INTERMISSION
Present Day
Donovan slipped away from the nest. He made it no secret where he was going, but none of the other agents had any clear idea what his tie was to Kayla Falcon. He had not spoken of it to anyone, even Emily, and she knew what was going on. The capture and arrest of one of the leader's behind the Sideshow was big news. Kayla had been in jail no more than a week before he received a phone call from his ex-wife. Normally, he would have spilled everything, told Em all about it, and then some. However, uncharacteristically for him, he shut it off. He gave her a curt response and then hung up. She had called him back several times, leaving messages on his answering machine, but he didn't return her calls. He didn't want to talk about Kayla to anyone. He didn't want to have to analyze his relationship with her, or his failure to uncover her history. He didn't want anyone to know that he still had feelings for her. For now, it was best to hide from it. He would face reality when he was damn good and ready. He chased it out of his mind as he continued on toward his destination.
His face puckered with disgust the moment he approached the courthouse. It was a media circus outside. Almost everyone with the cameras and microphones ignored him. To them, he was no one, and he was glad to get past them. Thankfully for them all, there hadn't really been a trial. He wasn't afraid of facing the scrutiny of his exposed relationship, he was sure Kayla wouldn't have mentioned it anyway, but the prospect of having to testify against her would have been devastating. He would have done it if necessary, of course, but the pain was still fresh and biting. Kayla had appeared in court two days ago and pled guilty. Donovan had been there for that as well. Seeing her in the drab jail uniform and handcuffs was more than unsettling. Yet, it was exactly what constituted justice in this country, and he had no choice but to support it. He still didn't know what Kayla's motivation was. He tried to tell himself that he didn't care, but he did. He couldn't fool or lie to himself anymore. One way or another, he would extract a confession out of her. Today, she was going to be sentenced. After that, she would be taken immediately to prison. Perhaps then, when she didn't have anything to lose, she would talk to him. He hadn't spoken to her since he visited her in jail. He hadn't been able to face her.
Donovan entered the courthouse and located the right courtroom. There was quite a crowd waiting in line to get a seat inside. Why hadn't they closed these proceedings, he thought as he took the stairs two at time past the rabid onlookers. He gained early entrance into the courtroom and he was taken aback almost immediately. Kayla was already seated at the defense table. Apparently her court-appointed attorney had found her a nice skirt and blouse to wear. Perhaps it was a ploy to reduce her time behind bars. It wasn't an uncommon thing at trials. He had seen it dozens of times in his career. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought she was in her everyday work outfit, waiting for him to arrive to take her out to dinner. That thought alone killed him, damaged his already aching heart. He wanted to lunge toward her, strangle her, and force her to tell him everything. He wanted another chance to touch her, to just say her name without spitting venom. He wanted so much, but could have none of it.
When he sat in on the proceedings two days ago, he chose to stay in the back, away from sight. He knew Kayla was aware of his presence, but she never looked at him. Today, he was tempted to stay in the back again, but he thought better of it. He didn't feel the need to hide. And hiding was exactly what he had been doing. He wanted her to see his face, to see every expression, and facial tic. He wanted to see and interpret her actions, her behaviors. He wanted this, and he deserved it. Donovan strolled casually toward the front between two rows of benches. Just before approaching the column directly behind the defense table, he turned a sharp left to enter the boxed in area reserved for the jury. He would sit here today with the hounding members of the press. He would be as anonymous as possible. Only Kayla would understand the connection. The moment he chose a padded seat and sat down, he noticed the way Kayla's body tensed. She clasped her cuffed hands together and he saw her knuckles turning white. He was willing her to look at him.
The moment Kayla heard the doors opening in the courtroom, she knew it was Frank. He had been here two days ago, and today he returned to find out what type of sentence she would receive. She didn't know what was going to happen, but no sentence would be stiff enough to punish her for what she had done to Frank Donovan. She heard his hollow footsteps as he began to approach the front of the courtroom. When he was here before, he sat in the last row of benches, several dozen feet away from her. However, today, he had chosen the jury box. She could feel his eyes on her, studying her, and she didn't doubt he was trying his best to make her look at him. She couldn't do it. Not just yet. The last time she saw him was when he visited her in jail. If they had been alone, she was certain he would have hurled his body at her and then forced her to tell him everything that he didn't already know. There wasn't much to tell now, but there was still the matter of Brett. Frank didn't know about that…yet. Although she knew he had nothing but disgust for her in his heart now, she would have to tell him about Brett and Dora. Brett's life depended on it. Dora knew about what happened to Carson and was aware that she had wound up in jail. But that still didn't end Brett's situation. Could she even appeal to Frank now? Would he even listen to her? She wouldn't blame him if he didn't, but Brett was an innocent in this deal. He couldn't possibly hold anything against an innocent, could he? He had loved her and told her…shown her…many times. The feelings were now gone or buried, but she felt in her heart that he would help Brett. Would she get her chance to speak to him? To tell him? She owed him so much, though, and it was very arrogant of her to assume he would grant one more favor.
Unclenching her fists and relaxing her hands, she lifted her head and afforded a glance in Frank's general direction. As she expected, his eyes were glued on her. His facial expression was neutral and his lips were in a tight, grim little line. However, his eyes were anything but neutral. In them, she saw anger and pain. There was no gentleness, no other feeling, and worst of all, no love. She half expected him to launch his body at hers, and she wouldn't blame him for that, either. There were so many things she wouldn't blame him for. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she didn't know if she would ever have the chance. Would he see her again after this? Would he accept correspondence from her? She had let so many people down and now she had failed Brett. What would Brett do without her? What would Brett do with her in prison? She wished she could go back and erase the last two years. But she couldn't. She deserved his glare, but she couldn't tolerate the ire in his eyes any longer. She turned her head and gazed down at the tabletop. Would this day ever be over?
The moment Kayla took her eyes off his face, Donovan exhaled deeply. He hadn't realized that he had been holding his breath the entire time she was keeping eye contact with him. Inside, his resolve was softening, but he held fast to his glare. He didn't think he could ever forgive her for what she had done. There was something in her eyes, and it wasn't hurtful reproach. She was pleading with him, conveying some type of need. He had picked it up instantaneously, and he had been half tempted to say something. There were no bailiffs in the room yet, and he didn't think her defense attorney would have disallowed him a moment to speak to her. After all, it had been his team that had taken her down. At the same time, he didn't want to talk to her. He was deathly afraid of what he might say. There was actually no need to talk to her, but he would eventually do it in his own sweet time. Today was just too soon. Yet, there was something else going on inside him. He remembered his vow to protect her, to do anything he could for her, but he had betrayed that vow, broken that promise. He kept telling himself that it didn't matter because of what she had done, but it still didn't kill the ache. He had betrayed her as much as she had betrayed him. Once she was sentenced and he knew the location of where she would be sent, he would see her. He would get to the bottom of it all despite hell.
Donovan continued to watch Kayla as she shifted nervously in her chair. He watched as she tapped her attorney's shoulder and said something in his ear. The attorney handed her a legal pad and pen. With marked difficulty, she wrote something on the top sheet. After a moment's hesitation, she held up the pad so that he could clearly see what she had written. Scrawled across the page were two words: "I'm sorry." She was sorry. Not as sorry as I am. He knew at that moment, he should have left. He didn't want to hang around here and listen as her sentence was handed down. He had a life outside here, a job to go to, and dozens of pending cases that needed his attention. He couldn't move one inch. For the first time since he sat down, he averted his gaze. The two words she had written across the legal pad had effectively killed him quicker than any bullet manufactured by man. There were many things…covert things…he could do to help this situation, but he couldn't take that route, either. He was tempted to do it, more tempted than he had ever been in his life.
He breathed a sigh of relief when court personnel began to enter the room, quickly followed by the onlookers, and members of the press. Coming today had been a very bad idea, a very bad one, indeed. Silently, he watched as the penalty phase began. All the while, he caught himself holding his breath more than once. Kayla stood to face the judge. Throughout it all, she kept her composure, and didn't give off one ounce of the fear he knew must be coiled inside her. He held his breath again the moment her sentence was handed down. Ten years in state prison. Kayla showed no emotion when she heard. She simply stood stock still with her cuffed hands clasped before her. Ten years. The shank of her life. Was there anything I could have done to help her? There was, of course, but he hadn't put one foot forward. His taste for vengeance had ruled his heart, and he was determined to put away every member of the Sideshow, especially the ringleaders. Was it right to feel this way? Was he justified? Or was it nothing more than complete bullshit? You are a cold-hearted bastard, Frank Donovan. She deserves this. She deserves every bit of it. It would be the only thought to comfort him tonight as he slept in his cold, lonely bed.
Right before court was dismissed, the bailiffs came to take Kayla away so that she could begin her ten-year stint at the state prison in Polston, Illinois. They led her toward the jury box and when she was in close range of him, she focused her eyes on his face for what she assumed would be the last time. She mouthed the words she had written on the legal pad. "I'm sorry." However, she also added two more words to the mix. "Forgive me." He said nothing in return, and didn't bat an eye. He couldn't. There was too much going on inside him. He watched her until she was out of sight. He was tempted to follow along behind the bailiffs and see her to her transportation to the facility, but he fought that temptation with everything he had in him. He would wait and make the proper plans to see her at Polston. He would get his answers then. Goodbye for now, Kayla. God help me, but I love you still.
Instead of returning to the nest when all the activity died down, Donovan went home. He needed a breather, and going back to work was another in a long line of bad ideas for the time being. Perhaps he would return in a few hours when he had the chance to work out some of his frustration. As soon as he pulled into his driveway, he saw a taxi idling near his carport. What the hell? He killed the engine on his truck and left it parked a few feet away from the house. He recognized the passenger in the taxi. He didn't want to see anyone, especially her, but he had no choice in the matter. The instant she saw him approaching, she came out of the taxi, and sent the driver away.
Donovan stared down at his ex-wife in an angered sort of awe. "What are you doing here," he demanded rather than asked.
"I was worried, Frank," she said. "You haven't been returning my calls for weeks now."
"Do you want an exclusive, too? Is that it," he asked bitterly.
She recoiled from the ire in his voice. He was extremely hurt and she wondered how often he had acquainted himself with the bottle here lately. His eyes were red and he had circles underneath them. It appeared that he hadn't slept in days. "Remember who you're talking to, Donovan. Okay? I'm sorry about what happened. I know how much she meant to you, but hiding from your friends and family isn't doing you any good."
He nodded and smiled a little. His smile was as bitter as his voice. "Ah, is that so? So my mother knows as well? Everyone can rest easily, Em. I took a few bad guys off the streets, that's all. Nothing out of the ordinary for my team or me. We do it all the time. Protect and serve, just like the cops."
"It's a little more than that, isn't it? You're hurt, Frank, and I'm just here to help out a little. You don't have to attack me or get angry with your mother. If we didn't love you, I wouldn't be here right now. Why don't we go inside and talk? I think you need that more than anything right now. That and a good night's sleep. What do you say?"
Donovan turned away from her and took a few steps toward his truck. His first impulse was to get inside and drive off. He had no desire to talk about anything. He was much too angry right now. Once he stood in front of the vehicle, he smashed his fist onto the hood. Ignoring the pain ballooning in his bruised hand, he whipped around and faced Emily. She had jumped and stepped back a few paces. His eyes were wild and flashing with rage.
"Don't you understand," he snarled through clenched teeth. "I sent the woman I love to prison. For all that I'm going through right now, she may as well have died, because that's exactly what it feels like. She's dead and I'll never see her again. Not like I want. Not ever. I could have done something to help her, but I didn't. Too many rules and regulations. Too many people to answer to. It's all too much."
"Frank, you're bleeding. I think you need to come inside and take care of that. You might have broken…"
He interrupted her with an impatient wave of his good hand. "I don't care. I've done the right thing with this, I followed protocol, and I did everything by the book. I'm not sure anymore if what I did was the right thing. If I had taken a different course of action, maybe I could have done something to keep her out, to protect her. I didn't. I could have made deals and spoken up. I didn't. I let my emotions rule me and now she's gone."
"You did what you could, Frank. You did what you were legally allowed to do," she said carefully.
"But I can't be sure it was the best thing. I can't be sure of anything anymore." He balled his good hand into a fist, and for a moment, Emily thought he was going to bang it against the hood of his truck like he did the other one. He didn't. "She's gone and I put her away. I didn't even give her a chance to explain why she did what she did. I let her go as if she didn't mean anything to me. I screwed up in every way imaginable, but no one is the wiser. I want to believe that she was a damn good actress and faked it all, but I know that's not true. She didn't get under my skin to study my moves or to extract information about the investigation. She loved me, and I let them take her. It may have been what had to happen, but it doesn't make what I did right. I cheated her. I cheated myself." He shook his head as if to clear it. "I'm going to see her whenever I find out the visitation schedule, and I'm going to let her tell me why she did this. I'll listen to her. It's the only thing I can do for her now."
"Will you go inside now and take care of your hand?"
He still didn't notice the pain. He was certain he would in a few hours when the rage melted away the adrenaline. "In a minute," he said. "I need to stay out here and calm down. If I go inside, I'm not sure I won't break something. Could you give me some time?"
She nodded. "Of course, Frank."
Once Emily had disappeared inside the house, he leaned against his truck tiredly. He hadn't realized how much guilt he had bottled up inside. Kayla probably deserved everything that had been handed down to her, but he wasn't sure if he totally believed that. He had been with her, he saw her apartment, her car, her clothing, and was well aware of the neighborhood where she lived. None of it added up. What had she done with the money? Where had she funneled it, and why? There had to be more to it than what he knew and saw. Kayla and the other members of the Sideshow hadn't been knocking off banks for millions of dollars. The amount of money was small, miniscule. In fact, with the exception of one bank, all the institutions they hit were tiny. There were so many questions he longed to ask. He wished he had asked them right after Kayla's capture, but he couldn't. Not then. He would have no trouble doing it now, not since he exploded in front of his ex-wife, and maimed his hand in the process. Where had it started to stiff? What had led him to this juncture? The pivotal point, the change, had occurred with one man…Tom Kipplinger.
To be continued…
A/N: Polston, Illinois doesn't exist as far as I know. It is a city solely created by the mind of the twisted author.