Eighteen
Nothing ever turns out the way you plan it. Case in point: I thought Sam could get Agent Calhoun to let me go. No such luck. He was good and mad, and as far as I knew, had refused to even take a call from my boyfriend. So I got to go somewhere I had hoped to avoid for the rest of my life.
Jail.
As I sat there in the large but crowded holding cell at the county jail, I had nothing to do but think, and that was always dangerous for me.
Caleb was going to go to prison for a very long time if I didn’t figure out a way to save him.
His mother was a psychopath, and since no one but me really believed in his innocence, it fell to me to pull Caleb out of the hole he was in by digging up the truth about her.
When I got out, I had to figure out everything about Susan Reid.
I needed to get to Dallas and take a look at her life. When I was free. If I got free…
“Hey, pretty boy,” someone called out to me. “What’d you do?”
“Nothing,” a voice answered before I could say anything.
I had never considered myself vain, but I had thought the guy was talking to me. Since I was in jail, however, I was kind of glad not to be getting any attention. True to his word, Agent Calhoun had locked me up. I had no idea how long his anger would take to dissipate.
“C’mere.”
I turned and looked at the guy who was talking—big guy, muscular but with a beer gut, he had to be at least six-five when standing. Now he sat between two other guys and motioned at a kid across from him. The kid had not moved. He shook his head no.
“I said c’mere.”
“No,” he said quickly, and I could tell he was terrified.
He glanced around the room, searching everywhere until he caught my eye.
I stared back, and I saw him take a breath.
Instantly, he was up and moving, darting down the line of ten men seated along the wall until he was standing in front of me. I looked up into his face, smiling.
“Excuse me,” I said to the guy on my left. “Could you slide down just a little?” The stranger grunted, but he moved, making a spot for my new friend to fill.
“Hi,” he said breathily, absorbing my face with his eyes. “I’m Carrington Adams. Who’re you?”
“Jory Harcourt.” I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
He tried to smile as he shook my hand. “What are you in here for, Jory?”
“Obstruction of justice. You?”
His brows furrowed. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”
“It is and it isn’t. You didn’t tell me what you did.”
“Solicitation.”
My eyebrows rose, and he let out a shaky breath.
“It ain’t me, Jory. I just needed to eat and… I went to this party this guy told me to go to, and I was just supposed to hang out and drink and talk and…and I got drunk so fast, and then I must’ve passed out and…” His eyes crinkled up like he was in pain. “I just wanna go home.”
“And that’s where?”
“North Carolina.”
I nodded. “Are you okay?”
He just looked at me.
“Hey, pretty boy!”
We both looked toward the back of the room, where the guy who had called him before was. There were five men clustered around him, ready to form a barricade or a wall. Either way, it was dangerous and just plain stupid to go back there.
“Get your ass back here, kid,” he threatened Carrington. “Now.”
There were catcalls and whistles before the loud, lewd comments began. Apparently, the plan was for Carrington to be on his knees for the rest of the night.
He put his head back, letting it thunk against the wall behind him.
“It’s okay,” I told him, “you’re not going.”
He rolled his head on the wall to look at me. “You’re gonna help me?”
“Yep.” I smiled at him before turning to look at the guy in the back. “Hey, asshole!”
He glared at me.
“You know Rego James?”
His eyes widened, and the others went still, no longer threatening Carrington, all their focus on me.
“’Cause he won’t like you touching his boy.”
There was lots of whispering, debate I couldn’t really hear. Finally the question was spoken. “He tricks for James?”
“Yep,” I said matter-of-factly. “So you better put your dick back in your pants unless you wanna eat it.”
No one said another word.
“Jory,” Carrington said, leaning close to me, his lips against my ear. “Who’s Rego whoever?”
“Don’t worry about it. Do you have a plan to get home?”
“Never mind that—do you trick for this guy James?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Tell me your plan. Hurry up.”
“Okay. My mom got me a plane ticket. I just gotta get to the airport.”
“You don’t need to get your stuff first?”
“It’s just clothes, Jory, who cares? I just wanna get the hell outta here.”
“Sure, don’t worry. We’re getting out.”
“How?”
“You’ll see.” I took a breath before turning toward the front of the cell, where a uniformed policeman had suddenly appeared. “It’s all about the name you drop and who’s listening.”
“What are you talking about?”
Did nobody but me watch television?
“Hey.” The officer was standing silently on the outside of the locked cell, staring in at me. I tipped my head at him in greeting.
“C’mere.” He crooked his finger at me.
I moved fast to the bars that separated prisoners from policemen. When I was close enough, he reached through and yanked me toward him. Our faces were inches apart as he looked into my eyes.
“That kid works for Rego James?” he asked me, his voice low so only I could hear him.
“Both of us,” I said quickly, putting it on. “I was supposed to be along to watch over him, ya know, but we got busted. Will you call Rego?”
He nodded, looking me over. “What’s your name?”
“Jory.”
“Okay.” He shoved me back hard.
I went back to sitting next to Carrington.
“Jory, what was all that about?”
“Nothing. Just follow my lead, okay? Don’t even for a second lose track of me, all right?”
He took a breath and nodded. “Seriously, you ever get to Raleigh, North Carolina—that’s where I’m from, where my home is, my folks’ll let you move in.”
“We’re not out yet,” I reminded him.
He put his hand on my knee. “I got faith in ya.”
That made one of us.
It didn’t take long. The officer came and called for us fifteen minutes later.
We didn’t go out the way we came in. I was given my watch, phone, and wallet back before Carrington and I were led out of the holding cell and through a maze of passageways.
Our heads were both lowered so no one could identify us, and we walked silently behind the officer, through empty offices and down stairwells.
Carrington never left my side as we passed desks full of people who ignored us, until a final door opened and we wound up standing outside in an empty alley with the officer.
Instantly, we were bathed in a yellow glow as a car rolled toward us, headlights on.
When it stopped beside us, we both saw it was a black limousine.
The driver’s side window rolled down and a hand held out an envelope.
The officer took it, turned, and left, disappearing back into the building.
The window rose with an electronic whir, and the door opened at the same time.
A large man got out and opened the side door for us.
He stood and waited, holding it ajar, silent in the cold, dark alley.
I got in the car, and Carrington followed me.
The door clicked shut behind us as my eyes found Rego James sitting on the black leather seat.
He was reclined across from an older man with a younger man seated beside him.
Two young men, both with long black hair and blue eyes, flanked Rego on either side.
Carrington and I took seats next to the May-December couple across from Rego as the driver pulled out into traffic.
“You used my name,” he said slowly, his voice deep and low. “If I don’t show, I lose face, so here I am.”
I nodded. “Thanks for coming.”
He squinted at Carrington. “You’re not mine. Who are you?”
“He’s nobody,” I said quickly. “I just need to drop him off at the airport.” Rego nodded and called out the airport to his driver.
“Have you forgotten about the party?” the man sitting across from Rego asked him.
“No,” he said, eyeing me. “Come here, I want to look at you.”
I got to my knees and crawled across the space to him.
“You look like you got beat up.”
“It was a while ago.”
He nodded and reached for me, taking hold of the front of my sweater and easing me forward between his legs until I was almost against his chest.
“I really appreciate this. The FBI agent was a pain in the ass.”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
So I explained how I was in for obstruction, and how Special Agent Calhoun had put me there. “God knows how long he was gonna stay mad. He’s gonna bust something when he goes to look for me and finds out I’m gone.”
“Special agent?”
I nodded.
“FBI, Jory?”
I nodded again.
He punched me before I even realized he was planning to. The little mini fridge between the seats stopped my backward momentum. At least I didn’t hit my head.
We were dumped in front of O’Hare. Carrington climbed out unscathed, and I was thrown out, a bit bloodied—Rego had followed up the punch with a few hard slaps and one more closed fist punch—twenty minutes later.
Carrington sat beside me on the sidewalk and used the sleeve of his shirt to pinch my nose shut, since it was bleeding.
“You’re amazing.”
I closed my eyes a minute so they wouldn’t water. I didn’t feel amazing.
“Your lip’s split, Jory, and I think you’re gonna have a black eye. Plus, I think your eyebrow is bleeding. Were there stitches in that?”
“Yep.”
“Well, he hit you really hard.”
It had definitely felt like it. I was surprised I hadn’t been knocked unconscious. I had seen stars.
“Now what?”
“Now,” I said, taking a deep breath and passing him my cell phone, “you call your mom.”
He took it, looking at me. “What should I say?”
“Tell her you’re coming home.”
I looked out across the parking lot from my sitting position on the curb and was surprised when he suddenly grabbed me.
“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and I’ve known you, like, an hour.”
“Promise me you’ll never come back here,” I said when he let me go.
“I promise,” he whispered, and he started shaking as the tears came. Together we got up and walked into the terminal.
I went to get my ticket for Dallas, and Carrington picked up the one his mother had bought for his trip home to Raleigh.
When we were both done, we met at the golf store.
I bought a hoodie because I was freezing, and he got a polo shirt and a hoodie as well.
We washed our faces, cleaned up so we wouldn’t scare people, and ate dinner, with him asking me a million questions at once.
I watched him board the plane two hours later, and when I saw him turn and wave, I had an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment.
He was safe because of me. Put a line down in my good-deed column for the day.
When I was sitting in the boarding area waiting for my flight, my phone rang.
“Hello?”
“I’m going to kill you, Jory.”
“You gotta get in line to kill me,” I told Rego, then hung up. He called back seconds later. “The FBI, Jory?”
“Just deny you ever saw me. They’ve got no proof it was you, and that officer on your payroll, Collins, was careful. He told us to put our heads down when we walked under the surveillance cameras.”
Heavy sigh. “I’m sorry I hit you. I’ll drive back around in front of the terminal. Come out and meet me.”
“You had a lot of guests in the car. I don’t wanna interrupt.”
“I dropped everybody off. It’ll just be us.”
“Unfortunately I have a plane to catch.”
“What?”
“I’m leaving,” I sighed. “When I get back, I’ll call you. I really do appreciate you busting me out. When Sam comes to see you, just—”
“Sam? Who’s Sam?”
I sighed deeply. “Detective Sam Kage. He’s working the case I’m involved in. When he calls you—”
“Jesus, Sam Kage?” he breathed. “Are you kidding?”
“No.”
“What are you wrapped up in, Jory?”
“Some kind of witness protec—”
“Lose my number,” he ordered, and hung up.
Apparently, I had stumbled onto the one thing that scared Rego James—the FBI, and a little Sam Kage thrown in for good measure.
It would have been funny if I hadn’t felt like crap.
Just watching Sam’s calls come in one after another was painful.
I wanted to pick up and talk to him, but I also knew that if I did, I was done.
I couldn’t have a phone call traced because I could not afford to be found.
I needed to clear Caleb’s name, and I needed to go to Dallas to do that.
The key to saving Caleb was in finding out everything about his mother.
I wouldn’t stop until that was accomplished.
An hour later, as I sat in coach listening to the flight attendant welcome passengers onto flight 233 with nonstop service to Dallas-Fort Worth, I sank into the chair and tried to figure out what I was going to do next.
My idea was good. Since Susan Reid was in Chicago, I would go to Fort Worth and see what there was to find at her house.
They had checked Caleb’s apartment, but not Susan’s house.
I was going to save my friend. Just because he loved his mother didn’t mean he deserved to pay for her crimes.
The airport in Dallas was huge, but being from Chicago, I had no problem with it.
In the cab, I chatted up the driver and asked him where I should go to grab some clothes.
He drove me to the Galleria, where I picked up a couple of pairs of jeans and socks, T-shirts, all the essentials, as well as a fleece-lined denim jacket.
I didn’t want to stick out. I grabbed a beanie and a pair of gloves, and shoved my old stuff into a duffel bag.
When I went back outside to wait for a cab, I realized it was dark already.
I had been too pumped up to sleep on the plane, and now, as I was finally tiring, I had no room or place to sleep.
The good news was that from the two thousand I had taken out as a cash advance from my credit card, I still had quite a bit left.
My second cab driver was even more helpful than the first and knew exactly where the closest Internet café was.
I sent Dane an email that I was all right.
I wasn’t worried about Dane or Sam, though, as they had lots of people, plus each other, looking out for them.
What I needed was a motel so I could sleep.
Another cab took me to a really nice bed-and-breakfast that had curtains on the windows, tubs in all the rooms, and brass beds.
I was in the Magnolia room, and besides the pictures on the walls, there was soap and lotion and shampoo to match.
It was very quaint, as was the antique princess phone and the sink shaped like a flower in the bathroom.
I got in bed after a hot shower and didn’t even get under the covers. I was too tired to even dream.