EPILOGUE
One week later…
“Mom, for crying out loud, it’s a casual first date, not our honeymoon.”
“I just thought you’d want to wear something that flattered your figure.”
Kate stared ruefully at the square shoulders and slim arms that hung a good two inches too far past her waist. Her hips disappeared underneath the black fabric, which was pretty impressive considering her mother had chosen the dress to “flatter her figure.”
“Mom, the color makes my freckles stand out like rosacea.”
“They’re beauty marks, dear, and short of very expensive cosmetic surgery, there’s nothing you can do about them. Besides, Marcus has presumably seen your freckles before. I imagine he hasn’t seen your shoulders, nor has he seen this much of your cleavage.”
“Wow, okay, really don’t want to talk about my cleavage with my mother.”
That’s what she said out loud. What she thought was what cleavage?
Her breasts were there, but that was about all she could say for them.
An image of Cheryl came to her mind, easily overcoming her mind’s feeble attempt to brush it aside.
Cheryl had an incredible body. If she were wearing this dress, her cleavage would be far more prominent and her hips actually noticeable.
Because you’re totally gonna screw him tonight. Relax, Kate. Casual first date.
She really hoped she didn’t keep comparing herself to Cheryl.
“I’m only saying, the poor boy’s been suffering in silence for months. You don’t have to give him the whole show, but I think he’s earned at least a theatrical trailer.”
Kate gave her mother a dry look. “You really should have been a writer, you know that? You turn phrases better than Gabe Levine.”
“I only speak the truth, dear. Even when it hurts.”
Catherine put both hands-on Kate’s shoulder, and a tremor came to her lips. She caressed Kate’s face and whispered, “You look so beautiful.”
Tears welled in Kate’s eyes. She blinked them away, and before she could offer an awkward thanks, her phone rang.
She frowned when she saw the number for Northbridge Special Management Unit, the prison where Elijah Cox was being held.
This was the fourth time in the past week he’d called asking for her.
“Don’t answer,” her mother warned. “Not tonight.”
Kate picked it up, and her mother sighed heavily. “Good evening.”
“Good evening, Kate,” Governor Frank Cirillo, the head of Northbridge SMU, said. “Sorry to bother you yet again. I imagine the answer is still no.”
“It is. And in the future, there’s no need to call. The answer will always be no.”
“Good girl,” Frank said. Then, perhaps realizing how inappropriate that comment was, he cleared his throat and said, “Your request has been noted, Special Agent Valentine. I will communicate to the inmate’s handlers that no further contact will be approved until further notice from you.”
Kate smiled and decided not to give Frank crap about his misogyny tonight. Like her mother had hinted, she had more important things to think about.
She thanked Frank, hung up, and kissed her mother on the cheek. “I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.”
“You will do no such thing,” Catherine replied. “This evening will end with you at his home, and you will engage in activities I do not want to hear details about.”
Kate had no plans to take tonight that far, but she’d let her mother indulge in her fantasies.
And who could be sure how the night would end? The future was an open door. No one knew what lay on the other side. Whatever it was, Kate couldn’t wait to find out.
She pushed the door open and stepped through.
***
Cox listened to the news calmly. He had expected this. Kate believed that God winked at her sin because His Lawgiver was incarcerated. A foolish but predictable reaction.
Besides, Cox had other ways of getting her attention.
This last event hadn’t played out the way Cox wanted, but setbacks were to be expected when the principalities and powers of the world were arrayed against him.
Cox would overcome them. Greater was He who was in him, than he who was in the world.
The tray whirred. Tyler’s voice carried over the intercom. “All right, Cox. Dinner is served.”
Cox turned around and walked to the tray.
He lifted the cover off the meal. A chicken sandwich on a brioche bun with American cheese and a liberal amount of some sort of mayonnaise-based sauce that smelled like the inside of a boys’ locker room.
A chocolate chip cookie for dessert. The ubiquitous latex bulb of water.
And a small prepaid flip phone with a Post-it note attached to the top, on which was inscribed the message YOU’VE GOT 1 MINUTE!!
A smile spread across his face. God was good.