Stu fell silent.
“She’s the principal witness in your case,” Johnny told him something he knew. “She can’t leave town. She can’t get clear. She can’t be free. And you’re forcing her into a situation where she has to testify against her own brother.”
He was.
Stu had pled not guilty to all charges.
He’d done it even though there were witnesses everywhere. The lady across the street at the daycare center. A female clerk in a Gamble Garage, of all fucking places, where he bought a jar of baby food, holding a crying Brooks to him, this caught on security film.
There were also his fingerprints at the shack. And getting in a high-speed chase in a car he’d stolen. Not to mention, striking up a relationship with a bank teller in a town where he didn’t live, but he did have enough good in him (and stupidity) to write her a fucking note that said, I’m sorry, baby, before he fucked her and her kid over, robbed her bank and skipped town.
Last, there was his sister who he forced to be a material witness to all of that . . . and more than likely a lot more Johnny and the cops didn’t know about.
Shandra stood at Johnny’s back for one purpose.
To put the heat on her brother to do the right thing.
For once.
“You fight this, I talked to Cary. They’re pissed at your plea, Stu,” Johnny told him. “You take county resources to try you, you’re gonna lose and the judge is gonna throw your ass in the joint for a sentence that’ll mean you’re trapped for a long fucking time.”
“I’m comin’ out of my skin in here, Johnny,” Stu whined.
“Then you shouldn’t have robbed a bank, stolen a car and kidnapped a baby, Stu,” Johnny pointed out the obvious.
Stu did the darting of the eyes thing again between Johnny and Shandra standing behind him then said, “I screwed you over. You and her. But she’s the only thing I got.”
“She was the only thing you had but just like you made it for me, you lost her.”
Stu read the wrong thing in that and leaned in again, eager, fierce. “She loves you,” he whispered in the phone. “She never quit.”
“We’re not talking about that.”
“At least I can go down knowin’ I fixed one thing I broke.”
Johnny felt his jaw tighten, he gave it a beat, and only when he had it together did he speak again.
“This world, Stu, does not revolve around you and your hurts and your bullshit and your anger and your fuckups. This is not about you. This is about your sister. She has to get out of this town. She has to get out from under your shit and your history and your anger. She has to get away from those two predators who call themselves your parents. For once in your miserable life, think about someone other than you. Think about someone who laid it all on the line for you.”
Stu sat back. “So you want me to think all this,” he swept his hand in front of him to indicate Johnny with Shandra, “isn’t about that new piece you’re tagging.”
Johnny fought his jaw tightening and bit out, “No. You’re in there and you’re going down whether you fight it or not and the nightmare you forced them to endure is done. Yours is just beginning, and as usual you’re dragging your sister right along with you. Now you got a choice and I’ll put this in terms you’ll understand. Cary says if you change your plea, they’re still open to bargain with you. It’ll mean a reduced sentence. You got an hour to make that call. That hour’s up, you go on trial and the cops and the DA are so pissed, Stu, they’re gonna come at you with everything they’ve got and they’ve got a lot. They’ve shared with me that the kidnapping charge will get you twenty years. The robbery charge, since you used a gun, will get you twenty-five. And the DA is gonna push for those being served non-concurrently, which, not taking into account the car you stole, means you’ll get out when you’re seventy-seven years old.”
Dread filled Stu’s face but Johnny wasn’t done with him.
“And not that you give a shit, but they’re so pissed, they’ll consider Shandra going on the run with you as her not only receiving but concealing money taken from that bank, and she’ll go on trial and face ten years.”
Stu jerked forward in his seat so violently, the cop at the door watching him went on alert, putting his hand to the baton on his belt.
“They can’t do that!” he shouted.
“An hour,” Johnny said. “Your call.”
He started to put down the receiver but heard Stu shouting agitatedly, “Johnny! Johnny! Johnny!”
He put the phone back to his ear.
“Let me talk to my sister,” he demanded.
“She’s done with you.”
“Please, brother, let me talk to my sister.”
Johnny stared into his eyes. “You’re wasting time.”
Stu stared back, he did it almost desperately, like looking at Johnny could make all he’d done disappear.
Then he said, “I’ll change my plea.”
Thank Christ.
Johnny nodded.
He put down the phone.
He got out of his chair.
He turned to Shandra, put a hand to her elbow and guided her out of that room and the jail.
They stopped at the front steps and turned to each other.
“He’s gonna change his plea,” he told her.
Her shoulders sagged and he had a feeling they sagged not because she was now free, but because Stu would suffer less.
He got that. He loved Toby that much, if Toby had turned like Stu had done he’d feel the same way.
Those desperate hours not knowing where Brooks was, he also didn’t get it at all.
“I gotta go,” he told her.
She tensed and seemed to lean toward him.
“Johnny.”
“This gets sorted, Shandra, get outta town. Find your happy.”
She shook her head and said solemnly, “You have to know how sorry I am for everything. Really everything, Johnny.” Her face started to crumble but she was Shandra. She’d lived through a lot, too much. She didn’t crumble easy. So she sniffed through her nose, pulled it together, and whispered, “Everything.”
“I know that, Shandra,” he said quietly.
“I really did love you,” she told him.
“I know that too,” he replied.
“Not to . . . I mean, I know you’ve moved on, so not to make this anymore awkward than it already is, which seems impossible, but here it is. I always will. I’ll always love you, Johnny Gamble.”
He dipped his chin and whispered, “You get out from under all of this, start somewhere fresh, find your happy, you’ll find someone else to love.”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely. Just . . .” he drew in breath and put his face closer to her, “use what we had and do it better next time.”
She rubbed her lips together and nodded, and he remembered he used to think that was cute. If he had his shot, he would always kiss her after she was done doing that.
It was still cute.
And he hoped the guy that came next would think that too.
“Stay safe and be happy, sweetheart,” he murmured.
“You too, baby,” she murmured back.
He looked into beautiful eyes, what seemed a very long time ago he thought he’d be looking into until his dying day.
Then he smiled at her and walked away.