Chapter Twelve
Gage
Zane doesn’t look good as we climb into the truck, and I’m glad we’re riding in his and not mine. His face is white, and sweat beads along his forehead despite the subzero temperatures.
“I can go alone,” I say, knowing he’ll turn me down. This is his shot at redemption, of making things right. He’d never leave that in my hands, turn his back on the chance to strike out the past.
“No. This is my mess.” He starts the engine and punches at the menu on the dash’s touchscreen to summon the voice command. “Call the King’s Crossing airport,” he orders, and the Bluetooth line starts ringing. He tells a bored-sounding woman he’d like speak to the night manager and we wait through a transfer and holding music. A man answers, his voice a little crisper, and Zane impatiently requests that someone ready his jet for three passengers to Bellwood, Minnesota, where the state correctional facility is located. “Please arrange to have a car ready upon our arrival. We’ll be in a hurry.” He disconnects and sighs.
“Don’t you have people who do that?”
“Peggy, mostly, but I try not to bother my employees after hours.”
Stopped at a red light, he jabs at his contact list and chooses Stella’s name.
“Stella.”
His voice sounds like twisted metal, and I need all my willpower not to flinch.
Baby whines.
“Zane. You’re not okay. What’s going on?”
“Did you find where Jerricka’s lake house is?” he asks instead.
“No. There’s no record anywhere online she owns property like that. Where are you?”
“We’re on our way to the airport. We talked to Stephen Mallory, a doctor who treated patients at Quiet Meadows. He was engaged to Jerricka, but he couldn’t tell us much.”
“I asked Willow if she knew anything. She said she went to a party there a couple of years ago, but they rode in a limo. Besides thinking it’s a few hours north of us, she didn’t know.”
“Willow?”
“She’s here. I ran out of options and didn’t have a choice. I called Banks too. I told him Zarah’s in trouble, and he said he’d be on the next flight to King’s Crossing. He’s going to try to find out where Jerricka’s lake house is located, and he’ll get back to us as soon as he can.”
“Okay. Thank you. Stella—”
“You’re going to the airport. You’re going to talk to Ash.”
“Yeah. Mallory said he’s behind this whole goddamned thing.”
“Will he talk to you?”
“I don’t know. I’m not on his visitors’ list. They may not let me in.”
“I’m on it. He’ll speak to me,” I say, inserting myself into their conversation.
“Gage.” Stella’s voice sounds far away.
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
The line goes dead.
“That was abrupt,” I say, blinking in surprise.
Zane shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. “She’ll meet us at the airport.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I know her. Because she said I never have to go through anything alone. Because she loves Zarah. I can’t stop her from wading into the shit. All I can do is try to protect her the best I can while she does.”
“Are you okay flying?”
“I’ll do what I need to do. My sister doesn’t deserve anything less. It will help to have Stella there. It’s why I won’t call her back and tell her to stay at the hotel. I’m so fucking weak.”
“Everyone has phobias.”
He scoffs. “What are you afraid of?”
“Guns. I don’t carry even though I have a license. I know how to shoot, go to the range twice a year, but I’ve been shot, and the way Max died...no, guns aren’t my favorite thing.”
“I hear you.”
The traffic’s light this time of evening, and during the rest of the drive to the airport, while Zane bites the inside of his cheek, I wonder how in the hell we’re going to get past security at the prison after visiting hours.
Zane parks near the private airstrip, and a sleek white jet is already in position on the tarmac, the stairway in place, a thin man wearing a pilot’s uniform expectantly watching for us.
As he predicted, Stella’s here and Douglas is helping her climb out of the back of a black town car. She’s carrying two large overnight bags, and she looks ready to go to war wearing boots, jeans, and a black puffer jacket, her hair pulled up into a high ponytail.
“Told you,” Zane says unnecessarily, and all I can do is appreciate the kind of woman he has on his side.
He kills the engine and wearily climbs out of the SUV, shaking and sweating like he’s come down with a bad case of the flu. He needs more than Stella to board that plane—he needs a Xanax and a bottle of booze. Maybe Stella has some magic in one of the bags she brought with her.
Seven years and he hasn’t flown one time since Black murdered his parents.
She meets him halfway, and he scoops her up and buries his face in the curve of her neck. They cling to each other, and everyone on the tarmac looks away except me. I crave Zarah like a desperate druggie needs his next hit, and I swear to God if Jerricka hurts her, Ingrid’s death will look downright peaceful compared to what I’ll do to her.
I greet Stella, clearing my throat in order to speak clearly. “Hey.”
She leans into her husband but turns toward me. “Hey. I asked Linc to drop off a change of clothes. I don’t know how long we’ll be gone.” She hands me a bag that close up, I now recognize as mine. “He wasn’t too happy we cut him out of the loop, but he’s going out to the house to try to do as much digging online as he can and to keep an eye on Lucille.” She drops to her haunches. “Hey, sweet girl,” she says to Baby, letting her lick her cheek. “Glad you’re here, too.”
“You think of everything.”
She grimaces. “Not everything. I never thought Jerricka would convince Zarah to go with her. I don’t like it, and I wish Zarah would have said no.”
“Jerricka’s a manipulative psychopath and knows just what to say. She knew exactly how to push my buttons, and I have no doubt she’s been working on Zarah since Zarah started seeing her.” I pause. “I’m going to call Pop. I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t take too long, we need to get up in the air.” Zane swallows.
“Yeah.”
I step away and pull my phone out of my pocket. It’s almost dead, and I bet Pop didn’t think to pack my charger.
“Gage. What did Mallory have to say?”
“We were able to pull a few bits and pieces out of him. He said he was never at that warehouse and has an alibi to prove it. He did say someone murdered those girls to cover their tracks. There was a lot of experimenting going on at Quiet Meadows, some kind of dementia drug, and Zarah was a test subject. Jerricka has her now. She was supposed to fly to LA this morning, but Jerricka intercepted her at the airport and drove her to a lake cabin we can’t find. We’re flying to Bellwood tonight, see if we can pry some information out of Black.”
“Okay. Stella asked me to check on Lucille, and I’m driving out there now. I don’t want her hurt in the middle of all this mess.”
There’s something in his tone I haven’t heard before. “Pop? You and Lucille?”
“We might have kept in touch after we went out there for dinner,” he mutters.
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“We’re only friends. I don’t need to tell you every time I make a friend.”
“No, but it would be nice if you clued me in if you fall in love with one.”
Pop pauses. “It’s not...love. It’s more of a shared penchant for old movies and coffee.”
“Ah-huh. Just keep your head in the game. You’ve accused me of being blinded by love, and it’s almost gotten me killed.”
“Ten-four.”
He disconnects, and I join Stella and Zane near the staircase. He’s not too eager to board, I can tell that by a split-second look at his face. “Pop and Lucille?” I ask to lighten the mood.
Stella perks up. “Yeah? I didn’t see that coming.”
“Me either.”
“Mr. Maddox, if you’re ready, we’re cleared for takeoff,” the pilot says, shivering slightly in the wind.
“Right.”
Stella stands on the first step, and she’s equal height to me and Zane. She whispers into his ear and reaches for his hand. Over his shoulder she says to me, “It’s a forty minute flight. Will you be okay by yourself? We don’t want to be poor hosts.”
“Do what you gotta do.”
She smiles at me. “Thanks.”
If she’s planning on fucking him through his forty minutes of hell, I can’t say I blame her. This flight will go a lot more smoothly if she can ease his stress and anxiety. I won’t judge how she does it.
They disappear into a room at the rear of the plane leaving me and Baby alone. There isn’t a flight attendant, and the pilot pokes his head into the seating area. “If you can buckle up for takeoff, I’ll let you know when you can move about the cabin.”
“No problem.”
I settle into a leather chair the size of one of Pop’s recliners and don’t stop Baby from jumping into the one next to mine. They face another pair of seats, and a large table sits between us. I fasten my belt and look out the window. I’m trying hard not to think about Zarah, but it’s difficult not to fixate on why she let Jerricka bully her into leaving with her. I’m disappointed she still has so many doubts about me and my love she’d let Jerricka try to “fix” her. Wasn’t I clear enough that I love her just the way she is? Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned my choice not to marry her if she never recovers properly. I was trying to be chivalrous, trying to prove I wouldn’t use her for the money, but maybe all I did was tell her she wasn’t worth marrying if she was still mentally fragile. A real therapist could have talked us through that, but after all this, I’ll never spill my guts to a stranger.
I’m so lost in my thoughts I don’t notice we take off, and if I didn’t notice, maybe Zane didn’t either.
Over the speaker, the pilot lets us know we can stand up and stretch if we’d like. He says we have a tailwind, and it will shave five minutes off our flight. Good. The less time we’re on this plane the better, but we still have to find Jerricka’s lake house and then fly back to King’s Crossing. Zane will be a pro by the time we’re done.
He didn’t mention if he owns this plane or if it’s a rental, and I’m not going to guess how much it costs to rent something like this on an hourly basis. More than I’ll ever see in this lifetime. I snoop around, not wanting to disturb anything, and I find the door to the room where Stella and Zane are hiding. In a tricked-out galley, I pour a snifter of brandy.
Baby’s been on the move, and I fill a bowl of water for her. Poking through the cabinets, looking for something I could possibly feed her, I find a bag of the brand of dog food she likes.
That could only be Stella’s doing. I don’t think I’ve met anyone who cares so much about other people. Calling Pop to ask him to pack me a bag and look after Lucille, arranging food for my dog. It’s no wonder Zane fell so hard. If I wasn’t so completely in love with Zarah, it wouldn’t have been too difficult to crush on Stella.
Baby chows, stretches out on a loveseat and falls asleep, and I clean up the dishes we used.
I sit and try to keep my mind as blank as possible, but it’s damn difficult. There’s no way Jerricka isn’t abusing Zarah somehow. She’s already been through hell, and I wipe tears off my cheeks.
It feels like we’ve been in the air for only a few minutes when the pilot announces we’re circling over the Bellwood airport and we should fasten our seatbelts. I do, relieved. I need something else to think about.
The landing is as smooth as you’d expect it to be in a tiny plane like this, and Stella and Zane don’t emerge until we roll to a stop. He looks a little worse for wear, like a kid who bit off more than he could chew insisting he was up to an adult rollercoaster ride. But he did it, even if there is a waxy sheen to his skin and a haunted look in his eyes.
Standing behind him, Stella shakes her head at me, and taking the hint, I don’t congratulate him on surviving the flight or ask for a high-five that would earn me a punch in the face. I only thank Stella for the dog food, and wrapping her arms around Zane’s waist, she says, “You’re welcome. I’m glad you found it. I forgot to mention it.”
A heavily-layered ground technician wearing a chartreuse and neon orange vest opens the plane’s door and positions the staircase. I shrug into my jacket. It’s colder than hell out there, and it doesn’t help it’s close to nine o’clock.
Stella stands near the door, shivering without her coat.
“Aren’t you coming?” I ask.
“No. I wanted to be here for Zane during the flight. You two can talk to Ash without me. I’d prefer never to see that son of a bitch again. If you want, I can keep Baby here. I doubt the facility will let her inside.”
My respect for her doubles. I didn’t know it could, I already admire her so much. “Thanks.”
A driver pulls up to the plane in a sleek black Jeep, and slowly, I’m getting used to all these things appearing just when I need them. I rub Baby’s neck to say goodbye and trot down the staircase, the evening wind whipping against my face. To get out of the cold, I climb into the passenger side of the Jeep and crank the heat.
Zane stands on the jet’s staircase, kissing Stella like he’s never going to see her again.
The pilot edges around them and tips his hat, but either they don’t see it or don’t care. He tips his hat at me. I nod my thanks through the windshield, and he scurries inside the airport.
Zane finally leans away, and Stella and Baby disappear inside the plane. Once he’s hurrying across the tarmac, the technician closes the door, sealing them in against the cold.
In a burst of freezing air, Zane climbs in behind the wheel. The cold wind, or maybe Stella’s kisses, gave his cheeks a hint of color, and he looks a lot healthier than he did before our flight.
“Feeling better?”
“It’s hard to feel bad when a woman’s got her lips wrapped around your cock.”
“You’ve got a keeper. She thinks of everyone but herself.”
“That’s Stella.”
“You okay now?”
“Clayton killed my parents and I’ll never be okay with that part of it, but they’ve been gone seven years. It’s past time I get this under control. Let’s go.”
He searches the destination list on his cell’s maps app, and the penitentiary pops up. It’s a ten minute drive, and we set out, the headlights catching big puffballs of snow drifting from the sky.
“Do you know what you want to ask him?”
“All I care about is where my sister is. That slimebag knows, but I doubt he’ll tell us. Why would he? He’ll laugh at us, maybe jab at me because I was desperate enough to get on a plane. If we can convince him to tell us anything, I’ll consider us lucky.”
I don’t want to say I was thinking the same thing. Ashton Black won’t gain a damned thing talking to us, but if we can be as manipulative as he is, we might be able to sneak an idea or two past him and at least gauge his reaction. The trick is to hold on to my temper and not let him get the best of me. He can’t answer questions if he’s laughing hysterically at my lack of self-control...or through loose teeth and bloodied lips.
The facility doesn’t look at all how I expected. I romanticized it in my head, giving it a grey and gloomy appearance, miles of barbed-wire fence, and turrets that would house guards and their rifles while the inmates have their playtime outdoors. But there isn’t any of that. It looks like every modern government building I’ve ever had business at, though it’s huge, sitting on a piece of land that rivals the acreage of Quiet Meadows.
Mounted to the walls, security lights shine, and we park in visitor parking near the main doors. Staff parking must be located behind the building—we’re the only car in the lot.
“Think they’ll let us see him?”
Zane kills the engine, and with it, the headlights and heat. “I hope so. I didn’t go through all that for nothing.”
“All what? A blowjob?”
Scowling, he says, “Funny guy.” He opens his door letting in a gust of cold that cuts through what little warmth was left inside the truck.
“Wait. Leave your shit here. They’ll confiscate it if you don’t. All you need is your ID.” From the deep pockets of my jacket, I dig out my wallet, cell phone, and keyring.
“You visit a lot of punks in prison?” Zane asks, doing the same.
“More than I’d like.”
The second we step one foot inside the small vestibule a security guard barks at us over the speaker. “Visiting hours are over.”
Zane looks at the camera, the beady red dot shining. “I’m Zane Maddox, and I’m with Gage Davenport. We’re here to see Ashton Black.”
We stand tersely in silence.
The door buzzes and clicks open, and I step back in surprise. “They’re letting us in.”
Zane’s mouth quirks. “Really?”
“Funny guy.”
My heart’s beating a mile a minute. Deep down, I didn’t think we’d be allowed inside, but I’m not sure why I thought that. I filled out a ton of paperwork to be added to his visitors’ list.
A paunchy, balding older male guard wearing a beige and dark brown uniform logs our IDs into the computer. “We’ll show you to a locker room and you can store your coats. Don’t matter who you are, we still have to search you, and we’ll need you to walk through a metal detector.”
“Right,” Zane says, tucking his ID into his pocket.
The lockers are tiny, and I cram my jacket into the little square. Zane does the same and follows me out of the room, another guard right behind us. Once we’re patted down, through the metal detector, and we’ve proven we’re not up to anything suspicious, the guards loosen up.
One laughs. “Why do you want to see that psychopath?”
“Why are you letting us talk to him after visiting hours?” I counter.
“Some FBI hotshot told us you were coming. Lots of grumbling over jurisdiction and toe-smashing, but it is what it is. Black doesn’t have many visitors. Mostly his attorney trying to get him to talk.”
“He won’t?”
“Nope. He’s holding out for something, but he won’t say what. Heard the DA’s office in KC’s done fucking around. Went through every single thing they ever did. It’s almost easier to try them for tax evasion, ya know? Won’t need a year in court going through evidence. Nobody’s gonna wanna sit on that jury, I can tell you that.”
The two guards walk with us down the waxed and gleaming hallway. He pauses outside the visitation door and says, “You guys gotta piss, do it now. If you leave the room, you can’t go back in.”
“I’m good,” Zane says, and I nod in agreement.
The visitation room is the size of a school’s cafeteria and feels similar. Stainless steel tables are scattered throughout the space, stools bolted to the floor. No head-smashing going on in here, but I still blanch.
Zane catches me. “Scared of him?”
“No.” I’m not, not really. I’ve never met the guy. It’s not like I’ve ever been in a situation where I’ve had the opportunity to meet Ashton Black.
“He’s a pussy cat, that one,” one of the guards says, flipping on a light switch. The fluorescent bulbs buzz as they flicker to full strength. “All he does is read. He’s been in solitary—don’t need anybody snapping his neck. Thought he’d hate it, but he adapted pretty damn quick.”
“How’s Clayton doing?” Zane asks, sliding onto one of the metal stools like he visits someone every day.
“Lonely, not doing too good. Crazy thing, says he misses his wife. Misses slapping her around is my guess. You want us to stay here? They’re walking him down right now. He’s in cell block H, and it’s a trip to the front.”
“We’re fine.” Zane speaks on my behalf, but I’m not fine. I’ve dealt with my share of assholes, but Black is right up there with the big five mafia families, guys who would just as soon whack you as shake your hand.
“You get a half hour, max. It’s after hours, and he’s in the hole. It’s the best we can do. We bend for the Feds, but Black’s still a dangerous fuck, and don’t you forget it. No funny business or we’ll kick you out. Keep your hands to yourself or we’ll kick you out and charge you with assault. Be polite. Work with us, and we’ll work with you.”
“You don’t have to worry about us.”
“That’s what they all say, and the next thing we know we have an inmate who’s got a bloody nose threatening a lawsuit he’d win.”
The two guards step out of the visitation room, and we’re left waiting.
Sweat slides down my back.
Zane’s cool as you please, leaning against the table, holding his head in his hand, thrumming his fingers against the metal.