One Forgives as One Loves

Chapter One

WITH THE ABSENT TOUCH OF A FINGER, I traced the raised white scar on my forearm. The motion had become

a habit whenever my mind wandered, lost in thought. It was something which happened often these days. My mental countdown frequently took me away to a dark and dangerous place. Oddly enough, I found the soft caress on the reminder of the nightmare soothed me.

My eyes swept over the massive dirty red building. Despite the high walls made of brick and concrete and were topped with iron bars and concertina wire, I'd never had faith in their fortitude. Part of me never really believed in the supposed security of Cook County Jail. There was always a small nugget of doubt lingering in my mind.

Which was most likely why I usually found myself parked across from it at least twice a week for the last past nine and a half years.

The shrill ring of my cell phone jerked my attention back and I glared down at its spot on the console. The glare switched to a scowl when I saw it was my mother calling. The woman had the uncanny ability to always know when I was near the prison. With a sigh, I picked it up and steeled myself for the inevitable familiar conversation. I swiped and answered, knowing she wouldn't stop calling until I did.

"Yes, Mother." I propped the phone between my cheek and shoulder. I reached across the center console and grabbed my purse, hauling it into my lap. "What did you need?"

"By your tone, I'll assume you're at back at that awful place again."

I rolled my eyes and started digging through my purse, searching for my makeup kit. My mother had insisted from middle school her daughters carry one and I always had it with me. Lord knew, what Mother wanted, she generally got.

"No, Mom. I'm at a biker bar." I couldn't hold back the snarky bite. "I figured I'd pick up a tattooed biker, bring him home, bang 'em and then give you a call after." I paused and took a breath, calming myself. "What did you want, Mom?"

The sigh I got in return spoke volumes to me. She had one of those sighs that conveyed every thought she ever had, but wouldn't speak. Which I think probably just pissed me off more than if she'd voiced them and got it out of her system. "Chloe...".

I knew where this specific tone of her voice was going to lead us. We'd had this conversation more than once and it never ended well. Mom probably thought she was being 'motherly', but in reality, all she ever succeeded in doing was annoying the ever-loving shit out of me. She didn't understand. Neither of my parents did.

I gave up my quest for the makeup kit and tossed the purse aside. Stress built in my forehead and I pinched the bridge of my nose and breathed deep. "Can we not do this?" I swallowed hard, then continued. "Please, Mom. Just...not right now."

I could hear her moving around over the phone and knew she was pacing. It's what she did when she was upset and trying to not make things worse. It was pacing or spending Dad's money. She'd spent a lot of Dad's money since the week all those years ago. Retail therapy, gotta love it.

"Mom," I broke in to get her attention. After waiting for several beats and not getting a response, I tried again. "Mother!"

"Are you coming for dinner tonight?" She changed gears.

I chewed on my lip, staring through the windshield of my car at the bleak landscape. I debated my options, realizing at some point dusk had begun to settle in around me. The perimeter lights of the jail began to blink on, lighting up the area, but doing nothing to ease my fears. There was an internal struggle, as always to stay and make sure those walls held fast. But the sanctuary of home also beckoned. I slumped back in my seat and rested my head against it, exhausted. My hand lay on the steering wheel in a loose grip.

"Chloe? Are you?" she prodded.

I sighed and scratched a finger along my eyebrow. "Yeah, I guess." I swallowed to wet my suddenly dry throat. "Will Clarissa be there?" I glanced at the time on my watch.

Mom's silence over the phone caught my attention. "Mom?"

"Chloe, honey...Clarissa isn't—," she broke off.

I frowned at her abrupt stop mid-sentence. "Clarissa isn't what?"

"Nothing, dear." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, when do you think you'll be here for dinner? Ms. Kim is making your favorite, you know?"

My lips twisted in a wry smile at her poor attempt to deflect, but I let her have her way. I leaned forward and started the car. Before I shifted into drive and pulled into traffic, I took one last look at the building across the street. Just like every other time, a whisper of uneasiness tickled my ear. A shake of my head cleared the feeling and the sound of my mother's voice penetrated the fog. I'd missed most of it but caught the tail end of what she was saying and furrowed my forehead in confusion.

"Wait, what? I missed that," I'd lost myself for a moment but knew she was still blabbering.

She sighed in annoyance. "I said," she told me in a tone that let me know she was rolling her eyes at me, "your father has some news for us. Something about a phone call he received today. So, make sure you get here soon, all right?"

I cut my eyes to the side as irritation washed over me. "Yes, Mother." I checked the flow of traffic in the lane next to me and turned on my blinker as I shifted into gear. "I'm on my way now. I'll see you in a little," I told her and hung up.

Dinner tonight in the Mason home would definitely be interesting.

***

I STARED DOWN AT MY DINNER PLATE, NOT SEEING THE gourmet meal displayed on expensive china. Panicked disbelief made me blind to anything but the fear climbing up into my chest. The dread of fore-knowledge weighed heavy on my shoulders. The moment I set eyes on our lawyer, Mr. Hofmann, the icy suspicion of something 'not right' had settled like a lead weight in my chest.

"Miss Mason, I'm sorry. I had no idea—," the older man began.

I held up my hand, stopping him. My eyes closed, I breathed deep through my nose and exhaled from my mouth. After feeling the anxiety back off a bit, I straightened my shoulders and opened my eyes to look at him.

"I'm a little confused, sir. I'm pretty certain you assured all of us this wouldn't happen." I glanced around the table and saw my father sitting at the head, jaw clenched, a tumbler of scotch held tight in a fist. My mother had her elbows on the table, a major no-no, and her fingers pressed against her eyes, muttering to herself.

Mr. Hofmann sighed heavily and sat back in his chair. "I have no idea how it happened, Chloe. The appeal slipped past me and the judge ruled before I found out." He shook his head sadly. "Roger Clemmons is being released in seven days." "It wasn't supposed to be for another twenty years!" my mother burst out. "How? How could the judge do this?"

"His lawyer somehow managed to get a board of psychologists to sign off on him being sane and rehabilitated," he explained, his shoulders slumped, sharing in the disappointment.

I snorted. "How can you go from an insanity plea to being sane?" My thoughts drifted to Clarissa. She wasn't going to take the news well at all. With that thought in mind, I stood up and tossed my napkin down. Mom looked up at me, alarm all over her face.

"Where are you going? We need to talk about this!" She turned toward my father and sent him a pleading glance. "Jonathan! Tell her she needs to stay. She can't leave right now."

Dad just shrugged and took a long sip from his glass. He stared at me as he lowered it and finally jerked his head toward the door. "Go ahead, Chloe. You're an adult. I'm not going to make you stay."

I gave him a grateful smile and turned, leaving without a backward look. I had to get out of there. The room was closing in on me and the air felt like a lead weight in my chest. I grabbed my purse on my flight to the front door, one thought racing through my mind.

Roger was free. My countdown had been wrong. My nightmare was no longer going to be hidden in shadows, but walking in the light.

I had to get to my sister.