All rights reserved
(c) Copyright Mary Faderan and Colin Firth
Mike Oates loosened his tie as he sat next to Sal in the
same black SUV that he was transported in the day before. He
had his cell phone back, but it had long run out of juice. He
hated that and worried about Lauren. It made the trip
unbearably long, and he tried to close his eyes to shut out the
long road ahead of them, filled with cars and prone to being in
gridlock. Sal took the long drive back, and Mike hated that
too. If he could, he would have made the move to hit Sal on
the nose and crack it open, make him die, and take over the
wheel.
But Henderson still had his hold over him. Everyone
Mike held dear in his life was in Henderson’s thrall. It made
Mike die all over again. His hell was almost unbearable in its
exquisite balance. Mike had to go on with the lie that he
would marry Missy. He had to agree to keep Lauren from
getting killed, for she would have been killed and may be
already dead by now. That possibility was what ground his
insides to a pulp. It made him die all over again. What a mess.
What a mess of my life. He dared not pray. It was not that he
would not pray, but that God would not answer. It made him
so totally sad and filled with despair.
He wanted to talk to his mom, the woman who taught
him how to pray, how to be a good child, and how to do all
the right things. He wished he had his mom all the time, not
his father, George. It made him mad that his dad conned him
into wanting the things that he thought would get him far and
in the best places—to the heaven that his dad said existed.
Well, his type of heaven was bad. George got into bed with
Henderson without anyone knowing it. For years. For
decades. It was enough to make Mike hate his father all over
again. He could not and would not attend the funeral but for
his mother’s sake.
Mike felt this trip back to New Haven was somehow a
way to get to a place where he thought he would never be in;
there was hell waiting for him and hell with him now. Why he
had to kill or stab Levy made him desperate in his remorse. It
was totally, totally out of his control. What made him do this
thing? To kill someone—it was so very different from how he
wanted to love someone, someone like Lauren. The woman
who was in and out of his life for years. She was the prize.
Now she was going to be replaced by Missy. That woman,
Missy, would have been someone that his father would have
approved of. “God, I hate my dad,” Mike groaned, and it
made Sal glance at him.
“Hey, you OK there, Oates?” Sal leered at him.
“Shut up.”
“I will. I got my money. No sweat driving you back.
You lucky you ain’t been worked over. You a good guy, Mike
Oates.”
Mike heard this, and it made him feel worse. He was no
good guy. No. He was not a good guy at all. He wanted to get
to Lauren soon. “Can’t we go any faster?”
“No.”
They drove for what seemed like a few moments, and
then suddenly, there was a siren that erupted behind them.
“Jesus Christ!” Sal exclaimed.
“What . . . are we getting pulled over?” Mike felt a
wash of relief and suspense at the same time.
“I was not even doing sixty!” Sal uttered an expletive
and pulled the car to the side of the road. “I’m not going to tell
my boss this. No way. No way.”
They waited in silence while the police car came behind
them and then parked. An interminable amount of time
seemed to pass for Mike as the police officer came out and
went to talk to Sal. “May I have your driver’s license and
registration, please, sir?”
“Sure.” Sal took out his license and dug into the
dashboard for the registration. He handed them over.
The police officer took note of both Sal and Mike.
“What’s the reason for your trip, uh, Mr. Trivero?”
“We’re just going to work. I’m the chauffeur.”
“Oh. What about you, sir? Do you have an
identification card I can look at?”
Mike handed his driver’s license to him.
“Thank you.”
The police officer went back to his patrol car and stayed
there.
Mike looked helplessly at the skies. If this was the
worst thing that could happen to him, it couldn’t have
happened at the worst time.
The police officer had taken a little time, and then he
came back. “I’m sorry, I need to take you both back to New
Haven Police Department.”
“What the hell?” Sal exclaimed, his voice suddenly
afraid.
“Yes. Both of you.”
The police officer herded them both to his patrol car
and then closed the back door on them both.
Mike tried not to lose his composure. “Listen, Officer, I
really need to get to my girlfriend right after the police station.
I don’t want her to worry about me.”
“What’s her name?”
“Lauren Moore. She’s also my lawyer.”
“OK. Well, I don’t have any control over what happens
to you, Dr. Oates. I just know you have an APB out on you,
and this guy with you is our mystery man.”
APB! Mike closed his eyes and groaned. I’m sunk, he
thought.
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