I hadn’t wanted him to see me there. Fear hit me as I glanced around the street. Cars flew alongside the pavement and seemed dangerous.
Nearby a car backfired and had me ducking. Embarrassment blazed under my skin and my face burned. I’d declined to be stuck up in some hidey-hole, now that the word was out there was an investigation going on that involved the old AS members. The cops made it clear they’d started digging, but since I wasn’t going to stay in New Gothenburg, assuming Drew ever showed up, I’d decided to hell with that. I’d spent plenty of time being afraid and hiding, and that had almost killed me.
We would have to be careful and spend as much time out of the city as possible, but I was ready to live my life again. Emotions slammed me, some good and some bad, but I loved not having to worry about people barking orders. No guards. No inmates. No busybody nurses. Dr. Bond was okay. Maybe I’d miss him. Nearby a man shuffled along the sidewalk in work-filthy clothing, clearly walking home or to his vehicle from having done some sort of heavy job, and he had a beer wrapped up in a brown paper bag. My stomach sank and my mouth watered, but I ignored it.
One, I didn’t have much money to my name.
Two, the last thing I wanted was to fuck up the way I’d been fucking up for so long. Having a seizure, then suffering through alcohol shakes in the hospital had been hell, and I never wanted to do it again. I slammed my cane on the ground and gritted my teeth as a tease of pain started in my lower back. I’d finally read that NA book Brandon had given me. They’d let me drag it to the jail from my cell at TFC. And I was feeling… healthier toward the alcohol. I wasn’t stupid. I wanted it. But after reading that book and talking with Brandon, who had been allowed in to see me one evening, I was starting to see what I’d been using the alcohol for—fear medicine.
And it hadn’t worked. I only made everything worse by trying to drink myself out of my depression. I didn’t think I wanted to give up booze forever because I liked the buzz, but until I could get a handle on things, it was probably best not to tempt myself. I sighed and squinted after the man walking away from me with his paper bag. Freedom would sure taste better with one beer, though.
The lingering desire for alcohol was knocked clean out of my head as I noticed Drew limping along the sidewalk toward me from my left, weaving his way around people. Already he was nearly walking the same as he ever had, which didn’t shock me. He was built like an ox. I wanted to run to him but knew I couldn’t. While I waited for him to reach me, I almost shook apart like one of those little dogs that pissed on floors. I couldn’t help it. My knees quivered, my elbows even danced around, so I pulled my arms in close to my body.
