Ransom (7 page)

The two men had agreed to hang out together over the weekend, although Carl had said there were some family members he wanted to see on Sunday. They had been warned to stay in the area, and needed permission to go out of the district, but Waters told Stark his relatives were just a bus ride away. He hadn't seen them since he was a kid. They had dinner at a nearby diner on Saturday night, and then went to hang out in a bar, watching baseball on TV, and they were back in the house by nine o'clock. Neither of them wanted any problems. They had done their time, now they wanted peace, freedom, and to keep their noses clean. Waters said he hoped he'd get the job he'd interviewed for the day before, and if not, he'd have to start looking for something else. But he wasn't worried about it. The two men were asleep on their bunks by ten o'clock, and when Stark got up at seven o'clock the next day, Carl was gone, and had left him a note. He said he'd gone to see his relatives, and would see him that night. Stark saw later that Carl had checked himself out in the log at six-thirty that morning. He spent the rest of the day hanging around the house, watching the ballgame on TV, and talking to the others. He never gave any further thought to where Carl had gone. He had said he'd be with his relatives, and whenever anyone asked Stark where Carl was, he said so.

Malcolm Stark hung out with Jim Free from about midday. They walked to the nearest Jack in the Box and bought tacos for dinner. Free was the man who had been hired to kill a man's wife, had bungled the job, and wound them both up in prison instead. But they never spoke of their criminal life when they were together. None of them did. They did in prison occasionally, but out in the world, they were determined to put the past behind them. Free looked like he'd been in prison though. He had tattoos up and down his arms, and the familiar prison teardrops tattooed on his face. He seemed as though no one and nothing frightened him. He could take care of himself and looked it.

The two men sat talking about the ballgame that night, eating their tacos and talking about games they'd seen, players they admired, batting averages, and historical moments in baseball they'd wished they'd seen. It was the kind of conversation two men could have had anywhere, and Stark smiled when Free commented about the girl he'd just met. He met her at the gas station where he worked. There was a coffee shop next to it, and she worked there as a waitress. He said she was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen, and looked a lot like Madonna, which made Stark guffaw. He'd heard descriptions like that before, in the joint, and it always made him question the guy's eyesight. The women never looked anything like the guy's descriptions when you saw them. But if that was what Jim Free thought, he wasn't going to argue with him. A man was entitled to his dreams and illusions.

“She know you been in the joint?” Malcolm Stark asked with interest.

“Yeah. I told her. Her brother did time for grand theft auto as a kid. She didn't look too worried.” It was a whole world of people who seemed to measure time by who went to prison, for how long, and it didn't seem to faze them. It was like a club, or a secret society. They had a way of finding each other.

“You been out with her yet?” There was a woman Stark had his eye on too, at the tomato plant, but he hadn't dared approach her yet. His dating skills were a little rusty.

“I thought I'd ask her about next weekend,” Free said awkwardly. They all dreamed of romance and wild sexual exploits when they were doing time. And once out, it was harder to pursue than they'd expected. They were neophytes in the real world, in a lot of ways. And in some ways seeking out women was the hardest. Most of the time, the men in the halfway house just hung out together, except for the ones who were married. But even they took a while to get to know their wives again. They were so used to a world of men, devoid of women, that in a lot of ways, it was easier staying in an all-male world, like priests, or men who had been too long in the military. Women were an uncomfortable addition to the equation. An all-male society was more familiar to them, and simpler.

Stark and Free were both sitting on the front steps, shooting the breeze when Carlton Waters walked in that evening. He looked relaxed and at ease, and as though he'd spent a pleasant day, as he smiled at the two men. He was wearing a blue cotton shirt open over a T-shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots, and his boots were dusty. He had just walked half a mile from the bus stop, on a dirt road, on a beautiful spring night. And he looked to be in good spirits. He was smiling and seemed relaxed.

“How were your relatives?” Stark asked politely. It was funny how out here manners mattered, and you were supposed to ask questions. In prison, it was always wisest to keep one's own counsel, and ask nothing. In places like Pelican Bay, people took offense at questions.

“Okay, I guess. Something must have happened. I took two buses all the way out to their farm, and damn if they hadn't gone somewhere. I told them I was coming, but I guess they forgot. I just hung around, and sat on their porch for a while, walked into town and had something to eat. And took the bus back.” He didn't look bothered about it. It just felt good to be on a bus going anywhere, and walking in the sunshine. He hadn't had a chance to do anything like that since he was a kid. And he looked like one, as he sat down on the steps with them. He looked happier than he had the day before. Freedom agreed with him. He looked as though a weight had lifted off his shoulders, as he leaned back on the steps and Malcolm Stark grinned at him. When he did, you could see that Stark had almost no back teeth, just front ones.

“If I didn't know better, I'd say you were bullshitting me about your relatives, and you spent the day with a woman,” Stark teased. Waters had the kind of sated, giddy look people had after great sex.

Carlton Waters laughed out loud at what Stark said, skipped a rock across the road, and offered no further comment. And at nine o'clock, they stood up, stretched, and went back inside. They knew their curfew. They signed the log, and went to their rooms. He and Stark talked for a while, sitting on their bunks, and Jim Free went to his room. They were used to the familiar peaceful routine of lockdown at night, and had no objection to the house rules or curfew.

Stark had to get up at six for work the next day, and by ten o'clock, both men were asleep, as was the whole house. Looking at them, sleeping peacefully, no one would have suspected how dangerous they were, or had been, or the damage they had done in the world, before they got there. But hopefully, for the most part, they had learned their lesson.

Chapter 6

As she always did
, Fernanda spent the weekend with her children. Ashley had a rehearsal for a ballet recital she was preparing for in June, and afterward Fernanda dropped her off for a movie and dinner with friends. Fernanda chauffeured her to all of it, with Sam sitting in the front seat beside her. She had invited a friend in to play with him, on Saturday, and they went to one of Will's games while Ashley was at rehearsal. The children kept her busy, and she loved it. It was her salvation.

She had some paperwork she had to do on Sunday, while Ashley slept, Sam watched a video, and Will worked on his science project, with the Giants game droning in the background on the TV in his room. It was a boring game, and the Giants were losing, so he wasn't paying much attention. Fernanda was trying to concentrate unsuccessfully while she went over the tax papers the lawyer had given her to fill out. She would have liked to go for a walk on the beach with the kids. She suggested it at lunch, but none of them was in the mood. She just wanted to get away from her tax work. She had just taken a break, and walked into the kitchen for a cup of tea, when there was a sudden loud explosion that sounded very near them. It seemed as though it was right next to them, in fact, and afterward there was a long silence, as Sam ran into the room and stared at her. They both looked panicked.

What was that?” he asked her, looking worried.

“I don't know. It sounded big though,” Fernanda answered. They could already hear sirens in the distance.

“It sounded huge,” Will corrected her, as he ran in, and Ashley came downstairs, looking confused a minute later, as they all stood in the kitchen, wondering what had happened. The sirens sounded as though they were on their street, and rapidly approaching. There were a lot of them, and three police cars sped past their windows, with lights flashing. “What do you think it is, Mom?” Sam asked again, looking excited. It sounded like a bomb had exploded at the home of one of their neighbors, although Fernanda knew that was unlikely.

“Maybe some kind of a gas explosion,” she suggested, as they all looked out the window and saw more flashing lights speed by. They opened the front door and peeked out, and it looked like a dozen police cars had congregated down the street, as more arrived, and three fire trucks whizzed by. Fernanda and the children walked to the curb, and they could see a car in flames down the block, as firemen aimed hoses at it. People had come out of their houses, all up and down the street, and were chatting with each other. A few approached the burning car out of curiosity, but the police signaled them back, as a police captain's car arrived on the scene, but most of the excitement seemed to be over, as the flames on the car were extinguished.

“Looks like a car caught fire, and the gas tank must have exploded,” Fernanda explained sensibly. The excitement was almost over. But there were police and firemen everywhere, as the captain got out of his car.

“Maybe it was a car bomb,” Will said with interest as they stood outside, and eventually they went back into the house, while Sam complained. He wanted to see the fire trucks, but the police weren't letting anyone near the scene. There were a flock of cops down the block, circling the scene, and more still arriving. A car in flames didn't seem to warrant that much attention, but there was no denying the explosion had sounded impressive. She had jumped about a foot when it happened.

“I don't think it was a car bomb,” Fernanda commented, once they were back in the house. “I think a gas tank exploding would make a pretty big bang. It was probably burning for a while, and no one noticed.”

“Why would a car catch fire?” Ashley added, looking puzzled. It seemed dumb to her, but had sounded scary anyway.

“It happens. Maybe someone dropped a cigarette and didn't see it. Something like that. Maybe vandalism,” although that seemed unlikely. Particularly in their neighborhood. Fernanda didn't know what else to suggest to explain it.

“I still think it was a car bomb,” Will said, delighted to be distracted from his science project. He hated doing it, and any excuse to avoid it was valid, especially a car bomb.

“You play too much Nintendo,” Ashley said to Will with a look of disgust. “No one blows up cars, except in movies or on TV.”

They all went back to their respective activities then. Fernanda continued her tax work for her attorney, Jack Waterman. And as he left the room, Will said he couldn't finish his project without more copper wire, which they didn't have, and his mother promised to get him more on Monday. And Ashley sat with Sam, watching the end of the video with him. It was another two hours before the last of the police cars left, and the fire trucks left long before that. Everything was peaceful again, as Fernanda cooked dinner for them. She was just putting the dishes in the dishwasher when the doorbell rang. She hesitated at the front door, looked through the peephole, and saw two men standing outside, talking to each other. She'd never seen them before. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and her hands were wet when she asked who it was through the door. They said they were police officers, but they didn't look like it to her. Neither was in uniform, and she was thinking about not opening the door, when one of them held his badge up to the peephole so she could see it. She opened cautiously and looked at them. They both looked respectable, and apologized for disturbing her, as she stood looking at them in confusion.

“Is something wrong?” It didn't occur to her at first that their visit had anything to do with the car they'd seen burning that afternoon, or the explosion they'd heard when the gas tank must have exploded. She couldn't imagine why they had come to see her. And for a moment it reminded her of the agonizing days after Allan's death, dealing with the authorities in Mexico.

“We were wondering if we could talk to you for a minute.” They were two plainclothes officers, one Asian, and the other Caucasian. They were both nicely dressed men somewhere in their forties, wearing sport coats, shirts, and ties. They said they were Detectives Lee and Stone, and handed her their cards, as they stood in the front hall, talking to her. There was nothing ominous about them, and the Asian man looked at her and smiled. “We didn't mean to frighten you, ma'am. There was an incident up the street from you this afternoon. If you were home, you probably heard it.” He was pleasant and polite and put her instantly at ease.

“Yes, we did. It looked like a car caught fire, and I assumed the gas tank exploded.”

“That's a reasonable assumption,” Detective Lee volunteered. He was watching her, as though looking for something. There was something about her that seemed to intrigue him. The other detective said nothing. He let his partner take the lead.

“Do you want to come in?” Fernanda asked. It was obvious that they weren't ready to leave yet.

“Would you mind? We'll only take a minute.” She walked them into the kitchen, and found her sandals under the kitchen table. They looked so respectable, she was embarrassed to stand there talking to them barefoot.

“Would you like to sit down?” She waved at the kitchen table, which was almost cleared. She used the sponge to get off the rest of the crumbs, tossed it into the sink, and then sat down with them. “What happened?”

“We're still working on it, we want to ask the neighbors some questions. Was anyone in the house with you when you heard the explosion?” She saw him glance around the room, taking in the elegant kitchen. It was a big handsome room, with white granite counters, state-of-the-art equipment, and a big white Venetian glass chandelier. It was in keeping with the grandeur of the rest of the house. It was an imposing, large, very formal house, in direct proportion to Allan's success at the time they acquired it. But she looked very normal and relaxed as Detective Lee took in the jeans, T-shirt, and hair loosely tied in an elastic. She looked like a kid, at first glance, and it was obvious that she had been cooking dinner, which seemed surprising to him. In a house like hers, he had expected to see a cook. Not a pretty woman in jeans and bare feet.