Framed (2 page)

“Did you hear? He’s going to that prison where you train your dogs,” Dad mumbled, breaking me from my thoughts.

“I caught that,” I replied as I switched on my computer to get ready for another day at Dirty Harry’s Auto Repair.

“You know a man like Kingston would be a good candidate to help rehabilitate one of your abused dogs.”

“He would, but he’s got to prove to the prison counselor that he isn’t a threat before he can be considered for the program. That could take up to six months.”

“Do your old man a favor and see if you can push it through faster.”

“I can try, Dad, but Kade has to want to help. If his heart isn’t in it, he won’t be successful with the dog he’s assigned.”

Placing both hands on my shoulders, my father leaned in, becoming deadly serious for a moment.

“A man like Kingston, one who’s used to leading soldiers into battle, isn’t gonna shy away from the challenge of rehabilitating a dog. Promise me you’ll try to push it through. Kingston’s been stripped of his identity and his rights. Placed behind bars for a crime he didn’t commit. He’ll withdraw and focus on the wrong that’s been done to him, Harley. He’ll lose himself in the hate; you gotta keep him in the light until this mess can be straightened out by his team.”

“What makes you so sure that his team will come?”

“
Leave no man behind
, baby girl. It’s a code among all military men. SEALs are intensely loyal to each other, all the way down to a newborn baby. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL. They won’t leave him behind to rot in prison; you’ll see, as soon as they can break free, they’ll be here. In the meantime, you work on getting him approved for IDTP and keeping him focused on something besides hate.”

IDTP was a dog-training program I had heard about on the news years ago. I’d sought them out and became a volunteer. You see, I’d wanted to be a Veterinarian growing up; had planned to attend veterinary school after high school. But I never attended because my mother became ill my senior year and I’d stayed home to care for her. Then my father needed me. My mother had always handled my dad’s books and when she became ill, I had to step in. After graduation, my friends left Milton for college and never returned while I stayed behind working in my father’s garage and caring for my dying mother. I wouldn’t have changed a thing; being with my mother at the end of her life was the only place I wanted to be. However, in the time since my mother’s passing, only two things had changed in my life.

One) I’d been married for two years at the age of twenty-four to a man who was more of an escape than the love of my life. I’d met Mike at a time when I was restless and missing my mother fiercely. He was two years older and he made me laugh so we naturally assumed marriage was the next step. I’d seen my friends leave and start their lives while I was still in the same house with the same job, watching my life speed by without me. So when Mike casually said we should get married, I accepted. Fortunately, we’d both seen the error in marrying for the wrong reasons and divorced amicably. In fact, we were still friends to this day.

I still felt restless though, as if trapped in an endless cycle of time passing me by while I watched others live their lives. At least I was wise enough now to direct my restless frustration in a direction that helped others as opposed to jumping into another loveless relationship.

Two) Three days a week, I traveled to Renault Correctional Facility and helped inmates train abused and neglected dogs so they can be adopted by good families. The Inmate Dog Training Program saved one canine at a time while also teaching inmates life and job skills that would help them when they reentered society. I’d been volunteering for five years now and it gave my life a purpose besides balancing books.

“Well? Will you try and rush through Kade’s acceptance to the program?”

Nodding my head in agreement, I grabbed my father’s hands and squeezed once before replying.

“I promise, Dad. I’ll drag him kicking and screaming into the program if I have to.”

My dad didn’t have to ask me to intervene, though, as soon as I’d heard he was heading to Renault, I’d already made a mental note to request Kade for IDTP. He’d be a perfect candidate. Someone like Kade would take great care of a dog that had known nothing but a life of neglect and abuse. And the dog would give Kade something to focus on besides the fact that he was behind bars for a crime he didn’t commit. Now, all I had to do was push it through and pray I could actually talk to the man when we finally came face to face.

***

Six months later . . .

Grenades exploded around Kade as he watched Sutton slump to the ground. The smell of cordite burned his lungs and eyes as he tried to reach his fallen brother. Two enemy soldiers had taken him out; one held Sutton’s arms behind his back while the other shoved a knife deep into his chest. Reacting to the sight of his fallen brother, Kade’s boots hit the pavement as his long legs ate up the distance from the bar to where Sutton lay dying. His thundering shout alerted the enemy of his approach, but he was prepared to handle them both. With his eyes trained on the man holding the knife, he didn’t see the third man until he felt the blow to the back of his head. Crumbling to the ground, dazed, he watched Sutton reach out his hand as blood dripped from his mouth. Moments later, his eyes closed slowly for the last time while Kade lost his own battle with consciousness.

Bolting upright, drawing deep breaths into his lungs, then letting them out slowly, Kade tried to shake the dream he’d had almost nightly since Sutton’s murder. It was always the same; two deadly nights intertwined into one: the night they’d infiltrated a cave in Afghanistan, where grenades flew and bodies piled up, and the night Sutton ran out the back door of St. Elmo’s Fire like he’d seen a ghost.

Turning on his cot, he placed his feet on the floor of his 6x8 cell. He looked around at the dimly lit cage he called home, and his mind drifted back to that fateful night like it always did when he woke from the dream. It had been two years since Sutton’s murder and a little over six months since he’d been found guilty of a crime he didn’t commit.

He’d left Pensacola and joined the Navy to escape his wild youth, only to land right back in the thick of it without even trying. A former rebel without a clue, he was lucky he didn’t have little Kade juniors running all over Florida. After too many narrow escapes, he’d only seen one option to keep from being another sad statistic of a broken home: join the military and make something of his life instead of ending up dead by the time he was thirty from booze, drugs, or both.

His father had abandoned them when he was five and his brother Kyle was two. His mother couldn’t hack being a single parent at the age of twenty-five so she’d walked out as well. She’d left to relive her youth with only a phone call to his paternal grandfather saying, “I’m outta here, come get the boys.” She hadn’t bothered to look back in twenty-seven years. His dad had made an appearance once every five years or so to borrow money from his grandfather, until one day he didn’t. No one had heard from him in ten years and Kade’s guess was, he overdosed without I.D on him and was buried somewhere in a John Doe's grave.

This was why Kade had acted out in his youth. Nothing screamed abandonment issues and reckless behavior like being left high and dry by your parents. He’d felt that betrayal to his core and let everyone see it until the day he shipped off to boot camp. Except for his grandfather and brother Kyle, who he’d protected fiercely while growing up, he had nothing but bad memories of his childhood in Pensacola and had not intended to return. No, he’d intended to be career military and had worked his way up to Chief Ensign 2
nd
Class when he’d gotten a phone call from his brother, saying Pops, his grandfather, had cancer and he needed to come home. Hearing that, he’d taken a 30-day leave of absence and hopped on a plane. When he arrived home and saw his fragile grandfather in a hospital bed, he knew he couldn’t turn his back on the man. He owed his grandfather more respect than a visit once a year while he fought for his life. So, after twelve years in the Navy, and his re-up just a few short months away, he returned to base and informed his commanding officer of his plans and filed for discharge. Sixty days later, he’d packed his bags, said good-bye to his team, and returned home to Pensacola and the life he’d left behind.

When he returned and stepped off the plane, he realized the angry young man he’d been when he left, hell-bent on never returning, had been trained out of him. He was now a lethal fighting machine with the patience of Job, one who had buried his demons through discipline. Being home for good had surprisingly felt right, and for the first time in his life, he pictured a family with a white picket fence instead of a career protecting his country.

That dream had been short lived.

He’d gone out with his brother for one drink his first night back, but one shot after another had been bought for him by bar patrons as a thank you for his service, and he’d over indulged. When Sutton came into the bar, a man he’d gone to high school with, he remembered he’d pissed the guy off when he’d nailed a girl he was sweet on. The result of his youthful indiscretion had ended in a fight that Kade had easily won. Wanting a clean slate now that he was home for good, he’d tried to talk to Sutton. Instead of allowing Kade to buy him a drink and shake hands for old times’ sake, Sutton had been on edge, belligerent, wanted to be left alone. He sure as hell didn’t care that they had feuded in high school, so Kade had backed off. But Kade’s training told him something was off with Sutton; that he might be in trouble. Out of habit, he kept an eye on his old friend and noticed immediately from across the bar when Sutton turned ghostly pale. Before Kade could turn to see who or what had spooked his friend, Sutton had left quickly out the back door. Kade being Kade, which meant he was a SEAL to the core, he’d followed Sutton out of concern. Followed him right into an ambush he hadn’t seen coming because his focus was off from one too many shots. Now, Sutton was dead and Kade was in prison for a crime he didn’t commit.

The police had pinned the murder on him from the moment they’d arrived, and Kade had been helpless to stop them. No bail had been set since he was a flight risk due to his military training, and with his grandfather sick, they couldn’t afford to hire a defense attorney. He’d been left to the mercy of a public defender who was wet behind the ears and didn’t believe in his innocence. And why should he? Kade had handed himself over to the police on a silver platter.

Stunned by the blow to the back of his head, he’d stumbled back into the bar, holding the murder weapon. Between the booze and his dazed state, he hadn’t been thinking; he’d been in seek-and-destroy mode and the knife was his only weapon. The killers hadn’t returned of course; they’d left him to take the blame for Sutton’s murder instead. And the police had all but tied a bow around his neck as a present to the State’s Attorney.

Stretching his tight limbs after being forced to sleep on a cot that was too short for him, Kade moved to his sink and turned on the water. Considering some of the desolate places he’d slept during his career, a cot with minimal padding, and a blanket to boot, was civilized in his book. Hell, he had running water, a toilet that flushed, and three squares a day. If it weren’t for the fucking bars, lack of women, and not being able to see how his grandfather was doing, Kade would think he was on vacation.

“You up, King?”

Turning at the sound of Cooter Hays’ voice, Kade responded. “I’m up, old man.”

Cooter was a lifer, had been inside since 1985 for the premeditated murder of his wife’s lover—a murder that most men could understand. You don’t piss in another man’s backyard; if you did . . . all bets were off.

Cooter’s cell was next to Kade’s; when they were locked in, the man kept him company with his tall-tales whether Kade wanted to hear them or not.

“Did I ever tell you about the time my cousin Jim-Bob and I stole the sheriff’s car and took it for a joyride?”

Moans could be heard from the surrounding cells. Cooter’s story about the time he stole the sheriff’s car when he and his cousin were thirteen had been told no less than twenty times since Kade had been in prison.

Smiling, Kade responded, “No, Cooter, I don’t think I’ve heard that one.”

The resounding “Fucks” made Kade chuckle. No one would say a word in defiance to
The King
, as they had dubbed him, if he wanted to hear Cooter’s story again. Once word spread he was an ex-SEAL, he was given a wide berth. Not even Fat Bastard, the prison godfather, had looked at Kade sideways.

“See, Jim-Bob had this crazy idea. He figured if we stole the sheriff’s car and then drove it down to Atlanta, we could ditch it, take a bus back home, and no one would be the wiser.”

“What’d he do that made you want to steal his car?” Kade asked with a grin in his voice.

“The bastard caught us shooting off fireworks in the park and took them from us.”

“That’s all?” Kade asked. “You just shot off fireworks?”

“Well now, it mighta had somethin’ to do with the fact that we shot them off in the back seat of his cruiser.”

“It mighta,” Kade agreed.

“Or . . . it mighta had somethin’ to do with the fact he wasn’t alone and had his hand shoved up Mrs. Murphy’s shirt.”

On cue, Kade laughed at the story. Then he genuinely laughed when more groans could be heard from around the cellblock.

The sound of the steel door being buzzed open alerted everyone to morning roll call. Kade finished dressing, then walked to the front of his cell so he could be seen and counted. When his cell buzzed open, he dipped his head so his six-foot-four frame could clear the opening, then waited as old Cooter shuffled out of his cell into the common room.

At sixty-eight, Cooter was the oldest prisoner on the block. Which, in Kade’s opinion, afforded him respect. Kade let him lead while he followed the plump man with gray hair and a hunched back.

“Kingston,” Gerald Daily, one of the prison guards, shouted. Kade paused at his name, turned, and looked back at the man.