No Way Out Read online

  The Haywood house wasn’t bad, but it needed some serious updating. It had been built in the 1950s, and very few improvements had been made since. Hector knew that Mitchel Haywood was occasionally unemployed, leaving Colleen to balance the budget on her teacher’s salary. Hector also knew that Mitchel was a bit of a drunk, and not the nice kind, like Otis on the Andy Griffith Show.

  Hector hoped that, someday, Ellie would tell him the real reason she was in Hibbing. All he knew was that at one time she had been in a hospital, and when she got out, she wanted to—or had to—move. He wasn’t sure which it was. But he liked her and wanted to help. He was also very protective of her. People in town knew Hector. They also knew he was the “errand boy” for the “shut-in” down the block. Occasionally, people would stop and ask him questions about the mysterious woman, but Hector said she was a nice lady and couldn’t leave her house. She could have been in a wheelchair, for all they knew. But there were no ramps. What there was was lots of speculation.

  Every Halloween, there would be several big plastic pumpkins filled with candy for the kids to take. No one ever saw who put it there, but they suspected it might be Hector. And their suspicions would be correct. Under Ellie’s direction, Hector would purchase the candy and leave several plastic pumpkins hanging on the front fence.

  At Christmas, the front door had a wreath, and lights adorned the front porch. Ellie would bake cookies and cakes and leave them for Hector to take to the church holiday bake sale. For all intents and purposes, Ellie was an active member of the block. Except she never physically came out of her house. Her generosity of spirit was the only thing visible.

  Hector’s wish was that she would one day invite him into the house and show him all of her cool electronic devices. But for now he had to be satisfied that he was her confidant and assistant.

  Hector often rode his bike when he ran errands for Ellie. He had a driver’s license, but the family only had two cars, so he had to depend on his legs to get him to and from a lot of places. He was now a senior in high school and had been applying to several high-ranking colleges. He hoped the money he’d earned from the sale of the game would cover most of his expenses. He was making good money running errands for Ellie. He would be happy to do it for free, but she insisted on paying him $200 a week. That enabled him to help with the family bills. He did his own laundry and lots of chores, so his father could get a break on the weekends.

  He was not your typical high school kid. Except for the part about him spending time in the basement playing video games. But his parents no longer worried about that. Hector had proved that his hobby could be lucrative. They were very proud of their son.

  Hector’s grandparents had come to America on one of the last Freedom Flights from Cuba in 1973. His parents were born six years later in Miami and had been raised a few blocks from each other in the area called Little Havana. They had been high school sweethearts and married when Hector’s mother turned twenty-one. Hector was born a year later.

  When Hector was ten years old, they moved to Hibbing, which was near a manufacturing plant. At first, Hector loved living in a small town, but once he became a teenager, he realized there wasn’t a lot for him to do, so he shuttered himself in the basement, where he learned to play video games. When he turned sixteen, he spent his summers mowing lawns and became a part-time employee of a landscaping service. His parents let him spend half of his own money on the games, insisting he save the other half for college. When Hector was in high school, it became clear that the family could not afford to send him and his sister away to college, so Hector decided to look into getting a degree in electronics through an online course of study. At least there would be no room-and-board fees, except what he gave his parents every month from his various jobs. His sister got a scholarship to a state college and worked as a waitress to help pay for her room and board.

  The family wasn’t poor, but they understood the importance of saving money and not being irresponsible about spending. Besides, Hector actually liked living at home. His mother was an excellent cook, specializing in many originally Cuban recipes, and his father was a great musician, playing guitar and serenading the family on Sunday afternoons. Friends and neighbors would stop by often. Some would bring instruments, and they would have jam sessions on the front porch. If it weren’t for the boredom, Hector would have liked it just fine. Miami was too big, and Hibbing was just a little too small, but for now it was home. And he had a friend a few blocks away. Even if he couldn’t hang out with her.

  Chapter Nine

  Mitchel Haywood slumped down in his car as the police officer drove past. He guessed that the cop knew he was sitting in the driver’s seat, but he didn’t want to be too obvious. He couldn’t tell if the cop had seen his face. Yeah, the cop could run his plates. But so what if he did? You can’t arrest a guy for sitting in his car. Mitchel knew the rules. A hundred yards. He had measured it one night. In all directions. Same thing at the school. He wasn’t going to let that wretch ruin his life. And she sure wasn’t going to keep him from his kid. No. He’d figure out a plan.

  He lit another cigarette and cracked open his thermos of coffee laced with bourbon. He checked his glove compartment to make sure he had the bottle of Listerine handy.

  That was how he had gotten out of the past two DUI close calls. The only difference was that both of those times he didn’t have an open container in the car. When the flashing lights appeared in his rearview mirror, he had quickly grabbed for the mouthwash and taken a big swig. But he didn’t have an opportunity to spit it out so he had to swallow it. Man, did it burn. He had pulled his car over and rolled down the window. “Something wrong, Officer?”

  “License, registration, and insurance, please.” The cop turned on his flashlight and waited.

  “Of course.” He slowly reached up and pulled the registration and insurance from the visor clip. “My license is in my wallet. Give me a sec.” Mitchel wiggled his scrawny ass and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. It was a bit of a juggling act, but he didn’t want to get out of the car unless the officer instructed him to do so. He fiddled with the wallet and handed his license to the cop.

  “I noticed you rolled through that last stop sign.” The officer aimed the flashlight toward the back seat, then the front.

  “So sorry. My foot must have eased off the brake.” Mitchel tried to act composed and sober.

  “I see you live a few miles from here. I’ll let you go with a warning, but you need to follow the rules.” The officer handed back Mitchel’s ID and papers.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Mitchel proceeded to put the items back into place and waited, hoping the cop would leave before he did. He pulled out his phone and pretended to make a phone call. Since he was parked on the side of the road, he wasn’t breaking any laws. At least not for being parked where he was. A few minutes later, the police car moved on. Mitchel gave a big sigh of relief, then smirked. Dumbass local yokels. Like they got nothin’ better to do.

  Now staying with his brother in Manchester; he had better watch himself. Maybe find a bar that was within walking distance of his brother’s. He couldn’t always depend on Uber or Lyft. Most of those drivers were too drunk to drive. He snickered to himself and took another pull of his bourbon-laced beverage.

  It was 8:15—time for the kid and the old lady to head to school. Technically, the cops could take him in if the kid and his mom walked past his car while he was in it, so he didn’t want to take a chance. He tossed his half-burned cigarette out the window, screwed the top back on the thermos, and started the car. He slowly moved away, toward the school and away from the house where they lived. But he knew she knew he was there. Every single day. If he couldn’t get near her, he was determined to get under her skin. He needed to think. He needed a plan.

  He headed to the bowling alley to kill some time. He wasn’t going to bother to find a job. What for? He would figure out a way to grab Jackson and beat it out of town. He’d set them up in a ne
w place. A place where no one could find them. He just had to figure out when and how. As long as his mother was supervising visits, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to pull it off. Even though she was his own mother, she would never go along with a scheme like that. She wanted Mitchel to file for joint custody and have them both live with her.

  Like hell. She could be a bigger bitch than his soon-to-be ex-wife. Women. He probably hated all of them. The only thing they were good for was sex, and even then there wasn’t a whole lot of participation coming from their side. Hookers were the best for him. No-nonsense, and they did whatever you wanted them to do. For a price, of course. But since he had lost his job, he didn’t have the cash for the higher end. For now he had to settle for the skanks.

  He parked his car in the bowling alley’s parking lot and noticed Clay’s truck in one of the spots. Clay was the village idiot. Not because he had a low IQ. Although that could be debated. It was because Clay did stupid things like try to swing on a rope tied to a tree, but instead of letting go and jumping in the water, he swung back and slammed into the tree. Or the Tide Pod Challenge. He bet $50 he could eat five of them. He won the bet, but he also ended up in the emergency room. Or trying to see what would happen if he lit firecrackers inside a metal bucket turned upside down. He was hoping for a mini bucket launch, but all he got was a bunch of flying scraps of metal and thirty stitches in his head. Of course, Clay had to see what a battery tasted like, and what would happen if he put a screwdriver in an electric socket. The guy was an idiot. And he would go along with any stupid idea anyone suggested.

  Mitchel thought for a minute. Clay just might come in handy at some point. He’d keep it in mind as he was formulating a plan. For the moment, he had to behave until the hearing following his arrest. Domestic violence. That was bull. She was a nag. If only she had shut up, he wouldn’t have grabbed her. If only she had stayed put, he wouldn’t have tried to punch her.

  He knew he had to face the judge again at a hearing. His lawyer told him that if he would plead guilty, he wouldn’t have to go to trial and would probably get probation and community service. That could possibly blow any chance of joint custody. He knew he had messed up at the temporary custody hearing, so he had to play it cool. That was going to be a tough one. But he knew that he had to present himself as a model citizen. Otherwise, there was no way out of this. Maybe parking at the end of the block every day wasn’t such a good idea after all. He had to think on it.

  Chapter Ten

  Ellie watched Jackson and Buddy running around the yard. It gave her a sense of peace and calm. But she had to remind herself that she needed to be vigilant in her routine. One wrong move could be dangerous. She didn’t want to end up in a hospital again. Or the morgue.

  She picked up a pair of binoculars and peered down the street. She couldn’t help but notice Mitchel’s car parked there every morning until just before Jackson and Colleen left for school. At least he didn’t try to violate the order of protection and break into the house or sit there long enough for them to come closer than a hundred yards. But his continued presence had been unnerving. The guy was sleazy. She worried for Colleen and Jackson, but was glad she could offer some relief to the little guy. Once again, she thought about inviting Colleen for tea. But she needed a little more time to get comfortable with the idea of having someone else in the house. If she did have her over, where would they sit? She would have to leave the door unlocked and have Colleen let herself in.

  Her computer buzzed, signaling another person in techno-despair. This one turned out to be an easy fix. A woman had bought a new computer and could not get her built-in video camera to work. Ellie typed:

  Ellie: Run your finger over the top of your monitor. There should be a very tiny button in the middle.

  Customer: I don’t feel anything.

  Ellie: If you can, take a look. It’s very small. Like a pinhead.

  Customer: Oh yes. I see it now.

  Ellie: Gently push down on the pinhead. The camera should pop up from the screen.

  Customer: Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’m so stupid! I had no idea that’s what I had to do!

  Ellie: No worries. Unless someone tells you or you read through a PDF file, it’s not easy to see or figure out. Is there anything else I can help you with?

  Customer: No. I’m fine now. Thanks so much.

  Ellie: My pleasure. Enjoy the rest of your day.

  Ellie was often amused at the simple things that appeared so complicated to people. But then again, technology was changing every day. It was even hard for professionals to keep up.

  She checked her watch. Almost time to make some dinner.

  She heard the buzzer, indicating that Jackson was ready to go home. This time, when she buzzed him out, he looked up at her window and waved. That was a first. She smiled. She could tell that Jackson was starting to ease into the new routine.

  Once Jackson was past the front fence, Ellie opened the laundry-room door. There were two doggie doors for Buddy. One went from the laundry room to the porch, the other from the porch to the yard. He came galloping in her direction, practically knocking her over. Meanwhile, Percy was rubbing against her legs. “I think you guys are trying to kill me!” Ellie laughed and snuggled Buddy. She scooped up Percy, and the three of them headed into the kitchen.

  “So, what shall I serve for dinner?” She looked at Percy, then peered at the cans. “Do you want the salmon pâté, or do you prefer the shredded tuna?” Percy gave her an “I don’t care, just feed me” look.

  “Well, then, it shall be salmon tonight.” Ellie took the can from the pantry cabinet.

  Looking at Buddy, she said, “And you, sir? Chicken or duck?” She patted him on the head. “Did I hear you say ‘duck’?” Buddy gave her a soft woof. Ellie laughed out loud. It struck her that she had been laughing and smiling more than usual lately. Maybe she was finally relaxing in her own skin, finally feeling at ease with her surroundings and her cottage on Birchwood Lane. It had been two years. It was about time. But she caught herself again in doubt. Don’t get too comfortable. Things could change in an instant. Like the last time. She shook off the cloud that was about to surround her and focused on the task at hand. Feeding the three of them.

  Ellie opened a bottle of a crisp white wine and poured herself a glass. She fixed Buddy and Percy’s plates and turned on the news. More bickering in Washington. What else was new? You would think that, after going through that horrible pandemic, people would just try to be nice to each other. It’s easy to be nice when things are going well. Only when people are nice during hard times is it a testament to their character. But times were better now. Weren’t we all supposed to be better people?

  She felt like she was a better person. In some ways, that is. She was more compassionate, for sure. And she was grateful. Grateful that she hadn’t been in a major city during the outbreak, especially grateful she wasn’t in a hospital at the time. She was also grateful that her mom was OK. She missed her dearly. She hoped she would see her again, but it wouldn’t be until she was finished dealing with the trauma. Not until she was safe.

  She jumped when the phone rang. She had forgotten again that she had designated that one for Colleen and Jackson.

  “Hello?” Ellie said.

  “Hi, Ellie. It’s Colleen. I remember you said that the phone number was only good for a few days, so I wanted to first say thank you for letting Jackson into the yard. He has been so happy. And tired! He’s finally sleeping better.” Colleen was almost out of breath.

  “I’m so glad to hear it.” Ellie waited for Colleen to continue.

  “I know there’s been a bit more activity on the block lately, and I wanted to explain what happened.” Colleen took a big breath.

  Ellie had a pretty good idea about what was going on but feigned not knowing anything. She took a gulp of her wine. Aside from her weekly conversations with her mother and Kara, the quick exchanges with Hector, and the occasional person who insisted on “speaking to a h
uman,” talking to Colleen was the only real human-to-human contact she had, even if it was over the phone. The truth was that even her conversations with Kara had been getting mundane. There wasn’t much to tell her friend or her mother, if anything at all. She felt that her whereabouts had to remain secret, so there was no talking about Buddy in the yard and Jackson. For the most part, she just listened to the latest news from her mother and the family, and Kara’s accounts of her latest dustups with other members of the Junior League. Poor Kara. She was always interjecting her opinion when it wasn’t wanted. The frustrating part was that Kara was usually right. Except for one thing. And that one thing was part of the reason that Ellie had ended up where she had and, now, where she was. But she never blamed Kara for it. Ellie had made her own choices.

  “Ellie?” Colleen wanted to be sure she was still on the line.

  “Oh, yes. Sorry. It was looking like Buddy was going to steal a biscuit off the counter.” Gosh, I’m becoming a stellar liar.

  “I was saying that I am sure you heard and saw the police car the week before last?” Colleen paused.

  Ellie replied with, “Uh-huh.”

  “It’s no secret. Mitchel went booze-o-gonzo on me, and I had to call the police.”

  “Wow. Are you OK?” Ellie was genuinely concerned.

  “For the most part, yes. We still have a ways to go. There’s Mitchel’s hearing, and perhaps trial, depending on what happens at the hearing, then the custody situation.”

  “Sounds like a lot to deal with,” Ellie answered.

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s the next step?” Ellie asked.

  “Well, there is a restraining order against Mitchel. He can’t come within a hundred yards of me or Jackson except for when he gets to have Jackson for a supervised visitation. Everything is kinda up in the air, but I feel like I’m making some progress.” Colleen paused. “I put most of his clothes—his dirty clothes, by the way—into a few garbage bags, and Officer Pedone hauled them away for me.”