POLSTON STATE PRISON
Back to the Present
Donovan stood in his office busily getting a few things together before he left for Polston. He was completely engrossed in his task, and had no clear idea that Alex stood silently observing him. He probably wouldn't have noticed her at all if he hadn't turned slightly. For a very long moment, he ignored her. He simply continued getting his affairs in order before he hit the road. If the truth were known, he was avoiding her. It was harsh, but the truth. He figured he knew what she was going to say, and he wasn't prepared to go into it with her. Not now. Not ever. He had been playing his avoidance game quite well. It seemed the only person who could crack his shell was Em. After leaving court about a week ago, they had talked long into the night, but it still didn't change much. Em continued to call, but he also continued to skip her messages. He had opened up, but it still didn't mean he wanted to talk about it any more than necessary. And now, it was apparent that one of his own team members was getting into the mix as well. Bottom line was that his heart still ached and Kayla was still in prison. Same shit. Different day. He had read that line in a Stephen King novel, and it was never more apt in his life than it was right at that moment.
"I suppose you're not going to speak to me first, so I should make the first move," Alex began.
Donovan stopped what he was doing for a split second and focused his eyes on her face. "I'd advise you not to," he said gruffly. "I don't want to go into it if that's okay."
He was different. Angry. Bitter. Colder than ever before. Something had definitely happened to him when they apprehended Kayla Falcon. All of them had noticed, but Alex's heightened sensibilities detected the pain right away. "I won't go into it, but I couldn't help but notice the name 'Kayla' mentioned more than once since this case began," she said calmly. "I believe it to be too much of a coincidence to dismiss. I've been where you are, and I know how difficult it is. There is nothing to win in a situation like this. Everyone loses."
"Alex, I..."
"I know," she said, interrupting him. "You don't want to talk about it. I know how sacred your private life is to you. We all respect that. I just wanted you to know I understand. Don't let it rule you or poison you. I think what you're doing today is a good thing. Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."
131313
It had been right around a week since Kayla was transported to her new home in Polston, Illinois. And I have hundreds more to go, she thought. During her first week, Kayla had alternated worrying about Brett and pining for Frank Donovan. She longed to apologize for what she had done to him, but she was certain he would never accept. Then there was Brett. Since Frank's agent had shot and killed her brother, and she was in here, Brett was all alone. Dora was there, of course, but she wasn't family. She wasn't who Brett needed most. The thoughts killed her, but she had brought it all on herself. She deserved it. She did not doubt that. Maybe if she contacted Frank...told him about Brett, he would help. Maybe nothing, Falcon. He hates me. He would never help me, even if the help is for Brett.
Kayla was in the process of writing Brett a long letter when a female guard paused in front of her cell. "Falcon, you have a visitor. You've got fifteen minutes to get yourself ready."
She looked up at the guard. Had she flipped her lid? Polston allowed twice weekly visits. Last week, she was told that prisoners with no visitors had free time on those days, and Kayla spent it writing letters. "A visitor," she asked stupidly.
"You got it. Get yourself ready. I'll be back in fifteen."
As promised, the guard returned after fifteen minutes to take her to see her visitor. It was another thing Kayla found strange. Polston had a large area for visitation in one gigantic room, but the guard totally bypassed that section. She led her toward the consultation rooms normally used for semi-private visitations between attorneys and their clients. Kayla did not understand or know why her attorney would bother to visit. There were no appeals for her. She didn't want them. As soon as the guard opened the door to the small room, Kayla's confusion ended. It was quickly replaced by deep hurt and sorrow. Her visitor was the man she loved, the one she had hurt so very badly. Damn you Frank Donovan. Damn me even more.
Donovan stood in the room glancing at the portraits on the wall of past and present wardens. When the guard led Kayla into the room, he focused his attention on her, noticing that she was dressed in Polston's standard issue: denim pants and a matching button-down shirt. She had tied her hair back into an impatient ponytail. She wore no make up, but was still heart achingly beautiful. This woman, the one he had wanted to marry...to bear his children...stood no more than a few feet from him, but she was a continent away. For a brief moment, fresh anger swelled inside him, and he was tempted to leave. He fought it mightily. He came for answers, and he wouldn't leave without them.
Once the guard stepped outside, Kayla approached a small table in the center of the room and sat down in one of the chairs parked before it. She noticed Frank had yet to move away from the portraits. His demeanor was still stiff and he was quite unreachable. He appeared tired and worn down. She had done this to him. She had lied to him dozens of times and shattered his heart. She longed to approach him and hold him in her arms. He wouldn't stand for that, and Polston personnel would probably descend on her faster than she could blink.
Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, she croaked out, "Frank? What are you doing here?"
He turned to face her. He didn't join her at the table. If he did, it would be all over. Control. He must maintain control. "It's not time for you to ask questions," he said. "I need to do that first. I think I deserve it." He sighed heavily and rubbed the nape of his neck. There were many things he wanted to ask, but wasn't sure he could approach the matters closest to his heart. Instead, he dove into standard, hurtful shit. He was certain he would hate himself after this. "You had yourself a nice little operation, didn't you? You seemed organized, and the crimes were well thought out. Weren't they? All told, I think your gang scored well over six figures, maybe more. Although there were many members of your gang, you still had quite a lucrative share of your own. Where did you funnel the money? If you kept it, I never saw evidence of its use."
He wanted to talk about the case. Evidence. His focus was evidence. She knew he was trying to avoid the touchier of subjects, but it still hurt to hear him speak so coldly. "Would you sit down," she asked tentatively. "I want to tell you everything, but I at least want to speak to you eye to eye."
He didn't want to honor her request. He was in full interrogation mode. After glaring at her blankly, he finally approached the table and sat down. He did so stiffly, almost stately. His body was wound up tight. Inside, he felt like a ticking time bomb. If she didn't tell him what he wanted to know, he would leave here, and never return. "Tell me, Kayla. Tell me everything."
"Remember when I told you I had one brother and one sister?" At the slight nod of his head, she continued, "Carson and I have a younger sister. Her name is Brett and she's thirteen years old. Almost two years ago, Brett became very ill. For nearly a year, we took her from one doctor to another until she was finally diagnosed with a rare form of juvenile cancer. The doctors told us that without treatment, she might have six months to live. They also told us about a specialist in Louisiana who had treated this type of cancer before. He was the best of the best. Brett's only hope.
"Our parents died years ago in a car accident and they left us penniless with no insurance. Brett's treatments and care would cost thousands. We didn't have the money or any way to get it, but we took Brett to Louisiana anyway and left her in the care of a family friend, Dora Pennington. We were desperate and out of options. Everywhere we turned, we ran into brick walls. We were afraid to go to social services, because they would have taken her away from us. We had no guardianship papers, nothing official.
"The first job, Carson pulled by himself. It was always supposed to be his deal, but we weren't making a dent in Brett's medical expenses. So, he began to recruit friends of his to help out. He was very paranoid and careful. He selected the most nondescript people. Tom was the exception to the rule. He believed that the more people we had, the longer we could work without detection. I agreed to help out, because I was willing to do anything to save my sister's life. We hit only small banks and took just enough money to send to Dora where it wouldn't look overly suspicious. Whatever shares were left after dividing them amongst the gang was immediately sent to Louisiana. I'm sorry, Frank. I'm so sorry for everything I put you through, but I'm not sorry for trying to help my sister."
There were tears in her eyes, but she was fighting them. Her words sank into his brain and latched on. God help him, but he didn't trust it. Didn't trust her. He shook his head. "That is an incredible story. I don't know if I can believe it," he said after a long time.
She nodded. "I expected as much. You can call Dora in Louisiana and she will verify it all. I'll even give you the name of the hospital." A heavy sigh left her. "Frank, you don't owe me any favors, but I have to ask. Carson is gone and I'm here. Brett has no one now. Please help my sister. Don't do it for me. Do it for her. She has done nothing wrong. Don't let my deeds or failures poison your mind against her."
Almost abruptly, he moved away from the table. He turned his back to her. He was trying his damned best to control his emotions, but he was losing the battle. He faced her again with blazing eyes. "Why didn't you come to me, Kayla? Why didn't you tell me this before? I could have helped you."
His last five words were bitten out behind clenched teeth. She wanted to shrink back from the anger and devastation so evident in his eyes. She shook her head. "It was already too late by the time I met you. You only could have helped me get to prison that much sooner. It may be too late for us, Frank, but it's not too late for Brett. I am asking for your help now."
Overwhelmed now and completely out of his element, Donovan honestly did not know what to do. He slowly approached the table and sat down again. He watched as Kayla wiped away her tears as if embarrassed. "I don't know if I could ever forgive what you've done, not only to me, but to yourself, and us," he began slowly, hurtfully. "Perhaps I do owe you more than you believe or feel I do. I can't back away from your request, but I also can't make any solid promises. You give me the information, I'll check it out, and see what I can do."
Her tears began again, this time falling freely and unchecked. "Thank you, Frank," she managed to say. She knew he probably didn't totally believe her, but she also knew his words held weight. A lot of it. "You don't know what this means to me."
He was ever so tempted to reach across the table and grasp her hand. He didn't. As he had thought many times before after Kayla's arrest, it was yet another bad idea in a long line of them. "I think I do."
131313
Two weeks passed before Kayla heard word back from Dora. When she did receive a letter, it not only thrilled her, but also tore her to pieces:
Dear Kay,
Brett's strength has increased enough and Dr. West will perform surgery in two days. We met a friend of yours a few days ago. He said his name was Frank and he personally delivered another cashier's check from you. How did you manage this kind of money, Kay? This fellow spent a long time with Brett, telling her all about how he met you. Brett was delighted, of course. He made her laugh so hard, she nearly cried. He left after a few hours, but promised to return. I think Brett took an instant liking to him, and you know how picky she is. He's a good man, Kay. You're lucky to have him on your side.
Always,
Dora
Yes. She was lucky. Indeed.
131313
Donovan entered his living room with a handful of mail. He slapped it down onto the coffee table, content to leave it lying for now. However, two pieces drew his attention, and he couldn't quite ignore them. One was a brief note from Brett Falcon thanking him for visiting her. He smiled a little. Kayla's little sister was very sweet. She reminded him so much of Kayla, it hurt. He remembered their visit, recalled the things he had told her, and it brought a fresh rush of pain. He only wished he could feel what he felt for Kayla freely again. He only wished there was more he could have done.
The other piece of mail was from Polston State Prison. He sat and stared at the envelope for a long time. He wasn't certain he wanted to see or read it. The hurt was still so very biting and fresh. However, curiosity won out. He tore open the envelope and slid the letter out of its remains. Its contents were heartbreaking:
Dear Frank,
It has taken me a few weeks to get the courage to write this letter. Dora wrote and told me what you did for Brett. Words cannot express what that means to me. It is one of many debts that I do not know if I can ever repay. I owe you more than you know.
I want to apologize for all that I have done to you. Whether you believe it or not, I still love you very much. I only wish I had met you two years ago. If I had, I would have laid all my trust in you. In our love for each other. I would have grudgingly allowed you to protect me. I would have allowed myself to love you freely. I wouldn't have made such a desperate choice. I would have done so much, but it's too late for that now. Thank you for all you've done, for all you've given me. I hope that one day, you can forgive me.
Love,
Kayla
Donovan stared at the letter for an hour or more, trying to burn her words into his brain. What was he going to do now? What could he do?
131313
It had been a long year for Kayla. She spent her time doing time. In between her mundane manual labor, and her day to day life locked away, she received updates about Brett every two weeks without fail. It wasn't Dora who did this for Kayla. It was Frank. Apparently, he had grown fond and protective of her younger sibling. From Brett's own correspondence, it seemed as if the feeling was mutual. Brett had certainly fallen in love with Kayla's 'friend.' The teenager had even begun to refer to him as 'Uncle Frank.' All of her surgeries had gone well and it appeared that Brett would make a full recovery. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes.
Kayla was in the middle of writing Brett when a guard appeared to let her know that she had a visitor. Kayla wasn't surprised. Frank made monthly visits, mostly to tell her about Brett. He always managed to secure one of the semi-private rooms. Although most of their conversations centered around Brett, Kayla had no idea that Frank actually came to see her as well. But he never said that. Kayla remained oblivious.
Silently, Kayla followed the guard to the room. The moment she was in plain view of the room's occupants, she heard an excited squeal. Were her eyes betraying her or did she see her little sister with Frank? Kayla had barely gotten into the room before Brett threw herself into her sister's arms. The girl was still a bit frail and was wearing a multicolored bandanna to cover her super short hair, but she was the most beautiful thing Kayla had ever seen. The tears came then. She couldn't stop them no matter how hard she tried. Regardless of what happened, she realized that she had few regrets about the path she chose. It was all worth it. Her one regret would always be hurting Frank Donovan.
Much later, Kayla indulged Brett's desire for a soda. The machine was just down the hall and her stubborn sibling insisted on going alone. Brett truly wanted to leave the two of them alone for a minute or so. After the guard assured Kayla that she would keep her eye on the girl, she relented.
"She looks wonderful, Frank," Kayla said. Damned if she wasn't getting choked up again.
For a long moment, Donovan gazed at her. Each time he came, Kayla looked a little different. Today, it seemed as if her hair had grown even more. It was hard to tell since she always wore it tied back. He longed to see it down. "She does," he agreed. "And she's a wonderful girl."
She nodded. "Yes. Incredible strength for one so young. I'm so overwhelmed that she's here, Frank. How will I ever repay you? You didn't walk away when many men would have. I don't know what to say."
Giving in to the temptation he had fought for twelve months, he reached across the table and took her hand. He noticed how she jerked almost imperceptibly. The move threw her off. "Say nothing. It's not necessary. I not only did it for her, but you as well. The letter you sent a year ago, Kayla, I did read it." He looked down for a brief moment before focusing his eyes on her face again. He shook his head before saying, "I'm not angry with you anymore. It took a long time, but I worked it out and released it. Most importantly of all, Kayla, I do forgive you. I didn't think I ever would, but I do. If I had met you before this happened, I would have done everything in my power to help you. Since I didn't and couldn't, I'm doing what I can now. I, too, betrayed you."
She shook her head. "No, Frank. You didn't. I gave you no options. You did what you were supposed to do. I'm here because I did something wrong. I broke the rules. I've never held any ill will against you. Never."
He tightened his grip on her hand. "But I hold it against myself."
"You shouldn't," she said quietly. "What you've done for Brett overshadows all."
"Kayla, I didn't do it solely out of guilt," he said softly.
There was more he wanted to say, to add to it, but he wasn't ready for that. Kayla understood. "I know. For what it's worth, Frank, I feel the same."
He opened his mouth to respond, but he stopped speaking when Brett reentered the room. He didn't release Kayla's hand for a long time.
Tearful goodbyes were shared between the sisters a few hours later. When Kayla released her hold on Brett, she turned toward Frank. She knew he might protest, but she couldn't help it. She embraced him and was stunned when he reciprocated. He closed his eyes and held her tightly.
"Thank you, Frank. For everything...past, present, and future."
He pulled away after a moment and gazed down at her. Future. She had mentioned the word future. How would he tell her there might not be one? He had to be careful when arranging these visits. At any time, his secret could be leaked. He hadn't told anyone the true reason he kept contact with a felon, why he took trips to Louisiana, or why he insisted on bringing a teenager into the prison. No one knew these things. Neither Brett nor Kayla knew that he kept these visits a semi-secret. Neither Brett nor Kayla knew that he was jeopardizing his own way of life. And he would never tell them. He couldn't. He would never tell Kayla, because she would make him stop. And he didn't want to stop. He wouldn't stop, not until his hand was forced. It was one thing he would do his own way, allowing Kayla to always believe nothing different. If he had to do it for ten full years, so be it. Her sentence was his as well.
To be continued...
A/N: "Same shit, different day" was used in honor of one of my favorite authors in the novel Dreamcatcher. NO infringement intended.