From the windows of the prison chapel, one could look out over the front gates and down the road that led away to the real world. Charles Merrick had owned homes in the most beautiful cities on earth, with views worth millions, but none stirred him as did the view from the chapel. In truth, it was an ugly, lonesome road, but he loved it, loved it enough to endure the daily services for the chance for five minutes at the window, daydreaming about the moment he walked free. In eight years gazing out the window, he’d seen maybe a handful of cars. Even on the holidays that drew more families, the modest visitors’ parking lot was never more than half-full.
Well, it was full today.
Up until the moment Charles Merrick stepped through the small door at the gates, he’d held to the belief that all the fuss about his interview was nothing but mountains from molehills. But the scene that greeted him outside Niobe Federal Prison lent him some sorely needed clarity. Merrick had never seen anything like it. Vehicles lined the circular turnaround in front of the prison. He searched them for a friendly face, but every set of eyes he met burned cold and hungry. Where was his transportation? Where was Damon Ogden?
“Friends of yours?” the guard asked.
From the roadway, a horn sounded, and Merrick flinched.
The guard smirked at him. “Guess not.”
“I don’t want to be a burden, but would it be permissible to wait just inside? Just for a few minutes?”
“Permissible? Jesus. No, it would not be permissible. Only guards and inmates beyond this point, and you, Sunny Jim, are a free man.”
“I . . . I want to visit a friend.”
“Nice try. Visiting hours are over.”
“Please. Just five minutes.”
“Well, ain’t you a greedy one? We gave you eight good years, but that’s not enough for you. But there’s no pleasing some people.”
“Call the police,” Merrick said and held out the twenty he’d only just been given.
“Call them yourself.”
Merrick contemplated punching the guard. Not in anger but because they would have to take him back inside the prison. As little as the idea appealed, he feared the parking lot far more. The guard swung shut the door before he could make a fist, and he listened to the guard’s muffled laughter through the gate, took a deep breath, and turned to face the road. Some men had left their vehicles and were leaning against them, watching him patiently. He didn’t know them, but they knew him. It reminded him of a nature documentary about seals trapped onshore, returning to the ocean despite the sharks that circled just beyond the breakers. Merrick marveled at the instincts it took to take that chance. Were they too stupid to know better? Or was it simple necessity that gave them the bravery to swim that gauntlet of blood and death to reach open waters?
Well, he wasn’t an animal. He didn’t have to make a run for it. He would just stay here by the gate. It was safe here; the guards couldn’t make him leave. He’d sleep here if necessary. Those men in their cars weren’t brazen enough to take him in full view of the prison. But what if the guards had been bought off? Merrick knew exactly how easy that was. Making a break for it might be his best option. He judged the tree line to be fifty yards away. Suddenly his suit became a liability, and he wished for a solid pair of running shoes. Even if he did make it that far, these men would run him down in the discreet shadows of the forest.
“Dad?”
Merrick spun in the direction of the voice and watched his daughter walk from the parking lot toward him. She wore a bright-yellow dress like something out of a dream.
“Chelsea?”
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Why are you here?”
“To see you. I’ve been waiting for you.”
Merrick tried and failed to make sense of it. He hadn’t seen his daughter since before the trial. She’d taken his arrest . . . badly. Unforgivable things had been said. And after, when prison had given him time to regret his words, either no one knew, or no one would tell him where she’d gone. He blamed his ex-wife for poisoning her against him, although Veronica claimed not to know where their daughter was either—as if he’d believe her. It had always been his intention to spare no expense to find his daughter and to send for her. But only once he was safely out of harm’s way. Not now.
“I brought your watch.”
She held out his Vacheron Constantin Tour de I’lle; it felt surreal to see the watch sparkle in the sunlight, since he’d only just been reminiscing about it.
“How?”
“I didn’t want the government to take it, so I hid it.”
“All this time?”
“Of course. For you.”
He put on the watch: even more beautiful than he remembered. Just like his daughter, who had grown into a stunning woman, made more so against the ugliness of the day. She tried to embrace him, but he took a step backward.
“Don’t touch me,” he whispered.
“Dad?”
“They’ll know. If they realize you’re my daughter . . .”
Her eyes widened. “Why do these people want to hurt you?”
“Because of—”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, cutting him off. “I have a car. In the parking lot. We can go anywhere.”
She took his hand as if to lead him away. His little girl wanted to save him. He beamed down at her and briefly considered it—whether her presence would shield him from what was waiting. He knew it wouldn’t. These animals wanted what was his, and he shuddered to think what they would do to take it. He should send Chelsea away now, before they got tired of waiting. Before they saw her as a weakness to exploit. But he was afraid to let her go, to be alone here. And it wouldn’t make any difference. His little girl wouldn’t leave him no matter what he said. She loved him too much to abandon him again. They’d face it together as a family.
A vehicle crested the far end of the road and came up fast on the prison. As it neared, Merrick realized that it was in fact four separate vehicles driving in tight formation. He felt a burst of relief. It was going to be all right. He was safe. The SUVs roared recklessly into the turnaround, circled, and pulled crisply to halt in front of him, blocking the entrance to the prison. A door in the lead SUV opened, and a stout, professionally dangerous man in a suit stepped out. He approached Merrick.
“What’s playing today?” Merrick asked.
“Wall Street,” the man replied and shook Merrick’s hand. “I’m Bo Huntley, Mr. Merrick. We’re here to escort you out of here.”
“How do we look?”
“Well, there’s a lot more traffic here than we’d anticipated, but we’ll be fine.”
“She’s coming with me.”
“Sir, she’s not part of the contract.”
“Then amend the contract. I’ll pay.”
“Yes, sir. Let’s get you squared away and be on our way,” he said and ushered Merrick and Chelsea toward the third vehicle, a stretch Escalade.
“Come with me,” he told Chelsea.
“What about my car?”