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“We’ve confirmed that Rourke is working for your father-in-law. They know Julia’s secret, and they are using it to coerce her into testifying against you.”
I palm my forehead as the last puzzle piece fits into place. “By threatening to turn her into the cartel.”
Carter nods. “Exactly. But we’ve been keeping an eye on her these past couple of days. I’m afraid to say, her life is in very grave danger.”
THIRTY-FIVE
JULIA
I stalk my sisters on social media. Both have children near Conrad’s age, and both would be excellent substitute mothers to my son. And he would be raised by family instead of strangers. I consider the logistics of flying him out to Texas. The nearest airport is in Charleston. But with Rourke on my tail, there’s no way I can get him there without being spotted.
Then there’s the matter of my family’s safety. The Six is ruthless. Having Conrad living with them places my sisters, their husbands, my parents, and their children all in danger. Since my family is out of the question, I have only one choice left.
Conrad is four years old. He will eventually forget about me and his father and everything that happened to us this year. He has a fifty-fifty chance of landing in a good home. A better chance of making it to adulthood than he would living with me on the run.
“How was Caroline today?” I ask Conrad when I pick him up from school.
“She’s still sad. I feel sorry for her. I was sad, too, too when the police took Daddy away.”
“Her father is going through a rough patch, but he’ll eventually be fine.” I pray that he will. Without my testimony, there is no case against Will.
While he naps on the sofa after lunch, I pack Conrad’s clothes in a small suitcase and store it in the trunk of my car. I sit in the chair beside him, committing the details of his face and tiny body to memory while he sleeps.
I’m a monster for even considering giving my child away. But I see no other way out of this mess I’ve made. I long for my mother. If only she could make this right. I pick up my cell phone to call her. I tap on her number. My finger hovers over the green call button. Rourke has probably bugged my phone. He would threaten to harm her if I don’t testify against Will. I set the phone down again.
It’s a dreary day, cold and rainy with a strong breeze blowing off the ocean. Around three thirty, I wake Conrad from his nap and ask if he wants to go to town for a hot chocolate.
He bounds off the sofa. “Yes! Please! Can we go now?”
“Sure thing! Let me get our coats.”
We bundle up in our raincoats and head out in the car. I cast frequent glances at Conrad. He’s smiling as he stares out the window. He’s thinking about hot chocolate. He has no idea what’s in store for him.
We linger over our tasty warm beverages at Corner Cup, the coffee shop located at the intersection of Main Street and Second Avenue. When I can no longer delay the inevitable, a few minutes before five, I take Conrad’s hand and lead him across the street to the municipal building, the same building where Will appeared in magistrate court twice yesterday.
“Where are we going, Mommy?” Conrad asks as we ride in the elevator to the third floor.
I left his suitcase in the trunk so as not to alarm him. I’m grateful he can’t read well enough to make out the writing on the door. Child Protective Services. The waiting room is crowded. I give my name to the receptionist, explaining I have a private matter to discuss with a caseworker, and take the only available seat, pulling Conrad onto my lap.
I look around the room at the other downtrodden women and their scraggly children. The women appear either angry or bored. The children have dirty faces, runny noses, and torn clothes. Some are crying while others doze in their mothers’ arms.
Burying my face in my son’s warm neck, I close my eyes and pray to God for strength and guidance. My heart crumbles into pieces. By giving my child away, I’m admitting failure as a parent. Everyone expects me to fail, but I will prove them wrong. I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I turned my husband in to the police, testified against him in court, and escaped Witness Protection. We were doing fine until I fell into this trap. This situation is not of my making. I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Luck is not on my side. I’m responsible for my own fate. Mine, and my child’s.
Conrad wraps an arm around my neck, pulling my ear close to his lips. “I don’t like this place, Mommy. Can we go soon?”
“I don’t like this place either, son. Let’s get out of here.”
Conrad slides off my lap, and we quickly exit the waiting room. Hand in hand, we hurry past the elevator, down the stairs, and out the front of the building. As we’re making our way to the car, I vow to stand strong against Rourke. I will refuse to testify against Will, and I will not leave town. If the boogeymen come after me, I will fight to my death to protect my child. I can’t guarantee his safety. But I can promise to do my best.
I’m scared out of my mind but feeling courageous in my ability to take care of my son when we arrive home to find our house has been ransacked. Broken dishes litter the kitchen floor and down feathers from knife-slashed pillows float about the living room. The refrigerator door is open and puddles of ketchup, spilled cartons of yogurt, and last night’s leftover turkey Tetrazzini cover the countertops.
Conrad tugs on my raincoat. “Mama? What happened?”
Before I can answer, a loud crashing sound echoes from my bedroom.
Clamping my hand over my son’s mouth, I walk him into his room and whisper in his ear, “Hide under the bed. Don’t come out until I tell you.” I watch him scramble under the bed before pulling the door closed on my way out.
Removing my gun from my purse, I press my body against the wall and inch my way towards my bedroom. I grip the gun tightly with my finger on the trigger and and brace my arms in front of me. I’m prepared to kill to protect my son.
