Текст книги "Coming Home"
Автор книги: Priscilla Glenn
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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 25 страниц)
Leah stared at him, and as his dimples grew more defined, she felt the corners of her own mouth turn up.
They ate breakfast slowly and in relative silence, both of them seemingly lost in their own thoughts, and after cleaning up, they went back to Leah’s bedroom to get dressed.
Leah zipped up the black pencil skirt she had paired with a green capped-sleeve silk blouse. Just as she was checking herself in the mirror, Danny stepped out of the bathroom wearing his suit. He stood next to her, looking in the mirror as he adjusted his tie, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
It was the first time she’d seen him dressed up like that, and it killed her that it was under these circumstances. He looked so incredibly handsome, and she wanted to be celebrating something with him—holding him and laughing with him and posing for pictures.
Not fighting tears as the nausea rolled through her.
“It really does look beautiful,” he said, adjusting the knot of his tie.
“What does?” she asked softly.
“The necklace.”
She brought her hand up to it as he added, “And I meant what I said last night.”
Leah’s eyes found his in the mirror as her lips curved into a delicate smile. “I know you did.”
His eyes held hers for a moment before he returned her smile, and then he took a deep breath. “Okay then. Ready?”
Of course she wasn’t. She wasn’t anything close to resembling ready. But she nodded up at him, and he ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek before he reached to grab his wallet from the dresser. He turned back to her then, handing her his keys.
“You want me to drive your car?” she asked, glancing down at them.
“No, I’m giving these to you to hold on to. Jake will be by at some point tomorrow to get my car.”
Leah froze. Jake would be coming to get his car. Because after today…
“Okay,” she managed softly, taking the keys and turning from him quickly as she walked to the jewelry box on the other side of the room, depositing them there as she tried to compose herself.
“Is there enough gas in your car to get down there today?”
“Mm-hm,” she said with her back to him, pretending to look for something in her jewelry box.
It was quiet for a beat before he spoke softly. “Alright,” he said, and then she felt his hand on her back for a second before he continued past her and out of the bedroom.
Leah exhaled heavily and closed her eyes; it took several minutes and quite a few deep breaths before she was sure she was in control of herself, and then she opened her eyes and grabbed her purse before following him out of the room.
The ride to the courthouse was spent in pensive silence. There was nothing left to say—nothing they didn’t already know about each other’s feelings—and so they both remained quiet, preparing themselves for what lay ahead.
Leah kept her hand on the armrest, gripping it tightly. Because if she released it, she knew she would lose her grip on everything—she would be dragged into the whirlpool swirling around her, and it would suck away her composure and her sense of direction and her breath and her sanity.
Danny parked the car and they walked to the courthouse hand in hand; externally, Leah was poised and composed, but inside she could feel herself falling to pieces with every step toward that building.
The place where he was going to be taken away from her.
Unconsciously, she tightened her grip on his hand, and when he felt it, he turned his head to look at her. She kept her eyes forward, afraid of what her expression might reveal if she looked at him now.
As they neared the steps, Danny stopped abruptly, tugging on her hand so that she was forced to turn and face him. She knew her eyes were glassy as she looked up at him, but this time she couldn’t turn her gaze away.
“Before we go in there,” he said, his voice low and somewhat rough, “I just want to tell you that I love you. And I’m so, so sorry.”
“Danny,” she started, and he shook his head, silencing her as he brought his mouth to hers.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Leah knew this was their last kiss.
She melted into him, allowing herself to feel everything: his lips, his breath, his body against hers, his hands on her waist.
And then, too soon, he was pulling away from her.
“Okay,” she heard him say to himself as he took her hand again, and then he inhaled deeply as he turned to walk up the stairs.
The second they walked through the double doors into the vast lobby, it felt as though her mind detached from her body. She knew she was physically there, seeing things and hearing things, but none of it registered. None of it felt real.
It was like she was watching the entire scene from outside herself.
She recognized Danny’s lawyer in the vestibule as he approached them, reaching out to shake Danny’s hand. He said a brief hello to Leah, and she couldn’t even be sure if she responded.
“We need to meet for a minute before we go inside,” Danny said, his voice muted through the rush of blood in her ears.
She nodded weakly, and Danny’s lawyer directed her toward the courtroom where she could wait for them. Leah approached the doors in a daze, and for a moment, she just stood there, frozen and completely overwhelmed.
And then she saw her. The lifeline she so desperately needed.
Catherine.
She was sitting in the front row behind the tiny wall that separated the rest of the room from the judge’s bench, and it was as if she sensed Leah’s desperate need to feel grounded. As soon as Leah noticed her, Catherine turned, making eye contact with her as she stood in the doorway.
And then she smiled sadly, reaching her hand out to Leah.
She practically ran to her, clutching her hand as she sat beside her, and when Leah felt Catherine rest her head against her shoulder, she closed her eyes and pressed her lips together as her chin quivered.
“We’re gonna be strong for him today,” Catherine whispered. “He doesn’t need to worry about us.”
Before Leah could even process her words, she sensed movement in front of them, and she opened her eyes. Jake was crouched in front of Catherine, with Tommy standing behind him.
“How you doing, Gram?” Jake asked gently, and Catherine shrugged, a weak smile trembling on her lips.
Jake leaned forward and kissed her cheek before he stood, turning toward Leah. She was vaguely aware of Tommy whispering something to Catherine as Jake leaned down to hug her. “No matter what happens today, everything’s gonna be okay,” he said against her ear before he straightened, smiling sadly at her before he turned and walked into the row of seats behind them.
A few minutes later, Leah heard the sound of the doors opening again, and she turned to see her father, brother, and sister taking their seats in the back. Her father made eye contact with her, a comforting look in his eyes as he blew her a kiss, and she smiled softly before turning back around.
Danny’s mother and sister were also there, sitting in the middle row. Leah had met them briefly at Danny’s apartment during one of the days they’d spent cleaning it. They had come by to pick up some things they were going to store for him, and although they seemed nice enough, she could see there was definitely a distance between them and Danny. She had known he wasn’t close to his family, but it was still such a strange thing for her to witness.
He had a family, she reminded herself. It just wasn’t his own. Wasn’t that what he’d told her?
A few minutes later, there was a murmuring and shuffling in the back of the room, and Leah turned to see Danny walking up the aisle with his lawyer beside him. His face was stoic and serene, and while that should have reassured her, it only served to make her feel sick.
They walked past the small wall and up to the table in front of the judge’s bench, taking their seats. Immediately, his lawyer leaned over and began speaking to Danny in hushed tones, and every so often, he would nod slightly in response.
Catherine’s grip on Leah’s hand tightened suddenly, and Leah glanced up to see the judge walking out from a doorway along the far wall. Everyone was asked to rise, and the judge—a middle-aged man with glasses and dark, thinning hair—approached the bench and took his seat, prompting the rest of them to follow.
From outside herself, Leah watched as he opened folders and shuffled papers, and after what seemed like an eternity, he lifted his head and spoke.
“The state of New York versus Daniel DeLuca, docket number 11D-773492. At this time I will ask Mr. DeLuca to please rise.”
Leah’s heart thudded in her chest as Danny stood.
“Mr. DeLuca, it is the court’s understanding that rather than have a trial in this case, you are submitting a plea of no contest to one count of aggravated assault, and one count of voluntary manslaughter, both felony charges. Is this correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you understand the charges that are being brought against you?”
“Yes, sir.”
The judge shuffled a few more papers before he lifted one, adjusting his glasses. “Mr. DeLuca, the court is satisfied that intent to kill was not present in this case. Based on information given by the officers on the scene, as well as witness statements and your own testimony, there is sufficient evidence that provocation was a factor. My condolences for the loss of your friend.”
Leah felt Catherine’s shoulder shake against hers, and she knew she was stifling her tears. She gave Catherine’s hand a squeeze, keeping her eyes on the judge as she tried to read his expression.
His eyes were completely impassive, giving away nothing of his thoughts.
“Taking into consideration the facts of the case and the plea agreement that was reached, at this time the court declares the defendant guilty on both counts of aggravated assault and voluntary manslaughter.”
Leah’s throat was constricting, making it difficult to take a full breath, and she swallowed hard, staring at the judge as he shuffled a few more papers.
“Mr. DeLuca, you have taken responsibility for your actions and shown remorse for your crime. The court recognizes that you reached out to the victim’s family and paid the hospital bills and funeral costs of your own accord.”
Her eyes flashed to the back of Danny’s head, immediately flooding with tears. He’d never told her that.
“The court also recognizes that you have had no prior convictions or arrests, and that you’re in good standing in your community. Taking into consideration all factors, and in accordance with the terms of the plea agreement, I’m sentencing you to twenty-one months in the Federal Correctional Institution at Fort Dix…”
Leah’s ears started ringing, a strange humming sound that blended with the droning voice of the judge until there was nothing but white noise in her head. She vaguely registered him saying something about a fine and anger management classes before the buzzing in her ears took over.
Leah felt a hand come to rest on her shoulder from behind, either Jake or Tommy, as an officer approached Danny, bringing his hands behind his back and cuffing them.
Her vision blurred and she felt as if she were going to pass out.
And then he was being led away from them, and Leah lurched forward in her seat, gripping the divider in front of her.
WAIT.
The word was thrashing around wildly in her head, but she couldn’t make her mouth say it. She needed to do something—to say something to him—to touch him one more time.
Just before Danny walked through the doors, he turned and looked in their direction. It was a split second, but in that moment, his eyes conveyed everything.
Love. Remorse. Reassurance. Bravery.
And then he turned, walking through the doorway with a cop on either side of him. The door swung closed behind them, and the sharp click resounded through the room, erasing all the other sounds swirling in her ears and leaving an unsettling silence behind it.
Catherine clutched at her, and Leah turned and wrapped her arms around the woman who had raised Danny.
As her frail, trembling hands gripped the sides of Leah’s blouse, a desperate, broken wail cut through the silence, and Leah couldn’t be sure if it was Catherine’s or hers.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Danny knew he should be overcome with excitement right now. He should be envisioning what it was going to be like to have Leah in front of him again. Leah wrapped in his arms, laughing as he buried his face in her hair. The lilting sound of her voice as she assured him she was okay. That everyone was okay.
That he was going to be okay.
But so much had happened since he’d last seen her in that courtroom, and he just couldn’t reconcile that fantasy with his reality anymore. That sort of daydream didn’t belong here. It seemed too far-fetched, too unrealistic.
And idealism was a childish indulgence in this place.
For the first ten days after his arrival, Danny hadn’t been able to speak to anyone on the outside. Upon entering the facility, he had been told he wouldn’t have access to the phone lines or computers until his inmate account was set up; they said it would be activated shortly, and he had believed them.
He should have realized then how disgustingly naïve he was.
Apparently, a ten-day wait was something to be grateful for; there were guys who claimed to have waited twice that long for their accounts to be activated. But hearing that information didn’t provide Danny with any consolation. It only made him angrier.
Ten fucking days.
Ten days to program someone’s name into a computer. Ten days of knowing the people he loved were panicking over not having heard from him. Ten days of the walls closing in by the hour.
An interminable wait, simply to prove he was at their mercy. That he was just a number now. That his suffering meant nothing to anyone in charge.
On the fifth day, his cellmate Troy had offered to call Danny’s family to let them know he was waiting on his account to be set up.
Danny hadn’t been allowed to go inside the call room, and the knowledge that Troy was a few feet away with Leah’s voice in his ear was almost more unbearable than the first five days put together. When Troy returned, he told Danny she had appreciated the call and promised she’d pass the message along.
He wanted to ask how she had sounded. If she’d been crying. If she’d asked any questions about him. If she’d seemed relieved, or sad, or angry. He wanted to ask Troy to repeat every single thing she had said to him verbatim so Danny could memorize it.
But instead he had nodded and went back to his cell.
Troy’s call home should have provided him with some level of relief, but the next five days were somehow more excruciating than the first. The need to connect with someone from home had become a living thing, twisting and churning and clawing at his insides until it could be sated.
The first time Danny had been allowed to call Leah, his rush to explain the visiting instructions had overshadowed the brief respite brought on by her voice. Danny had been required to provide the Bureau of Prisons with a list of potential visitors, and in turn, each person would receive a packet in the mail. As soon as the forms were completed and sent back, the BOP would conduct a background check and either approve or deny the applicants. Danny would receive word when the process was complete, and then anyone who had received clearance would be permitted to visit.
He had also explained that his phone use was restricted to fifteen minutes a day with a cap of three hundred minutes per month, and that within those restrictions, he would have to divide his time between Gram, Jake, Tommy, and his family. Leah had told him not to worry, that she understood they wouldn’t be able to speak every day.
And then their conversation was cut off.
Fifteen minutes up. No warning. No countdown. Just a click, and then nothing.
He’d spent the rest of that day feeling completely unnerved instead of gratified.
He tried to be more aware of the time after that, but it was surprisingly easy to get lost within the confines of fifteen minutes. It happened almost every phone call—the abrupt disconnection when his time was up—and each time was just as unsettling as the first.
The ability to end a phone call with “good-bye” was a suddenly a luxury, something he hadn’t even anticipated losing because it was such a basic fundamental of life, he’d never even given it a second thought.
So many simple, every day privileges—gone.
He shouldn’t have been as shaken by this place as he was. Danny’s life had been far from easy, but he had always taken pride in his resiliency; never once had he succumbed to adversity. Never once did he give in to the struggle.
But in his life before this, there had always been something to throw his energy into. Some distraction. Some way for him to expend his suffering.
Here, there was nothing.
He had enrolled himself in classes, but they only occupied ninety minutes of his day. He checked books out of the library, but he couldn’t digest any of the words. Maybe it was because his thoughts were the only thing they couldn’t put restrictions on, but Danny found himself perpetually lost in his own mind.
He had no idea it could be such an ugly place.
Thoughts would creep in uninvited, wafting in as sinuously as smoke and choking him just as quickly: Jake making a poor decision that would cause the business to go under; Leah growing bitter and resentful—seeking solace in another man’s arms; Gram getting sick and dying before he was released.
Various horrors would flash through his mind like a slide show, over and over until he couldn’t reason through them anymore. He couldn’t determine what was real and what was fabricated, what was speculative and what was a guarantee.
Three weeks. Eighty-eight more to go.
He had no idea if this was part of the transition or if it would always be this way. Maybe his mind would eventually run out of nightmares. Maybe he’d just grow numb to them.
Or maybe his thoughts would wear him down until he couldn’t remember who he was before this.
His lawyer had told him this place would be tolerable. Since the judge hadn’t deemed Danny a danger to society, part of the plea agreement stated he could serve his sentence in a minimum-security prison, and Danny had lost count of how many times his lawyer assured him minimum-security prisons were more like dormitories than correctional facilities.
He wished he’d never heard that goddamn comparison—or at least that he hadn’t been foolish enough to believe it.
There was nothing tolerable about this place. Nothing uplifting. Nothing redeeming. Nothing but the torturously unhurried passing of time.
He didn’t give a shit if there were no barbed-wire fences surrounding the property. It didn’t change the fact that he was living his life away from everything and everyone who mattered to him. That he didn’t even feel like his own person anymore. That every move he made had to be approved. Every decision, every step he took had to be sanctioned by authority.
His lawyer had failed to mention that the lack of perimeter fences wouldn’t compensate for how incredibly degrading it felt to be treated like a child twenty-four hours a day. The absence of sharp shooters in towers couldn’t make up for the constant misery of not being trusted.
Danny couldn’t resign himself to the fact that most of the people in charge had no reason to view him as trustworthy or honorable or decent. Most of them viewed him as a fuck-up. A criminal who raised suspicion, someone who had to be watched and questioned at every turn.
There were a couple of exceptions—those guards who managed to make him feel somewhat human even while doing something like frisking him for contraband—but most of them spoke to the inmates like they were shit on their shoes.
At first, Danny tried to rationalize their behavior with the fact that these men spent their lives surrounded by people who had broken the law—some worse than others and many more than once. He reasoned that after years and years of witnessing a revolving door of crooks and felons and delinquents, their tolerance must have worn pretty thin.
Still, it didn’t make him feel any less shitty—or any less angry—when he was on the receiving end of that intolerance. Eventually he gave up trying to justify their behavior and accepted the fact that everyone had a role to play; they were the judgmental pricks on a power trip and he was a piece of shit criminal, and that was that.
Three weeks, and they had already managed to get inside his head.
Maybe he was never as strong as he thought.
Danny lifted his head off the pillow and looked at the clock on the wall. Any minute now, she’d be here. They were going to call his name, and he would make his first trip to the visitor’s center, and Leah would be standing before him.
And it wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Because instead of excitement, there was dread. Instead of eagerness, there was panic. And instead of relief, there was shame.
He was so afraid she’d be able to see it—that he was already different. That they’d both given him too much credit.
He didn’t want to let her down. He didn’t want her to wonder what would be left of him after another nineteen months if three weeks had already affected him.
It was all so fucking humiliating.
He didn’t know how to keep the darkness of his thoughts from her, and if she saw it, what would she think? Would she pity him? Be just as disappointed in him as he was in himself? Begin distancing herself from him?
The thought alone was enough to incapacitate him, because he realized she would probably be better off leaving him at this point. He would be destroyed, completely and utterly gutted, but that seemed to be the path he was on anyway.
Leah didn’t have to be subjected to this.
Danny rolled his head to the side as Troy walked into their cell dressed in his grays, one of two authorized outfits inmates were permitted to wear. A gray sweat suit was the required attire for the rec area or the gym; for everything else, there was a khaki jumpsuit.
“You working out?” Danny asked.
“Nah, just got back,” Troy said, sifting through the small locker in the corner of the room. He pulled out a pack of tortillas, some dried pepperoni, and a little bag of shredded cheese, and Danny knew Troy was about to make what he called a “bootleg stromboli.” He’d taught Danny how to make them during his first week at Fort Dix, after he’d already grown tired of the shit down at the mess hall.
Troy knew a bunch of resourceful tricks like that. He’d been down for thirteen months for possession of drugs while on probation, and he still had another three years to serve. But with good time, he could be out in just over two.
“They post the call sheet for tomorrow yet?” Danny asked.
“No, but I better be on it for the damn doctor. My knee is killing me.”
Danny lay back on his bed, blinking up at the ceiling. He hadn’t been down as long as Troy, but still, he knew there was no way Troy would be on the call sheet for the doctor tomorrow. Unless someone was bleeding or dying, he was basically forced to tough out whatever was ailing him. It had been one of the first things Danny had learned about this place.
Troy rolled up the stromboli and shook his head. “Wish I had some fucking soda,” he said, pressing it together with his thumbs to make it stick.
“When’s your commissary day again?”
“Thursdays,” he said.
“I’m on Monday. I’m good with most of my shit for now, so I can get some when I go.”
“Thanks, man,” Troy said, licking his finger before pressing the tortilla down again. “I’ll owe you.”
Danny nodded.
Troy sealed the bag of cheese before he walked back to the locker. “Isn’t your girl coming today?”
Danny wet his lips. “Yeah.”
Troy shoved the bags of food in his locker before bumping it closed with his elbow. “If Shaw or Brighton are on duty, watch your ass.”
“What do you mean?”
Troy walked back to his plate and pressed down on the tortilla again. “They’re real dicks about everything. Touching and shit.”
Danny sat up on his bed. “I can’t touch her?”
Troy shook his head as he tucked in the ends of the stromboli. “You can hug her when she comes in, but that’s it. And keep that shit respectable. If you get flagged, they’ll take her off the list. And if you keep getting flagged, you lose visitation all together.”
Danny ran his hand down his face.
“Shaw and Brighton, they’re fucking hawks, man. Anything that looks like you might be passing shit back and forth and you’re done. If Hanover’s on duty, you’ll get a little more leeway.”
And just like that, his earlier fantasy splintered into a million pieces before it disintegrated like powder; in its wake was the image of Leah sitting across him, her hands folded obediently in her lap as the guards monitored the three feet of insurmountable space between them.
He wished he’d known this beforehand so he could have given her some type of warning. Now, he’d be faced with the task of pushing her away. It didn’t matter that he could immediately follow it up with an explanation of the rules; he was still going to have to endure the initial look of shock and hurt on her face as he denied her affection.
“Did your girl know all this before she came the first time?” Danny asked.
“I don’t remember.”
Danny lay back on his bed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “This is so fucked up. I’ve been waiting for this.” He dropped his hands and looked at Troy. “But this is gonna suck, isn’t it?”
Troy sighed as he lifted his plate. “It is what it is, brother. You get over it.”
And with that, he walked out of the room.
Danny stared after him before turning his gaze to Troy’s side of the cell. There were four pictures taped to the wall above his bed: one of Troy with a woman who appeared to be his mother, and the other three were of him and his girlfriend. In one of the pictures she was sitting on his lap. In another, they were kissing.
Danny stared at the images, desperate to find a flaw in their relationship, needing to discover even an inkling of discontent—anything that would explain Troy’s indifference just now when he talked about his visits with her. But the people in that picture were unmistakably happy, their affection for each other evident in their eyes.
Maybe Troy’s apathy was just a front, just something he used to keep his true feelings at bay.
Or maybe thirteen months of this shit had managed to turn the people in that photograph into fictional characters—individuals who existed on paper but nowhere else.
Is that how he and Leah were destined to end up? Danny refused to believe he’d ever be capable of indifference when it came to her.
But then again, every last one of his expectations had been refuted since he’d come here, so what the hell did he know anymore?
“The following people have been requested at the visitor’s center,” a voice crackled over the loudspeaker. “Charles Velasquez, Darrel Simpson, Daniel DeLuca, Ray Brenner, Benjamin King, and Sean Foley.”
Danny’s heart came alive in his chest as his stomach churned.
Some small, unquenchable piece of his heart desperately needed to see her. He could feel it trying to fight its way to the surface, like someone submerged under water for far too long, striving for a restorative breath. But the more tenable part of him was terrified beyond belief.
He had no idea what he was going to do once they were in the same room together. What he would say. How he would behave. There were rules now. People were watching. Who were they supposed to be under these new circumstances?
As he approached the door leading to the visitor’s center, he tried to convince himself that once he saw her, everything would make sense. He wouldn’t have to think. This was Leah. Everything with her had always been so effortless, even when he was trying to fight it in the beginning.
This day was going to change everything for him. He just needed to have faith and let it happen.
Danny recited that mantra as he approached the inmates’ entrance to the center. The guard at the door was someone he didn’t recognize, but as he got closer, he could read the name Layne on his ID tag.
He gave Danny a quick once over before he opened the door and gestured for him to enter first.
On the other side of the door was a small room with an exit that led into the visiting area, and as Danny stepped in, Layne came in behind him.
“Arms out,” he ordered.
Danny lifted his arms, staring straight ahead as Layne patted him down.
Contraband checks were so commonplace around here that Danny often wondered if there was an inmate black market he hadn’t yet become privy to. But they were always conducted before a visit, and once the visit was over, they would check him again, making sure he hadn’t been passed something from the outside that he could bring back into the facility.
“Shoes off,” Layne said as he came to stand in front of Danny.
He dropped his arms to his sides. “You want my shoes off?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it? Is English your second language?”
Danny felt his jaw flex before he reached down to untie his boots.
He’d never had to remove his shoes during a contraband check before. It would be virtually impossible for him to retrieve something from his shoe during a visit without being caught by the guards, which meant Layne was just trying to make this difficult.
As soon as Danny’s boots were off, Layne grabbed them and turned them upside down, giving them a little shake before he inspected the soles.
And then he tossed them on the floor in front of Danny.
“Pick those up.”
Danny inhaled slowly before he squatted down to grab his discarded boots. He slipped them back on and stood, keeping his eyes on the small window of the door in front of him as he waited for Layne to give him clearance.
And then he saw her.
She was standing near the civilian entrance to the visitor’s center, looking beautiful and pristine and perfect, and all at once some dormant part of him resurfaced, making him want to rip the door off the hinges and run to her.
The sight of her did something strange to his body, like the shot of Demerol he’d gotten as a child just before the surgery on his broken leg. He could sense something warm rush through his veins, making him feel heavy and sedated, but oddly enough, it didn’t do a thing to ease his pain; the hurt was still there—he could feel it—but it had temporarily lost its power over him.
