Page 30 of Subtracting the Heart

He slipped on his sneakers, which had been relieved of their laces the previous night when they took his belt. He’d been given an itchy wool blanket to use on the awful metal bed, which offered no comfort at all. Cade knew prison wasn’t Club Med, but couldn’t they afford cotton?

Cade refused to think about how many other people had slept with that same blanket because he doubted it got a washing. As he considered a number of bodily fluids, which could be present in its fibers, he wanted to throw up.

He used the toilet without thinking because there was no privacy at all, and after, he washed his hands with cold water—no soap—and attempted to rinse his mouth. There was nothing but the ratty blanket to dry them on, so he did, leaving behind his own DNA with the hundreds of others who had used that same covering over the centuries.

You and your brilliant ideas!He tried to adjust his hair in the scratched piece of metal that was supposed to pass for a mirror over the sink.

It had been a spur of the moment thing to go pick up the boys’ clothes and the perishable meals at the shelter, and Cade hadn’t thought through the ramifications if he happened to stumble into a police officer.

All Cade wanted was for the boys to feel a sense of security, and having their own clothes and the food they’d helped Bev prepare seemed a way to provide it. So much for that bullshit.

Cade supposed he should pay for the breaking-and-entering charge he’d heard the uniformed cop mention to one of his colleagues. Cade had been crying in the back of the police cruiserat the time. He did, after all, break into the place. The road to hell was paved with good intentions. Nobody got a break on good intentions.

A squeaky cart was being wheeled down the hallway, so he stood to see a uniformed policewoman with a tray full of brown bags. She didn’t look happy to be working on Christmas morning—no more than he felt at seeing her.

She tossed a bag into each cell until she got to his. “Kincade Hayes?” She was studying a list in her hand.

“Yeah. Yes, ma’am.” Cade stepped closer to the bars.

“I’ll be back,” she told him without giving him a brown bag. He watched as she worked her way to the end of the hallway where she stashed the cart in a small room.

She returned, amidst a few nasty comments by some of his fellow inmates calling her unappealing names. She stopped in front of his cell. “Turn around and stick your hands through the opening.”

Cade complied, but when he felt the cold metal of the handcuffs on his wrists again, he wanted to cry. If it was time for him to go to the county jail, he sure as fuck couldn’t show up with red eyes. He’d seen enough episodes of police procedural and prison shows to know he’d be fresh meat anyway. Being a crybaby wouldn’t help.

After his hands were secured, the policewoman released his cuffed wrists. “Step forward.” She then yelled, “Cell five on the gate.”

Cade didn’t know what that meant, but when the door started opening, a shiver ran down his spine. Maybe he’d write a book about his incarceration. He knew for sure he’d be fuck out of a job after being found guilty of robbery, or burglary, or whatever it was called.

He’d already made up his mind to use the time in jail as a reflection period on his life. Maybe he could help some of theinmates get their GEDs or start college courses if they desired. Perhaps Cade could trade tutoring services for protection, or it might be an opportunity to learn a trade because any type of professional job would be out of his reach with a prison record.

“Come on, kid.” The woman took Cade’s elbow to drag him down the hallway. He had to shuffle to keep his shoes on his feet because at the rate the woman was dragging him, he doubted she’d stop to retrieve a lost one for him.

Cade was certain he’d have to walk out into the snow to get the bus on the way to his new life on theinside. God, he hoped his newdaddywas kind. Based on what he’d seen on his favorite show about an outlaw motorcycle club, that was a pie-in-the-sky wish.

“On the gate,” the woman yelled and a large, barred door opened. Cade was led over to a room with several windows. The woman had a key and opened the door, pushing him inside.

“Hands through the door,” she told him as she opened something resembling a mail slot. Cade did as she ordered, happy to feel the heavy handcuffs removed from his wrists.

When she walked away, Cade shuffled over to the table and took a seat in a plastic chair. It was a white one like one would find at a discount store, and the table was metal and fastened to the floor with long bolts. Glancing around, he saw there wasn’t a toilet or a sink, so a drink of water was definitely out of the question.

It was probably for the best since he knew he’d get strip searched and hosed down with some sort of disinfectant and delousing agent when he got to the jail. He’d seen it in a TV show—or was it a documentary regarding POWs in the second World War? It all looked like a big fucking nightmare.

For an hour, he sat in that small room with no contact from anyone. It was just him, stewing on the path his life had taken. Cade wondered if he hadn’t been so stupid as to run off when Jaxand Ford got engaged would his life be different? They’d have surely adopted him by now, and he’d probably be working at the club or for Jax, which reminded him of the previous day and what had happened at the game.

Cade reached into his back pocket and pulled out the envelope the detective had given him with a note inside from Ford, telling him they’d try to get him out as soon as possible. It also told him Jax had a broken leg, but it wasn’t maiming. That was good news. Jax would be able to live his dream of having his own chain of fitness centers after he got through his rehabilitation. That was a good outcome.

Cade wondered if either of them would come to see him in prison, or would they try to put him behind them? It would be best if theydidforget about him. His future was over; theirs was just beginning.

He rested his arms on the table in front of him and leaned forward, resting his forehead on the back of his hands. He was so tired, having not slept much the previous night. The other prisoners were loud and shouted obscenities all night. Cade figured several of them were drunk, but they’d kept him awake, nonetheless.

Hoping he’d fall into a dreamlike state and remember the good times in his life, Cade had tried to rest, but unfortunately, the place was too fucking loud for him to close his eyes for fear of someone sneaking up on his cell and somehow harming him. Sleep never came. He guessed it was his new reality, so he needed to adjust to it, like it or not.

In his head, Kincade began compiling the back notes for his novel regarding his life inside the walls of Satan’s waiting room. He wondered how long he’d be incarcerated. He hadn’t taken anything of real value, and he knew there was some cutoff between petty and grand larceny if that was what he was facing. The not knowing was killing him.

The clanking of gates opening and slamming caught his attention before the door to the room opened, Cade’s mother and Lionel Rawlings walking inside. His mother looked shocked, and he hated for her to see him in such shit shape, but he’d done the crime.

“Hi, Mr. Rawlings. Is this a conflict for you?” Cade stood and extended his hand to the lawyer.

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