Page 66 of The Convict

Shuffling those papers again, he says, “Well then. Let’s get to it. Don’t want Mr. James to be late to his appointment.” He looks down at me and I don’t stop grinning. What more can he do to me that Finn hasn’t already done? “Will the defendant please rise?” Shane and I stand, facing the jury box. “Jury, have you reached a verdict?”

The foreman stands up, holding a piece of paper in his trembling hands. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“On the count of felonious escape, how do you find?”

Taking an audible gulp, he says, “We the jury find the defendant guilty.”

“On the count of kidnapping and false imprisonment, how do you find?”

“We the jury find the defendant guilty.”

I drop my head, but nod, knowing that was inevitable. Doesn’t stop me from feeling like shit that I put Finn in that situation. Still, had I not done it, I never would have met him. So, am I really sorry? My eyes shift to my cuffs and I think about his lies on the stand. Fuck, I probably should be.

Snapping me back to the proceedings, the judge asks, “On the count of capital murder, how do you find?”

“We the jury, find the defendant guilty of capital murder.”

Well, that’s what we figured would happen. Now we just have to wait for the sentences to be handed down.

The judge dismisses the jury and turns to me and Shane. “Well, Mr. James. Looks like your crimes have come back to bite you. No need to wait another day to sentence you, since you’re already in federal custody. On the count of felonious escape, I sentence you to ten years. On the count of kidnapping and false imprisonment, I sentence you to life in prison without the possibility of parole. For the count of felony murder, of killing a correctional officer,” the judge pauses and snatches of his glasses, rubbing his eyes, “for killing an officer of the law, you are hereby sentenced to death.”

I can tell my brothers are shouting behind me, but all I hear is white noise. Shane tried to prepare me for this, but I don’t think there was any amount of preparation that could have made me accept the fact that these fuckers would really sentence me to die.

I’m not sure what happened after that. Some more words were exchanged, Shane whispers something about an appeal in my ear and the guards drag me away. I don’t fight them.

My feelings are all over the place. Being in a maximum-security prison in gen pop is different than being locked down on death row. I’ll spend most of my days in a cell, only allowed out for a few hours a day, always alone. Always by myself. It might take the state years to actually put me to death. I could spend what feels like an eternity with myself as company.

That possibility is more daunting than I thought it would be.

Two months later…

The slit in my cell is opened and the guard sounds bored as he says, “You have a visitor.”

Nodding, I pull on my prison issued shirt and step to the door, putting my hands behind my back so I can be cuffed. After he makes sure they’re secure, he closes the flap and opens the door.

He walks me to the visitor’s booth, reminiscent of how Trenton did, but this guard doesn’t taunt me—he does his job and no more.

When we get to the booths, I see it’s Zeke. I grin, standing still as the guard takes off one cuff and locks it on a bar in the booth. He checks that it’s secure and steps back, allowing me as much privacy as he can give.

I pick up the phone as Zeke does. He doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Haven’t been able to find Sam. He seems to be in the wind.”

Shortly after my trial, a hangaround showed up to the clubhouse, black and blue all over with a terrible limp. She said she was beat up pretty badly by Sam, after she found out he was the one that called in the tip. She wound up in the hospital for a few days, on so many pain meds, she couldn’t make heads or tails of the conversation for a while. By the time she came to us, he was already gone. He even destroyed her phone so she couldn’t call anyone until he was gone.

I have to hand it to that fucker. He played it well. Instead of dropping the tip of my location and fleeing town, he stayed with the MC for a few more days. If only he kept his fucking mouth shut and hadn’t wanted to converse while he was getting his dick wet, he might have gotten away with it.

The hangaround said that he was pissed that I killed Telly, since they were friends from high school and always wanted to join the MC. I don’t give a fuck about that. He should have known better than to disrespect Fi—

Nope. I pull my lips in and shake my head. I will not think of that name. I haven’t said it in weeks. I don’t even think it if I can help it.

After so many weeks, I figured I wouldn’t wake up with a pit in my stomach at the thought of … him on that stand. I thought I would start to forget him, all the nights we spent together and the mornings he almost burned breakfast. Brushing my hair brings back memories, so I hardly do it. Even now, it’s like a bird’s nest. I’ll be forced to try to get through the knots tonight.

Exhaling, I nod. “Yeah, well, tell him I say hi when you catch up to him. I would have liked to see him before I came here.”

In other words: When you see that son of a bitch, you make sure you gut him and tell him I sent you.

Zeke nods. Unfortunately, he doesn’t care about me not wanting to think that name. “My guys have eyes on Finn.” I wince, not making eye contact. “If you want—”

“No,” I say quickly.

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