Chapter 10: Shane
Fucking shit.
I swore I would never wear handcuffs again. As much as I wanted to run and as much as I wanted to fight for my freedom, I just couldn’t do it. There was a time when I would have loaded up every single one of my guns and fought to the death to avoid going back to jail, but I no longer craved death over incarceration.
Time to face the fucking music.
Incarceration would be temporary, but there was life on the other side, even if it wasn’t the one I truly wanted. I never dreamed when I went to save Heather that it would turn into a national news story. Even with that realization staring at me behind the iron bars of my cell, there wasn’t a damn thing I would have changed. I would have spent the rest of my life behind bars to keep her from dying in that storm.
I had one final pitch to throw at her before she drove way—one proposal that I hoped would change everything. All hope of making her mine for eternity faded when I saw that news story. I doubted she would even speak to me again when she saw the news story. Even if she made it home without turning on the radio, she was going to find out eventually. I just hoped she made it home safely before the illusion was shattered. It was easy to forget why I didn’t want to be found when she was in my arms, but I had been a fool to think she could be mine forever.
“I don’t like this.” I lifted my head when Sheriff James Anderson walked into view with a solemn look on his face. “You’re a fucking hero, Shane. That girl would be dead if it wasn’t for you. You have been nothing but a damn upstanding man since you moved here and I’m going to tell those motherfuckers that.”
“Thank you, Sheriff.” I nodded and sighed. “I made some mistakes a few years ago.”
One very big one—the one that would cost me my freedom.
“Fuck that. Every man watching the news knows they would be tempted to do the exact same fucking thing you did if they were in your situation. You had just found out he was fucking your wife before the divorce was even mentioned.” He spat at the floor.
“They would be tempted, but I actually did it.” I shook my head angrily. “Unfortunately, some of the charges and the medical conditions he claimed were just made up.”
“Yeah, I think anyone who heard them would believe that. If you could give a man permanent concussion symptoms and PTSD from one punch, I think you’d be a professional cage fighter with a championship belt around your waist. The story just makes him sound like a bitch. Try to get some rest. They’ll be here for you tomorrow.” Sheriff Anderson walked back towards his office.
I stretched out on the hard cot and stared at the ceiling. I hadn’t heard the latest news story about who I really was, but I could imagine what they were saying. I knew what I had done. I remembered every bit of it in vivid detail, from the anger I felt when I found out to the rage that engulfed me when I swung my fist in a blind attempt to quench my thirst for vengeance. It was like watching a movie in my head where the star was someone who looked like me, but had a completely different mentality on life than I did back then.
***
MORNING CAME AND I was escorted to a police car by two officers with reporters all around me. Wolf Creek had never had the attention of the national media before and I hated being the one that brought the negative spin on what could have been a very positive boost in tourism. I hoped we would make the trek by car, but when the police car pulled into the airport, I knew they were taking me by plane.
Fuck. I hate flying.
I sat at the back of the plane while people whispered about me. The words they said were both negative and positive. It seemed like some of them felt my actions deserved to erase my past. I knew that wasn’t reality, but it was nice to hear. I tried to close my eyes and get some sleep, but the roar of the plane just wouldn’t let me rest.
I really hate flying.
The storm was gone, but there was enough turbulence in the air to make it bumpy. I looked out the window and saw the sprawling lights of the city below me. I never wanted to see so much overpopulation again, but I didn’t have a say in the matter.
“Come on.” One of the police officers took me by the arm when the plane came to a stop at the terminal.
The city appeared before me when we exited the airport. All the bright lights, the artificial colors, and the dulling of nature was just as awful as I remembered. And the air smelled like shit. It didn’t get any better in the six years I was away, and I certainly didn’t miss it for a moment. I caught a glimpse of a television screen and saw my ex-wife for the first time in years, talking to a reporter outside of the home we used to share together.
She was standing there with my replacement at her side. At least she did stay with him; it was the same guy I attacked. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but she seemed to be angry. She looked old with the shimmer of youth gone from her eyes. I didn’t see a single trace of the woman I once loved behind her hollow expression.
Damn. Life hasn’t been kind to you.
The caption at the bottom of the screen made it seem like a nationwide manhunt had been going on for six years, but I knew the truth. I was a forgotten man before I saved Heather. My actions had brought me back into the spotlight and it was the only reason they gave a damn about me or the charges that had been pending. I was basically hiding in plain sight, using my real name, and relying on the fact they didn’t care enough to look to stay out of jail.
Maybe that was a mistake.
After spending the night in a jail cell surrounded by drunks, I was taken to a small room to meet my lawyer. I hadn’t hired a lawyer, but I assumed someone had sent a public defender my way since I didn’t bother trying to get one. I could have afforded it for sure, but there didn’t seem to be a reason since it was pretty damn clear I was guilty.
“Mr. Black.” He entered the room. “I’m Amos Livingston.”
“Just let me plead guilty and get this over with.” I shook my head. “I’ve had enough of this circus.”
“Plead guilty?” He sat down at the table. “You obviously have no idea who I am.”
“You’re Amos Livingston.” I looked at him. “You just told me that.”
“Yes, I’m Amos Livingston...of Westbrook, Westbrook, and Livingston.” He opened his briefcase.
“Westbrook?” I leaned towards the table.
“Do you really think Heather’s father is going to let the man who saved his daughter serve a fucking day in prison? These motherfuckers are lucky he didn’t come out here himself and just start busting skulls.” He chuckled. “Legally, I’m not licensed to practice here, but that won’t be an issue because you’re about to walk out of here a free man.”
“How?” I narrowed my eyes at him, still a bit suspicious.
“These charges?” He threw papers on the table. “They’re all bullshit. You could drive a truck through their case. I know you haven’t been watching the news, but the people fucking love you. Women are praying they get lost in the snow just so you can save them. Men are wishing they had the balls to do what you did to that motherfucker.”
“I was young.” I shook my head. “It was stupid.”
“It was the heat of the moment. You were scorned. Who gives a shit, it’s been six years? Obviously, nobody gave a damn about finding you or they would have. You were living on land you owned before the incident happened, so it isn’t like you were hiding in fucking Mexico or something. Besides, everyone in Wolf Creek is ready to mobilize the town and come testify on your behalf. Your ex-wife wants nothing to do with this and her husband is ready to drop all charges. The last thing either of them wanted was to be caught up in this. As far as the public is concerned, they’re the bad guys now.” He pushed paperwork across the table.
“What’s this?” I looked down at the papers.
“Sign it and you’re a free man.” He folded his arms and smiled.
My freedom was in front of me. I flipped through the paperwork and tried to comprehend what it said. It was all sorts of legal talk with words I didn’t totally understand. After I finished flipping through them the first time, I had to start over at the beginning and try to really read it.
Why can’t they print this in fucking English?
It basically stated that I wouldn’t talk about anything that occurred between my ex-wife, her new husband, and myself. I would be bound by a confidentiality clause, because they didn’t want to be brought into the discussion. There was talk about book deals, television, and other stuff, basically stating that if any of it happened, I had to avoid all mentions of them. I was free to discuss anything that happened after I got to Wolf Creek, but nothing that happened before it.
Wow. Leave it to my ex-wife to just take a scorched earth approach to our past.
My life before that moment was pretty much erased. I couldn’t discuss the divorce, the reason for the divorce—hell I couldn’t even talk about my previous marriage. I couldn’t mention that she cheated on me. I couldn’t mention that the guy I caught her with was fucking her while we were married. It was clear that they wanted out of the spotlight and wanted to trade anything to get it. There was a time when I would have been more than willing to sign such an agreement, but there was something that didn’t sit right.
“No.” I shook my head.
“Seriously?” He unfolded his arms and placed them on the table. “Do you realize how hard it was to get that agreement put together in one day? They’re willing to drop everything! The District Attorney has agreed not to press charges, even though he can, because they won’t testify!”
“You’re my lawyer, right?” I looked up at him.
“Yes sir.” He nodded. “And as your lawyer—”
“Get your pen out.” I tossed the paper on the table, interrupting his sentence.
For the next hour, we carefully wrote down my terms. I wasn’t going to run from my problems. I was guilty. I was guilty of assaulting the motherfucker, and I wanted that to be known. It had to be public record. I wanted the accountability and if that meant prison, I would do the time.
If they wanted to avoid testimony, the price for that was my freedom, but there was no way I would let the past be completely erased. I knew it was foolish pride, but there was no way I was just going to pretend none of that ever happened to please them. I had no intentions of ever giving an interview, or talking to the press, so that part was fine, but they weren’t going to just pretend I never existed.
I didn’t feel like it was too much to ask for. I wanted to be left alone and I wanted to live in my cabin away from it all, but they didn’t get to decide who I was. My lawyer didn’t seem happy with the terms, especially when I had to be led back to my cell, but the next day I got word they agreed to what I outlined without question.
I talked with the District Attorney and entered my guilty plea, but since there was no testimony, they declined to prosecute it. A few hours later, I was sitting in first class on a plane heading back to Wolf Creek.
Fuck it. I might as well splurge since it’s the last time I’ll ever be on one.
“You’re him, aren’t you?” A stewardess moved her cart towards my seat. “You’re Shane Black.”
“Yes.” I sighed. “Can I get a whiskey?”
“Of course, absolutely.” She poured it into a glass and handed it to me.
“So, tell me...” She leaned in. “You didn’t spend all that time in your cabin just staring at the fire, right?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean...” She winked. “You and that girl? Have you heard what people are saying?”
“A gentleman doesn’t tell.” I finished my glass of whiskey in one gulp. “Can I have another?”
“Sure...” She poured another one and put it in front of me. “Well just so you know, I’m hoping there’s more to the story.”
You and me both, but that doesn’t seem possible anymore.
***
THE PLANE LANDED AND I got a cab back to Wolf Creek. I could have gotten one of the locals to drive me up the mountain, but I just had the cab drop me off at the bottom. I felt like I needed to walk and clear my head a little bit in the beauty of nature before I got to my cabin. The snow was mostly melted but the storm wouldn’t be our last taste of winter. I could already smell another one coming, but it didn’t seem like it would be as bad.
Too bad there won’t be a beautiful blonde goddess to keep me warm.
It felt good to be out in the woods when I started up the mountain and I didn’t care if it was going to take a while to get there. When I saw the cabin on the horizon, I was immediately met with a sense of relief. The years I had spent there wondering if there would ever be a time when I had to face the things I had done in the past were over. I was a free man and I was free on my own terms. There was a time when that mattered more than anything. The hands of fate had stepped in and gave me a chance to do that and I had Heather to thank for it.
I opened the door to my cabin and walked inside, immediately starting a fire. The bottle of whiskey on the counter called my name, but I didn’t even need a glass—I was definitely finishing the bottle. I sat down in my chair and lit a cigar as I unscrewed the top of the whiskey.
“Here’s to freedom...” I muttered to myself and took a drink.
The fire roared, the smoke rose from my cigar, and the whiskey settled into my veins. Everything should have been perfect. I was exactly where I had wanted to be with all the weights my past put on me finally lifted, but something was missing. Heather was missing.
She was immediately on my thoughts, consuming them in an instant. I had planned to make her mine and I had planned to do anything to accomplish it. I had no idea we would become celebrities. The world had nothing better to talk about in the wake of the storm, so they forced us into a role that neither of us really asked for.
I turned on the television and cringed when I saw the news still covering the story. It had been dramatized and exaggerated. They made it seem like she was frozen, to the point of death, and I spent the days nursing her back to health just so she could return to her family.
The real story is a lot better, trust me...
There were shots of her with them, the loving embrace of her parents, the cheers of her friends—everyone seemed so incredibly happy. When the image of Heather flashed on the screen, I saw something in her eyes. They reflected the same sense of loss that was present in mine.
I miss you too.