Model Prisoner
“Okay. Should I work at the desk outside the door?”
“You can do the files in here for today. There’s a phone on the conference table,” he says gesturing to a dark corner.
Throughout the day we talk about nothing, about everything.
“Did you do it?” he asks quietly, without looking up from his desk.
“No,” I answer simply.
“What happened?”
“The CFO of my charity is a smart man. He made it look like I stole all this money, but I don’t have it. It’s like it disappeared, as did David.”
“David? Was he your lover?”
“Ew, no, no, no,” I say, almost laughing.
“So, no?”
“No. I don’t have the right equipment for him, but even so, I would never mix business with pleasure. Never have, never will. Though I doubt I will have a career when all this is over.”
“Stranger things have happened,” he offers.
“I suppose so. I am finished with these. Is there anything else?”
“About yesterday,” he says.
“Yes.” He regrets it, I know it.
“I am not going to apologize for that.”
“Oh, good,” I say after letting out a deep breath I didn’t realize I was holding in.
“We will be doing that again and more, but that’s not what I wanted to say. When you were talking about your CFO, did you suggest a forensic accountant? They would have been able to suss out the paper trail.”
“Yes, I did. I told my attorney, but he said the prosecutors would never go for it.”
“What?”
“Yeah, he said they would never pay for that because it could prove me right and that they would never allow it as evidence if I paid for it.” Earl frowns. “What? Is that not right?”
“No, not at all.”
“That’s what he said.”
“Who paid for your attorney?”
“He took the case on pro-bono because all of my assets are frozen.”
“That’s fucked up, Victoria.”
“Really?”
“Very fucked up,” he says, writing something down on a piece of paper. “Did you plead guilty?”
“No. Not guilty, found guilty.”
“Did you testify on your behalf?”
“No, he told me not to. That the jury would see me as a poor little rich girl. What’s wrong?”
“I am not sure yet. Let me look into it.”
“Okay,” I say, looking at the clock. “I should go to the mess. I skipped lunch and I don’t want to miss dinner.”
He stands and walks over to me, pulling me into her arms. He kisses me again. “I promise I will get to the bottom of this.”
“You don’t have to do that, Earl.”
“I want to,” he says simply, before kissing me again.
“See you tomorrow,” I say leaving his office in daze.
Later that night, in my bunk with the paper-thin mattress, I think about him. I know that I have fallen in love with him and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. He’s so nice to me, I can feel how much he cares, and those kisses, forget it. Maybe I should do something to speed up the inevitable. I close my eyes and drift off to thoughts of being under that man.
Yum.
Chapter Four
Earl
The more I think about her case the more that I think there is something wrong with it. After work, I take her entire file out of the prison, something I’ve fired people over in the past and drive to my buddy, Kyle’s house. He’s the DA for Silver Falls. He’s home but his new wife Taryn is home yet.
“Hey, come on inside,” Kyle says after answering the door. “I got your message, but I didn’t hear most of it. What’s up?” We stand at this kitchen counter. I hand him the folder.
“I need your help with this,” I say as he opens the file.
“I’d say so. This whole looks like a fucking mess. The model?”
“Yeah. You’ve heard of her?” I ask. He gives me a look that says, “hasn’t everyone?” I nod and chuckle.
“Taryn says she’s innocent.”
“How can she tell?”
“The way she is with those kids,” he says shrugging.
“I think so as well.”
“Alright. I’ll look into it for you and get back with you this week.”
“Sounds good. We’ve got nothing but time, fortunately.”
“You like this girl, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Fucking crazy how fast it happens isn’t it?”
“How what happens?”
“Love. I’d know that look on your face anywhere.”
“I don’t even know her.”
“I don’t think you’d insert yourself into a situation like this, Earl. I think that a common misconception about love is thinking that you must know the other person and know them well. Sometimes your soul knows for you and the rest follows.”
“What do you mean?”
“Love by its very definition can’t be rational. It strikes when you least expect it. It could be seven seconds or seventy years. Who are we to judge?”
“I see your point,” I say.
“That’s about enough of that. Are you coming to poker tomorrow night?”
“Yeah, of course,” I reply thinking about the weekly game we play with other guys connected to law enforcement in town.