Marilyn paused, contemplating whether or not to cuff him. She looked up into Grant’s expectant eyes and searched them for a moment, finding only warmth and gentleness reflected there.
Clearing her throat, she muttered, “No cuffs. We’re walking just a short distance.” She unlocked the cell, and Grant hesitantly stepped out. Looking up at him and suddenly seeming to doubt her largesse, Marilyn added, “Don’t even think about making a move, though, Mr. Madsen, or I’ll have you on the ground so fast you won’t even know what hit you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he smirked, loping along next to the feisty shorty with his hands in his jean pockets.
Once Marilyn dropped him off in the interrogation room, she waltzed into an adjacent conference room where Jerry Stone sat waiting. “Okay, let’s synchronize watches,” Jerry said playfully, pinching the face of his watch on his left wrist. “Nine-thirty-seven … mark.”
Marilyn rolled her eyes and also glanced at her watch. “In fact, it’s nine-thirty-eight, Jerry. Just to make sure we’re on the same page, you’re saying Mr. Madsen is going to accept the prosecutor’s deal within five minutes, right? And if he does, I owe you twenty dollars. If it takes him more than five minutes to accept the deal, you owe me twenty bucks.”
“You got it,” Jerry nodded, looking smug.
“But what if he doesn’t take the deal at all?”
“Then he’s dumber than I thought, and his ass belongs in Gurnee.”
Inside the interrogation room, Grant waited until his attorney sat down before he took a seat as well. Nic was positively beaming.
“Grant,” she began. “The prosecutor just offered us a deal. A damn good one, I might add.”
“A deal? I thought I was going to have a hearing?”
“No!” she exclaimed. “Haven’t you been listening? The deal negates the need for a hearing or a trial.”
“Okay,” he responded tentatively. “So, what is it? The deal, I mean.”
Nic leaned in as if disclosing a juicy piece of gossip. “They’re offering one more year—”
“One more year?” he repeated instantly, sitting back in his chair. He felt undeniably relieved. He’d been expecting a much longer sentence. Carlo’s blood was on his hands.
One year without seeing Sophie. Could he do it? He seriously doubted the DOC would allow a parolee to visit him at Gurnee, and she had a good ten months left on parole.
One more year of his uncle’s intense worry while he was behind bars with his father. Could Joe handle it?
Despite his misgivings, Grant had to admit it would be quite liberating to know that in one year’s time, this whole ordeal would be over. Nic had expressed concern about a longer sentence if they ended up with a tough judge, and eliminating that nerve-wracking uncertainty would be quite a bonus.
Nic watched as Grant pondered the pros and cons of the deal, deliberating intently. He drummed his long fingers on the weathered wood table. Finally he asked, “Do you think I should take it?”
She squinted her eyes and peered at him as if he were the daftest, most dim-witted specimen in the universe. “Um, yeah,” she replied. “Your PO and Detective Fox think you should too.”
“They—they know about the deal?”
Again she shot him an incredulous look. “Of course they know about the deal—they were instrumental in getting the deal!”
“Wow” was all Grant could say.
“I’m good at what I do,” Nic asserted proudly. “But I’m not that good. To get a deal this sweet, we definitely needed their help to grease the wheels with the prosecutor, who agreed to knock the charge down to a parole violation: consorting with known criminals. You sure know how to win people over, Grant.”
He took a deep breath and rubbed his temples with his forefingers. He just wanted this to be over, and he felt quite alone at the moment. His attorney seemed thrilled with the idea, but only he knew what it would be like to serve another year in prison. “Maybe I should talk to my uncle about this first?”
Nic arched one eyebrow. “I’m sure he would tell you to take the deal, Grant. And once you do, you’ll be seeing him soon enough.”
Grant tilted his head. “They’ll let him visit me here again, ma’am?”
Her expression was equally perplexed. “Why would Joe come here?”
“To visit me before I’m transported.”
“Transported?”
Grant had the distinct feeling he was missing something. “To Gurnee?”
Nic sat frozen for a moment, then she burst out laughing. Grant was offended by her amusement, seemingly at his own expense, until she finally choked out, “N-n-not Gurnee! One more year of parole, not imprisonment. The deal is an additional twelve months of parole, to be added to your remaining eight months!”
He stared at her, speechless. “Parole? I—I—I don’t have to go back inside?”
Her face glowed with pleasure, heartened by his look of pure joy as the reality of his freedom sunk in. Reactions like his made her career well worth it. “You can leave here anytime,” Nic confirmed.
Startled by the immediate scraping of his chair on the floor as he bolted upright, Nic watched his eyes glow even brighter with happiness.
“I can go to Sophie?”
As he turned to fly out of the room, she called, “Grant, hold on! You have to sign these papers first!”
Almost to the door already, he spun around and returned to the table. Pointing to each signature line, Nic frowned. “You really should review these first. You need to know the conditions of the deal.”
“Who cares about the conditions—I’ll do anything as long as I don’t have to return to prison. Will you, um, mail a copy to me, ma’am?” he asked, frantically scribbling an illegible signature on each line.
“I think I can handle that. And it’s Nic, not ma’am.” She grinned, meeting his excited gemstone eyes. Damn, the man was hot. She found herself devising evil plans to dispatch this Sophie woman he’d mentioned.
Finishing his last signature with a flourish, Grant set the pen down and took her hand in his warm, firm grasp. “Nic, thank you.” He gave her a crooked smile, then spun on his heel, making a hasty departure.
As Grant emerged from the interrogation room, he was startled by Marilyn’s triumphant voice in the hallway, “I win!” She beamed at him while Jerry frowned as he peered at his watch.
“Ma’am?” he asked nervously.
“You took the deal, Mr. Madsen?”
When he nodded Jerry inquired grumpily, “What took you so fucking long?”
Grant started to explain, but instead just shrugged. He wanted to hightail it to the hospital as quickly as possible.
Marilyn answered for him, winking at Jerry. “Mr. Madsen wasn’t sure he wanted to see your sorry mug every week for another entire year, Jerry. It took him awhile to agree to that.”
“Thank you both so much,” Grant broke in. “Nic told me you were instrumental in getting the deal.” He wanted to ask them why they’d helped him, but he had more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. He nervously offered Jerry his hand. “Thank you, Officer Stone.”
Jerry pumped the extended hand, grumbling, “Now you have no excuse to miss our appointment tomorrow morning. I’ll harass you then.”