Page 50 of Dangerous Obsession

“Your partin what happened?” Houldcroft shook his head, leaned down, and got in Cliff’s face. “You’ve been warned, Barnum. Stay away from Marigold, and stay away from my daughter. Because, trust me, the suffering I will rain down on you is nothing compared to what her husband here will do to you.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder toward the guy in the corner.

His warning churned in Cliff’s gut as the pompous ass straightened. Both men started toward the door, but the big dude stopped next to him. Still as a stone and silent as a shadow, he stared down at him so long that Cliff shifted in the chair and was compelled to break eye contact.

The senator rapped his knuckles twice on the door, and Newhouse stepped into the office.

The senator’s son-in-law bent down, placed his mouth close to Cliff’s ear, and whispered, “You will never see me coming.” Then he straightened, gave him a last long look, and joined the senator.

Cliff swallowed so hard he was sure the secretary heard it. The man’s threat scraped down his spine like a sharpened icicle. Or had it been a promise?

“Thanks for your time, Warden Newhouse.” The senator extended his hand.

“Anytime.” He shook his hand, watched them leave the office, then turned his attention to Cliff.

“I think that about takes care of that.” The warden grabbed the revised release papers, tapped him on the shoulder, and indicated for him to stand. “Let’s go.”

Newhouse led him to the processing area and handed him over to the guards there—two men and a stocky woman who was trying really hard to look like a dude. They spent about an hour processing his paperwork and gave him some street clothes to change into—a pair of jeans, gray T-shirt, socks, and tennis shoes—courtesy of the Department of Corrections.

With a guard on each side of him, and wearing his new clothes, he was escorted outside, down a long section of cement sidewalk, and to the front gate. Along the way, he glanced up and noticed the guard in the tower, rifle in hand, tracking their progress.

The gate guard checked the paperwork and handed it back to Cliff. He pressed a button, there was a loudbuzz, and the tall, chain-link gate topped by concertina wire rattled and rolled to the side.

The moment it opened wide enough to fit through, Cliff took two big steps and was finally free. The gate rattled shut behind him with a loudclank.

“See you soon, Barnum.” The guard laughed with his buddy. They were still laughing when they turned and walked back inside.

A light mist began to fall, and Cliff tilted his face up to the sky. It had been a long time since he’d felt the rain on his skin.

From his left, an older model Honda sedan sped in his direction and stopped in front of him. From inside, shitty rap music played so loudly, it vibrated the windows. The passenger window lowered, and a light haze of smoke with the distinctive smell of pot floated his way.

“You Cliff?” The driver, a young kid with red eyes, turned down the radio and leaned across the console. “My mom told me I had to come pick you up.”

He’d called Deborah right after breakfast to let her know about his release. She wasn’t able to pick him up. Apparently, she was showing properties to a new client—some sort of bigwig—and couldn’t reschedule. Instead, she offered to send her son.

“You must be Greg.” He tossed his stuff in the back seat, yanked the door open, and slid onto the front passenger seat. “I’m Cliff.” He pulled the door shut and reached out to shake the kid’s hand.

Greg looked down at his hand and rolled his eyes. “Whatever, dude.”

Punk. Cliff withdrew his hand, twisted to grab the seat belt over his shoulder, dragged it across his chest, and snapped it into place. He started to roll up the window, his nostrils flared, and he left it open a few inches. His nose, which had grown used to the smells of prison life, was assaulted by the nauseating combination of weed, the kid’s body spray, and the green, tree-shaped pine air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

Greg put the car in gear, slammed his foot on the gas, and the car lurched forward. He zigzagged his way through the parking lot and turned onto the road in front of the prison.

Cliff lowered the visor to look in the mirror, and his entire body relaxed for the first time in years as he watched the prison disappear behind them.

Finally, he was free. Finally, he could remind Marigold who was in charge.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Marigoldwasinheroffice inputting some information into the computer when she heard the light tinkling of the bells on the front door. She turned to check the monitor on the credenza and was surprised to see Cole and the senator walking into the boutique.

“That can’t be good,” she muttered to herself as she watched Viking greet them.

Shayna appeared in her doorway, arms loaded down with shoeboxes. “You probably know this already, but you’ve got some visitors.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Here, let me help you with those.” She saved her work, pushed back from her desk, and hurried over to her. “What in the world are you doing with these shoes?”

“Lettie is covering the retail area, so I’m going to work on the front window display. I decided to go with a beachy summer theme, by the way.” She allowed Marigold to relieve her of a few boxes. “I couldn’t make up my mind which ones I want to use in the display, so I just grabbed a bunch.”

“Well, next time, ask for help, silly woman.” They walked out front together.

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