CHAPTER THREE
Jack
“Happy release day, dickweed,” the guard grunted.
The buzzer went off and the metal-grinding, nerve-shredding, all-too-familiar sound of my cell door opening had me quaking at the knees a little.
Finally, the day was here.
It was over.
I nearly sobbed but I needed to keep it together until I was on my own, truly on my own for the first time in twelve years.
The guard led me down the corridor, other inmates jeered at me, but I ignored them. I never had to see them again. Never had to go through this again and that knowledge alone had me feeling on top of the fucking world.
Processing took forever. Then they gave me back my possessions. The leather jacket I never thought I’d see again. The old cell phone that was probably way too out-of-date technology-wise and had died anyway. Even an old Nokia would have struggled to keep its juice for twelve years. Old jeans, t-shirt and boots. I changed, feeling weird about putting my old clothes back on, clothes that were a little too tight now and held too many bad memories, but I didn’t really have a choice.
And then I was outside. The sun shone down, and I thought I would have this overwhelming moment of FREEDOM! Braveheart-style but I didn’t. I was relieved, sure, but there was so much uncertainty about what came next. There was a bus to take me to the accommodation that the charity set up. I’d been given my allowance to tide me over until I could find some work.
I snorted at the thought. I would struggle to find work; especially in Reverence where everyone would know what I’d done. The prison sentence didn’t end when the gates opened to free me. It would last a lifetime.
There was only me and one other person on the bus and I did not want to make friends. We kept to ourselves and were dropped off outside the accommodation. It was a crumbling building, not much to look at and neither was the room. From one set of four walls to another, with the same rules. No drugs, no drinking, no fighting, no women.
But I was grateful. I dumped my bag on the bed, an old box spring which creaked and looked too small for my large frame. There were some suspicious stains on the mattress which I chose to ignore.
I paced, not knowing what to do. I was out. The world was my oyster. But there was only one thing I wanted to do. Find out what happened to my friend. The one person who visited me during my time in prison. God knows my parents didn’t. They abandoned me after the accident, washed their hands of me, screaming at me during my sentencing in court that they wished I’d never been born. At first I was bitter but they did me a favor.
Someone did care though, and I hadn’t seen him for two months and I’d had no letters from him which worried me. I grabbed my jacket, locked up my new room and went out. I didn’t have to ask permission, didn’t have to check in with anyone until my parole officer tomorrow. I left the halfway house and headed straight for Redemption Ranch to see what had happened to Charlie Cartwright.
*
11 years ago…
Wyoming State Penitentiary
“Why the fuck is he here and why the fuck does he keep coming back?” I shouted, slamming a fist against the wall.
“Don’t make me give you a warning,” the guard, Patrick, stated at my uncharacteristic outburst. Me and Patrick had come to an understanding after my first year here. He took pity on me, knew I wasn’t going to act out like other inmates and just wanted a quiet life.
“Look, you might as well see him. He’s turned up every month to see you for a year. Just hear him out, it’s the least you fucking owe him.”
“I know that, don’t you think I know that?” I growled, anger and guilt bubbling up. “I killed his fucking wife, I know I at least owe him a conversation but…” I tr ailed off.
“But what?” Pat asked.
I shoved a hand through my hair, tugging at the ends and pushed out a breath. “I don’t think I can face him.”
“What’s the worst he can do? There are guards everywhere, he ain’t gonna get to you.”
I paced back and forth in my cell. “I’m not worried about him attacking me. I’m worried about what he’ll say.”
“Don’t you owe it to him to find out?”
Patrick was right. I did owe it to him. I owed him the world, my life, if he’d take it and I wouldn’t even blame him after what I took from him, from his girls.
“Fuck,” I huffed. It was time to nut up or shut up. “Okay, I’ll go.”
“Thank the Lord, you’ve only got thirty minutes of visiting time left anyway.”
Patrick radioed to get my cell door opened. I turned and faced the wall, hands raised. The grinding of metal had me shuddering, damn I couldn’t stand that sound. Patrick slipped the cuffs on me and walked me out to where visiting took place.
There were a couple of inmates visiting family. I’d only ever visited my public defender here before, never anyone else. The room was depressing, all gray and navy which did not make the environment friendly or inviting. It was too cold and industrial which I guess was the point.
I sat there, my palms sweating, my heart in my throat as I waited for them to bring him in. My knee bounced up and down. I nibbled my lip so much that the cut I had there split open and blood filled my mouth. Then my pulse pounded as he was sitting down in front of me.
He looked older, his hair and beard fully white instead of peppered with gray. The lines at his eyes and around his mouth were deeper but his eyes shone bright and kind. He wore a denim jacket over a lumberjack shirt and faded blue jeans. He looked like a dad, like a grandpa.
I swallowed around the lump in my throat, so on edge, waiting for him to speak. He glanced around, assessing the room, eyes lingering on the handcuffs I had on before turning those kind eyes on me.
“It’s real good to see you, son,” he said, his words deep and warm and I let them wash over me.
Then I burst into tears.
*
Present Day…
I took my time on my walk. I was in a hurry to see Charlie, but it was the first long walk I’d had in twelve years. The crickets chirped incessantly. Cars passed and I was amazed at seeing how much they had changed over the last few years, how quickly technology had advanced. Hell, when I went inside, electric cars were still a myth. I’d seen them all on TV but it was different seeing them in person. Call me crazy but I still loved a beat-up old Ford truck to these Tesla’s.
The trees were lush and green, the air smelled like fresh cut grass and I inhaled the shit out of it, letting it get me high. I had to take breaks and rest. You think that you get fit in prison but there’s only so much distance you can go. My stamina wasn’t what I thought. I’d bulked up but I wasn’t fit like I used to be. The sun shone down on me, not hot but gently warm, perfect spring weather.
The closer I got to the ranch, the bigger the pit in my gut became as I got closer to the scene of the accident. Maybe it was a mistake to come here so soon; it hadn’t occurred to me that I would see it, walk right past it. I hadn’t been here since that night.
My steps slowed as I came around a bend in the road and I halted altogether when I saw the bench by the side of the road, surrounded by flowers. The memorial at the scene where Sherry Cartwright had met her untimely death. At my hands.
Guilt ate at me. I didn’t think I could even walk over to it, but I forced myself. Made myself face what I’d done. The bench was gorgeous, carved from solid oak, soft and gently shaped, just like Sherry. The bronze plaque read For Sherry: the light in our lives. Gone far too soon but never forgotten.
The air fled my lungs and I hunched over, trying to ward off the panic attack. I didn’t deserve to be here, not after what I’d done. I gasped, trying to get air into my lungs but also secretly hoping it never would; then this would all be over. Instead, I continued like that, placing a hand to my chest and trying to get control of my breathing.
I’m so sorry, Sherry. I’ll never stop being sorry.
Eventually, I managed to get my breathing under control and I collapsed on the ground next to the bench. I didn’t dare sit on it, I wasn’t worthy.
I sat there for an hour, apologizing to Sherry over and over again in my mind, knowing I could never make up for what had happened and wondering how I was going to get through life like this.
Charlie.
I needed to get to Charlie.
I pulled myself to my feet, dusted the dirt from my hands and with a final look at Sherry’s bench, I continued on to the ranch.
It was located off the dirt road. The log sign that arched over the gravel path read Redemption Ranch. The path led down to a sprawling green pasture where horses and cows grazed. There was a large farmhouse at the edge in front of the backdrop of the Teton mountains and it was so damn picturesque it stole my breath.
I headed down the pasture and towards the house. The thought of Charlie rambling around this place all on his own didn’t sit right with me. Did he look after all this land himself? He was too old to be doing all this farming now.
Jogging up the porch steps, I spotted the Adirondack chairs on one side, thinking how amazing it would be to sit there in the summer evenings and watch the sun go down. I couldn’t wait to watch my first sunset later.
Anticipation filled me as I raised a fist and knocked on the door. I wasn’t sure why Charlie hadn’t been to see me last month. For the first time in twelve years he hadn’t come. My nervous energy was off the charts, I couldn’t stand still, turning around and looking at the land, the little slice of heaven it was.
The door opened and I turned, ready to greet Charlie, ready to hug him without getting shouted at by guards.
But he wasn’t there.
A stunning, leggy blonde with sharp navy eyes in purple kitty pajamas…and no bra…was there. Her face was familiar. It had been over a decade but I remembered her. She’d been in the year above me at school. Katarina.
When she saw who it was, her coffee mug slid from her grip and shattered on the porch. My throat closed, I hadn’t prepared for this. Didn’t know what to do or how to handle it, what to say.
“Uh, hey, Katarina,” I said, completely inappropriately. My social skills weren’t what they used to be but even still, this was not what I should have said, and clearly she agreed.
“You motherfucker! I’ll fucking kill you!” she screamed, fire in her eyes. Then she leapt at me, her fists raised.
I didn’t fight back, I just let her get all her rage out.
After all, I owed her that.
I killed her mom.