Inevitable Sentences (17 page)

When an hour had nearly passed, Hunter’s cell phone sounded. After he hung up, he said, “I have to go, old buddy. Duty calls.”

“Yeah.” Max shook his head. “You should think about joining me in retirement.”

“What, and fish with you in Florida?”

“We could read some poetry, too, if you’d like.” Max laughed.

“That part sounds good.” Hunter winked. “Take care of yourself. The next time I see you it will be with Celeste for dinner at my house.”

“You’re on.”

Hunter hurried from the room. Max knew better than to ask what the call had been about. It had nothing to do with him, and Hunter wouldn’t want to give Max anything troubling to think about. Exhausted from all the visiting, Max closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep, leaving most of his lunch untouched.

L
ATE SUNDAY AFTERNOON
L
IZZIE
parked the refrigerator truck at the salleyport entrance for the last time. She was lucky to be here at all. The predicted storm raged through the area with a vengeful blow far worse than expected. It marooned people on the road and in their homes, where many had lost electrical power. Several officers couldn’t get to work, leaving those already at the prison to pull double shifts. For Lizzie and Chad that was good news, because those tired and overworked officers, including the one at the salleyport, would be less alert and more apt to let things slide.

The churning clouds hung so low Lizzie thought she could reach out the truck’s window and grab a fistful. The very thought turned her hand to ice. The clouds still held more snow, and she hoped it wouldn’t fall until she and Chad were on the road and far away from the prison.

The truck suddenly shuddered as a gust of wind slammed against its side. Hopefully the gale would slow down soon. The truck’s defroster could hardly keep the glaze of ice off the windshield. Lizzie had had to get out several times during the quarter mile between the warehouse and prison gate to scrape it clean. She held a deep dread that as the day moved into night the conditions would only get worse, and she certainly didn’t need anything to stand in the way of the escape.

While Lizzie waited for the officer to check the truck’s contents, her gloved fingers tapped the steering wheel impatiently. She rocked in her seat trying to stay warm. Her eyes darted from the gun tower to the yard to the administration building, searching for unusual activity. Could anyone know what was about to come down? She doubted it. She and Chad had been too careful. What they couldn’t get talked out in person was communicated through his mother, Maryann, during her weekly visits with Chad. Lizzie had telephoned Maryann every Monday, or more often if needed, to update the plan. Lizzie had concerns about Maryann, though. She seemed too close to Chad—closer than a mother should be to her son. Lizzie had often been put off, even sickened by Maryann’s gushing over Chad. She spoke as though he were her lover rather than her child.

Once Chad had escaped, would Maryann try to break them up and take Chad for herself?
Silly girl,
Lizzie chided herself.
You’re jealous.
She was his mother, for chrissakes.

Fortunately, Maryann couldn’t visit today. No one would expect her to drive the more than two hundred miles in this winter storm, although Lizzie believed Maryann had probably tried. Truth be known, Lizzie was delighted Maryann wouldn’t be around to muck up the escape.

All of sudden Lizzie wondered about Maryann’s role in the escape. Would she have been there if the weather had allowed? Would Maryann have run off with them? She had never been a part of the plan even though she could have rented the car instead of Priscilla. Lizzie wondered why Maryann’s services hadn’t been used. Lizzie was comforted by the thought that Chad obviously didn’t want his mother on board, which delighted her. Maybe he was also sickened by the more than motherly attention she gave him. Lizzie felt warmth rushing through her body over this delicious observation.

Lizzie surveyed the employee parking lot. She stopped tapping the wheel and instead squeezed it tighter and tighter as she examined each car. Her own Ford truck was among them and would be abandoned in its place. Her eyes settled on the warden’s spot. It was still empty. The Ghost could pop up out of nowhere, though, couldn’t he? She released the wheel and laid her head against the headrest. She had to stay cool, had to be the perky, talkative Lizzie everyone expected. Anything else would arouse suspicion and prompt questions. She didn’t need any questions.

Lizzie checked the truck’s side mirror. Officer O’Brien rounded the rear. The vapor caused by the truck’s exhaust and cold air surrounded him, and he emerged at the driver’s window like an angel floating on a cloud. Hopefully he would be her angel today.

Lizzie rolled the window down. “You look like a zombie,” she said, trying to make light conversation to ease her own tension. His face was etched in exhaustion.

He handed her the manifest. “You would, too, working out here.” He squinted at the dark clouds rushing across the sky. “Plus I had to pull a double shift. I’m tired, cold and outta coffee.”

Lizzie shook her head in sympathy. “Sounds bad to me. Ya shoulda told me earlier on my way out to bring you some coffee back.”

“Yeah, I shoulda.” O’Brien stomped his feet and rubbed his gloved hands together. “Maybe we can get a cup of coffee together when you get off today.” He looked hopeful.

Lizzie was taken back. She’d suspected O’Brien’s interest in her because he had always been more than helpful, chatted way too long and let little things slide like her once forgetting to lock the back doors to the truck. Still, this was the first truly clear gesture he had ever made. Why did it have to be today of all days? It’s almost like he knew something. Were the gods against her? “I’ll have to take a rain check. I wanna go home and sleep. This weather’s gettin’ to me.”

“Yeah. I know what yah mean.” O’Brien seemed a little hurt. “I guess I could use some extra sleep, too.”

“Well, I hope I can get home in this mess, anyway,” Lizzie added.

“Yeah. It’ll be tough goin'.” O’Brien thumped the truck door and radioed to the tower officer. When the gate opened, he gallantly waved Lizzie through, bowing and motioning her forward with an outstretched arm.

Lizzie waved and rolled the window closed. She eased the truck through the salleyport, not wanting to appear in a hurry. No need to draw attention to her or the truck. But she didn’t have to worry. Even the prison road was ice covered forcing her to inch the truck forward carefully. After the gate closed behind her, O’Brien slipped into the heated officers’ shack at the base of the tower.

When Lizzie reached the kitchen dock, she slammed the brakes so hard her body lunged forward as the fright overwhelmed her. Blood pounded through her veins.

What if O’Brien pressed for that coffee date? What if Priscilla didn’t show up? What if Priscilla decided to turn her and Chad in and let the cards fall where they may? On the other hand, the ice-and snow-covered roads could stop Priscilla. No. Lizzie wouldn’t let those negative thoughts get in her way. The mission would be accomplished. Priscilla would be at Dead River Falls at five like planned. Priscilla had always been predictable. And O’Brien was too shy to push her further for coffee. Everything will be fine. She breathed heavily.

“Have a problem with that brake, Ms. Chatfield?” Lou asked in a loud voice to be heard over the wind and through the closed window.

Lizzie bolted upright, startled by Lou’s face pressed against the window. As usual, Chad, Charlie and Lou had met the truck. She motioned Lou to step back and opened the door. “Yeah. My shoe must be slick from all the snow and it slipped.” She hopped out of the cab, and she and the prisoners walked to the back of the truck. When she unlocked the door, they hoisted themselves inside the cargo area.

“Unload everything but that cart in the corner.” Lizzie pointed to a stainless steel cabinet where pans for sheet cakes were usually stored. It stood nearly six feet high and was the perfect place to hide Chad. A bag with street clothes, including a down jacket, gloves and wool cap was concealed inside the cart at this moment. Chad would change into them while Lizzie drove to Dead River Falls.

Lizzie also stowed a second small bag in the cabinet. It contained some clothes and toiletries for both of them. It was enough to get them to warm and sunny Mexico.

All three prisoners unloaded the truck in silence. The supplies they carted would get them through most of the week. No one questioned the cabinet or why it would stay on the truck. They didn’t seem to care.

When Lizzie closed the rear truck doors, she made sure they were unlocked. She usually would have secured them as policy required to prevent an inmate from hiding out inside and escaping, but today she would use her own operational procedure, allowing Chad to slip into the truck when no one watched.

Once inside the kitchen, Lizzie and the men began preparing the evening’s meal. Lizzie tripped twice over the same rug and dropped the utensils she handed to Chad.

“Better get a grip,” Chad said. His mouth curled at one corner. “We’ll never get dinner out on time otherwise. And,” he added with a lighter tone, “you know those boys won’t accept excuses for a late meal when they had to face a day of visitor no-shows because of the weather.”

“Yeah. Ya got that right.” Lizzie also tried to sound cheery. She hadn’t planned on the no-show glitch. Her scheme wrapped around everyone’s attention being on visits. However, with the weather as it was, Chad was right; a lot of visitors wouldn’t be able to get to the prison, especially those coming up for overnight stays from the Lower Peninsula. Every nerve in her body fired. Would the escape plot be foiled by the very weather they had thought would be their ally?

“Hey, Ms. Chatfield, are you with us?” Charlie called out.

Lizzie jerked her head in his direction. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry. I’m thinking about the menus for the week.”
Good recovery,
she thought.

“Well, damn, I’ve been talkin’ to ya for five minutes,” Charlie said. “We need your help over here.”

“I haven’t been in here that long.” Lizzie gathered up the dinner menu and walked over to Charlie. She could feel Chad’s apprehension about her behavior burning into her back, knowing he was questioning her unusual actions. “I guess, guys, I’m tired like the rest of the employees in this joint. We’ve risked our lives to get here on the worst roads. You’re lucky to get a hot meal. The storm has knocked out heat and electricity in lots of homes around Marquette. Give a girl a break, will ya?”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Charlie said.

“Yeah, sorry,” Chad echoed with less conviction and obvious annoyance.

Soon the kitchen hummed with the regular prisoner chatter and the clatter of pots and pans. The mixer whirled and the ovens warmed even the coldest part of everyone’s bodies. Thankfully, it was business as usual for the moment.

When the applesauce-spice cakes were cooling, the roasted chicken legs and thighs, a Sunday dinner special and inmate favorite, were about ready to be pulled from the ovens. “Lou, get the mashed potatoes out on the heating trays. Charlie, you and Chad get the chicken out of the ovens and transfer them to the serving line, too. I’ll cut the cakes and then you can take them out.”

Everyone scurried to complete their tasks, and Lizzie began slicing the cakes, but had to stop to settle the shaking in her hands. It was 4:15. She and Chad would be on their way in about fifteen minutes. She started cutting the cakes again into three-inch squares. As she cut, the inmates who would take over for Chad, Lou, and Charlie ambled into the kitchen.

“You boys are late. Get yourselves a plate of food and join the others. Dinner’s on in less than fifteen minutes.”

They grabbed plates and dished up food, then slouched over a counter and ate. None of them said a word.

Lizzie carried the last of the cake pans to the serving line and eyed Chad as she passed him. She nodded slightly toward the dock, which was the signal for him to sneak out while the other inmates were scarfing down their favorite meal—giving it their full attention.

Chad dropped his plate with a partially eaten meal on the drain board and walked unhurriedly toward the exit to the dock. He eased quietly through the door and was gone.

Lizzie waited for someone to notice. No one did. Jones hadn’t made it in, so he wouldn’t be a problem either.

If luck was on their side, Chad wouldn’t be missed until the next count in a couple of hours. Lizzie and Chad’s only problem would be the officer on duty in Chad’s cell block. He might notice he hadn’t signed in when he usually did. But then that officer had also pulled a double shift and hopefully wasn’t as alert as he should be. Maybe he’d think Chad got held over in the kitchen. Still, there seemed to be too many possible loopholes. Lizzie had to take each step as they planned and quit worrying about what might happen.

Lizzie inspected the area. Her colleague was at the head of the serving line. She joined him and both checked the temperatures of the food. Once satisfied, Lizzie announced, “It’s all yours, Jacobson.”

Jacobson tipped his finger to her. “Take it easy driving home. I had a hell of a time getting here.”

“Thanks. Will do. I appreciate that you made it in to relieve me. See ya in a couple of days.” She smiled and checked to make sure the other officers were at their posts waiting for the inmates to come in and not in the kitchen, which they were.

Lizzie left the chow hall. She took several deep breaths, said her good-byes to the kitchen inmates, then walked through the dock door and stood on the dock for a few moments to calm down. She had to be the exact same person she always was when she went through the salleyport.

She opened one of the rear truck doors and inspected the area. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She whispered, “It’s showtime.”

Lizzie secured the doors and fired up the truck, letting it idle to warm and clear the windshield. Like before, she had to get out and scrape the windows and the side mirrors. She hoped they’d stay clean because she didn’t want to have to stop on the road until they got to their meeting point with Priscilla. She climbed back into the cab and shifted the vehicle into drive.