His decision to save his child from a madman didn’t hinder his endeavor to free Monica from Col’s clutch, though. Just like Maddox did for Demi, Sean went to hell and back for Monica. He changed who he was to free her, and it appeared to work. Within months, Monica was returned to him. But unbeknownst to Col, she was carrying a stowaway. Kaylee was a byproduct of a brother willing to do anything to hurt one of his siblings, but in the end, she ultimately ended Col’s reign.
This will never be doctored in any report you’ll ever see, but the coroner determined that the bullet that ended Col’s life only yesterday wasn’t fired from any of the guns seized during a joint Ravenshoe PD/FBI sting. It came from an outside source. An outside source, I’m reasonably sure ended his father’s reign to ensure he couldn’t kill his granddaughter in the same manner he did his own child.
Ending a child’s life is already heinous, but when it’s done in the manner Col ended Kaylee’s life, there’s no room for clemency. He deserved to die.
The same can be said for Demi, but not in the physical sense. Her TBI presents the perfect opportunity for her to start her life afresh. Imagine how free she’ll feel if Dr. Nesser only reprograms her brain with the good parts of her life? It’s the ideal solution for her memory loss, and the reason for my impromptu across-country trip to visit a life inmate.
With Demi’s father deceased, and the whereabouts of her mother unknown, Maddox was the only good part of Demi’s life the past umpteenth years. We were hoping he was the key to unlocking Demi’s memories less painfully, but regrettably, instead of stumbling onto Prince Charming yesterday, I found a villain instead.
It isn’t as bad as it sounds. A quote I saw in a reader’s group one day said, “A hero would sacrifice you to save the world, but a villain would sacrifice the world to save you.”
In a way, that’s exactly the man Demi needs at her side. Maddox tried to save her with fairness. When that didn’t work, his moral compass pulled him in another direction.
That’s proof everything happens for a reason.
Impatience forced me into the underbelly of Wallens Ridge, but it was morality that saw me taking the blame for Maddox’s unexpected yet understandable lapse in judgment, and I’d do it all again tomorrow if forced.
My thoughts shift back to the task at hand when Demi asks, “Did you find him?”
I dump my coat onto the end of her bed before moving closer. “Find who?”
A ghost of a smile creeps my lips higher when Demi hits me with a stern sideways glare. For a woman with no memories, she has confidence by the bucketloads. It has me curious to see how she will flourish without the disdains of her past sullying her future.
“No,” I reply with a brief shake of my head. “He wasn’t who I thought he was.”
“Oh,” Demi replies, undeniably disappointed. I told her I was going to track down a man I thought she might know. She clearly remembers our conversation.
The distress on her face shifts to curious when I mumble, “But I did find someone I think you might like to meet. He’s a little bossy and probably hairier than you’re used to, but from what I’ve heard, he’s a fantastic companion.”
I wait until Demi is at the point of bursting with eagerness before I gesture for the only security officer brave enough to wrangle my new friend into submission to enter Demi’s room.
It takes Max half a second to slip out of his collar when he spots Demi across the room. He leaps onto her bed before covering her face with sloppy kisses. His affection for his owner doubles the size of my heart as does Demi’s joyous laughter. It’s a tear-producing scene that assures me I’ve made the right decision.
I can’t change Demi’s past, but I can hide it from her to ensure she has a happy future.
30
Maddox
Four years later…
Correctional Officer Brooks’s deep rumble booms through my ears when he opens the visitor door at Harbortown Correctional Facility. “Keep it short, Ox. Your all-hours-of-the-day-and-night visitors are worse than the ones who used to sneak into my room during my fraternity days.”
The sun beaming into the windows of the medium-security prison bounces off his white teeth when he grins about the memories popping into his head. Everyone in this place thinks he’s a surly bastard, but I see the man hiding beneath his hard exterior. He’s the giant teddy bear Demi accused me of being. He’s hard when he needs to be and soft when he doesn’t.
“Craps later?” I ask like my mood isn’t close to dropping off a cliff from my fifth memory of Demi this morning. It’s understandable I’m teetering on the edge instead of sailing over it. This one was a good memory. I can’t say the same about the ones that wake me in the middle of the night.
They say grief gets easier the longer it is. I say they’re full of shit. You might act like you’re doing fine, but in reality, you never catch a break. It’s always there taking up space in your head you wish you could use for something good.
It hasn’t stopped me from doing my part for my community the past four years, though. I just contribute from behind bars. I commenced an outreach program at Wallens Ridge that took in the new ‘fish’ in the pond and guided them away from dealings that would have seen them return time and time again. The success rate is high, and I can see it climbing when it’s implemented across states.
I didn’t lie to Justine last year when I said Harbortown is like a country club. I don’t share a cell, the food could be restaurant quality if I hadn’t been spoiled by Demi’s culinary skills, and the prisoners aren’t shackled a majority of their day. We’re like RSPCA-approved chickens on a farm. Free, yet somehow still contained.
Brooks lifts his chin before he slaps his hand against mine to seal our agreement. He lost two packs of cigarettes and a carton of Coca-Cola last week. To the inmates here, that’s the equivalent of an ounce of coke and the choice of a female inmate for ten minutes in Wallens Ridge. He won’t be able to show his face around here if he loses again this week.
My swagger into the visitor hub slows when I spot who’s come to visit me. Yes, I said swagger. I’m no longer the gun-banging, shank-wielding gangster I was forced to be at Wallens Ridge, but notoriety is an invaluable asset. I’d be a fool to give it up.
“Agent Machini, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
