Page 11 of Duplicity

The bell rang down the hall, followed by a rush of feet. Conversation. Lockers slamming. The kids could never get out of school fast enough, although there were always a few who seemed content to linger. Their home lives were probably messed up. Not everyone was blessed with parents who cared about them or their education.

“I should go. The bell just rang.”

Romeo asked, “Meet me for lunch?”

Cat started to answer but caught herself before saying she had a “date.” An appointment was a better description. Or a meeting? He’d think she was seeing the department shrink if she said that. “I have a thing this afternoon.”

“Does it have anything to do with the fact Thursdays are visiting days at the prison?”

The place where the kid who shot her and killed her partner had been sent.

“Cat?”

She said, “I just want to see if he’s all right.”

“You don’t need to do that. There are family members of inmates who work every day to make conditions better so it’s humane.”

True, but it didn’t hurt to check. Make sure he wasn’t being treated like an animal. Whether it was for a mistake or a willfully committed crime didn’t matter. People had the right to basic respect, regardless. A sentiment some cops didn’t necessarily share.

“It’s not about the prison,” she said. “It’s about the fact he didn’t shoot me.”

“You’re one hundred percent certain of that?” He said it fast because he’d said it to her so many times. Enough that he already knew the answer.

“I’m hanging up now.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

His “see you later” meant a combination of “I love you” and “bring me dinner if you’re out later because I’m a helpless male who can’t feed myself.”

Cat hung up, knowing her “yeah, maybe” meant exactly that.

Their shorthand wasn’t always understood by others. But when Romeo had flat out told her he didn’t like her last boyfriend, there had been no confusion.

PastorTyler Cunningham of the local church here on Eastside that had broken away from the larger Benson Community Church hadn’t ever been good enough for Cat in her brother’s eyes. Now that it was over, she could spend the rest of her life analyzing and overanalyzing what happened between her and the guy who ran their youth ministry.

From the night they’d met at a big Christian music concert through the rush of multiple dates a week for months. The red flags hadn’t seemed like flags at the time.

Cat wrapped up her workday and signed out, then she drove her little Toyota over to the prison. It was for the best that she didn’t see Silas—Sie—outside the school. The last thing she needed was another relationship that would seem great on the surface but underneath held nothing resembling a solid foundation.

The drive was at least an hour, but to keep from getting sucked into thinking about the whole of what had happened, she flipped on a radio station that played sermons and turned up the guy with the Scottish accent.

When would she get what she wanted? To travel. To get married and have kids.

To have the work she did make a difference.

Most of all, to get justice for her partner.

All of it was in God’s control, but as happened so often, it seemed as if He held His hand closed when it came to her. Cat’s mom always reminded her to be diligent and faithful, but when it had been so long, it was hard to keep the faith.

She felt dry.

Like she was missing something that seemed to come so easily to others.

Cat took the exit off the freeway, whispering her prayers to the solitude of her car. She checked in at the prison and left nearly everything with the desk. No weapons. No phone. She’d worn plain clothes today, so anyone seeing her talking to the kid wouldn’t necessarily think she was a cop.

He dragged his limbs into the room, shackled hands and feet. The peace officer accompanying him connected the shackles to the other side of the booth. Thick clear plastic between them.

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