The Cat, The Devil, The Last Escape

27

LEE SAT ACROSS the visiting room as far away from Morgan and Becky as he could get, holding Sammie on his lap hoping she couldn’t hear Morgan’s pitch as he laid out their escape plan to Becky. Though the child would know soon enough, he thought wryly. If she hadn’t already dreamed of what they meant to do. Dreamed it, but had kept it from her mother?

Or had she dreamed of the outcome of their venture? But if she’d done that, now she’d be either tearful and grieving for Morgan or wildly excited that they would soon be free. She wouldn’t be the quiet little girl sitting snuggled and uncertain in his lap, leaning against him, her small hand in his.

There were only a few other visitors in the room. Lee watched a lean young prisoner and his pillow-shaped wife, their smear-faced toddler fussing and crying as they passed him back and forth between them. Neither they nor the other three couples seemed to be listening to Morgan’s soft, urgent voice.

Lee knew Becky would try to stop them, try to tear their plan apart. He watched her scowl grow deeper until suddenly she lit into Morgan, her whisper, even from across the room, as virulent as a snake’s hiss.

He didn’t like to see the two of them at odds but, more to the point, they needed Becky’s help, needed help on the outside to make this work. As the two battled it out, their angry whispers drowned by the fussy baby, Lee hoped no one could hear. If any rumor of a planned escape was passed on to a guard, he and Morgan would be separated, confined to their cells, maybe one of them sent to another prison, and that would end their plan.

Now, though Sammie still sat quietly turning the pages of her book, her whole being was focused on her parents’ whispered battle. Soon she laid down her book, pressed closer against Lee, her body rigid and still. Across the room, Becky grabbed Morgan by the shoulders, her fingers digging in. Lee rose, setting Sammie back in the chair. “Stay there, stay quiet.” But before he could cross the room Becky was up, moving toward him, backing him away from the others into a corner. Her whisper was like a wasp sting.

“What have you been telling him? What crazy ideas have you been feeding Morgan? No one can do what you’re planning.” Her dark eyes flashed, her anger a force that made Lee step back. “This will get him killed. Morgan was a patsy once. I won’t let him do this, this isn’t going to happen.”

Lee was shocked by the degree of her rage. “You won’t let him do this?” he whispered. “What right have you to let him do anything! Morgan is the one who’s in prison, not you. He’s the one who was framed, not you. He wants a new trial. There’s no chance without new, solid evidence.” He wanted to shake her, he had drawn close, the others were looking now; without the bawling baby they’d hear every word. “This is the only way I know to get new evidence,” he breathed.

He leaned over, racked by a fit of coughing, then faced her again. “Maybe Natalie Hooper will talk to your lawyer the way he thinks. And maybe she won’t.” He glanced across at Sammie, sitting rigid in the chair, her fists clenched.

“The best way to get real evidence,” Lee said softly, “is from Falon himself. Find out where he hid the money. Tell the bureau so they can retrieve it.” He swallowed back another cough. “The best way is to make him talk. And you won’t let Morgan do this?”

“He’ll get himself killed trying to escape. What good is that? You might not care if the guards shoot him, but I do. And even if you did get out,” she breathed, “even if you made it all the way to California without being picked up, which isn’t likely—even if you did turn yourselves in at Terminal Island and they kept you a few days, the minute you try to hustle Falon, he’ll kill Morgan. Don’t you understand how vicious Falon is?” Her jaw was clenched, her lips a thin line, her dark eyes huge with anger and pain. “What kind of scam is this, Fontana? What do you care if Morgan gets a new trial? Just because we’re related doesn’t mean I can trust you or that Morgan can. Leave him alone. Keep your nose out of our business.”

“I can do that,” Lee said quietly. “I can tell him the plan’s no good, that we’ll have to scratch it, and he’ll back off. He knows he can’t get out of here alone without help, without a partner. We trash the plan, and you’ll go right on visiting him here until he’s an old man. You two can sit on the couch holding hands, you can watch him grow bitter, watch him turn into an empty shell with nothing inside but rage. And watch yourself do the same. And Sammie will grow up seeing her father for an hour at a time, a few days a week at best, right here in this visiting room with iron bars at the windows. If you stop him from trying,” Lee said, “you’ll never sleep well again. You’ll never sleep with Morgan again, never hold him close at night.”

Beneath the anger, Becky’s look had gone naked and still.

“This is a pretty visiting room, isn’t it, Becky? The nice furniture and clean walls, the expensive carpeting, the plants along the window. And the rest of the prison is just as pretty and clean, it smells just as nice, and is just as comfortable and safe. We’re all just loving brothers in here, behind these bars and walls.”

She wiped at her eyes. “I know it’s hard, that it’s ugly, but—”

“You don’t know anything, you don’t have a clue. You wouldn’t last five minutes behind those doors.” Lee looked at her coldly. “That world in there peels away all the layers, lady. Right down to the worst ugliness you can think of, and worse than you can think of.” He choked and swallowed. “You don’t know anything about what it’s like in there, about what Morgan’s life is like. But that doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “You want Morgan to stay locked in here, maybe until he dies. He’s only a young man, but you want him to stay here until he rots to nothing for a crime he didn’t commit.”

She turned away, her head bowed. He put a hand on her shoulder. She was still for a long time. When she turned back, she faced him squarely, pale and quiet, her look so vulnerable that he wanted to hold her just as he had held Sammie. She stood silent looking at him until he started to turn away. Quietly she pulled him down on the nearest couch, sat facing him.

“What about the second appeal?” she said softly. “Why would you do this before we know if it’s granted?”

“There won’t be a second appeal without new evidence, no matter how hard Lowe works at it. The complaints you filed are supporting evidence, but not enough, not the kind of evidence you need for a sure win. Lowe knows that, that’s why he’s still digging.

“So far he has nothing. Morgan doesn’t think he’ll get it from Natalie and neither do you. Not the solid, irrefutable evidence he needs. Maybe he’ll find flaws in her story, inconsistencies, but that’s far from solid.”

She was silent again, looking down at her lap. As he rose to leave she looked up. “Tell me what to do,” she said. “Tell me how I can help.”

He hugged her and then settled back, his shoulder against hers, his voice so low she had to lean close. “We’ll need clothes, old jeans. Old shirts, nothing fancy or new. Old, warm jackets. Good heavy boots, waterproof if you can find them.” He found a scrap of paper in his pocket and wrote down his shoe size. “And money,” he said, “all the money you can lay your hands on.” He read her alarm at that. “At some point,” Lee said, “once we’re out on the coast, we’ll need to hire a lawyer.”

He watched Morgan rise to join them, sitting down close on Becky’s other side. “Get the clothes at some charity shop,” Morgan said. “Wash them in lye soap, we don’t want lice.”

“The other thing,” Lee said, “we need to know what’s on the other side of the wall. The train track has to be close, the whistles damn near take your head off, but we need to know the layout, what’s on beyond.”

“There’s a General Motors plant,” Morgan said, “a car distribution center. On behind that, unless things have changed, there’s an open field. But check it all out, see if it’s still the same, see how the field lies in relation to the wall and the track.”

Lee told her where to leave the clothes and money. “We’ll let you know later when to drop it. Once we’re out of here, there’ll be no contact. Morgan won’t be making any calls from some pay phone, the bureau boys would pick it up in a minute.

“Once we’re gone,” Lee said, “you won’t be finished with it, Becky. Make no mistake, the feds will be all over you, they’ll question you and question Sammie. Doesn’t matter that she’s just a child, they’ll try to drag information out of her, try for anything they think they can use.”

“Why do you want to go with Morgan?” Becky said. “If you stay here, you’ll be getting out soon.”

“I don’t know why,” Lee snapped. “Because I’m crazy. Because he can’t do it alone, he doesn’t know anything about hopping the trains, about avoiding the law. He doesn’t know anything much that will help him.” He took her hand. “Don’t tell Sammie any more than she’s overheard or guessed. Whatever she knows will put her on the spot. If she dreams this you’ll have to make her understand, make her swear to keep silent.

“You’d better start teaching her now,” Lee said. “Not to talk to anyone about this, not to your aunt, not to the maid, not to your mother. Sure as hell not to a bureau agent. Anything she says, even if it’s only a dream, an agent might run with it.” Lee glanced up past Becky toward the half-open door, at the shadow of the guard standing in the hall. “Morgan will let you know the rest, let you know the timing. We’ve been talking too long, I need to get out of here.” He rose and left them, and didn’t look back.

Telling Becky about the plan scared him, that she wouldn’t keep their secret, but they needed her. The idea of Sammie’s dreams disturbed him all the more, the thought that she might innocently let a hint drop, meaning no harm. But Sammie was a wise child. He told himself that with Becky’s help she’d learn to be still, would learn to lie for her daddy.