Riven (42 page)

When Jorge hit the bed, he crumpled to the floor with the shield and the officer atop him, but still he thrashed and screamed and grunted. Someone rolled in a gurney, and he was soon strapped down, legs also shackled.

“Subject transported to isolation,” the videographer said.

Thomas pressed his lips together. When would he learn to read these men? He could easily have been the victim of the initial assault, but who could have predicted it?

And why did Frank LeRoy think Thomas wanted to see this? Just because he had chatted with Jorge at the prisoner’s request? Or was Yanno still trying to educate him? Thomas figured he’d been in the system long enough to understand that these things happened. He guessed the warden would always consider him the new guy, even after all these years.

Thomas emerged and gave Gladys the tape.

“He wants to see you,” she said.

“Jorge? In isolation? He knows better.”

“When he gets out.”

“When will that be?”

“Who knows? This will be the end of any hope for parole for him. Ever.”

“Well, let me know. I’ll talk to him. As long as there’s a window between us.”

“I heard that.”

Serenity Halfway House

Brady began to live for Thursdays, when the outsiders came in for group therapy. Katie North would rush from the van and straight into his arms, though they kept their embraces short and friendly so they would appear simply like old friends. Bill and Jan both seemed encouraged by Brady’s rekindling an acquaintance. Brady was hoping for a whole lot more than that.

Katie seemed to make sure to sit next to Brady, and they whispered asides and winked at each other throughout every group session.

One Thursday she leaned close and said in his ear, “I have a gift for you, but it’s contraband.”

Brady didn’t want to even wonder if it was something unhealthy. Surely she could see he was doing well. He had kicked every addiction except nicotine and was determined to stay straight. For the first time in ages he felt hope that he could really turn his life around. He didn’t ever want to go back to the joint, of course, but the truth was, there were people he wanted to impress. Bill and Jan, to start with. His aunt and uncle too, though he wearied of their efforts to get him to their church and to introduce him to their friend. Even his mother. He didn’t care if he ever saw her again, but something in him wanted her to hear—at least secondhand—that he was succeeding.

But at the top of his list?

Katie. He knew himself well. She would be worth throwing over the whole reforming thing. In a flash.

She had become all he could think about. She looked better, smelled better, sounded better every time he saw her. There was a hint of danger about her, and she hadn’t hidden her interest in him. And Brady was sure she was as committed to sobriety as he was. He’d seen enough people strung out to know that she seemed clean. And if she wasn’t? Well, with her, he was open to anything.

As people milled about chatting, waiting to board the van, she said softly, “Don’t let anybody see you take this.”

They talked and joked and locked eyes, but she also kept glancing at the Serenity staff. Suddenly she reached into her pocket and then shook his hand. “Get it out of sight right away. I have it set on vibrate. Just don’t get caught with it.”

A cell phone.

“Do they search you, Brady?”

“Not anymore.”

“Still, you’d better keep it hidden in your room. Call me when you’re alone. We can even text each other.”

“Listen, I’ve never used a cell phone. I don’t know the first thing about—”

“Hmm, I never thought of that. I’ll send you a manual. Do they go through your mail?”

“No.”

“I’ll overnight it. Then we can talk every day.”

“How long do the batteries last?”

She swore.

“What?” he said.

“You’re going to need a charger, too.”

“A what?”

“I’ll send you a box of cookies. Everything you need will be in the packaging. Gotta go.”

She cares.

It was all Brady could think about. Aside from ugly Agatha, shallow high school girls who loved the novelty of squealing about the bad boy, and his series of one-night stands, real women had rarely given him a second glance. And Katie North was hot. Not to mention rich. How much must a cell phone cost?

Within a few days Bill and Jan were teasing Brady about having a girlfriend who sent him cookies in an overnight package. He was careful to share them with everyone. He was left with just one, and it wasn’t that great. But it wasn’t the cookies that mattered. He also found the charger and the phone manual, and he forced himself to read it until he figured the thing out.

He plugged it in to a socket next to his bed and kept everything hidden. Several times a day he stole away to his room, locked the door, and checked for messages. Texting was a frustrating chore, but he learned the shorthand and enjoyed keeping up with all of Katie’s exploits. Despite her ankle bracelet, her girlfriends brought her everything she needed and wanted.

“It won’t be long,” she told him one night, “before I’ll be able to use my car again.”

And it wasn’t just any car. She had a Mercedes, the big four-door sedan.

When do they let u out 4 rides?
she texted him late in the afternoon one day.

Free 2 come and go, but curfew,
he keyed back.
Long as ur not a felon.

Make sure. Tomorrow at 2.

Brady met with Jan and Bill. They seemed amused at the budding relationship, but their smiles faded at his request. “We can’t really say no,” Jan said. “But your parole officer needs to know. And we have to know where you’re going and exactly when you’ll be back.”

“Is there any way I can transfer?”

“Transfer?”

“Parole officers. It’d be a whole lot easier if one of you could take over for my guy. He works down by County, and it’s hard to get there. And I don’t think he likes me or trusts me.”

“Trusting you isn’t his job,” Bill said. “He’s supposed to suspect you and keep an eye on you.”

“But you guys always talk about trust and respect, and I feel that here.”

Jan looked at Bill. “You have served as parole officer for a few of the guys.”

“Once they’ve completed the course, yeah,” Bill said. “Never before.”

She shrugged. “Maybe the county would make an exception.”

“I’m willing,” Bill said. “But no promises.”

“I’d sure appreciate you trying,” Brady said. “When I get out of here, I want to find a place to live right here in town.”

“You’re doing well, man,” Bill said. “I’ll see what I can do. Meanwhile, why don’t you and Miss North just plan on an hour or so tomorrow.”

“Let’s be specific,” Jan said. “Make it ninety minutes. You’re back here at 3:30 sharp. And where will you be going?”

“Just out for a snack, I guess. No big deal.”

“Good idea. She has to sign some papers, you know. And we have to see documentation that she’s no longer monitored and is free to do this.”

The next morning, Brady raced through his chores, showered, shaved, and dressed in his best and cleanest clothes. Katie showed up early with a letter from her parole officer and signed everything Bill and Jan required, promising to have Brady back right on time.

It was all he could do to keep from running to her car, but she kept telling him to just stay cool. She pulled away slowly, Brady marveling at the interior of the coolest ride he had ever enjoyed.

“First time in a Benz,” he said.

“Really?”

“You kiddin’? ’Course.”

“You wanna drive?”

“I don’t even have a license.”

“Then don’t do anything that would get you stopped.”

She pulled over.

“You’re not serious,” he said. “Are you?”

“As serious as this.” She climbed from behind the wheel directly into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

After a few minutes of passionate kisses, during which Brady worried about dying of a heart attack, she said, “Your turn to drive, bad boy.”

Brady found himself relieved that the car was not a stick shift. “Where to, ma’am?”

“Harley-Davidson,” she said, eyes dancing. “Can’t think of anyplace more fun than that.”

“Got another gift for me?” he said, laughing.

“All in good time.”

47

Adamsville State Penitentiary

When Thomas pulled up to the guardhouse at the end of the day, the officer was busy with another car and driver. He turned to Thomas and shook his head as if in apology. “Tried to see if I could get him to leave, Chaplain. Couldn’t shake him.”

The man approached. “You Reverend Thomas Carey?”

“I am.”

“Little mail for you,” the man said, handing Thomas a large envelope. “Consider yourself served.”

“Served with what, for what?”

“Those answers, sir, are beyond the boundaries of my job description. Good day.”

Thomas considered leaving the envelope in his car and dealing with the contents in the office the next day. Whatever they were, Grace didn’t need to be burdened by them. But curiosity got the better of him, and Thomas removed the legal papers while the officer logged him out.

“Surely this is not the first time you’ve been served,” the officer said.

“Believe it or not, it is.”

“By an inmate, of course.”

Thomas nodded.

“Join the club.”

“You too?” Thomas said.

“Most all of us at one time or another. Get yourself a good attorney and try to keep the thing short.”

“Don’t worry.”
An attorney?

Thomas couldn’t afford an attorney, and he hated to ask Ravinia. By the time he got home, he was distracted beyond reason, knowing he would have to at least tell her what was going on and seek her counsel. His thank-yous to the volunteer lady from the church were perfunctory. He would have to remember to be more effusive next time. He barely listened to her report, knowing that if anything had gone wrong or turned worse with Grace, the woman would have brought that to his attention first. Why did life have to be so complicated?

Thomas pasted on a smile and kissed Grace’s cheek.

“I need to sit up,” she said, gripping his arm as she slowly swung her legs off the side of the bed. She sighed heavily and slumped. “Feels better, at least for now. Something’s on your mind, Thomas. You know I can tell.”

“Just work.”

“Tell me.”

“Routine.”

“Nonsense. Now, come on. It’s bad enough I’m isolated from everything in your life. I can take it.”

The sad fact was, she could. She rolled with these things better than he did.

“I’m sure I can deal with it quickly,” he said, “but an inmate is filing charges against me for treating him ‘with malicious disregard and contempt.’”

“That will be hard to prove.”

“He says I disparaged his attempt to convert to Christianity and refused to represent him before the parole board. That led to extreme emotional distress that caused him to lash out at corrections officers and get him sent to isolation and cost him any further chance at parole.”

“The man from Central America? Ravinia will take care of it.”

“I hate to—”

“Come, come. She’d be hurt if you didn’t ask.”

After sharing a light meal with Grace, Thomas moved to the living room, where he phoned his daughter.

Ravinia paused after hearing his side of it. “You know who loves this kind of case? Dirk. This will get his back up, and the guy won’t know what hit him.”

“Dirk? Are you sure?”

“Trust me.”

“I can’t afford—”

“Dad! Whatever Dirk is or whatever we are going through, he’s not the kind of a person who would charge you. And believe me, he won’t do this halfway. He’ll flood this guy’s lawyer’s mailbox with so many motions and demands, the guy will wish he’d never gotten involved. Tell me you’ll call him.”

“I don’t know. Won’t it be awkward? How are you two doing? Is he seeing Summer more, going to counseling with you? I certainly don’t want to get in the way of—”

“Well, one out of two ain’t bad. We’ve let the counseling slide for a while, because it turns out he really was swamped when he had to beg off from taking her those times. I threatened to get him cut off forever if he treats her that way again, and he cleaned up his act.”

“You no longer suspect him of—”

“Seeing someone else? I don’t know. I guess I couldn’t blame him if he was, after all this time. But we’re cordial, and honestly, I do think he’s behaving. I know I am.”

“Are you?”

“I am, Dad. It’s not easy. And don’t think I don’t have my opportunities.”

“I’d really rather not discuss it, if you don’t mind.”

“I know. Sorry. I just thought you’d want to know that I’m doing the right thing, even by your standards.”

“Well, I appreciate that. But you say Dirk is so busy. . . .”

“Dad, if you’re not going to call him, I will.”

“How would that look?”

“It’ll look like what it is. That you don’t want to bother him but that I knew he’d jump on this. Now I’m calling him, and that’s all there is to it.”

Addison

Brady Wayne Darby was helplessly, haplessly, hopelessly, head over heels in love. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his mug, and everyone teased him about it.

He and Katie were careful to follow most of the rules, especially the ones that showed. She had him back at Serenity on time every time, and while she allowed him to drive the car, it was rarely on the open road, and he drove like an old lady.

On one of their afternoon outings, after they spent their first twenty minutes making out, she drove to the motorcycle dealership. Katie made all kinds of noises to the salesman about looking to buy one of the top models if she could just get used to riding it.

Since Brady didn’t have a driver’s license, she left hers and the Benz at the shop while he climbed on the back of a top-of-the-line Screamin’ Eagle V-Rod. She drove, but once they were out of sight of the dealership, they changed places.

Brady was skittish as a new colt, reminding her that if he tipped it or caused any damage, she was going to have to take the heat or see him sent back to prison. “Where’d you learn to ride anyway?” he said.