Jailbird (21 page)

So I understood Charlie’s hesitancy for me to
grab that tiger by the tail. By my way of thinking, if the tiger
was already hunting me—having hold of his tail might be the safest
place to be.

Daniel Winslow knew I was alive. His
attention had turned my direction, and there was no turning it
back. And the hard truth was—now that his gaze was on me, it was
only a matter of time until he went after Gabrielle, Conrad,
Charlie and anyone else I cared about.

I could still remember his cold glare pinning
me from across the courtroom. His countenance was not that of a
grieving father, but one of pure hatred. I could see the same
lifeless vacuum in his eyes that I’d seen in his son’s. When those
eyes were on me, I felt somehow stripped of my humanity. Like it
didn’t exist as far as he was concerned.

People like Elena did mean things because
they were spoiled and couldn’t see beyond the end of their own
nose. People like the Winslows seemed to do things for the sheer
pleasure of watching others squirm.

It was with the memory of his eyes boring
mine we began our slow journey back to Louisiana, a journey made
slower by swinging a wide berth around Hampton. Thanks to Charlie,
we had untraceable money and an untraceable phone. Thanks to
Conrad, I had a stack of phony driver’s licenses to use at hotels.
Thanks to Clairol, Gabrielle & I were both sporting dirty
blonde hair. It was the lightest our jet-black locks seemed to want
to go, and it had taken two bottles each to accomplish that.

I now faced a few problems, and Conrad seemed
to be the solution for all. For one, the woman in the driver’s
license photos had black hair. And while most people were too
apathetic to notice or care, all it took was one diligent night
clerk for me to find myself in a bad situation. That knowledge
forced me to limit how often we stayed in a motel. We saved that
risk for the really cold nights when no other housing seemed to
present itself.

Had I been alone, I would have stuck to the
woods and—however grudgingly—lived off the land. I couldn’t expect
Gabrielle or my pregnant body to sleep on the cold, hard ground,
though. And as mild a winter as it was, it was winter nonetheless.
So some nights, I just took the risk and slept with one eye
open.

My other issue came in the form of my
ever-thickening waist. I was starting to show and it was getting
harder to live in a saddle. There were nights my back ached so
badly it brought tears to my eyes.

I’d thought being pregnant in prison was
hard. This was downright misery and I hoped to God things settled
down before I got really big. It did give me a whole new
appreciation for my ancestors, albeit an appreciation I was ready
to enjoy from afar. There was this little-but-growing piece of me
that thought it would be super to just once be pregnant under
normal circumstances.

Our third problem was that horses were great
for making time through the woods but not so good for checking into
motels or swinging by an ATM.

Some nights we found vacant hunter’s cabins.
Some nights we parked our horses in a farm’s outermost fields and
walked into town. Some nights, our home was a cave. We always made
do and we were always provided for, but our patience was wearing
thin.

Thanks to Daniel Winslow’s statement, the
news outlets slowly began to pick up my story. I found myself
immensely grateful that we live in a society that doesn’t watch the
news as often as they used to. Still, I felt less and less
comfortable showing my face in town.

While we caught the occasional report that
mentioned I wasn’t traveling alone, Gabrielle’s picture had yet to
be posted. So she took over shopping duties, getting cash from
ATMs, and buying groceries from roadside convenience stores along
the way. Every now and then, we’d hit a jackpot and find an
out-of-the-way diner or a gas station with amazing food. Whenever
we did, I made sure we sat close to an outlet so I could charge my
phone.

Being mostly in the woods, cell reception
wasn’t the greatest. I got lots of worried messages from Charlie. I
left lots of reassuring ones in return. Having a marriage via
voicemail was getting really old. Of course, so was being a
pregnant nomad.

I told myself that if my ancestors did it, I
could. I told myself that women gave birth for thousands of years
before ultrasounds or doctor’s offices existed. None of that
lessened my guilt at feeling like I was failing this child just as
I had Gabrielle.

Still, I was encouraged to know that Charlie
had used the information I sent him to start unraveling some of the
lies woven by Julie. Now he knew what questions to ask and what
motions to file. And he had to be making headway, because the
request that Cara be removed from his custody while this went to
trial was denied.

His messages also told me that Anjelita was
worried about me but Manny’s business was doing well. Gossip was
beginning to subside, but the occasional room still hushed when he
entered. Elena was eerily absent and the worry lines on Sheriff
Taylor’s brow seemed deeper than ever. Mary called him, eager to
know what was really going on. He’d dodged her questions but
wondered if I should call her. One day blended into the next. The
world continued to turn; Gabrielle and I continued to ride.

“Hey Mom… do you think we’ll get to go home
soon?” Gabrielle broached the subject tentatively one evening over
a dinner of gas station hot dogs and Cheetos.

“Sweetie, you don’t have to do this,” my
heart broke for her. “I bet Anjelita and Manny would let you stay
with them if Conrad thinks it’s still too risky to be on the
res.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” she shook her
head.

“I don’t want you to leave me either, but it
would only be for a little while,” I urged. Now that the words had
been spoken, I knew it was pure selfishness on my part that she
hadn’t started out with the Torres family.

“If it’s only for a little while longer, then
it shouldn’t be a problem us sticking together. Forget I said
anything.”

“We’re almost through Arkansas,” I commented.
“Let’s give it a couple more days and maybe the answer will come to
us.” She seemed satisfied with that. Putting it off did little to
dull the guilt that started with a twinge and was turning into a
roar.

Sometime after we hit the Louisiana border, I
called Conrad. In typical Conrad fashion, he agreed to meet us at
the Motel 6 where we were staying that night. In not-so-typical
Conrad fashion, he brought a hostage with him.

Part Three: Circles

Chapter Twenty-One

“Really Conrad? You thought this was a good
idea?” I stood to the side and let him enter, his arm wrapped
around a woman whose bound hands were mostly concealed by her
coat.

“Neena, she’s a stubborn, obstinate woman… if
she won’t listen to reason, then what else am I supposed to do?” he
had a wild look in his eyes that was almost amusing.

The look on her face was one of pure mutinous
rage. I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes, silently
wishing she’d be gone by the time I opened them.

She wasn’t, and the room was getting cold
with the door open. I swung it shut and crossed my arms tightly
around my chest. “Please untie her, Conrad. And tell me you didn’t
hurt her.”

“Really, Neena?” he looked wounded. “Do you
think I would hurt her?”

“Well, you seem a little touched right now,
big brother.”

“Oh my gosh—you’re pregnant.” Rachel Cooper
couldn’t take her eyes off my stomach.

“This would be an awkward moment if I
weren’t,” I don’t know why I said it. Nerves make me stupid I
guess. “Yes, I’m pregnant… look, come in and sit down. You are safe
here. I’m sorry if my brother did something rash. He means
well.”

“You’re not my handler,” he grumbled,
brushing past me to scoop a very-expectant Gabrielle into a
hug.

“Maybe you need one,” I retorted before
turning my attention back to Rachel. “Seriously, let me help you
get these off.”

“Thank you,” she held her hands out to me as
I cut the rope with my pocket knife.

“You’re welcome. Can I get you something to
drink or eat? We were just getting ready to order a pizza.”

“Mom likes to eat a lot of pizza.”

“I don’t hear you complaining, tattle-tale,”
I shot back.

“I wouldn’t mind a diet soda,” Rachel
conceded. “If it’s no trouble.”

“My brother kidnapped you. It’s the least I
can do,” I assured her as I slid into my jacket. “Does anyone else
want anything?”

“A Coke would be good,” Conrad looked up.

“Can I have caffeine?” Gabrielle asked
hopefully.

“No.” Conrad and I both answered.

“Sprite,” her shoulders sank.

“Be right back… Gab, can you order the
pizza?”

It was one of those nights where everything
seems surreal—like a moment from a dream. My steps seemed to echo
on the concrete walkway. Each coin I dropped in the machine sounded
loud in my ears. I fully expected someone to jump out of the
shadows to grab me and take me away—if not to Dixon, to some other
dark hole in this world.

I had myself worked into a regular tizzy by
the time I kicked the door to get someone to open up for me. I
handed out their sodas and sank into an open chair, unable to take
my eyes off of Rachel Cooper.

“You’re prettier in person.”

“Excuse me?” she frowned at me.

“I’m sorry, I have no filter… I just meant
that as pretty as you are on television, you’re even prettier in
person. I mean, I saw you through the window once, but still… I’m a
little jealous.”

“Oh. Thank you. And I thought that was you
running through Charlie’s office.”

“Do I want to know why you kidnapped a
reporter?” I asked Conrad, who now sat with Gabrielle tucked up
under his arm.

“I wanted her to see it was real people she
was toying with,” he scowled menacingly at her.

“Ah.”

“I knew they were people…” she met his stare
with one of her own.

“Neena has yet to go to a doctor for prenatal
care… because of you. Gabrielle has not been in school because of
you….”

“I didn’t crack Todd Winslow over the head
with a tire iron,” she spat out.

“I would think any reporter worth her salt
would want to look past the story on the surface to discover the
truth. If she were a real journalist and not just a glorified
weather-girl, that is,” I interrupted calmly before their rising
voices drew attention. Rachel whirled to face me, her expression
one of disbelief. A shocked silence settled over the room. And then
a slow smile spread across her face.

“Okay then,” she conceded. “Why don’t you
tell me what deeper truth I should be searching for?”

“You know, I think I’ll take Gabrielle out
for a real dinner,” Conrad offered instantly then glared at Rachel.
“If this is some sort of trick and you do something to hurt my
sister, I will hunt you and I will find you.”

“I’m pregnant, Conrad, not an invalid,” I
rolled my eyes. “Just bring me back a doggie bag.”

“But I already ordered pizza,” Gabrielle
reminded me.

“I know. I’m sure I’ll be hungry again later…
I’m not passing up a chance at variety.”

“She eats a lot now that she isn’t sick all
the time,” Gabrielle informed Conrad. He chuckled; I made a face.
Rachel took it all in.

“Your daughter looks a lot like you,” Rachel
commented when we were alone.

“Only prettier. More graceful,” I amended.
“She’s a good kid. I’m grateful Conrad took her in as his own.”

“Who is her father? Why didn’t he raise
her?”

“Todd Winslow is her father,” I told her
after a moment’s hesitation. Would Daniel want her if he knew?

“Were the two of you dating before the night
of the attack?”

“No. I’d met him that night. A few friends
got together after graduation…,” darkness settled over me. I didn’t
think I’d ever feel comfortable recounting that night. At some
point, I wished I could just purge it from my mind altogether…
right along with the ten or so years immediately following it.

“So you guys had just hooked up that
evening?”

“It wasn’t like that,” I shook my head. “It
was getting late. I wanted to go home, he offered to drive me. I
said I was okay, but one of the girls kept pushing me to go…
Melanie… I could tell she thought I was nuts to not be jumping at
the chance to get into a good-looking rich guy’s car. He just made
me nervous, though. All the attention it was getting was
embarrassing me, so I finally gave in and went with him.”

“What happened next?” she prompted when more
details didn’t appear to be forthcoming. I was lost in my own
world, the images felt suddenly sharp as they played out in my
mind.

“He wanted to take a walk. I told him I
wanted to go home. He was so insistent. We argued… I started to get
out of the car and he grabbed me by my hair. I had such long hair
back then. He used it to keep a hold of me….” I didn’t leave
anything out. I told her every dark moment of that night.

We were both startled when the pizza man
knocked at the door. I paid him and then set the food on a small
table, where it sat untouched as I finished my tale. She sat
completely rapt as I told her about the trial, the kind nurse at
the prison, the numbness that settled in after Gabrielle was taken
from me.

I told her about the alliance Mary O’Donnell
and I formed to keep each other alive, and about the friendship
that blossomed because of it. I gave her my side of the night I
escaped and carried my story right on up to the moment I opened the
door to find my brother had kidnapped a well-known reporter out of
sheer desperation.

Judging from the clock on the wall, Conrad
had taken Gabrielle out for more than dinner. I hoped they were
enjoying themselves. They were both victims of being related to me;
they deserved a night off.