Chapter One: Gunnar

 

 

"Hey, Sorenson," the guard called. "You got a visitor."

Gunnar Sorenson swiped his mop across the floor one last time and leaned it neatly against the wall. He didn't have a lot of things to be proud of these days, but he was proud of this floor. It practically gleamed.

His ma always used to say if a job was worth doing, it was worth doing well.

... For all the good that advice had done him in life. Good thing she wasn't around to see him now.

"Sorenson." The guard's voice had a hard edge. "Today?" He jangled his cuffs meaningfully.

Gunnar smoothed down his orange coverall, held out his hands, and submitted wordlessly to being cuffed. Inside his chest, his bear snarled and paced.

We could break those flimsy things. We could be free!

Yeah, he thought back. Free to do what? Free to be fugitives, that's what.

We didn't do anything wrong! his bear growled.

Gunnar didn't answer. He'd tried to explain it to his bear, and he didn't feel like going through another round of their mutual failure to understand each other. Especially since, deep down inside, he agreed with his bear. He hadn't done anything wrong. Not morally wrong.

The trouble was, the law didn't see it that way.

So even though he could have broken the handcuffs, unleashed the enormous bear inside him, and made a break for it, he let the guard lead him out of the cell block.

A rattling noise made him look up. Here came good old "Hammer" Jones, on library duty today, pushing the bookcart. The other inmate nodded to him; Gunnar nodded back. He couldn't help himself; his eyes followed the bookcart wistfully. He wasn't the kind of guy who got library duty, though. Dropped out of school in the eighth grade and could barely read above a fourth-grade level—might as well face it, books and libraries weren't meant for guys like him.

"Eyes forward, Sorenson," the guard told him, and waited until he complied before unlocking the door that led out of the cell block to the visiting room.

With the bookcart out of sight, there was nothing to distract Gunnar and stop him from wondering who was here to see him. There wasn't anybody he could think of. In the three years he'd been here, he hadn't gotten a single visitor.

Not even Nils, who was the entire reason he was here.

Not for the first time (or the hundredth, or the thousandth) Gunnar pushed down thoughts of his brother. Nils was ... Nils. Nothing Gunnar did could have changed him, or helped him.

Even though he'd tried.

And he really doubted Nils was his visitor today. Nils wouldn't be caught dead coming inside a prison of his own free will. Not even to visit his little brother. Especially not to visit his little brother.

The guard opened the door to the visiting room. It was a plain, bare room, with tables and chairs bolted to the concrete floor. A few other inmates were in there already, mostly guys visiting with their wives and girlfriends. Gunnar averted his eyes, wanting to give them privacy, and scanned over the tables looking for who might be here to see him.

There was only one table with a visitor sitting alone, not already talking to someone. Gunnar had never seen this man before in his life, but as Gunnar's eyes met the stranger's, a sharp look of shock and recognition passed over the other man's face, and he stood up. Gunnar dropped his gaze and tried to study the other guy from the corner of his eye as the guard led him toward the table. One thing prison had given him was a well-developed ability to look at people without appearing to look at them.

The stranger was dark-haired and lean, though not slight by any means. He was shorter than Gunnar but looked like he could handle himself in a fight. Gunnar couldn't figure out what kind of person he was. He wasn't dressed up enough to be a lawyer, but he wasn't dressed down enough to be the sort of guy who typically came in here to visit a buddy; he wore a black button-down shirt and black jeans. His eyes were his most striking feature—light gray, piercing, and intense.

Gunnar's bear, already restless, bristled at that pale, probing stare. Gunnar pushed it down.

"Gunnar Sorenson?" the stranger asked.

Gunnar nodded.

"Sit," the guard told Gunnar. He sat, and the guard locked his handcuffs to a ring under the edge of the table. "Five minutes," the guard said, and left them alone.

"I'd shake hands," Gunnar said. He shrugged and rattled his cuffs. "But ..."

"Don't worry about it." The stranger had seated himself again. He didn't look either hostile or afraid of Gunnar; he just seemed wary. "Do you know who I am?"

"Not a clue," Gunnar said.

"My name is Deputy Ben Keegan. I used to be a big-city cop; now I'm with the sheriff's department in a town called Autumn Grove. And there's something I need your help with."

"You need my help, huh?" Gunnar couldn't stop himself; he gave a short laugh. "Yeah, sure, what the hell, Deputy. What can I help you with today?"

"You have a brother named Nils, right?" All the humor fell straight out of Gunnar's world, and the bottom dropped out of his stomach. When Gunnar didn't answer, Keegan gave him a brief, fierce smile. "Of course you do. You're the spitting image of him. What are you, twins?"

"He's four years older," Gunnar said. His throat felt tight. He imagined himself as this cop must see him: huge, muscular, tattooed, his blond hair cropped close to his scalp.

He knew he looked like a killer, even though he'd never harmed another person in his life.

"Has your brother been in touch with you since you've been in prison?" Keegan asked.

The tightness in his throat and chest increased, along with the sense of the walls closing in on him. "No," Gunnar said simply.

Keegan leaned back in his chair and regarded him. "Not even once. Not once in three years."

"You come here to rub it in or what?" Gunnar's voice came out harsh. He told himself it didn't hurt. Not anymore.

But it still did.

"Your brother escaped from prison," Keegan said. "Six weeks ago."

Gunnar felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He hadn't even known Nils was in prison in the first place. When Gunnar had gone inside, he hadn't been.

"You didn't know that?" Keegan asked, and Gunnar shook his head. "Well, there's more.  He's gone to ground and no one knows where he is, but I'm worried he's going to come after some people I care about. People who helped put him away the first time. So I'm here to cut you a deal, Gunnar. I'll get you out of prison, if you help me catch your brother."