Ties That Bind (32 page)

“Rightly so. We have a lot to lose.”

“Well, nothing needs to be decided now.” She checked her watch. “We should go. Tyler and Dray are waiting.”

Without censoring his actions, he leaned over and took her mouth. It was soft and yielding and for a few blissful seconds, he lost himself in the sweet taste of her.

If he had this, he might very well survive the loss of his sister.

STILL WEARING HER pajamas—bright blue-and-yellow flowered bottoms from Old Navy and a yellow T-shirt—Kate took her coffee and Anna Bingham’s journal into the den and sat at her desk. She wanted to have an analysis done for Reese before he returned from North Falls. As the sun streamed in through the window, Kate basked in its warm rays and allowed herself to think about him before she got to work. It was no longer painful to let her ex-husband into her thoughts.

He’d been so sad when she left yesterday. He’d stood with Dray on the sidewalk of his father’s house and hugged Kate, then watched as she drove away with Tyler. Kate’s own emotions were in turmoil, and the trip back to Westwood had been tense. They’d stopped at the prison and gotten the journal from Lauren Evans, who said she’d read it, and had contacted the prison authorities about the information. She sounded very unhappy about what Anna Bingham had written.

For the entire drive, Tyler was morose, sensing, she guessed, that things were in flux. When they arrived at her house, he’d asked her to have dinner with him. She refused, claiming exhaustion. Instead she ate pizza by herself, climbed into bed and planned to skim the journal so she could get a sense of what it contained. But by then it was late and she fell asleep with the book on her lap; she dreamed about Reese making love to her.

Tyler was still on vacation from work, but he hadn’t asked to spend today with her; instead, he said he needed some time alone to sort things out in his mind. Thinking about the fact that they should have been renewing their relationship in Cancun gave her a twinge of guilt, but damn it, none of that was her fault.

It’s your fault you made love with Reese. Yes, it was, and she’d take full responsibility for what she’d done. Right now, she wanted to hunker down and get this journal thing in place.

The book itself was interesting: It was an eight-by-ten volume, with thick vinyl front and back. First, she skimmed through it. The entries seemed to deal with certain areas; she decided to section it off by content, so Reese could see an organized chunk of information, and they could then scrutinize it together and decide what it all meant. The fact that the pages were perforated and easy to tear out made her task easier.

Section one she labeled: Bingham’s anger over the differences between life in a federal prison camp vs. life in a federal correctional institution. She read each entry carefully this time to decide which to pull for examination later. She tore out a few that exemplified Bingham’s distress.

The first entry…

I’m fucked! This place is the pits. The dormitories I stayed in at Danbury have been replaced by eight-by-eight concrete cells. The toilet is right out in the open. The ratio of guards to inmates is high. I’m in with goddamned drug addicts and convicted felons. There’s no freedom to move about. I thought I was going to go crazy at Danbury, but this is a whole new ball game. Five years of this? I don’t think so.

That last sentiment made Kate cringe. It indicated suicide as a strong possibility. If indeed that’s what happened, how could she and Reese ever be cleared?

No use in panicking, Katie, Reese would say. She wished he was here to center her. She went on to the next section, which she labeled Shopping. There were several entries about that. She removed the first…

Shopped at the commissary today. It sure as hell isn’t Rodeo Drive. You get $175 per MONTH—I spent more than that on a friggin’ blouse when I was on the outside. The place to requisition goods looks like a drive-thru window—inmates on outside, clerk on inside. The line to shop—and I use that term loosely—snaked out into the hall. I finally got my turn and gave them my order for the few things you can purchase—tennis shoes, a watch. I had both when I came here, but the prison dicks took them away. Other inmates say the officials do that so you’ll spend money at the commissary: Some refuse to purchase the duplicates inside. Who gives a flying fuck? While you wait, you get to socialize with your fellow prisoners—now that was fun. What a bunch of losers.

Kate found several more entries that dealt with shopping and clipped them together. One in particular stood out…

I got into trouble today for questioning my commissary order after I accepted it. Apparently, if you don’t agree with how they filled your order, you have to protest it right when you get it. Lena dared me to make a fuss, and I got a shot for it, but it was fucking A to see the guards get mad. Especially that asshole Sorensen.

Well, this was good information. Kate scribbled on a legal pad, names: Parks, Sorenson. She’d keep a tally of who Bingham mentioned.

The next section dealt with her entries about recreation and entertainment…

They took away my movie privileges for a month because of the commissary thing. Who the hell cares? They don’t show any R rated ones, so all of them are bland airline-type flicks. There’s no sex scenes, but the shows are full of fast money, fast women and drug running. Ironic, huh? Just what these bozos inside need to be seeing in their spare time. Bet they identify with the characters, ha-ha.

Another sampling…

I saved a seat for Lena today at the Super Bowl party. I don’t have a group—translate gang—like most people, though anybody will gamble with me. Anyway, this Chicano chick Anita Ruiz wanted Lena’s chair. I told her to go to hell. I got a split lip and she got a big fat bruise on her boob but by the time the guards got there, we were sweet as pie to each other. Nobody rats inside, and we cover up fights routinely.

So, this was the reason why no confrontations with other prisoners were recorded in the disciplinary reports. The inmates had their own code of honor. Unfortunately, that secrecy would make Kate and Reese’s job harder. She added Anita Ruiz—the inmate also named by Nancy Bingham—to the list of those mentioned in the journal.

Other entries Kate pulled from this category revolved around sports. Seemed like Bingham had been good at baseball. Just like Reese.

Reese. Taking a break, Kate leaned back in her chair, propped her feet up and closed her eyes. He’d called late last night. He was at Emily’s house with the boys, and apparently Dray was asleep…

“I wish you were here,” he’d said, the rawness of his voice scraping her nerves.

“I do, too.”

“I need to be with you.”

“Reese, we shouldn’t belabor our situation.” But she’d weakened and asked, “Is Dray in your bed?”

“No, I made some excuse about the boys being around.”

“Oh.”

“We were good there, in my bed the other night, weren’t we, Katie?”

“Really good.” She chuckled. “You haven’t lost your touch, hotshot.”

That dragged a laugh out of him…

Forcing her mind from Reese, Kate sat up again and zeroed in on the entries about Bingham’s cellmate, Lena Parks. It seemed like they had a love/hate relationship.

The first on this subject…

Lena’s cool. She bought us some blow from Blackie—get it? Her black market supplier. We got stoned into blissful oblivion.

Another…

Lena’s cranky these days. Her guy on the outside didn’t come to visit. Somebody else came up, though, who told her he’d seen good old Randolph with some broad. I told her not to sweat it with men—they’re only good for two things, and I can take out my own garbage. Ha-ha!

A final entry…

Don’t know how I feel about all this. Lena crawled into my bunk last night…

Bingham had gone on to explain the sexual encounter in great detail. Kate had read where healthy men and women in prison made sexual adjustments. The primary form of gratification was masturbation, but consensual homosexuality abounded.

When she’d had enough of those entries, Kate broke for lunch, and called Sofie.

She caught her daughter just heading out for the dining hall. “Hey, Mama,” Sofie had said, actually sounding like she was glad to hear from Kate. Obviously, things had changed for her, too.

“How are you, honey?”

“Sad. How’s Daddy?”

“Sad, too. He called me last night.”

“You didn’t stay in North Falls with him?” Her tone was accusatory.

“No. I came back with Tyler.”

Silence. Then in a little girl voice, her daughter admitted, “I was hoping you two would get back together, you know, you were so close at Grandpa’s. I saw you hugging all the time.”

Oh, God, just what they’d feared. Sofie getting her hopes up. And nothing had been decided. Kate didn’t even know if they were going to try to make their relationship work again.

“Sof, now’s not the time to talk about something that life altering. Dad’s grief is coloring his outlook.”

“What about you?”

“I feel bad, too. A lot. Can we just leave it at the fact that your dad and I are trying to help each other through this?”

A long pause. “Okay.”

After a moment, Kate asked, “How’s everything going at school?”

“I’m behaving myself, Mom.”

Kate had found time to talk to Sofie about what she’d witnessed with Jax in Sofie’s dorm room. Her daughter contended she’d been experimenting with a few drugs. Kate had come down hard on her about that, and Sofie promised she’d stop. Kate still hadn’t told Reese, but she would eventually.

“No more drugs, right?”

“Right.”

“And if you feel tempted, you need to talk to Dad and me about it.”

“I will. He still doesn’t know, right?”

“Not yet. But I’m going to tell him.”

“I know.” Sofie’s voice lightened. “Tell me about the boys.”

She was elated to hear they would be living in Westwood and overjoyed that Kate had legal custody, too.

Finally, Kate said, “I’ll let you go eat. I just wanted to check in with you.” She hesitated. “I love you, Sof.”

“I love you, too, Mama.”

Tears threatened as Kate hung up. She couldn’t remember the last time Sofie had said those words to her. Was it only because she had hopes for a reconciliation between her parents? What if that didn’t work out? Her heart had done a two-step when Sofie said she loved her. Kate didn’t want to lose that.

To avoid worrying about Sofie’s reactions, Kate returned to the journal. She tackled the visitation information next. This had stood out when she skimmed it…

“A” came today.

Kate crosschecked the list Reese had put on the computer. Arnie Anders was designated as a visitor, and the recipient of several phone calls and outgoing pieces of mail.

Bingham continued,

He looked so good in his new suit. He held my hand across the table. God I wanted to fuck him right there. Lena can’t hold a candle.

Another…

“B” came for visit.

Bernie Benson, also on the lists.

I like the mustache. It makes him look different. (Ha-Ha!) He put his hand down my blouse and the fuckin’ guard Sorensen made him leave.

There were more entries about “A” and “B”. Kate sat back in the chair and stared at the visitor group of entries from the journal. Something was really odd here. When she remembered Anna Bingham’s ring, Kate realized what it was. The names. The beginning letters of each guy’s name were A and B, and all the first and last names were alliterative. Just like the DD in the ring. Could the visitors’ identities be for real? Yet, all visitors needed to be on a list, prepared immediately upon the incarceration; they had to fill out an Information Form, and provide an acceptable mode of ID. They were subjected to searches, asked questions and went through metal detectors. Hmm. Then, she had another thought. DD had not come to see Anna at all. Why, when he’d given her a ring?

She wished Reese was here. He’d have some insights. Just then the phone rang; Kate checked the caller ID. It was Tyler. She needed to see him, needed to talk to him. If for nothing else, to tell him about what happened with Reese.

Time to face the music, she thought, and answered her phone.

o0o

FROM THE DOORWAY of Emily’s guest room, Dray watched Reese hang up the phone with a sigh, sit back on the bed and close his eyes. Dressed in dark shorts and a golf shirt, he looked older in the late afternoon sunlight, his face lined with sadness and grief. She was trying hard not to add to it. To just comfort him, as Kate had done.

“Hey.” She stepped into the room when he glanced over and smiled at her.

“Hi. I didn’t see you there.”

“Nap time?”

He shook his head. “I can’t sleep. Couldn’t last night, either.”

She crossed to him and sat down on the edge of the mattress, took his hand and kissed it. The familiar, sexy smell of his aftershave surrounded her. “I could help you sleep,” she said hopefully. He’d barely touched her, even casually, since she’d gotten to North Falls. She knew some men lost total interest in sex when they were grieving, but some men wanted to do it a lot, to reaffirm life.

He caressed her cheek. “I’m sorry, Dray. No.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I have to talk to you.”

Sensing she wouldn’t like what he had to say, she shook her head. “No, Reese, we aren’t going to have this discussion when you’re so overwrought.”

“Yes, honey, we are.”

Abruptly she stood, strode to the window, and looked out at the pretty backyard. “I don’t want to, Reese, not now. People say things they don’t mean in times of tragedy. They don’t think clearly.”

Before he could continue, Jason and Jimmy burst into the room. Ignoring her, they bounded onto the bed. In her peripheral view, she saw them cuddle into Reese, one on each side; he kissed their heads and held each of them tightly.

“Wish Aunt Kate was here,” Jimmy said, glancing at Dray with mutinous eyes.

“Like she was when Mommy died,” Jason added. “How come Aunt Kate doesn’t sleep in here like that anymore?”

The air backstopped in Dray’s lungs. This was exactly what she did not want to hear. Damn it!