Inevitable Sentences (15 page)

“Come on. It’s not gonna bite you,” Lizzie urged.

Priscilla finished the task at her unhurried speed. Inside, she found a driver’s license with her picture and the name Jane Sinclair. Lizzie had used a recent snapshot she’d taken of Priscilla, telling her she needed practice with her new digital camera. The license looked exactly like it came from the Department of Motor Vehicles. Priscilla left the license in the envelope, laid it on the table, and raised her eyes to Lizzie. “You thought of everything. You must have been planning this for a very long time. You were that certain I’d go along.” Priscilla was stunned by her own transparency.

Priscilla wondered who made up the ID. Would that person eventually turn her in to the authorities? She doubted the counterfeiter would care. Could the police trace the work to him the way they did on all those CSI programs? Still, her picture …

“Of course I’ve thought of everything. There’s a hundred dollars in there for an emergency and a credit card.” She pointed at the envelope. “That should cover the rental.”

Priscilla had been so distracted by the license she hadn’t noticed the money and the credit card.

“Did you think we’d leave this all to chance? I couldn’t let you know until the last minute. Ya know. In case.” Lizzie sat back. Her proud smile spread across her face and emphasized the smeared lipstick.

“I have a fake ID. Now what?” Priscilla tugged her skirt over her knees even though it hadn’t risen up.

Lizzie folded one leg under her and said, “You’ll get an SUV at Rent-a-Wreck at Pep Motor on Highway 41, next door to the Pizza Hut. If we rent an older car and it’s been used, it will be less conspicuous. It has to have four-wheel drive. Plus SUVs are a common sight around here. Like trucks. Everybody has one.”

Priscilla couldn’t respond. She couldn’t process what was happening. She could only focus on the dressing seeping from the salad and meandering across the table like a muddy, ancient stream.

“Hey, girl, are you with me?” Lizzie raised both eyebrows.

Priscilla slowly lifted her head and nodded. “How do I get to the rental agency? I can’t drive there.”

“You hire a cab,” Lizzie said. She spoke with mock patience, as though Priscilla was stupid. “Have the driver drop you off at the Pizza Hut. That way he won’t be able to tell the police about the rental.”

“Police?” Priscilla yelped.

Lizzie placed a finger to her mouth. “Shut up.” Her jaw tightened.

“You’re already planning that they will know.” Priscilla repeatedly shook her head.

“Duh. Of course they’ll know. Eventually.” Lizzie shook her head. “For chrissakes, Chad will have escaped. They’ll take count. It’s a prison.”

“Yes, of course,” Priscilla whispered. She didn’t feel any better after actually hearing about the police. Still, she wondered how soon they’d trace the rental to the escape, and then to her. She was about to ask when Lizzie started talking about her plan again.

“Once you get the car,” Lizzie continued, “drive it to Dead River Falls. No one will be there this time of year. You know where that is, right?”

The name alone sent fire through Priscilla’s veins. “Yes. I’ve hiked it a couple of times.”

“Good. Chad and I will meet you there at five o’clock. Count won’t have taken place because chow will still be going on. We’ll dump the truck—”

“What truck?”

“The food service truck. That’s how I’m getting him out.” Lizzie nearly sang the words.

“That won’t be too conspicuous.” Priscilla didn’t try to hide her insincerity.

Lizzie ignored Priscilla’s sarcasm. “We’ll dump the truck at the falls,” she repeated, “and take you home. You’re outta the picture and we’re outta here. Plain and simple.”

“That is, if your cockamamie plan works.” Priscilla was confident that they wouldn’t get away with the escape. She was resigned to the fact that her own life as she knew it was over, one way or another.

Suddenly she was struck by a horrible realization. “What about the gun, though? If you’re arrested they’ll find the gun. It’s in my name.” The back of Priscilla’s neck ached. The pain worked its way into her shoulders. She massaged her neck with what little strength she could summon.

“Not to worry. I’ll tell them I stole it from you.” Lizzie actually smiled. “After all, we are friends.” She said it with derision. “Besides, we won’t get caught. And we plan to throw the gun into a river before we cross the border. It’ll never be found.”

“Isn’t being your friend exactly part of the problem? I’ll be one of the first people questioned when you disappear.”

“Maybe. But you’re a clever girl. You’re used to lying.” The way Lizzie said it made Priscilla’s skin crawl—as though Priscilla had been used to a life of crime, too.

“Speaking of not telling the truth, you need to call Deputy Eagle around four thirty when I leave the prison grounds. It will be a diversion. Use your cell phone. He’s on duty this weekend and he usually stays until count is taken. It shouldn’t be too tough to think of a case you’re worried about, since you’ve become such a good therapist.” She emphasized the word
good
by making quotations marks with her fingers. “That way he can tell the police you called and the time he spoke to you. That will give you an alibi, although you should have rented the car by then and be on your way to Dead River Falls.”

Priscilla plowed ahead with more questions. “You have the car and gun issues settled. What about money? How do you plan to live?” She didn’t think Lizzie had thought it all out. If she pressed for information, Lizzie might see the absurdity of the escape plot and that what the two irrational lovers had planned afterward could never work.

Lizzie folded her arms over her chest and smirked. “I’ve saved up a lot of money and so has Chad.”

“Money he got from his female pen pals?” Priscilla didn’t hide her cynicism.

“Yeah, and he got money from Pilar, Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes’s daughter, too. Who cares where it comes from?”

“Don’t you see he’s a user?” Were there no limits to this woman’s gullibility? How silly. Hadn’t Lizzie always been a dreamer who lived on the fringe?

“We’ve been through this already. I am different.” Lizzie paused between each word for emphasis.

“How do you plan to get the money out of Chad’s prison account?”

“It has already been transferred to his mother, who put it into a bank account under his name. By the time the police trace the money, Chad and I, and all the money, will be in Mexico.” Lizzie’s eyes became small and determined, her voice cool as an arctic blast. “You really think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

“No. However, I do think you’re too trusting. Above and beyond that, I’m making sure you’ve thought of everything, including your own safety.” Pricilla paused. “What about your parents? What will they do?”

“What they’ve always done.” She shrugged. “Ignore me.” Abruptly Lizzie stood and leaned close to Priscilla. “Don’t be late tomorrow,” she warned in a tone that would make the devil shrivel. She straightened and said, “That’s it. See you tomorrow at five.” She threw her coat on and left.

Priscilla sat stock-still. Her chest was the only thing that moved as she breathed. She went over and over the whole insane scenario, knowing she should get up right that minute and call the deputy. Tell him everything, including what Lizzie threatened to let him know about her own sordid past. On the other hand, wasn’t there a chance that Chad and Lizzie would get away with the escape and get to Mexico? If Priscilla could count on that, she didn’t have to tell anyone anything. She’d only have to live with her own conscience—knowing that she’d helped Chad Wilbanks escape.

Someone’s loud laughter jolted her back to the present, and she searched the room, but she couldn’t concentrate. Everyone looked as though they were figures she was seeing through an out-of-focus lens. She rubbed her eyes, rolled her neck back and forth a few times, and stood. She had to hold on to the table to gain her balance, then straightened and checked the time. It had been fifteen minutes since Lizzie had left. She put her coat on and headed for home.

D
EPUTY
E
AGLE BURST INTO
Max’s room as though someone were chasing him with a butcher knife. Nurse Hooper marched in behind, yelling, “You can’t run in here like you own this place. This isn’t your prison.” She placed her hands on her hips, narrowed her eyes, lowered her head like a bull, and pursed her lips. Today in her brilliant red scrubs she looked as though she was ready to do battle.

“I must speak to the warden,” Eagle said as he struggled to catch his breath and peered around Hooper to look at Max.

“Former warden,” Max said, interrupting the two squabbling intruders. He waved but his sheepish grin told the truth about how he felt regarding Eagle’s invasion. He struggled to a sitting position.

Max had never really noticed until now that Don Eagle actually resembled the bird of prey his surname represented. His hooded, pale green eyes were serious and seemed to see deep inside the person they settled on. His mouth formed a mere slice beneath his narrow hooked nose. Feathery white hair topped his head. And today he wore a black topcoat. Yet Eagle’s personality was even more shockingly close to the bird—he’d post himself in an area of the prison and patiently observe every action, waiting to pounce on any person, whether employee or inmate, if they committed a wrongdoing. He often seemed to stalk the facility for his prey. The whole image delighted Max. For the moment he was amused by the likeness that had disturbed his mundane Sunday. Sadly, he knew that mood would quickly change once the deputy told him why he’d missed church to be at Max’s hospital bed.

“Hooper, let it go,” Max directed like the former warden he’d once been. “I might as well find out what’s troubling the deputy today. Shooing him away will only postpone the news.”

“You know he gets your blood pressure up every time you talk with him.” Hooper scowled at Eagle, then returned her attention to Max. “Do you want to stay in this hospital for the rest of your life?”

“I hadn’t planned on it.” Max had become used to Hooper’s reprimands. Though several years younger than he, she acted like his mother. But she was only doing her job and she performed it well. “Go check someone else’s blood pressure, Ms. Hooper. If mine rises because of him”—Max thumbed at Eagle—“it won’t be for a while. You won’t miss anything.”

Eagle stood in the middle of the room in front of Hooper, his eyes moving from Max to the nurse. He had patiently held his tongue while they spoke, apparently waiting for the results of their sparring to see who would emerge the victor.

Hooper’s whole face took part in a frown. “Well, I never.” She faced Eagle. “You have fifteen minutes.” She leaned so close to Eagle that her face was only inches from his. “Got that?” She spun on her heels and stomped from the room, her shoes squeaking her retreat.

Eagle hadn’t moved, not even a slight tilt of his head away from her. He had been used to worse intimidation from prisoners. He even had the nerve to smile at her departing back. Max wondered why he had such a difficult time handling the situation with Stump. Must be the obvious: Stump was the governor’s good friend. Stump’s family had also been big campaign contributors.

“What is it this time, Deputy?” Max sounded exasperated.

Eagle regarded Max for a few seconds before he spoke. “I know you’ve told me over and over not to bother you with Hawk Haven issues.” He pulled a chair to the side of the bed and sat. “But I have no one else to turn to.”

“I’m flattered, I think.” The room went quiet for a moment except for the voices of people passing by in the corridor. Max longed for the time when he had had his own space and could control who came and went.

Eagle’s face relaxed in satisfaction. Had he honestly thought Max was truthful about being flattered? Max would have to choose his words more carefully. He didn’t want to encourage him.

Still, Eagle seemed hesitant, uneasy and slow to say what he really wanted. Max gestured—come on, come on. He wanted Eagle to get his say over and leave. “Well, what is it?” Max finally asked.

“You already know how I feel about Mr. Stump …”

“You mean Warden Stump, don’t you?”
Careful,
he warned himself.
Stay calm.

“With due respect, I have a difficult time calling him Warden. He’s not up to the title.” Eagle’s tone had become defensive. He unbuttoned his coat and slipped it off his shoulders. It folded over the chair back without further assistance from Eagle.

Max viewed this action as a signal that Eagle planned to stay longer than he might like.

Eagle cleared his throat and went on with his current worry. “I won’t detail the many qualities Warden Stump doesn’t have …”

“Good. Thanks to you, I think I know them all by heart.” Max held up his hand to stop Eagle’s protest. “Sorry.”

The last bit of the morning sunlight slashed through the window and lighted Eagle as though he were onstage. “Stump is drinking more than usual,” Eagle continued, “and he doesn’t seem to care if anyone knows. He shows up at the prison unexpectedly, which wouldn’t be a problem if he did his job.” Eagle stood and placed both hands on the back of his chair. “It’s that he’s usually either been drinking or is drunk. In that condition, he’s not capable of handling problems or giving us direction. He gets belligerent if we ask for clarification or help, and acts as though we’re accusing him of being stupid rather than asking for his guidance.” Eagle was speaking so fast his words tripped over one another. “I know he’s intelligent or at least once had a brain, but …”

“Maybe you’re telling him he’s inept through the tone of your voice,” Max said.

Eagle paced from one side of the room to the other, with his hands clasped behind his back and his chin nearly touching his chest. He seemed to be carefully considering his next words. He stopped suddenly at the foot of the bed and stared at Max. “I think he’s smitten with a food service employee. Lizzie Chatfield.”

“Christ. She’s half his age.” Priscilla had once introduced Lizzie to Max. He had grown tired of men he had met over the years, especially married ones, who chased young women as a way to reinforce their own notion that they weren’t getting old. He especially didn’t like men in authority using their power to force a woman into a relationship. “Do you know if they are having an affair?”