and not wonder why no one looped her into their personal lives.
Cash took a deep breath. “Whatever you say, boss.”
He sounded sad and a touch of compassion brushed her. He seemed to be enjoying the view. What harm would it do to stand out on the balcony for a few minutes?
“I guess you aren’t married,” Cash said.
Prying, but she allowed the question. “I’m not married.” She had once been close to being someone’s wife, but it had been years since she’d dated or had much of a social life. Since the heartbreak of her broken engagement, she’d changed focus and had sacrificed a private life for her career. She now enjoyed being alone. She liked her space and preferred to do whatever she wanted with her free time and not feel guilty about working late.
“I was married once,” Cash said.
A personal conversation was unnecessary. She didn’t want to share details of her own misadventures in love. “Why are you telling me this?”
“You said you’re worried you can’t trust me. I’m giving you a reason to trust me.”
“That reason is what?” Lucia asked. “That you convinced some woman to marry you and now she has to live as your ex?”
“Not ex-wife. My late wife. She died in a car accident.”
She was a jerk of the worst kind. She’d gotten prickly and snarky and run her mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Cash held up his hand. “Please don’t apologize. It was years ago and I’m okay now. But we have a son.”
Benjamin hadn’t said anything about Cash’s personal life and Lucia found herself riveted by what Cash was sharing with her, even as traces of doubt slipped through her thoughts. “Where’s your son?” she asked, scared of the answer. Cash had been in prison. His wife was dead. What had happened to the little boy?
“He lives with my wife’s mom. If I stay out of trouble and make a life for him, the court may let him live with me. That’s how you know I won’t betray you. My son is my life and getting him back means everything to me. Next time you worry about me running away, know that I have everything that matters riding on making this job work.”
* * *
Cash hated being chained to the FBI office in Washington, DC, and he hated the place where he was living. He hated being a free man in name only. He hated his crappy motel room where he was forced to live. He hated the tiny stipend the FBI paid him that kept him from enjoying any part of life. But most of all, Cash hated being away from his son. Adrian lived in Seattle, Washington. He was ten years old, a fifth grader, and he loved soccer and martial arts. Thank God Helen had written Cash weekly, sending along pictures of Adrian while Cash had served his time in jail. Those letters and photos were the only possessions Cash cared about. Adrian had visited him once in prison, but the visit had given the little boy nightmares for weeks after, and Cash and Helen had agreed it was healthier not to bring Adrian again.
Since learning he’d be turned out on the FBI’s release-and-reform program, Cash had been begging Helen to bring Adrian to DC to see him. Without money for the trip, and while he was living in a fleabag motel room, Helen thought Adrian was better off in Seattle. Helen had a life in Seattle and she didn’t have the resources or desire to pick up and move across the country, even temporarily.
At least Adrian’s cancer hadn’t returned, making the jail time well worth it. The experimental surgery and treatments had saved his life. Cash had broken the law and he’d made a deal with the devil, but his son was healthy. To his way of thinking, the end had justified the means.
He’d purchased a phone card from a nearby gas station and used the pay-per-call landline in his room to call Helen in Washington.
“Hi, Helen. It’s Cash. Is Adrian around?” Cash asked.
“Cash, honey, are you safe? I’ve been praying for you.”
He was as safe as he could be living in a motel that advertised hourly rates. “I’m fine. I’m hoping to have a better place by the end of the month. I’m saving every penny and as soon as I can, I’ll send a plane ticket to Adrian so he can visit.”
There was a heavy pause and then the sound of a door creaking open and crickets chirping. Helen had stepped onto her porch and out of Adrian’s earshot. “Cash, I’ve cared for and loved this boy for the last four years. I don’t feel right sending him across the country without me.”
Cash’s heart squeezed hard in his chest. She had legal rights to Adrian, but Cash had to have his son back in his life. He was tied to DC for three more years. Three more years lost of his son’s childhood. He couldn’t stand that. “Please, Helen. Don’t keep my boy from me.” He couldn’t keep his voice from breaking.
“I’m not keeping him from you. I’m trying to do what’s best for Adrian. He’s finally doing better in school and making friends. I can’t tear him away from that.”
Adrian was best with him. “Tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it.”
“We’ve discussed that. It’s not only your living situation and the money. It’s how he’ll feel about seeing you. You remember the nightmares he had after the last time. He doesn’t know you. You’re a stranger to him.”
He was a stranger to his son. It was a knife hit to the heart. “I’ll buy plane fare for both of you. Put you up in a hotel. Whatever you need for you both to be comfortable.” He was desperate and he knew he sounded it.
“Let’s start with a talk. Let me get him.”
Cash waited, feeling dizzy and sick. He had missed Adrian every minute he was in prison. It was torture being away from his son. If there had been any other way to save his son’s life and not break the law, he would have taken it.
Helen came back on the phone. “I’m sorry, Cash. He’s tired and doesn’t want to talk now.”
Cash squeezed his eyes shut. His throat was tight. “Thanks for asking. Please tell Adrian I love him and I miss him. I’m working on things here. I really am.”
“I know you are, Cash. I know you’re trying.”
He said his goodbyes and disconnected the phone. Looking around his room, he didn’t feel defeat. He would find a way. All that stood between him and his son was money and 2,700 miles. He’d close the gap. He had to.
He had a few hours until his 11:00 p.m. curfew, and Cash fled his room to walk alone on the dark street. He refused to think of the motel as home. The drug dealers that hung out in the parking lot made it unlikely that he could rest easy. The noise and constant fights in other rooms were disturbing. But, he’d been in prison for four years. Outside was good. Outside was the most wonderful place with fresh air and endless sky.
Cash didn’t have money for a cab and he didn’t have a car. The rules of his release prevented him from traveling unescorted farther than ten miles away and his movements were tracked by the FBI via the GPS tracking device he wore around his ankle. Benjamin would have a report emailed to him the next morning detailing every step Cash had taken.
He kept his pace brisk, loving the openness of the sidewalk. He saw a help-wanted sign in the
