Page 9 of Release You

“How you doin’, doll? How’s Paris?” Dom picked up on the first ring.

“Not there yet. Took a little detour. I need a favor, darling.”

He sighed loudly. Here was a guy who knew how to play the game and enjoyed it. “For you, anything. What is it?”

“My sister’s in jail,” I said bluntly. I’d met Dom on my last con. He was a fancy lawyer from New York, one of the best and our last hope.

“Holy shit. What happened?” He asked.

“She killed a man.” Static filled the air. “Or rather, she’s serving time for a crime she didn’t commit. I promise you she didn’t do it.”

“What do you need, babe?”

Tears welled in my eyes at his words. I missed Lisa. I missed having a family. I missed having someone in my corner, sharing the load with me.

“I need to see my sister. Could you help with that? For some reason, her visitation privileges were revoked or something.”

“You got it, doll. Give me an hour. Just text me her information.”

“Thank you, darling. You’re the best. Ciao.” I hung up.

Three hours later I was at the state penitentiary on the west side of Phoenix, holding a special pass to see Lisa. I’d even had time to stop by a dealership and talk the sales guy into letting me test-drive a Tesla for a few days.

I sat in the beat-up chair facing the glass panel, waiting for Lisa to appear on the other side. The last time I’d visited her was ten years ago. I’d just turned fifteen. Afterfive years of bouncing around in the system, I’d decided to run away to Paris. Lisa had been twenty-three at the time and fully supportive of my crazy decision. She’d been at the peak of her youth, wasting away in a jail cell.

That day she’d asked me to never come back to this place. “Go enjoy life. For the both of us. Write to me every day,” she’d said.

Over the years we wrote letters, but after a while, she stopped writing back. I kept at it for a few more years and eventually gave up too. I swallowed my tears and wiped my nose. We should’ve stuck together. She was the only family I had left. It wasn’t fair that she’d spent fifteen years of her life paying for something she didn’t do.

I glanced up as she appeared on the other side of the glass, looking as if she’d aged thirty years. We burst into tears. Neither one of us had the strength to pretend anymore. We sat there and cried for what felt like hours. I mouthed an “I’m sorry,” as she shook her head.

She pointed at her phone and picked it up. I did the same.

“Please no apologies. And no more tears,” she said.

“Done.” I wiped both cheeks with the back of my hand, forcing a small laugh.

“How’s the hotel? Did you get in the tunnels?”

“Paradise Creek is not what we remembered. It’s not what it was when we were kids. The hotel is in ruins. The door is gone.” I placed a hand over my chest to ease the tightness there.

“What? That can’t be. How is that possible? It’s only been…”

The pain in her eyes cut me. “I know a very good lawyer. Top notch from New York, not the sorry excuse for a man the state appointed you. He can get you out. We can go away together. Remember how we always talked about moving to Paris? We could do it now. I have a place there.”

Lisa shook her head.

“No,” I continued. “Listen, I have money now. We can go anywhere we want. Be a family.”

I’d spent years doing job after job, saving my money so that one day we could afford a good lawyer to get Lisa out of jail. Then I met Dom Moretti on my last con, and I knew Lisa’s time had come. Of course, she had to beat me to the punch. A few weeks back, she sent me a letter asking for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I lived well, but I didn’t have that kind of cash just lying around.

Loans were out of the question. Con artist wasn’t really a profession banks were impressed with. To say I’d had to lie, steal, and cheat to get the money we needed was an understatement. I’d been pissed when Lisa finally told me what the money was really for. She hadn’t used the money to hire a lawyer but to buy a boutique hotel in our hometown. I’d always thought that once we had money, all our problems would be solved. But I was wrong. I had money, influential friends, but nothing had changed. My only family was still in this hellhole.

Lisa shook her head again, lips pursed, and her eyes full of longing. “I’ve wasted my life in here. When I leave, I want everyone to know that I was innocent. I don’t want some fancy lawyer to prove I’ve done my time. I want to prove my innocence. I want to go home with my head held high. I want Mrs. Blaine to bring me a casserole and tell me how sorry she is for what happened to us. For how mean she was to us. I don’t want Paris. I want Paradise Creek. Please. The proof we need is in that tunnel. Find it. Tell me you’ll do it.”

My heart sank. I hadn’t considered what all this meant for Lisa. She hadn’t spent the last fifteen years wondering what it’d be like to be out in the world. Her entire plan wasn’t to leave this place. She wanted true freedom, the freedom to go home and be accepted again. The way we’d been when our parentswere still alive. The Morrow girls weren’t bad seeds. We were dealt pretty fucked-up cards when we were young. The town had to know that. Lisa was right. Her plan was the only plan. Fuck her parole hearing.

“I will do this for you.” I nodded, leaning forward in my seat. “I will find the tunnel again and get the evidence you need. I promise.”

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