CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE DAY THAT Cole Ferguson walked out of Travis County State Jail was twice as terrifying as the day he walked in. On that first day, he’d been unprepared to serve fifteen years for six counts of aggravated assault, but he’d been too young to understand how his life had changed. Both then and now, though, the threat of the unknown was enough to make a smart man shake in his shoes.
At twenty, he’d had zero sense and relied on a cocky certainty in his own skill to battle the nerves. Nearly eleven years later, he’d learned some hard lessons. No matter how bad things were, they could always get worse. In lockup, he’d followed the rules and never had to worry about food or where he’d sleep. As a free man, he stopped in the bright sunshine of a hot September day and wondered what he’d do if the one friend he had left didn’t show.
Figure it out. There was no other choice but to make his own way, head down, one foot in front of the other, for as long as it took.
They’d be his steps, his decision. He had control of his life again.
He’d imagined this day a thousand different ways, but raw nerves and the anxiety of overwhelming freedom were a surprise.
“Well, now, let’s don’t stand out here in the heat. Truck’s running.” Old Ephraim Walker was resting against the wall in the only shady corner beside the doors. Cole had been certain EW was as old as dirt when his grandmother had introduced them the first night he’d been dumped at her trailer “temporarily” while his mother looked for work. Apparently, she was still looking. The occasional birthday cards and Christmas phone calls had dwindled to nothing years ago.
“I thought you might have come up with something better to do on a day like today.” Cole held out his hand. “Can’t thank you enough for making the trip, EW.”
“I shoulda waited inside with the air, but the place gives me the heebie-jeebies, like all the sadness done sunk into the walls and no amount of good news gon’ get it out.” He shivered. EW’s shoulders might be slightly more rounded, but his hair was still white with a dark spot in the front, laugh lines still wrinkled his face and when he smiled, bright white teeth gleamed. “But you ain’t got to worry about that place anymore.” EW clapped a hard hand on Cole’s shoulder.
Four years ago, the first Saturday his grandmother had missed her monthly visit, EW had taken her place and delivered the bad news. His form of comfort had been the same as his congratulations, one hand on Cole’s shoulder. Since her death, they’d written now and then. His grandmother’s old trailer was under EW’s watchful care until Cole’s release.
“Needed to get out of the house, don’tcha know? Fish ain’t bitin’ in heat like this no way.” EW waved a hand in the air and headed for the beat-up truck idling in a parking spot near the front. Sweat was glistening on his brown skin by the time they slid into the truck’s front seat. “No thanks necessary, young fella.”
“Sure don’t feel young.” Cole’s body might be stronger than ever, but there was no denying that the weight of his mistakes had aged him. Maybe time and space would lighten the load. Otherwise, he could only keep putting one foot in front of the other.
“Young is relative, son. You oughta learn that.” EW’s rusty laugh was comfortable and reassuring. Cole’s world had ended eleven years ago, but he’d made it out the other side and there was still something to laugh about. He sucked in a gust of hot air. He could do this. He’d done harder things.
There wasn’t much to say as EW navigated the traffic around Austin and hit the two-lane highway that would take Cole home. The truck coughed and sputtered now and then, but the breeze blasting through the open windows covered most of the engine’s knocks. His grandmother had told him more than once that EW could make an engine sing. This truck was long past its life expectancy but still rolling.
As they puttered through Holly Heights, EW took the scenic route. “Few things have changed.” He pointed at Sue Lynn’s diner. “Best things haven’t, though.”
The Shop-on-In was still displaying the weirdest collection in the large front window. Every street corner had a church. And not one person in the small crowd of shoppers doing business on Main Street turned to point at the prodigal returning to the scene of the crime. When they reached the edge of town, Cole tried to chase away the dread building in his gut.
“Old Gulf station closed. Got one of those fancy places what sells fried chicken and ice cream now.” EW didn’t glance his way as they passed a bright gas station with twelve pumps and a neon sign advertising lottery tickets.
This place was a drastic change from the old-fashioned filling station he’d tried to rob at eighteen. That place had had four pumps and made more money from cigarettes than gasoline. Thinking that he could get enough cash to help his grandmother pay for the heart surgery she needed from such a dump qualified him for the world’s dumbest criminal contest. He would have been lucky to walk away with three hundred dollars.
Eleven years of his life and his grandmother’s respect flushed away for three hundred dollars.
At least he hadn’t shot anyone with the gun he’d borrowed from his best friend. Waving it around was bad enough. “World’s dumbest criminal, for sure.”
EW shook his head as he turned down the dirt road that led to the trailer park. “I’d say you don’t have the natural talent for breaking the law. Better try something else this time.”
“Good advice.” The sizzle of anger tingling around his edges made Cole uneasy. If only EW could have given him
