16. Chapter 16
16
Chapter 16
Don
“What time is it?”
Don sat on the hard and completely unyielding metal bench, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees while trying not to breathe too deep the pungent smell of B.O. that surrounded him. He shifted so he could lift his watch and look at the time. “2220 hours,” he told Harry.
Harry spun around so fast, he nearly lost a croc—one argyle sock had fallen around his ankle, but the other held on around his calf. “I’m in jail for you Don, the least you could do is give it to me in civilian speak.”
The guy who’d been lying drunk as a skunk on the one bench in the cell when they’d been brought in—and the source of the B.O.—called out from his new spot on the floor, slurring his words. “Yeah, Donnie, give it to mem in cibilian.” He slid down the wall and into the bars of the adjoining, empty cell that they’d been told was for women with a clank that made Don wonder if the guy had a metal plate in his head.
Don shot the loudmouth a look. The same look that had gotten the guy to vacate the bench a few hours earlier, but this time it did no good. He was passed out again, head tilted back, mouth hanging open.
“Ten-twenty,” Walt muttered from the other side of Don.
Harry pointed to Walt. “Thank you. Was that so hard?”
“I’m going to get us out of this,” Don promised.
Harry pushed his round glasses up his nose. “We’ve been in here for almost four hours. Anytime you want to put that plan into motion, I’m all for it.” He lifted his fist in the air like a Rastafarian. So dramatic.
Don leaned back against the concrete wall and folded his arms.
Harry pointed at him. “Don’t flex your big arms at me, it’s your fault we only have one call left out of the three of us.”
Don shrugged—he used his call on Sean, but he hadn’t answered.
Walt had wanted to call Nancy or Polly, but Don reminded him that they weren’t helping, so Walt made his call to Samantha. She hadn’t answered either—probably too busy running around getting The Palms ready for the hurricane, which meant they had one call left. “Walt gets it.” Walt saw the plan.
Walt’s mustache twitched, and his face went a little red. “No. He doesn’t.”
Don looked his way. “What?”
Walt folded his arms. “The only reason we’re in here is because you’ve gone off the rails. You, who never does anything without a plan, went off half-cocked and got us cocked up.”
“I have a plan!” Don bellowed and he stood up.
Walt swept an arm across the jail cell. “And what part of the plan is this? Do you expect Sean to come down here to bail you out, and somehow, miraculously, Blue will show up as well and the two will fall into one another’s arms?”
Well . . . he glanced toward the clerk’s office; it was just past the police station’s front desk. That was the convenient thing about small towns, the courthouse, registrar, clerk, and police tended to be in one building. If he could get Sean down here to bail them out at the same time Blue showed up for her marriage license—
Walt followed his gaze. “She’s not getting a license at ten-thirty at night, and don’t even pretend this was your plan. You didn’t have one. So man up and own it, or don’t . . . but at least stop trying to convince us that being in jail is part of your big plans.”
Don glanced from one irate friend to the other. “I thought you were on my side.”
“We are on your side,” Walt said. “We just don’t want to be in jail.”
Harry ran his hand down his face. “Virginia is going to kill me.”
“We have one call left, and it’s time we called our friends to come get us out,” Walt said.
Don fisted his hands on his hips and glanced down at the floor for a moment to cool down. “Why is it that I’m the only one who can see that Sean and Bluebell are perfect for one another?”
Harry let out a deep breath. “Well, if you recall, Walt and I haven’t actually seen them together. Or ever met Bluebell, but we do trust your judgment—well, we did. This is my second time in jail, Don. It was one thing being locked up with Virginia but she’s going to be madder than a hen that I left her out.”
“I just need you to trust me a little longer.”
Harry and Walt exchanged glances, followed by a pregnant pause. The silence in the room was broken by a loud, oscillating snore coming from their cellmate.
Don glanced over at the guy just as drool ran down the side of his face that was currently smooshed against the metal bars of the adjoining cell. This was Don’s rock bottom. It’d been years since he’d been here. This guy? A physical representation of what Don was on the inside.
Walt was the first to shake himself out of the weird stupor to fall over their group. “The problem is trusting your judgment this time got us thrown in jail. Bluebell is getting married tomorrow. We don’t even know where Sean is. If we don’t get out of here, there won’t be anything we can do. The problem is you’re not thinking things through, you’re just reacting.”
“It’s not like you, Don,” Harry added.
They were right. Don let out an irritated breath and stepped forward to the bench. Walt and Harry spread out to let him sit between them.
Don stared down at his thick hands. “I’m sorry I got you locked up. All I’ve ever wanted was to make sure Wayne’s boys were happy. That was all Amelia—” His voice caught in his throat. “That’s what Amelia wanted too.”
Harry rested a hand on his shoulder. “We know she did, that’s why we went along with your crazy scheme in the first place.”
Walt leaned forward. “We should have called you out on not having proper surveillance gear.”
Don huffed a one-breath chuckle. “I know. Staring in windows doesn’t have my normal flare.”
“Not to mention, you didn’t think about covering our tracks. My crocs left footprints Sweetie could have followed.” Harry joked.
Don snorted at the image of the blind alligator following Harry’s trail. “It’s possible I didn’t think this all the way through.”
Walt leaned back and scratched his chin. “Being in survival mode’ll do that to a man.”
Don pressed his palms together and rubbed them slowly, his mind churning. “I’ve been surviving since Amelia died.” He swallowed. “Thinking is a lot harder.” His friends glanced away, giving him as much space and privacy with his confession as they could in the small space. “But not a lot clearer.”
It hurt to admit, but not as much as living this way hurt.
“Maybe Wayne’s right,” Don admitted—but only because Wayne wasn’t here to hear him.
“About what?” Walt asked.
“About needing to deal with my emotions instead of locking them away.” That’s what he’d done in the army. Anytime he’d faced something horrific, he’d locked it away. It was how he’d been able to cope. That and with Amelia’s love. But she was gone now, and he needed another outlet.
Both Harry and Walt sat a little taller, tossing glances at one another again.
“Stop that,” Don barked.
“What?” Harry asked.
“Giving one another knowing looks.” Don ran a hand through his hair—he knew what he had to do. “I’ll get us out of here. He stood and made his way over to the bars. “Hey, Beddoe!”
Officer Beddoe dropped his feet from his desk and peered around the corner. He had the overnight shift tonight; the rest of the officers were out patrolling around Diamond Cove to make sure there wasn’t any looting or breaking and entering and that everything stayed orderly before the hurricane hit.
“We’re ready to make our last call.”
Beddoe picked up Don’s cell from his desk and marched over.
Don took the phone. “Thank you, officer.”
“Don, you can call me Petey. You know me, I interned at The Palms for years, for crying out loud,” Beddoe said.
Don nodded. “But now you’re an officer of the law. You earned your title and I respect that.”
“You folks need anything?” Beddoe asked Walt and Harry.
“A coffee would be nice,” their cellmate called out. Somehow, miraculously, he’d managed to sit up straight, but he blinked so slowly he might be sleeping in those moments between blinks.
“Not you, Adamson,” Beddoe said. “You need to sleep it off.”
Adamson closed his eyes and tilted back into the bars, hitting his head with a metallic thunk.
Don opened his phone. He had eighteen missed text messages, mostly from the Secret Seven. He went to the group text and sent a message.
Don: We need help .
A text came through almost immediately.
Nancy: Where are you?
Winnie: Are Harry and Walt with you?
Don: They’re here.
Polly: Where’s here?
Don: Hell.
The dots wavered as he waited for a response.
Rosa: Santa María !
Winnie: I know it’s hard to lose a loved one, but you’re going to be okay. We’re here for you, Don.
Nancy: Don’t do anything drastic!
Don blinked at his screen. What on earth? That was not the answer he was expecting. He scrolled back to his message.
Walt and Harry crowded in around him.
“You spelled it wrong,” Walt said, helpfully pointing at Don’s text.
Don batted Walt’s hand away and glowered at the screen. “It’s the dang small buttons on the phone. And AutoCorrect.” He tried again.
Don: *Jail.
Nancy: That can’t be right either.
Don: We got caught spying on Jonah and he called the police.
Polly: Don!
Nancy: Don!
Rosa: Better than el infierno. At least I can get them out of jail. But el infierno?
She was crossing herself right now, or playing with her rosary. Don could see it clear as day as if she were sitting right in front of him. He had no doubt she’d be adding some extra Hail Marys to her prayers tonight, or however that worked.
“Thank the Lord for friends with law degrees,” Walt said.
“Second that,” Harry added.
Couple of babies. It wasn’t like they were going to be here forever. They’d had a bench to sit on, and plenty of time to think things over. Life wasn’t all that bad.
Winnie: Are Walt and Harry okay? Virginia’s here and she’s very upset because she doesn’t know where Harry is.
Harry let out a groan at his side. “I’m a dead man.”
“It’s going to be fine,” Walt consoled him.
Don: They’re fine.
Nancy: I can’t believe you spied on Jonah.
Polly: I can.
Polly was most certainly rolling her eyes at him.
Nancy: How exactly are we supposed to get you out?
Rosa: Is Michael there?
Michael Sanchez, a police officer here in Diamond Cove, Rosa’s grandson, and an all-around good guy was known to help the group out from time to time. Man had the patience of a saint, and in this community, and this group especially, it was needed.
Before Don could answer the question, the phone to the station started to ring.
“Beddoe here.” Rapid fire muffled talking came from the line, and Beddoe immediately sat up straight in his seat. “Yes, ma’am, I know I should be more clear when answering the phone . . . clearer , sorry. No, ma’am, you don’t need to call back. I’ll do better next time.” He cleared his throat and glanced their way. “No, ma’am, your grandson isn’t here. He’s out patrolling with Officer Madden . . . No, I don’t know when they’ll be back . . .”
Harry leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Rosa sure does have a fierce streak when called for.”
Walt nodded in agreement. “I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.”
Don typed in another text.
Don: Rosa’s on the line with Officer Beddoe.
Nancy: Let’s hope she can do something for you.
Polly: I don’t know. Maybe we should leave them there to think about their decisions.
“No, I can’t stay here,” Harry said. “I wasn’t cut out for jail. Plus, I missed dinner and Virginia was making mince and tatties.”
Winnie: This is Virginia, I’ve commandeered Winnie’s phone. Harry? Are you there?
Don handed the phone over to Harry.
Harry: I’m here, sweetheart.
Virginia: I can’t believe you got arrested without me!
Harry: It wasn’t intentional.
Beddoe cleared his throat, drawing their attention again. “No, ma’am, I can’t just let them go. The homeowner is pressing charges.”
Don, Walt, and Harry all stepped closer to the bars to listen.
“There is no bail,” Beddoe said, his face turning redder and redder the longer he spoke to Rosa. “Well, with the hurricane coming, the judge and his family have left town. We’ll have to keep them until after the hurricane when the judge comes back and sets bail.” He wiped his head with the back of his hand. “Yes, I know they won’t run, but the law’s the law.” He pulled the phone back, looked at it, then spoke into the receiver again. “Mrs. Sanchez? You there?”
Silence.
“Well, is she still there?” Don yelled.
Beddoe flinched and put the phone back. “She hung up on me.”
Rosa: Polly, Nancy, Winnie, Virginia, I’m coming to get you. We’re going to the station to get our amigos .
Nancy: We’ll be ready.
Don quickly sent one more text.
Don: Nancy, grab the shoebox on top of my piano. The one labeled Don.
Nancy: Why? Oh, never mind.
Don stuck his phone in his pocket. “That went well.”
Walt rolled his eyes and walked away, and Harry glared at him.
“Could’ve been a lot worse,” he said.
“We can’t get out,” Harry pointed toward Beddoe. “There’s no bail set and Jonah’s pressing charges. And a hurricane is coming. We’re going to be in jail through a hurricane. How is this not a worst-case scenario?”
Don took a deep breath and faced Walt sitting on the bench. “Because we’re going to use this time to our advantage.”
“Doing what?” Walt removed his NASA cap and ran his hand through his gray hair.
“Please, no more schemes to get Sean and Blue together,” Harry said. “By the time we get out, Blue will be married to the very man who put us in jail.”
Don straightened his spine. “That’s not what I want help with.” What he wanted help with was something a lot harder.
His feelings.