A Gift of Time (The Nine Minutes Trilogy Book 3) (6 page)

Chapter Ten

Ginny

2000,
Fort Lauderdale (After the Execution)

“
You did what
?” Tommy asked me, as I lay wrapped in his arms
that night. The look of disbelief on his face was almost comical.

“I showed up
at your office all ready to seduce you and went to lunch with Alec instead. You
were out with Eileen,” I told him, laughing and trying not to blush at the
entire situation again.

He pulled
back to look at me, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You haven’t done that since
my birthday! What made today so special? And before you answer that, remind me
to kick myself in the ass for taking Eileen to have her car fixed.”

He got
serious then as something dawned on him.

“Oh Gin, I
didn’t even ask you how today went. You were supposed to clean out Carter’s
garage. Did you do it? Are you all right?”

I sat up in
our bed then and faced him. I crossed my legs in front of me, resting my elbows
on my knees and told him everything. From the moment I arrived at Carter’s
until I got home from my lunch date with Alec. I told him about my childhood
Bible and the letter and other paperwork it contained. I told him about the box
I found in the guesthouse. About the earrings I’d put away for Mimi. I told him
everything except for the fact that one of Grizz’s bikes was missing. I had no
intention of ever wearing that bandana so it made absolutely no sense to let
Tommy worry or think about something that would never happen. No. Grizz was
dead and gone as far as I was concerned, and I would not allow him to drive
another wedge between my husband and me.

I suddenly
felt lighter as the emotional baggage I'd carried all day evaporated. It felt
good to get everything off my chest. Well, until I looked at Tommy’s creased
brow. He looked worried.

“Are you
okay, Ginny? I mean, the letter from Delia has to be messing with you.
Especially after we’ve put so much behind us. To dig something like that up
from the past. To know how your father died. Why Delia treated you the way she
did. And the fact that you had a sister that died, too. It just seems like a
lot to digest, honey. Do you want to talk more about it?”

The love in
his eyes was so genuine, and I couldn’t help but notice the little spark I saw
when I told him I’d asked Carter to throw away the cardboard box of Grizz’s
keepsakes. I leaned over to kiss him.

“No, Tommy.
I don’t want to talk about it, and truthfully, I don’t need to.”

“You’re
okay, Ginny? You’re really okay? You’d tell me, right?”

I gently
kissed his neck as my hand made its way down his flat stomach in search of his
manhood.

“Yes, I
would tell you. I’m fine. I’m really fine,” I whispered in his ear.

I could feel
his body relax as he exhaled loudly, his growing erection evidence that he
wanted me as much as I wanted him. He started to turn me on my back, but I
stopped him.

“This is my
night, and I’m in charge.” Quickly, I straddled him. He smiled as I reminded
him of Delia’s note and the discovery of my real birth certificate. “So you
see, you’re actually married to an older woman.”

Our
lovemaking was hurried as I was again fueled by the burning need from earlier
that day to have Tommy inside of me. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the
headboard tightly while Tommy’s fingers expertly matched the pace I’d been
slowly building. I found my release first and had to grab his hand to pull it
away from where he was touching me.

“It’s too
sensitive. I already came. Please—stop!” I practically screamed.

My breaths
came in short, quick intervals, my head was thrown back and my eyes were
closed. I slowed my pace and opened my eyes. I saw the want, the desire, the
absolute need in his eyes. And giving him a slow sensual smile, I went back to
the rhythm I knew would signal his release.

After, I
collapsed on top of him and laid there until our breathing returned to normal.
I eventually scooted down by his side, and he pulled me close.

We started
sharing more about our day, and he asked me if I wanted to do anything about my
legal birth certificate. Did I want to change my name or go to some authority
and have myself legally declared as Josephine Diana Dunn?

I sat up and
glared down at him. “Absolutely not! I am Guinevere Love Lemon Dillon, and I’m
never changing it. I’ve had enough of the aliases and false identities, Tommy.
Do you want to change your birth certificate to your real name, Thomas James
Talbot?”

We both knew
his birth certificate had been falsified years earlier to make him think he was
Blue’s brother. Blue’s real name was Keith Dillon and Tommy’s falsified birth
certificate reflected that surname, Dillon.

We both
looked at each other then, and I knew that we were thinking the same thing.
Thomas James Talbot still wouldn’t be Tommy’s real name. Grizz was raised by
his stepfather and apparently had never even known his own father’s real name.
Trying to go back and figure out Grizz’s true identity would be like dropping
ourselves into a dark abyss, and both of us had worked too hard to make forward
progress. Not go in the opposite direction.

No. We would
remain Tommy and Ginny Dillon.

But maybe
there was something we still could do.

“You know
what I think we should do?”

He shook his
head and his eyes widened as he waited for my reply.

“I think we
should say to heck with my real birth certificate and our false birth
certificates that we’ve used all these years. To heck with it all.” I paused to
see if he would reply, but he just stared at me. “I think we should do whatever
we need to do to make our names—the names we’re used to and have been
using—made legal.”

I raised my
eyebrows, giving him a hopeful expression. He didn’t say anything at first.
Then he smiled, nodded in understanding.

“I think our
attorney can discreetly file whatever paperwork is necessary to have our names
legitimately and legally changed to Thomas Dillon and Guinevere Lemon,” he
said.

He yawned
then and rolled over on his side. His eyes were getting heavy, but I saw him
notice the wide grin I gave him, and he acknowledged it with another yawn
followed by a small smile. I could tell he was relieved we were moving forward
in a positive way. After all, we’d renewed our marriage vows with those names.
That’s who we were, and that’s who we would always be.

“Another
thing—the cars and bikes,” I said. “Now that I’ve given it more thought,
I really don’t want to deal with selling them. Do you think it would be wrong
for me to get in touch with Axel? I mean, he’s legit now, and I know he’ll take
them and give us a fair price.”

“I can call
him for you,” he answered in a sleepy voice.

“I’ve
handled everything up until now, Tommy. I can handle one more phone call.”

“That’s
good, Gin. I have a lot on my plate at work,” he barely answered.

He was
right. He’d missed a lot of work during our separation, and even though he
didn’t have to, I knew he wanted to make up for it. He was feeling somewhat
guilty for putting the extra work on Alec when Alec had been going through
personal problems of his own.

“I’m not
tired. I think a hot bath will help,” I said as I softly kissed his cheek. I wasn’t
sure if he heard me or not. I could hear his quiet snores as I got myself out
of bed and headed for our bathroom.

I loved to
take long hot soaks in my bathtub. I started the water and tossed some vanilla
bean bath salts in. I lit some candles, dimmed the lights. No need to take my
clothes off. I was already naked. I grabbed a hair band and put my long brown
hair into a high ponytail.

I started to
climb into the tub when my eyes rested on my blue jeans that, after I’d
carefully removed and stowed the diamond earrings, I’d hastily discarded on the
closet floor after returning from Carter's earlier that day. I glanced at the
bathroom door and noticed I’d locked it behind me—a habit from years of
being barged in on by the kids.

I walked to
the closet and picked my jeans up. I started to toss them in the hamper but
found myself reaching into the back pocket instead.

I pulled it
out.

The blue
bandana.

I don’t know
how long I stared at it. I don’t remember walking to the tub or climbing in. I
don’t remember pulling my knees to my chest as I gently rested my face against
them and quietly sobbed. The flood of water filling the huge tub drowned out
any sounds I was making.

And for the
first time, I understood why both Grizz and Tommy had lied to me for so many
years about so many things. There were just some secrets we had to keep hidden
in our hearts to shield those we loved. I didn’t agree with everything they’d
kept from me, but I could now relate. They’d justified it because they thought
they were protecting me. Isn’t that what I’d done just before making love to my
husband?

I could
never tell Tommy that Grizz was alive because it would destroy him.

I looked up
from my bowed position and caught my reflection in the mirror on the back of
the bathroom door. Silent tears streamed down my puffy red face.

I stared at
the blue bandana that I’d hypnotically, unconsciously, wrapped around my
ponytail. And I realized that a part of me still loved Grizz. Somewhere, buried
deep within my heart, the memory of that love tried to claw its way to the
surface.

But I knew
to maintain my sanity, I would have to keep it locked away—or make a
conscious effort to throw it away. For good.

With my arms
still wrapped tightly around my legs, I laid my forehead back against my knees
and whispered to myself, “Of course I need you. I’ll always need you. But I
need Tommy too. And I’ll never sacrifice his heart to get back a piece of my
own.”

Chapter Eleven

Grizz

1988,
Prison, North Florida

It had been
more than a week since Grizz’s last meeting with
Bill in the library. The last time they’d met, Bill had informed him he’d been
doing his best but couldn’t tell where the State of Florida was going with the
death penalty.

“It seems
like it’s been put before the State Legislature a few times already, and it
keeps getting voted down. There are a lot of people who want to see lethal
injection passed since it’s a more humane death than the electric chair. It’s
fucking weird. A lot more people are for lethal injection than against it.
Seems like it would be a no-brainer, but it keeps getting squashed. Somebody
doesn’t want it passed. Sorry, man. I can’t tell you any more than that.”

Bill looked
at Grizz with concern. He almost felt sorry for him. This guy was facing the
electric chair, and rightfully so. He deserved it. He’d read what Grizz had
done. But Bill could also understand why Grizz didn’t want to die that way. It
was barbaric.

Grizz nodded
his head in understanding and told him to keep an eye on it. He asked him then
if the other inmates had left him alone. Bill told him yes. Psycho and his
friend, Bender, had stayed far away from him.

That
conversation had been more than a week ago. This was the third night Grizz had
been in the library expecting to see him. What was going on?

Just then he
heard the door open and saw Bill make his way quietly to the table where Grizz
sat. His eyes were red. It was obvious he’d been crying.

“What’s
wrong?” Grizz stood.

Bill
wouldn’t make eye contact.

“Are they
fucking with you again?”

Still no
answer or eye contact.

“They know
better than to touch you.” Grizz clenched his fists.

“They
haven’t touched me,” Bill said quietly.

“Then what
the hell is wrong with you?”

Bill looked
him in the eyes then. “They didn’t defy your orders not to touch me. They
haven’t come near me, so you can’t retaliate.”

“What the
fuck did they do? And don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. Now fucking spill
it!”

Bill sighed.
“They got ahold of Buddy.”

Grizz knew
about Bill’s rat, Buddy. He sat down. It was an unusually large rodent and had
been hand-fed and cared for by Bill since it was a baby. A rat wouldn’t have
been Grizz’s first choice for a pet, but he’d always held a soft spot for any
animal, especially since his baby sister, Ruthie, had cared for a family of
mice in their old barn. It was why he’d been so reluctant all those years ago
to follow his stepfather’s orders to put out the poison—he hadn’t had
time to relocate Ruthie’s pets to a safe place. It hadn’t mattered anyway. He’d
made good use of the poison.

“What did
they do to Buddy?” But Grizz was certain he knew. They must’ve killed it.
Stupid sons of bitches.

“They killed
him and…and...” Bill’s voice was laced with emotion.

“And what?”
Grizz growled.

“They
must’ve paid somebody off in the kitchen or something,” Bill said as he tried
to stifle his sobs. “They told me he was in the hamburger I ate that day. It
was set aside just for me, and when I went through the chow line, Joker made
sure it was the one given to me.” He balled up his hands, pressed them to his
eyes. “I didn’t know it. I ate it. I ate my pet.”

The thought
of what Bill was telling him made bile rise in Grizz’s throat. The musty smell
of the library mixed with the heavy aroma of disinfectants used by the cleaning
crew caused his stomach to roil. He shifted in his chair, wondered how this
news hadn’t reached his ears already.

“Maybe it’s
not true,” Grizz said. “Maybe they’re just fucking with you. Maybe Buddy will
show back up.”

“Parts of
him already did,” Bill said. “I keep finding a different piece of him every day
since then. Under my blanket. Floating in my toilet.”

Grizz’s fist
came down so hard on the table it caused Bill to jump.

“Those
motherfuckers should know better. They may not be touching you, but they are
fucking with what they’ve been told is mine. And nobody fucks with what’s
mine!”

Bill gulped
and gazed at him.

Grizz looked
at Bill evenly then. “I’ll find out tomorrow how much of what you told me is
true, and I’ll find out why I’m hearing it first from you—and not from my
brothers.”

This
conversation was over, and Grizz was ready to move on. He’d been curious about
something and had never gotten around to asking Bill.

“Tell me why
that guard, Headly, lets you use the library. I never asked you.”

“I helped
him with his daughter’s hospital bill.”

“How?”

“I used to
empty the wastebaskets in his office, and I heard him on the phone with his
insurance company trying to get them to pay for a procedure. She’s only twelve
and pretty damn sick. I told him if I could use the library computer just the
one time, I’d be glad to send my uncle, who just happens to work at that
insurance company, an email and ask him if he could do anything to help.”

Grizz’s eyes
blazed. “You told me it was just you and your grandfather.”

“It was just
my grandpa and me. I don’t have an uncle. I made it up. I used the computer
time to hack the insurance company and have the claim approved. Headly thought
my imaginary uncle helped. It was the first time I had access to the library
computer, and Headly made sure the camera was turned off so I couldn’t be seen
using it. Prisoners aren’t allowed to use it. It’s for the librarian only. But
I wasn’t just hacking the insurance company. I used the time to set up the
camera feed so I could go back in later and use the computer unnoticed. When
the claim was approved, he asked what he could do for me, and I told him I’d
like some reading time by myself in the library after hours. He arranged it.”

Bill swiped
his arm across his face and sighed loudly. With slumped shoulders, he looked at
Grizz. “Of course, you know I’m not in here reading.”

Grizz
nodded. He’d wondered how Bill had arranged this special privilege and was
surprised they hadn’t run into each other before that first night, but then he
remembered he hadn’t been visiting the library during his usual time.

Bill then
filled him in on the progress he’d made hacking the different law enforcement
agencies that might have had Grizz in their systems.

When they
were done, Grizz stood to leave. He retrieved the book he’d selected to take
with him.

“See you in
here Thursday night,” he told Bill.

The next
day, Grizz sat with his men in the chow hall. He never held court in public,
but this was something he wanted to get to the bottom of immediately, and he
didn’t have time to use their coded form of communicating. Not one of them had
heard anything about the rat incident.

Grizz looked
over at the chow line. “Which one is Joker?”

After they
pointed Joker out, Grizz got up and headed toward the food line. As was the norm,
the other inmates in line cleared a path for him. When he got to Joker, he
whispered, “In the kitchen. Now.”

In an
attempt to impress Grizz and without missing a beat, the man behind the food
line with Joker piped up, “Go ahead, man. I can handle this alone.”

The guards
turned the other way as Grizz followed a shaking Joker back to where the meals
were prepared. As soon as the kitchen inmates realized who was following Joker,
they looked away and went back to their work. It behooved them to not show any
curiosity.

Joker
stopped at the walk-in freezer and turned around to look up at Grizz. Before
Grizz could ask or say anything, Joker spoke up, his voice low.

“I know why
you’re here, man, and I can explain.”

“Talk,” was
all Grizz said.

“They came
to me because I owed them a favor. I told them assholes not to do it. I don’t
know you, but I know of you. I know that just by messing with Pretty—uh,
I mean, Bill—they were asking for trouble.”

“Did you or
did you not cook his rat and put it in his hamburger?” Grizz narrowed his eyes.

“They wanted
me to, but I didn’t. I knew better, and I can prove it.”

Grizz raised
an eyebrow at this.

Joker turned
around and opened the big freezer door. Grizz watched as he walked to a shelf
and retrieved a brown paper bag. When Joker came out of the freezer, he opened
the bag and showed Grizz what was left of Buddy in an airtight freezer bag. No
head. No limbs. Just a rat torso.

“This is
what they brought me, man. I’m not stupid. I’ve been in here long enough to
know you’d find out and come looking. This is the guy’s pet. I never put it in
his burger. Psycho and Bender don’t know it; they think I did it, but I
didn’t.”

Joker could
still be lying. The prison was full of rodents, and the man could’ve gotten a
hold of one just for this very purpose. Grizz would need proof. He told Joker
to wait in the kitchen while he went out to ask Bill something.

Grizz
returned minutes later. “If that torso doesn’t have a missing patch of hair
where the rat was burned on its left side, then I’ll know you’re lying.”

With
trembling hands, Joker turned over the clear plastic bag containing Buddy. Just
where Bill had said, Buddy was missing some hair. Joker’s sigh of relief was
audible.

“Pack it
back up,” Grizz told him.

Joker put
Buddy’s remains back in the brown bag and handed it to Grizz.

Grizz
nodded, and without saying anything else, left the kitchen.

**********

Less than a week later, the
prison warden sat at his desk and reviewed the prison coroner’s report for the
two inmates known as Psycho and Bender. He laid it on his desk and reached down
and opened his lower left-hand desk drawer. Was it too early for a shot of
whiskey?

After
pouring himself a jigger, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes as
the burning liquid made its way down his throat. It soothed his belly that was
jutting out almost to reach the desk. Maybe one more.

After his
second shot, he pondered these last two prison deaths. He shook his head as
realization seeped in that he was no longer running this prison. He’d thought
this might happen after Jason “Grizz” Talbot had received the death penalty and
was sent here to sit on Death Row. In the almost two years Talbot had been at
the prison, he’d managed to do something unheard of. There were several gangs
in this prison, each one with their own boss. Talbot had not only wrested the
prostitution and contraband business away from the inmates who’d been running
them, but he’d managed to establish himself as the authority over all of them.

He was
basically the bosses’ boss.

The fact
that Talbot had kidnapped a fifteen-year-old and married her should’ve meant
isolation and mistreatment from the other convicts. Instead, the man commanded
with authority and demanded respect—and he got it. The warden shook his
head.

And it was
no mystery as to who was behind the canine and prisoner rehabilitation program.
The warden was certain that Talbot was going to use the dogs to transport some
of the smaller, but more potent drugs. He was a smart son-of-a-bitch. And to
make matters worse, if the warden shut down the dog ministry, he’d look like
the bad guy to all the human rights activists. They’d accuse him of depriving
the inmates a chance for rehabilitation.

As far as
the warden was concerned, nobody in this prison deserved a chance at rehabilitation.
Hell, even more than half his guards were being bought on a daily basis.

Eighteen
months until retirement, the warden told himself. Less than two years of this
hell, and I’ll retire with a pension that will make me comfortable for the rest
of my life. Hopefully, that bastard will hit the electric chair soon.

His thoughts
were interrupted when Officer Headly entered the office without knocking.

“Have you
signed off on the report, sir?” Headly asked the warden.

The warden
reached for a different set of papers that had been sitting on the right side
of his desk. He sighed as he handed them to Headly.

Without
saying anything, Headly started to leave the office. He was almost out the door
when he turned around to look at the warden.

“I’m sorry,
sir, but I think you gave me the wrong report.”

“No, I
didn’t, Headly. It’s what you’ll turn in.”

“Sir, this
says that it was a murder-suicide. That’s not—”

“I know what
the fucking report says, Headly. I signed the damn thing, and it’s what you’ll
put on file. Understand? Psycho got a hold of a shank and stabbed his
boyfriend, Bender, in the shower. He then went back to his job in the laundry
and hung himself with a sheet in the back room. A murder-suicide. Got it?”

“But, sir,
the families will want to see, and have the right to review the medical
examiner’s report.”

“And they
will see one, Headly. They’ll see the one you’re holding. They just won’t see
this one,” the warden replied as he picked up another set of papers from his
desk and swung his chair around so his back was now facing Officer Headly. The
high-pitched whine of a shredder resonated through the small office as the
warden reflected on Talbot's brutality. He didn't know exactly what had
happened, but this was extreme. If anybody in the prison had ever thought about
crossing the death row inmate this would surely cause them to think twice.

Headly just
shook his head as he took the falsified coroner’s report and quietly left the
warden’s office.

Maybe it was
better this way. After all, what next of kin wants to hear their loved one died
from choking on pieces of a rat carcass?