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Click hereI'm sure he's got some on him but he keeps his stash at his place. We used to party, but I don't screw old ladies out of their money. That's just wrong, man."
I hung up, went home, and waited.
Pueblo can be a small place, demonstrated by how I met that freaking kid and her parents in the elevator. Eli's arrest was all over the news. The police seemed to find out that drugs weren't all that Eli was into. Unless his father sprung for the very best of lawyers, Eli was going to do some very long, very hard time.
One down, four to go.
The drive to the prison was uneventful. It would have been better if there'd been a ton of traffic and some construction or something. Instead, I had nothing to distract me from my recriminations.
It seemed clear now that Dad didn't abandon Mom and me for some stupid code, he did it to keep us safe.
The guard that checked me in had been seeing me at least once a week for years. He offered a closed-lipped smile and a terse nod. I handed him the three novels, the eyeglass holder and the comb.
Looking back up from the novels, his smile grew wider. "Travis McGee? Haven't read those books in years. Glad to see they're still in print. Guess you already know this, but three books at a time, in case you're bringing more next week."
"Thanks, John... Officer Coogan."
He winked at me in a grandfatherly way. "John is fine. You know your dad brags on you all the time, right?"
I returned his smile. "He always did. Nice to know that hasn't changed. John, my husband has a firing range outside Pueblo. If you need hours or something, come down. He'll take care of you."
"That's really nice, Sondra, but I can't. Conflict of interest and all. You're set, you can head in."
He handed me back the stuff for Dad and I went down the short hallway. Standing at the doorway, I again waited a second while watching him, arms animated, as he spoke to another inmate. He was much more contained while we spoke and when talking to other prisoners he dropped the tendency to cover half his mouth with his hand so the visual effects of the stroke would be minimized.
When he finally saw me, I waved and gestured towards a table. He claimed it for us while I went to the vending machines, got our snacks and headed over.
"Morning, Princess." He kissed my cheek. "How was the drive?"
Always the same questions, always born of love.
"It was okay, Dad. No traffic."
I gave him his books, the elastic band for his glasses and the comb.
"Looking a little shaggy. I can't remember you having longer hair."
He instinctively touched his hair. "Yeah. I don't know. Just thought I'd change it up. I'll probably get it cut in a few weeks."
"It looks good."
Dad smiled.
We enjoyed our chips and soda and I got him a Yoo-Hoo. I couldn't understand why he was so fascinated by the paintball stuff until I realized that it was part of me, and Dad was always fascinated by what was happening in my life. I couldn't remember a time when I wasn't a daddy's girl. That tapered off when he was arrested. I'd thought he chose honor among thieves over his family, but I'd still visit him.
"So, your... project. It's done?"
"Pretty much. Just need to tie up one loose end. Then I can move on to the next."
"Or be happy with where you are. That's an option, you know. You did good. You got what you wanted. Maybe it's time to step back and be satisfied."
"Maybe."
"You're not going to stop, are you?"
I shook my head slightly.
Looking down at the table for a second, Dad seemed to regroup. "Tell me a story, Sondra. Give me something to take my mind off of all this."
"Nah, you're the dad. You tell me a story. What was your first job?"
"My first job or my first job?"
"You know what I'm asking."
"Okay. Your Grandpa Charlie was fired. I didn't get the full story, but they wanted him to do something shady. He worked in commercial real estate and it had to do with misrepresenting zoning. It was all above my head. Anyway, they told him they would blackball him when he put up a fuss. He refused and was fired. They wouldn't give him access to his HR file and they were making shit up about him and talking crap about him to other companies. I got his file, made copies of everything and put it back."
"You just walked in and bluffed your way through it?"
"Nah," He smiled. "It was a little past midnight. Security was a joke. Picked a few locks and was in and out in under an hour. He sued, did well, found another job and stayed there until he retired."
I couldn't help smiling. "Tell me about another job."
"Oh, I'm so sorry."
She barely looked up as I bumped into her. The swelling and bruising around her eye was gone, but she looked thin and haunted. I knew that things must be difficult. Eli's finances were locked up. Well, the ones that were still under his control were.
I kept going and waited until she was a block away before calling. She picked up after the second ring and her voice was heartbreakingly frail.
"Yes?"
"Mrs. Martinez, there is an envelope in your purse. Inside the envelope is a plane ticket to JFK in New York, some cash and another envelope with..."
"Who is this? What are you..."
"Mrs. Martinez, please listen to me carefully. Inside of the second envelope is all the information you need to access funds your husband was hiding away. It's about one-third lighter now because I had to filter it, but it's safe. Get away from here and build yourself a better life. You'll have enough to never worry about money again."
"Who... Who are you?"
"I'm a friend. Have a good life, Maria."
I sat in my car for a moment before starting it. Driving by the Riverwalk, I didn't think of revenge, I didn't think of my father. I thought of home, I thought of who waited for me there.
I thought of Michael, my heart and soul.
With thanks to the Automaters of Antwerp, MsCherylTerra for her writing assistance, and the people that were kind enough to offer feedback.
The inclusion in this story of a woman who is physically abused by her husband won't raise many eyebrows. That's because, tragically, it is way too common in the real world. If you or someone you know is a victim of domestic abuse, please reach out to the domestic violence hotline. https://www.thehotline.org
Where are the follow-up stories?
Great so far. Sooner or later, Michael has to be brought into the secret. Need more info (character development) for Michael.
Thanks for an entertaining story.
I will never understand the pathetic creatures who can only feel tough by abusing others. They are even lower than story thieves! (sorry for all the writers that suffer from pathic people like that)
Thanks for the story Bebop
somewhere east of Omaha
A very good story, sort of a mission impossible story. She did almost get caught good to see a bad guy go down and an abused woman given the chance at a new life. Karma work again.....................5 stars