I’d imagined her living on a different kind of street, in a different kind of neighborhood.
“Watch yourself, Billy-boy. Act normal. You remember how to do that? You make a move on her too fast, you’ll find yourself back in here.” Jance had said those words looking through the bars of his own cage, watching as the guards unlocked my cell and let me out of mine. I glanced back just once and caught the sadness in his eyes. He’d have hated to know I saw that.
Before they shut the gate behind me, they’d handed me a small duffel bag that contained all my possessions from five years before. I was wearing the jeans and sweatshirt I’d arrived in, all too aware they’d never been washed since.
First thing I did once I’d gotten off the bus, they put me on was get a room at the local hotel, a two-story dilapidated building with a sign out front claiming it was haunted. I wouldn’t be surprised. It looked like it ought to be razed for its own protection. Each to their own.
I set out to find her place. Even the limited Internet access they gave me for good behavior at the prison was enough to find her last known address. It was easy. But I didn’t look up anyone else. I didn’t want to betray the trust the authorities had in me.
The house she lived in was on North Street on the other side of town. I had fifty dollars on me, courtesy of the state. A cab would eat away at that, but the bus would take over an hour with all its stops. The hotel manager said I could use a bike they had in the shed, for five dollars. That seemed a bargain till I saw the thing, but at least the wheels turned, and the brakes worked. It got me to 81 North Street fine. I left the bike in a nearby alley, behind a discarded stove. The sky was threatening rain. I hoped it’d hold off till I got back to the hotel.
“Who are you?”
I was walking up the steps leading to the front door. The man standing on the walkway below was wearing the outfit of a London bobby, which made no sense.