AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Four years. I’ve gone four years without knowing a thing about her. I think I’m good. And don’t push it. I’m not interested in someone who can just disappear when times get tough.”
“Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Mitch drummed his index finger on the steering wheel. “What about Mom?”
“She’s in Fox Lake?”
“No. She’s up in Twin Village, but she said she wants to see you. Wants to cook us dinner.”
“I don’t think Mom would be the best influence for me right now. How many drinks is she averaging per day right now?”
Mitch scoffed. “So, what exactly do you plan to do when we get home? You don’t wanna see Marilyn or Mom. What’s the game plan?”
“I gotta meet with my parole officer for my initial check-in. That’s the priority over anything else right now.”
“Imagine that.” Mitch pulled out a cigarette and lit it, offering one to Michael, who gladly accepted. He didn’t want to pick up the nasty habit again, but it was something that wasn’t prohibited.
“Imagine what?” He inhaled the smoke, savoring the flavor and burn in his lungs before exhaling a long stream into the cab.
“We don’t have a damn Wal-Mart. But you can bet we have a parole office. That tells you a lot about our quaint and humble mountain town.”
Michael couldn’t help but laugh. It was true – a town of just over six thousand people had plenty of churches and a parole office, but no Walmart or much to do aside from getting drunk and making bad choices.
“It’s so good to see you, Mitch.” He took in the view – desert mountains transitioned to pine forests blanketed across foothills and taller peaks. “It’s so good to see these mountains again.”
Chapter Two
“Michael Brennan here to see…” he pulled out the paperwork with the name of his parole officer typed at the top. “Here to see Rosie Kemp.” How would having a female PO go? He’d never had a PO before, so he didn’t have anything to compare it to.
“Sign in on that clipboard and put the time you arrived. Have a seat. She’ll be with you soon.”
Michael did as he was told and made sure to take a picture of the clock and a good portion of the waiting room. It wasn’t something he would’ve thought to do, but a lot of the repeat offenders he met inside had advised him to obtain proof of any time he attempted to visit with his parole officer. One guy claimed he waited hours for his appointment, only for them to cancel, and then later claimed he never showed up. It was an automatic revocation back to prison over a lie.
Michael wasn’t sure how true the story was. One thing he learned fast about being behind bars was that there were far more fabricated stories than things that happened. But for safe measure, he took a photo. The picture wasn’t the best – he was using a pay-as-you-go burner phone to hold him over until he got a new account with a real phone carrier.
“Michael Brennan.”
Looking up, he spotted a woman dressed in a floral shirt and black khakis. She was short and had tight curly brown hair. From first observation, he figured she was going to be tough. She wasn’t overly attractive or had lots of makeup on, and her curves gave the vibe that she ate what she wanted and didn’t care what anyone else thought about her. Michael tried to think of something else. Her body type and attitude weren’t a factor. Her willingness to work with him was what was important.
He followed her back to an office, and she motioned toward a chair on the other side of her desk. She tapped the mouse and typed something before ever saying another word.
“Right on time, Mr. Brennan.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I like punctuality.”
Michael noticed the college diploma on the adjacent wall. She held a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice. There were no pictures of family. That was standard for people working in the field – no one inside the prison had many personal photos up either.
“Yes, ma’am. I do, too.”
She typed something else into the computer. “You have your parole stipulations?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“No drugs. No alcohol. Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous meetings, and you need to see a counselor.” She glanced at her screen. “I need you to find employment. Sooner rather than later. And you also have a curfew. Did they put a curfew monitor on you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Hmm… I’ll have to do that here. Or I can give you a chance to prove yourself without one. The choice is yours. You are required to be home between the hours of eight PM and eight AM. If you find a job that needs you there earlier or stay later, just let me know and we can adjust it. If you show me you’re doing well, we won’t worry about the monitor. I will show up randomly to make sure you’re where you’re supposed to be. I don’t work just an 8:00 to 5:00 schedule. You have to prove yourself to me. I’m not a pushover.”
