Twilight on the Road Home

Part Three

by G. Lawrence

Catherine finds new friends

This is a dark and difficult story with a troubled victim, ruthless criminals, and lawyers. Sensitive readers should proceed with caution. All characters are over 18 years old.

Recap: after testifying against powerful men in numerous trials, Catherine found herself on the street with no money, no friends, and suffering from post-traumatic stress. She was found in a closet on Thanksgiving morning by Charley and Russ.

* * * * * *

Chapter Five

THE IMPRISONED

"You guys are making such a fuss," Cat said, massaging her sore wrists.

"Do they hurt much?" Charley asked.

"I'm out of practice," Cat dryly replied.

They were crowded in the back of a chauffeured town car. The men were still wearing their best holiday suits. Cat was in pajamas, thick white socks, a heavy robe, and wrapped in the wool blanket.

"You are so cold," Russ said, turning up the heater.

"I've had worse. Isn't this car expensive?" she asked.

"It's owned by the law firm," Russ replied.

"Where are we going? You can't take me to a restaurant dressed like this."

"We're going back to our place. In Lake View," Charley said.

"I'm being kidnapped?"

"You've been kidnapped before," Russ answered.

"I'm feisty. You should have brought the handcuffs," Cat warned.

"It's not that kind of a kidnapping. But you are getting a bath," Charley insisted.

"It's good you're gay, Charley Tieman, because you sure as hell don't know how to talk to girls," Cat complained.

Their condo was in a gated community at Mountain Creek Lake overlooking a small boat harbor. People were walking dogs and riding bicycles on the pathways. There were green lawns, cypress trees, and park benches. Cat moved up the stairs slowly, still cramped from sleeping awkwardly in the closet. Russ opened the door.

"Do all lawyers live like this?" she asked.

"The good ones," Russ said.

Cat noticed the living room was large enough to entertain a dozen people, having a Mediterranean style décor. The kitchen was huge, with a big silver refrigerator and gas stove. There was a master bedroom, guest bedroom, and an office. Their balcony overlooked the lake. They led her into a massive bathroom where Charley began running water in the tub and added bubble bath.

"It looks hot," Cat said with excitement.

"No hot water at the Long Branch?" Russ asked.

"It can get warm," Cat answered.

Russ and Charley looked at each other, grinned, and then stripped down to their t-shirts and boxer shorts.

"Okay, Cat, in the tub," Charley announced.

"What? Get naked in front of two guys I hardly know?"

"Think of it as a spa day with your girlfriends," Russ replied.

"I don't have any girlfriends, and I've never had a spa day."

"That will make this special," Charley said, helping her out of her pajamas. She slid into the water with a grateful groan. The small woman was 5'4, weighing under a hundred pounds, with a slim waist and firm round breasts. As she played with the soap bubbles, Russ and Charley exchanged a doleful glance, noticing the pink scars on her back.

"Is this okay?" Russ asked.

"Are you going to beat me and rape me?" she replied.

"No," Charley answered.

"Then this should be great. Do you have any wine?"

"Coming right up," Charley said, running to the kitchen.

"Are you going to explain this?" Cat asked.

"It's going to be okay, you'll see," Russ replied. "Just relax and enjoy. If there's anything you want, speak up and it's yours."

Charley washed her hair and then laid Cat on a padded bench to give her a massage. Under a large towel. She moaned and purred. He felt years of tension in her muscles.

"What do you think?" Russ said, refilling her wine glass.

"I think I died last night and woke up in heaven this morning."

After the massage, the young men took Cat into the master bedroom, tucked her into the giant bed, and told her to take a nap. It took less than two minutes for her to fall asleep. Russ and Charley retreated to the kitchen.

"It looks like Ashley was right," Charley said over coffee.

"When she saw how Cat was living, and the pills, and sorted out the odd things she was saying, it must have become obvious. I thought Cat looked depressed at the conference, but I didn't see this coming."

"Those fuckers piss me off."

"Which ones?" Russ asked.

"The ones who prettied her up to testify at those trials, promoted their careers, scored points with the media, and then threw her out on the street like week-old garbage. None of them gave a damn about her."

"I like her. She's funny, in a weird sort of way," Russ said.

"I like her a lot. You should have seen her with Mrs. Johnson. She was so loving and forgiving. This whole thing really sucks."

"It doesn't need to," Russ said.

"What do you mean?" Charley asked.

"Let's invite her to stay here. At least until she's better. She shouldn't be living alone in that rat hole."

"I was hoping you'd say that. I was afraid to bring it up."

"It's always good to be honest. So, we're doing this?" Russ said.

"Yes. I think we've just inherited a little sister."

Cat woke up feeling refreshed. For the first time in months, there'd been no nightmares. The guys were in another part of the house, doing what, she didn't know.

She went to the master bathroom, taking a shower this time. The hot water was a joy. Charley entered, sitting on a stool. Cat was a blurry pink image through the steamy glass.

"Just a warning that I'm out here," he said. Cat cracked the shower door open, peeking out.

"You realize I'm not embarrassed to be naked around men, don't you?" she said. She ducked back in, thought for a moment, and then stuck her head back out. "But it is strange being naked around men who don't want to fuck me. That could take some getting used to."

"I would love to fuck you, if I wasn't gay," he assured her.

"See, Charley? You're getting better at talking to girls already."

Russ entered with a fresh bathrobe, finding Charley laughing.

"What's so funny?" Russ asked.

"We'll talk about it later," Charley replied.

"What did she say about our idea?"

"We haven't gotten to that yet."

"Gotten to what?" Cat questioned, her wet head once again appearing through the door.

"A proposal we have. It can wait until you're out of the shower," Russ said.

"I'm not sure if I'm ever coming out of this shower," Cat replied, ducking back in. They heard her humming.

"This might work," Russ said.

"Cat says she's not embarrassed to be naked around men. Are you prepared for that?" Charley asked.

"I'll learn to acclimate," Russ answered.

* * * * * *

"Don't you have family to be with? It's Thanksgiving," Cat said, curled up on the living room sofa dressed in Russ's baggy gray gym clothes. A red wool blanket was draped over her legs.

"This year is an exception," Charley answered.

"Charley's family lives in Chicago. Mine is in Boston. This is our first year together, in the same home, so we decided not to travel," Russ explained.

"I'm intruding on your first Thanksgiving together?" Cat said, starting to get up. Charley put a hand on her arm, getting her to stay.

"You're not intruding. We invited you," Charley insisted.

"Why? Don't get me wrong, you're great guys, but why would you care about me?"

The buzzer rang.

"It's the food," Charley announced.

"Your house is full of food. I've never seen so much food," Cat gushed.

"This is special," Charley responded.

He and Russ went down the front steps, returning with insulated boxes. The dining room was dressed out for the occasion with holly leaves, fine plates, glistening silverware, and elegant wine glasses.

"A turkey?" Cat said, following them into the kitchen. "Mashed potatoes. Gravy. Yams. A pumpkin pie? It's a feast!"

"We were going out, but thought this might be more fun," Russ said. "White meat or dark?"

Cat stared at the dishes, looked at the two men, and suddenly burst into tears, fleeing the kitchen. Charley went after her, finding her face down on the guestroom bed.

"It's okay, Cat. We get it. After all you've been through, this must be overwhelming," he said, rubbing her shoulders.

"It's not just that," she said, rolling over. "If you knew how I felt last night. How I've felt for months. Years, even. I know this is just for tonight, and then everything goes back to normal. But even one day can mean so much."

"Let's eat. We have things to talk about," Charley urged, helping her up. They returned to the dining room.

"Everything okay?" Russ asked, pulling a chair out for her.

"Everything is perfect," Cat said. "Do you guys say grace, or just dig in?"

"What would you like to do?" Russ replied.

"I think this is a good time for me to say thank you," she replied, shutting her eyes to whisper a prayer.

Cat cleaned her first plate, finished a second, and gnawed on a turkey leg while the guys were still eating.

"I've never seen a little girl eat so much," Russ said.

"I may barf," Cat warned, a hand on her belly. "But don't worry, I'm not bulimic or anything like that. I'm accustomed to going days without food."

"During your ordeal?" Charley hesitantly questioned.

"You don't need to dance around it. The government made me tell the stories over and over and over again. It was worth it to put Tommy's friends in prison, but it didn't help my sleep any."

"Those creeps kept you without food?" Russ asked.

"Each one was different," Cat explained. "Some liked hitting me for no reason, just to see how I'd react. Others liked to tease me. Make me beg for food or water. They all wanted sex with me, and not in the nicest places. I learned to stay quiet, do what I was told, and try not to piss them off. Too much."

"Too much?" Russ asked.

"I wasn't always the most obedient slave," Cat confessed with a quiet grin.

"Martha Johnson said you tried to kill yourself," Charley mentioned.

"Yeah, with a dull knife. That didn't work out so well."

"Depending on how you look at it," Charley said.

"How's that?" she asked.

"You're still alive. You're here. Not dead," Charley clarified.

"I hadn't thought about it like that," Cat responded.

"How do you think about it?" Russ asked.

"After what Manson did to me, I couldn't bear to live like that anymore. Buzzy Johnson is a timid man. He had no business buying a slave. When I saw a chance to get out of my situation, I went for it. And failed. That's how I see it."

"Permit me to say I'm glad you failed," Charley said.

"I guess," Cat sighed.

"We have an idea," Russ suggested. "We want you to think about it very carefully before saying no."

"And if you're going to say yes, say yes right away," Charley added.

Cat looked at them with many questions. They weren't trying to seduce her, and she had nothing of value to give them. It was a puzzle.

"Okay," she finally said.

"Cutting to the chase, we want you to live here. With us," Russ said. "We have the spare room, and plenty of space."

Cat waited for the punchline.

"Really, Cat. We want you here," Charley said, daring to take her hand. "We like you. We want to take care of you."

"I spent twenty-two months being taken care of by men," she said, still not getting it.

"This isn't anything weird. We promise," Charley said. "You'd be our little sister. We'll be family to you."

Cat caught her breath, realizing they were serious.

"You don't even know me," she said.

"We're being honest. Right?" Russ said. "After your rescue, and through the trials, millions followed you every day. TV. Magazines. Podcasts. You've been all over the media for months. It's not like you're a stranger. Not to us. Charley met you at the Johnson trial and cried when you forgave Martha. I met you at Judson's office. You may not realize it, but you impressed everybody in the room. Especially me."

"Ashley is worried about you, too," Charley said. "She's the one who suggested we visit you this morning. She thinks you have a lot to offer."

"I can't be a charity case. I've already taken more from you, and Mrs. Wilkerson--"

"Ashley," Russ interrupted.

"More from Ashley than I should have. It's not the way I was raised."

"You'll get enough from the lawsuit to pay everyone back, if that's what's worrying you," Charley encouraged. "Though you don't need to. This isn't a lot of money to us."

"Lawsuit! Lawsuit! Lawsuit!" Cat nearly shouted. "What is this lawsuit everyone keeps talking about?"

"Didn't Paranay explain it?" Russ asked.

"He said Mr. Yearling would pay money for having sex without my permission, and that's ridiculous. I can't even get my money back that Tommy Varoom stole from me. And that was my money!"

"I missed that in the transcripts," Russ said.

"Everybody misses it! It really pisses me off," Cat complained.

"Tell us," Charley said.

"I was in Tommy Varoom's bathroom. He'd just gotten my virginity, which I stupidly gave him. He handcuffed me, took me down to his fucking dungeon, and chained me to a wall. The next day, he tortured me until I gave him the passcodes to my phone and bank account. He stole everything my father left me. He had my housekeys. They stole my books, and art, and furniture. They stole my car. By the time they were done, I had nothing left. Absolutely nothing. And whenever I ask the police about getting my money back, they point fingers and say it's not their department."

"Those fuckers," Charley grumbled.

"Sounds like typical bureaucrats to me," Russ said.

"We'll get your money back," Charley promised.

"And if we can't, Mr. Judson will," Russ offered. "He has a lot of power in this town."

"Gosh, that would be so great," Cat said.

"And you'll have the settlement money, too," Russ insisted.

"Settlement? Russ, where did you go to school? Harvard?"

"Yes. And then Harvard Law."

"And Charley, you went where?" Cat asked.

"University of Chicago, and then Harvard Law. Where I met Russ."

"Guys, I graduated my senior year at Highland Park with a C+ average, which I thought was pretty good, seeing that I was taking care of my father while he was dying of Hodgkin's. I had one month of junior college, taking drawing classes, when I was kidnapped. You can't expect me to be as smart as you are."

"We get it," Russ said. "This is how it works. One person does a wrong to another person. The wronged person sues for damages. The court decides who is right, and how much the damages should be."

"What Jim Yearling did to you was wrong," Charley added. "Under the law, what he did is actionable. You can seek compensation."

"A hundred million dollars?" Cat contemptuously said.

"That was just a bad negotiating tactic by an idiot," Russ responded. "We could tell you thought that, too. It's no surprise you fired the guy."

"He was opening places I don't want to go back to. I can't go back there," Cat said.

"My firm represents Jim Yearling, so anything I say could be a conflict of interest," Russ advised. "But Charley has no connection to my firm. He can help you with this, and if there's places you don't want to go, he won't let you go there."

"It's scary. I don't know how this would work," Cat said, starting to tear up again.

"One step at a time," Russ advised, handing her a napkin. "Will you come live here? With us?"

"Please. It would mean so much," Charley said.

"I have to do my share of chores. I won't be a leech. And when you guys need personal time, you need to get rid of me. Hang a sock on the door or something."

"We can work on that," Russ agreed.

"Okay," Cat said.

"Okay? Does that mean yes? You'll live here?" Charley asked.

"Yes, that's what it means," she confirmed.

"I want a hug," Charley said, jumping up.

"I've always wanted a little sister," Russ said, also getting a hug. "But fair warning, I'm not one of those gay guys who understand fashions or any of that crap."

"Until a few months ago, my fashion style was pretty basic," Cat recalled.

* * * * * *

"She did? That's wonderful news. Good work, Russ," Ashley said. "You take good care of her."

Ashley hung up the phone and turned to her husband. They were sitting on the porch of their private Lake Hubbard retreat. With the rain clouds having moved on, they could watch the sun set.

"What was that?" Collin asked, refreshing her wine glass.

Just over fifty, Collin Wilkerson had ten years on his youthful wife. Though getting round in the middle and losing his hair, he still cut a fine figure. For a banker.

"Remember that girl? Catherine Hollinger?"

"How could I forget? The cable news stations talked about nothing else for months."

"This bush-league lawyer made contact with my firm about suing Jim Yearling. On her behalf. He was a dick, but she was very down to earth. She fired him the same day. Yesterday I went to see her, in South Dallas, and got worried. She was living in awful conditions and was very depressed. I think she's suffering serious post-traumatic stress that's not being treated."

"That's sad. I saw her on TV a few times. She always seemed shy, and kind of shell-shocked."

"She's like a wounded puppy. So sweet and timid. I just wanted to hug her and tell her everything will be okay. When I saw she was drinking heavily, and had a bottle of tranquilizers laid out on the floor, I was afraid she might do something unfortunate. I stole her pills and sent the boys to cheer her up."

"That sounds like you. So, what's this news?"

"The boys are taking her in. She'll be living in their condo near the lake for a while. Eating properly, and hopefully getting some sleep. The girl I saw was a wreck."

"It won't hurt Jim's case, either. Will it?" Collin prodded.

"I can't say that wasn't a consideration," Ashley admitted. "We're appealing Jim's conviction. And if we can't get a new trial, he'll be eligible for parole in five years. It would help if Cat didn't oppose him."

"That's devious."

"I don't want to be devious, but he is our client. And Cat needs help. Seeking revenge against Jim won't do her any good."

"If you want this girl's trust, you better be straight with her," Collin warned. "Nothing backfires worse than deceit."

"You being a guy and all, can I ask? Why did Jim do that? He's always been a good man. Or so I thought. He played football for Houston U. Got a degree in accounting but went into real estate with Grayson's father. Always ran a clean business. Made a fortune without making enemies. And he throws it all away over some sick fantasy?"

"One of the problems of having too much money is looking for ways to spend it," Collin speculated. "I think the way Tommy Varoom presented it, Jim thought this girl was hired for role-playing. At first. But he's not dumb. At some point, he must have figured it out, and he didn't do the right thing. He's got no one to blame for that but himself."

"He's paying for it now," Ashley said.

"Every other client in that Club scandal got the death penalty or life in prison. And Jim gets ten years? What's that all about?"

"Did you hear about Catherine's testimony in the other trials? With the evidence the FBI had, it was devastating. So specific, and graphic. And gut-wrenching. But at Jim's trial, she scaled it back. Way back. I'll need to ask her why."

"What did Jim think?"

"Confidentially? He thought Cat went way too easy on him. He was surprised."

"Is it true Catherine could have left Jim's house anytime she wanted?" Collin inquired.

"That's a matter of perspective."

"I don't understand."

"Grayson and I had a long talk on this. What if Cat had escaped? What proof did she have that she'd been kidnapped? None. When questioned by the police, Varoom would have said exactly what he did say; that she was a prostitute hired for bondage games, and now she was trying to shake him down for more money. If the D.A. didn't believe her, Cat would have been out on the street with no money, no family, and no protection. No place to run and no place to hide. Varoom would have tracked her down, kidnapped her again, and likely killed her. Varoom held all the cards and she knew it."

"She must have been terrified."

"That's an understatement. If not for the FBI's raid on Varoom's compound, he'd still be running around free, preying on other young women. The way he preyed on Cat."

"We'll never let creeps like that get close to our girls," Collin said, taking her hand. "And speaking of kids, what are ours doing tonight?"

"Lady is studying for her math test. The Brookside Academy is hard on second graders. Jenny is with her coloring books. She finished Frozen and now she's working on The Little Mermaid."

"She sure likes to draw," Collin proudly said.

* * * * * *

Charley woke up with a start. "What's that?"

Russ heard it, too, jumping out of bed. Shrieking. Ghastly, horrified shrieking. They grabbed robes and ran down the hall for the guest room, stopping in the doorway.

"Jesus," Charley said. "Russ, find those pills Ashley gave us."

Charley knelt in the corner of the room. Cat was huddled between the nightstand and the wall, curled in a fetal position, breathing hard and shivering. The room wasn't cold. She screamed again.

"Cat. Cat. It's a dream. Wake up," Charley said, leaning over. He pried her away from the wall, holding her in his arms. Her nightgown was soaked in sweat. "Cat, it's okay. It's okay."

Her eyes opened, looking disorientated.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"You're home. With me and Russ. You were having a nightmare. Everything is okay now."

Russ knelt, draping a blanket over her. Cat began to calm.

"Do you need a tranquilizer?" Russ asked.

"A whole bottle," Cat said.

Russ found a glass of water and gave her one, helping her gulp it down. Charley kept an arm around her.

"It's the middle of the night," Cat said, looking out the window. "Did I wake you up?"

"It's okay. We were only sleeping," Russ said.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Charley asked.

"They're my problems," Cat answered.

Charley scooped her up and carried her back to their bedroom. After peeling off her damp nightshirt and sponging her down, he dressed her in one of his t-shirts. She liked the Dallas Cowboys logo.

"Okay, under the covers," Charley ordered.

"But this is your bed," Cat protested.

"Tonight, it's our bed," Charley replied, tucking her in. Then he and Russ crawled in on either side.

"Tell us about the dream. It will be good for you. It will help us help you," Charley said.

"Have you been studying psychology?" Cat asked.

"I'm not a shrink, but yes, I study a lot of psychology," Charley said.

"Maybe I shouldn't stay here. You guys are so nice. I'm just going to be trouble. It shouldn't be your trouble."

"Everybody can see you're suffering from post-traumatic stress. If you won't see a doctor, you can at least talk to your friends," Russ insisted.

"But--"

"Cat, please let us help," Charley pressed, squeezing closer. She sighed, resting back. Lying between them felt good. Like she wasn't alone.

"It was the kitten dream again. There are a lot of bad dreams, but it's the worse one," Cat softly admitted.

"Tell us," Charley urged.

"It's awful. You don't want to hear it."

"If you can tell it, we can hear it," Russ replied.

"Master #4," Cat started. "You know him as Jacob Little."

"Little was the heir to an oil fortune. He's doing life in Federal prison," Russ said.

"He had a dungeon where he kept me chained to the floor. By a steel collar. It was cold, and he didn't give me much food. I often went without water. When I required ... hygiene, he'd throw a bucket of water on me.

"There was a kitten. Maybe a stray. I don't know how it got into that horrible place. It would visit me. Master #4 saw it, but didn't say anything. He liked putting leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles, keeping me immobilized for days. The kitten was the only thing I could look forward to. The rest of the time, I just laid on the floor. It would purr, and want to play, and sometimes curl up next to me.

"One morning. Or night, I don't know, because there were no windows, I woke up and saw the kitten a few inches away from my face. And then I realized, it wasn't the kitten, only its head. I screamed and screamed. I screamed so much, my throat turned dry. It was hard to breathe. I fought against the cuffs until my skin was raw. Master #4 came in laughing. He thought it was so funny."

Charley wrapped his arms tighter, feeling her shaking.

"He was a sick, evil man. But he's gone now. Gone forever," Charley said. "Nothing bad like that is ever going to happen to you again. Russ and I are going to take care of you. You will always be safe with us."

"I can't put that on you," Cat said.

"You aren't putting anything on us," Russ replied. "We know this is hard, and it's going to take time, but it's what we want."

"Are you sure?" Cat asked. "I'm not smart, or anyone special."

"You're special to us," Charley said.

* * * * * *

Cat heard the buzzer and let Ashley in. It was a Tuesday morning just after ten.

"The boys are at work," Cat said, opening the front door. "I made breakfast for them."

"Was it good?" Ashley asked.

"It will be better next time," Cat promised.

"I'm not here to see Russ. I'm here to see you."

"Me?"

"I have it on good authority that you have no nice clothes, no decent shoes, a lousy winter coat, and terribly uncomfortable underwear. We're going to fix that."

Cat was wearing her Six Flags t-shirt, Charley's baggy sweatpants, and white socks. Unlike their last meeting, Cat's hair was washed and she had put on make-up. Ashley wore a casual blue dress with a heavy winter coat.

"My clothes aren't so bad."

"Not according to Russ. He says you won't wear them."

"I haven't been walking around the house nude. I just threaten to. Russ's face always turns red."

Cat laughed. Ashley was surprised to find her so relaxed. Maybe living in a comfortable home without the previous stress was helping.

"We are going shopping," Ashley insisted.

"I only have twenty-eight dollars. That won't buy very much."

"You have a secret benefactor."

"What would I need to do for Mr. Yearling? I mean, my secret benefactor."

"You aren't really as naïve as you pretend, are you?" Ashley observed.

"Not about men. Not anymore," Cat answered.

"There are no strings attached. I promise. If I was acting on Jim's behalf, legal ethics would require me to tell you upfront."

"We need to keep all the receipts so I can pay the money back."

"Men are allowed to give things to women."

It looked like Cat had an opinion on that, but decided not to share it. She went to her room, emerging in the charcoal gray suit she'd worn throughout the trials. Ashley noticed it had been mended numerous times.

"Your famous outfit," Ashley remarked.

"My what?" Cat said.

"Let's just say that after we buy you new clothes, that suit is headed for a museum."

Ashley had an impressive silver Mercedes, driving to an exclusive dress shop in downtown Dallas. A valet parked the car.

"Have you ever been here before?" Ashley asked, using the 7th Avenue entrance.

"I stopped in once, just to look. The styles are very sophisticated."

"That's why they get the best customers."

Soon two young ladies were helping them. Cat modeled each dress before the mirrors, tentative about the compliments. Many had long pleated skirts, frilly tops, and bright belt buckles. One fashion she was reluctant to try on, a lowcut scarlet cocktail gown with long draping sleeves.

"Please, it's your perfect color," Ashley insisted. Cat went in the dressing room, emerging cautiously.

"I need a cape or shawl for this one," Cat said.

"It looks great the way it is," Ashley disagreed.

"No, it has an open back."

One of the salesgirls went around to adjust the straps, and stopped, both hands over her mouth. She backed away. Ashley didn't understand. Cat ran for the dressing room.

"Honey, what is it?" Ashley said, following her inside. Cat looked frustrated. Distressed. She was desperately trying to wiggle out of the dress. Ashley looked in the mirror, saw something disturbing, and turned Cat around.

"My God, who did this do you?" Ashley gasped, seeing Cat's back covered in streaky pink scars.

"Most of them whipped me to some extent, but Master #9 did the worst damage."

"#9? That would be Walter Manson. He's headed for death row now. Honey, I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

"The FBI didn't share all the photos of me. Just what they needed to get convictions. Manson killed enough women that they didn't even charge him in my case."

"They should have. To give you justice. And closure."

"Awful photos of me were used as evidence, and I hated that. At least I got to keep a tiny bit of privacy."

"You're not happy with these selections, are you?"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. What do you want to do?"

Cat looked around to make sure the salesgirls couldn't hear.

"This isn't my style. Can we downscale a little? Not Walmart, I wouldn't do that to you. Something simpler."

"I know just the place."

They drove two miles down the street, entering a mall that had new and used clothing. Though the shops offered a wide variety, it didn't take long for Cat to find outfits she liked.

"What do you think?" she asked, twirling in a pale-yellow sundress.

"Wonderful for summer, but this is winter."

Cat kept looking, finding an emerald woolen dress, navy-blue jeans, turtleneck sweaters, a charcoal gray suit to replace her courtroom attire, and a khaki hiking outfit. She wasn't sure which ones to buy. It had been years since she'd gone shopping, so she kept checking with Ashley, taking her advice every time.

"We're going to fill up your trunk," Cat said as a stock boy carried the packages out to the car.

"Plenty of room left in the backseat," Ashley replied.

"This is enough for now. We bought more clothes today than ... Than I have for a long time."

"I understand. Time for an early dinner?"

"Don't you have daughters to feed?"

"I have two daughters, a very capable husband, a cook, and a nanny. The girls will be fine."

"A nanny?"

"Running a law practice takes long hours. Collin's bank takes long hours. And we want the best for our children, which takes money. We still make time to be a family."

They went to Monty's Restaurant near the Trinity River, getting a table overlooking a large park. Ashley selected a place that wasn't too exotic, guessing Cat preferred simpler foods.

"Will this do?" Ashley asked.

"They have cheeseburgers!" Cat exclaimed.

"Yes, I see that they do."

"Can we get chili fries, too?"

"You're a very cheap date, Cat," Ashley said, waving to the waiter. "Wine or beer?"

"Either would be fine," Cat agreed.

The waiter brought a bottle of vintage chardonnay, pouring each of them a glass.

"To new beginnings," Ashley offered.

"I wasn't going to take all those pills," Cat said, acknowledging the toast before cautiously sipping. "And I wasn't trying to kill myself in the closet.'

"May I ask what that was about?" Ashley inquired.

"I felt so depressed. Like I wanted to give up," Cat explained. "But during my captivity, I took everything they could throw at me. Everything. I always came back. I suppose I just wanted to see if I still could."

"I'm sorry if I overstepped. You had me worried," Ashley confessed.

"To be clear, I wanted to. I wanted that so much. And I still think about it. But I'm never going to surrender that easily."

"There's something we need to talk about. I don't want you to take it the wrong way, so please try to listen."

"This has to do with Mr. Yearling, doesn't it?"

"Yes. And let's call him Jim. I've known him for four years."

"It sounds better than Master #8."

"There's bad history there. I'm not saying different."

"What about him?"

"My firm is appealing his conviction, hoping to get him a new trial. If we can't, he'll be up for parole in a few years. We're anxious not to make his situation worse."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"With all the terrible things The Club did; the murders, and kidnapping, and abuse, Jim's case was able to fly under the radar. We'd like to keep him under the radar."

"I still don't understand."

"When I saw how you were living before Thanksgiving, and how sad you were, I felt bad for you. But I was also thinking if you ended up on the street, or worse, the publicity might come back to hurt our client. It's one of the reasons I sent Russ to your motel."

"To spy on me? It was a trick?"

"No, no, no. Please listen. Russ only knew I was concerned. Nothing more. I swear. And Charley knew even less. After all, he doesn't work for me. When they saw you living in that terrible place, they acted on their own. It wasn't planned."

"I haven't been moved from one cage to another?"

"No one is caging anybody. I'm not making any demands on you. Russ won't make demands on you. We just want you safe."

"I won't be bought. I've been bought and sold too many times."

"That's not what this is about. No one is asking you to lie, or change your story, or anything. I will never do that. If you feel a need to go on TV, or write a book, that's your right. No one will stop you."

"I guess that's okay. I don't want to make Mr. Yearling's situation harder. I don't hate him or anything. But we do have serious issues."

"Can I ask about those issues?"

"I'd rather not talk about them."

"You could have buried Jim at his trial. You buried everyone else you testified against. Why?"

"He gave me a blanket."

"I'm still not sure I get that."

"Ashley. May I call you Ashley?"

"Of course, dear."

"Okay, Ashley. You're a nice lady. You're a good lawyer. But you don't know anything about surviving in a cage. I hope you never do."

* * * * * *

"What is this?" Cat said, happily surprised.

"It's for you," Charley replied.

A corner of the living room had been cleared out, replaced by an art table and an easel. Pine shelves had been installed, and a cardboard shipping box lay on the floor from a craft store.

"We put it near the window so you'll get better light," Russ said. He cut the box open, revealing scores of art supplies.

"We thought you'd like to organize these yourself. It was your job at Michelle's, after all," Russ said. Cat knelt next to the box.

"Pencils. Chalk. Drawing pads. Brushes. Guys, this is wonderful. It's really wonderful," Cat said, choking up.

"Watch out, she's going to cry again," Russ warned. Charley sat next to her with a handkerchief.

"It's okay. You can just be yourself with us," he said.

"I was never a crier before," Cat said.

"It's good for you. It helps get those emotions out so they're not bottled up all the time," Charley advised.

"Thank you, Dr. Tieman," Cat sarcastically said.

"Are you ready to see a real doctor yet?" Charley asked.

"I talked to the FBI doctor after I was rescued, and every time, I felt worse."

"The FBI shrink was prepping you for the trials," Russ explained. "They wanted your help putting the criminals away. It doesn't sound like they were interested in helping you."

"Why should they? They're the FBI. I was just a stupid girl who let herself get kidnapped. I never even managed to escape. After a while, I stopped trying. And in the end, they hung me up like a slab of beef to be tormented by a sick fuck. Tommy always said I was nothing, and I'm sure the FBI thought that, too."

"I'm sure they didn't," Russ protested. "They live in bureaucracies. Always looking for the next big case. You just got lost in the shuffle, that's all."

"And you're not a nothing," Charley said. "You were a kid who took care of her mother when she was dying. You took care of your father. You supported yourself and went to school. You were learning to be an artist and maybe teach. You were an awesome young woman, and you still are."

"Varoom needed to tear you down to make you compliant, and he was an expert. This is on him," Russ explained.

"I don't know," Cat questioned.

"We do," Charley insisted. "Now we're going to let you set-up your art room. Call us if you want help. Who's making dinner tonight?"

"I am. Spaghetti and meatballs," Cat said. "Guys, I am so grateful. You are so wonderful to me."

"Will you wash my car?" Russ asked.

"No, I don't wash cars," Cat answered with a laugh.

* * * * * *

"I filed suit against Thomas Varoom today," Charley announced. "We're seeking to get your bank funds back, reimbursement for stolen property, and compensatory damages for kidnapping, assault, and attempted murder."

They were at the Lake View condo sitting around the dining table, a December storm blowing outside. The rooms were warm.

"Good food, Cat," Russ said. "Baked salmon. Broccoli in cheese sauce. Red potatoes. Is this fresh bread?"

"Yes, I baked it this morning," Cat confirmed.

"You're becoming a chef," Russ complimented.

"Maybe I'll learn to make a decent omelet," Cat sighed.

"Your omelets are getting better," Russ encouraged. "How are you doing it?"

"The internet has recipes."

"Decided to use the laptop after all?" Russ asked.

"You bought it for me. I shouldn't be afraid to use it," she answered. "Though I stay away from the news. That's never good."

"Hello? Hello? Anybody?" Charley said, waving his hand. "I filed suit against that scumbag Tommy Varoom."

"Cat, you know you don't have to cook our meals, don't you? Or clean house. Or do our laundry," Russ said.

"I did my Dad's laundry. It's not like I'm washing your car or anything."

"It's really appreciated. Having you here is fun," Russ said.

"Folks, I filed a big lawsuit today," Charley persisted. "The biggest I've ever filed. We're demanding millions of dollars."

"I thought Tommy was sentenced to death?" Cat said. "How can he give anyone millions of dollars?"

"He still has money. Property. Assets," Charley replied.

"I wouldn't count too many chickens. Tommy's pretty smart," Cat warned.

"What do you think of Varoom heading for death row?" Russ asked.

"It's troubling," Cat remarked.

"Are you against the death penalty?" Charley asked.

"Oh, no. I wish they still used the electric chair," she answered. "I don't know how to get a ticket to his execution. Is there a line I need to wait in?"

"As a victim, you'll have the right to be there," Russ said.

"Will they let me bring popcorn?" Cat asked.

* * * * * *

Chapter Six

STRANGE VISITATIONS

"He wants what?" Ashley asked in surprise.

"Jim wants Cat to visit him at Huntsville," Judson said.

"Why in the hell would he want that? Why would Cat want it?"

"I don't know, and Jim wouldn't say."

"Cat's been living with the boys for three weeks now, and she's doing so much better. Eating well. Getting decent sleep. Making meals. Drawing pictures. I'd hate to see her regress."

"No one will force her, but Jim said he'd appreciate it. And he asked me to do my best to bring it about, which I said I'd do."

"I'll talk to her."

"Maybe it's better if I talk to her? You've gotten close. No reason to spoil the relationship with something like this."

"Thank you. I appreciate that," Ashley agreed.

"How are Collin and the girls doing?" Judson inquired.

"Everyone's fine. We're going up to the cabin for Christmas. You're welcome, too. We have plenty of room."

"Patricia and I will be in Paris."

"Well, I suppose that's okay."

"Any progress on the lawsuit?"

"Which one?"

"How many are there?" Judson asked, feeling out of the loop.

"Charley Tieman has hired three new associates. Eventually he'll be going after every one of Varoom's clients who had possession of Cat. Except Buzz Johnson. Charley won't discuss Jim's case, and it's not my place to snoop."

"I agree. The potential for conflict of interest is delicate. Keep everything above board."

"Have you considered offering a settlement?"

"I don't know Jim's thoughts, and I can't do anything until he provides instructions. He doesn't seem worried about it."

"That's strange. Cat will have a strong case," Ashley speculated.

"Jim did what he did, we can only make our best argument. The rest will be up to a jury."

"Be sure to compliment Cat on her new wardrobe. She's very self-conscious about her appearance."

"What was shopping with Jim Yearling's credit card like?"

"We had lots of fun. Cat can be funny when she's calm."

"And when she isn't?" Judson asked.

"She gets quiet. You can see her struggling. I think that's why she enjoys teasing the boys. It keeps her engaged."

"Don't pry, but if there's anything we can do for her, we will."

"Russ keeps me informed, but he needs to tread softly. She has a fierce independent streak. She never asks for help, and she's not good at accepting any. She's also insisting on paying Jim back."

"Jim isn't going to allow that."

"Cat might make him. I think there's a tigress below that quiet exterior."

* * * * * *

The next morning, Judson saw Russ arriving for work and called him into his executive office. Big windows showed much of downtown Dallas shrouded in fleeting gray fog.

"How's it been going?" Judson asked, offering Russ a chair.

"My cases are up to date, sir," Russ answered.

"I mean with the girl. Catherine. You seem to have adopted her."

Russ was taken off-guard.

"Sir, why are you asking?" Russ said.

"I'm not trying to pry proprietary information from you, youngster. I just want to know how everyone is doing."

"There are good days and bad. When Cat is active, and occupied, she does really well. She likes drawing. Pencils. Charcoal. She's hesitant to show her sketches. They can be dark. She and Charley have gotten close. Really close. He's totally in love with her."

"In love?"

"Not like that. It's hard to describe. Soulmates isn't the right word. When Cat can't sleep, or has a nightmare, she crawls into our bed next to him and always falls asleep right away. Charley has a strong protective instinct. Helping her is fulfilling."

"Jealous?"

"Maybe a little. But I love her, too. She is so sweet. And grateful. She never takes a kindness for granted. The damage Varoom's clients did ... It makes me angry, sir. Really, really angry."

"Yearling?"

"He was one of them. But I know he's our client, and your friend. I'm trying not to pass judgement."

"I won't ask for more than that. Isn't Catherine expected here about now?"

"She's down in the coffee shop with Charley. They'll be up in a few minutes."

"This isn't a business meeting. Not about the lawsuit. I need to see Miss Hollinger on a personal matter."

"That will be up to Charley, sir. I keep my distance from her legal issues, as I'm required to do."

"Feeling caught in the middle?"

"Definitely."

"Russ, I think you're doing fine. I'm glad to have you on my staff," Judson said.

After Russ left, Judson went out to the lobby, waiting for his visitors. They appeared almost immediately, looking relaxed. Cat was carrying a paper coffee cup from the café downstairs. Charley had a briefcase.

"Hello, Mr. Judson," Charley said, shaking his hand. "You've met Catherine Hollinger?"

"Yes, several times. It's good to see you looking so well, Catherine."

"Thank you, Mr. Judson," Cat acknowledged.

"That's a lovely outfit you have on. Is it new?" Judson asked.

It was a dark gray business suit with a knee-length skirt and chocolate brown lapels. Not expensive, but it looked good on her. She had added a thin chain necklace with a small gold cross.

"Yes, I just got it," Cat said, spinning around to show off.

"Very chic," Judson approved.

"Did Ashley tell you to say that?" Cat asked.

"She hinted it would be a good idea," Judson confessed. "Had breakfast?"

"Yes, sir. Just now," Charley replied.

"Let's get the lady a fresh cup of coffee," Judson said, finding her a ceramic mug with the firm's logo. "One of those French roasts you like so much?"

"Have you been studying me, Mr. Judson?" Cat asked.

"If I was thirty years younger, and not married, I wouldn't be able to take my eyes off of you," he replied.

Charley frowned. Cat smiled, her face turning red.

"Cream and sugar?" Judson asked.

"Just a little, sir," Cat replied, anxiously watching as he poured. When he gave her the cup, her eyes lit up with gratitude. Judson found it charming.

"Let's go into my office where we can talk," he said, waving her forward. When Charley followed, Judson put a hand up.

"Just me and Catherine," Judson said.

"I'm her attorney," Charley insisted.

"We're not discussing her lawsuit against Jim Yearling. You'll be in the room for that," Judson promised.

He led Cat into his grand office and closed the door. Cat saw oatmeal cookies on the sideboard. Judson had her sit in a big leather chair.

"You must be curious," he said, taking a seat on the opposite side of his huge desk. The room was filled with models of boats, sea paintings, and nautical flags.

"Let me guess. You were in the Navy?" Cat said.

"Very insightful of you. I'm glad we finally have a chance to talk privately. I've been hearing good things about you."

Cat sat quietly, looking at him, tasting her coffee.

"I know you're not hitting on me. Going to clue me in?"

"You know my firm represents Jim Yearling. I've known Jim for ten years, since he was in grad school working for my father. I consider him a friend, and he's asked me for a special favor. Involving you."

"Sir, I don't believe Huntsville allows conjugal visits."

Judson spit out his coffee, quickly wiping it up with the sleeve of his coat.

"Good God, girl, why would you say such a thing?" he sputtered.

"I wanted to see how you'd react. The way you're testing me."

"I'm not testing you. I'm seeking a way to approach a delicate subject. I know you're fragile. The last thing I want is to upset you."

"What do you want?"

"Jim Yearling wants you to visit him. In the prison."

"Okay."

Judson was taken completely by surprise. He waited to see if she was going to say something else. Make demands. Change her mind. Cuss him out. She did none of those. She merely sat there, sipping the coffee.

"Why does this feel too easy?" he asked.

"Will Mr. Yearling give me a hundred million dollars?"

"You want a hundred million dollars?"

"No, that's way too much money. I just want to know if he'll give it to me."

"I would guess probably not," Judson said, sounding confused.

Cat sipped more coffee, then nibbled on an oatmeal cookie.

"Young lady, are you having fun with me?"

"Yes, sir. I'm having all kinds of fun," Cat replied. There was a twinkle in her eyes, and a sly smile. Judson was impressed. This wasn't the damaged woman he was expecting.

"What would you want for this visit to happen?" he asked.

"It would be nice to go for a drive. I don't own a car yet. Joey Powell stole my old car, and then junked it when the transmission broke down. It wasn't such a bad car. It could have been fixed."

"What kind of car was it?"

"Green."

"You're still having fun with me. May I be bold enough to ask why?"

"Russ works for you. Ashley works with you. You're the man in charge. I want them to be my friends for a long, long time, and that means I should be friends with you."

"You're doing a fine job of it," Judson said. "So, you don't want anything from me? To make this happen?"

"No, sir."

"You prefer to drive? The trip down will take three hours."

"I haven't been out of the city since Captain Kendrick blew Death Addict's brains all over Tommy Varoom's basement. I wish I'd been conscious to see that. The videos aren't very good."

"Missy ... May I call you Missy from time to time? Not to be condescending. It's what I call my granddaughters."

"Sure, Mr. Judson. What may I call you? Mr. Juds? Juddy?"

"Do you tease the boys like this?" Judson asked, suppressing a grin.

"I'm trying to. I spent two years saying yes master, no master, please don't hurt me master. It's nice to expand my vocabulary."

* * * * * *

"You're going to do what?" Charley said.

"Go to Huntsville. There's a prison there," Cat answered.

They were in his midnight blue Honda Accord driving back to Lake View. The midday traffic was heavy. A storm cloud threatened.

"I know all about the prison in Huntsville," Charley said.

"Were you ever in prison?" Cat asked.

"No, I was never in prison."

"Then you probably don't know all about it."

"This isn't a good idea," Charley protested.

"I'm not afraid. Not of Mr. Yearling. The prison might be scary."

"When does this take place?"

"Day after tomorrow."

"I'll be with you the whole time."

"You need to be. I understand the official reason for going is to discuss a settlement of my case," Cat explained.

"We haven't presented our demands yet."

"I'm sure lots of demands are going to be presented," she said, staring out the window. They passed the former Naval Air Station on the lake's north shore. Cat wondered if Judson had ever been stationed there.

"I thought about signing up," she absently said.

"What?"

"My father died a week after I graduated high school. There was an army recruiter near where I worked. I thought about signing up."

"Doing what? Drawing patriot posters?"

"They didn't say. I assumed I'd be shooting people. I should have joined. At the time, I didn't think I could shoot anybody."

"And now?"

"Now there's lots of people I'd like to shoot. Can I buy a gun?"

"This is still Texas."

"I'm going to buy a gun. Will you teach me how to use it?"

"I've never fired a gun, but Ashley has. I hear she's very good."

"I'll ask her."

"They won't let you take a gun into Huntsville to shoot Yearling," Charley warned.

"That's probably for the best. I might get arrested."

"If they do arrest you, you'll have a good lawyer."

"Really? Is Russ available?"

"Stop doing that," Charley said.

"It will be okay. Grayson has a big limo. We're all going to drive down together."

"Grayson? You're calling Mr. Judson by his first name?"

"He's calling me Missy."

"That's patronizing."

"I kind of like it. From him. Did you ever consider enlisting?"

"Me? No. I always wanted to be a lawyer. And the military still isn't excited about recruiting gay men."

"Did you always know you were gay?"

"More or less, but I didn't come out until graduating high school. I was on the basketball team, and in my neighborhood, gay basketball players didn't get much court time."

"No basketball in college?"

"I was good, but not that good. My GPA was more important."

"What did your folks think? About you coming out?"

"Definitely not crazy about me being gay, but it could be worse. I've heard stories. It was hard for Dad to say I was ruining my life when I was accepted to Harvard Law."

"He shouldn't be surprised. You're very smart."

"You aren't so dumb. I think you would've done great in school if you'd had the chance. You still can."

"I'll let you be smart for me."

"What do you want to do about the settlement?"

"Let's not worry about that now. It's a nice day. When are you and Russ leaving for Boston?"

"Our flight is Thursday morning. That way we can spend Christmas with his folks in Brookline and fly back Sunday night. Are you going to be okay? Alone for four days?"

"I promise not to do anything crazy. I'm not ... in that state anymore. Thanks to you."

"You can still come with us."

"No, you and Russ need time with his family. You don't need me being a distraction."

"You're not a distraction."

"Doesn't Russ have two unmarried brothers?"

"Yes."

"My age?"

"Close," Charley said.

"Are they gay?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Then believe me, I'd be a distraction."

* * * * * *

Russ got home after a long day at the office. Charley was still downtown. Something was cooking in the kitchen, so he took a peek. Beef stew and sourdough bread. He found Cat in her studio, covering the easel with a sheet as he walked in.

"Working hard I see," Russ observed, dropping his winter coat over a chair.

"Not working so hard," she disagreed.

"This has been a great month," he said, giving her a hug.

"It's been wonderful. You guys are so nice to me."

"We want you to stay. I know we keep saying that, but you don't give much of an answer."

"You and Charley are a couple. I can't keep getting in the way."

"You'll stay for a few months, won't you? Until we get you money for an apartment and the things you need."

"Like a shrink?" she questioned.

"We're worried about you."

"I'm sorry to end up in your bed again last night. It must be very annoying."

"It wasn't so bad. But next time, wear your nightgown."

"I'll think about it."

"What are you drawing?" he asked.

"Just a few sketches."

"Can I see?" Russ said, reaching for the sheet. Cat looked hesitant.

"I'm not sure if that would be good."

"Please? All I've seen are your drawings of mockingbirds and boats in the harbor."

Cat drew the cover off. Russ was startled. The charcoal sketch was of a nude female huddled against the wall of a shadowy room. Long hair covered her face. It was lonely, and bleak.

"Is this how you see yourself?" Russ asked.

"Let's not get all psychological. I do other stuff."

"Like what?"

Cat pulled out an art folder. The first drawing was a pencil sketch of Charley reading a legal brief. He looked calm yet focused, the thin eyebrows bent.

"Wow, you've really caught him," Russ said in surprise. He flipped to the next sketch, seeing himself after coming back from a run, bright-eyed and pumped up, his blond hair spiked with sweat. Another was Ashley sitting in the restaurant overlooking the river, gazing thoughtfully. There was a father and young son in their rowboat out on the lake. An old lady feeding squirrels in the park.

"You're getting good," Russ said. "Awful good. They invoke a lot of emotions."

"All it takes is practice. I'm almost ready to start watercolors again. I had just started watercolors when my world caved in."

"You should take classes. Go back to school. Meet people."

"I don't know. There are some days I want to go out. Do things. There are other days I don't want to get out of bed. If I wasn't cooking for you and Charley, and helping around the house, I might not come out of my room."

"It's natural to have good days and bad. It's part of the recovery process. The book I'm reading on PTSD says--"

"Oh, God. You're doing it now, too? Charley can't shut up about it. I don't mean that in a bad way. He's my sweet bird. But I don't see how anyone learns about this from books."

Russ sat her down on the sofa and poured each of them a glass of white wine.

"When my father was in the Marines, he fought in Iraq and Afghanistan. He had issues when he came back. Anxiety. Bad dreams. Trouble communicating. It took time, but with the support of his family, he got better. Now Charley and I want to be your family."

"That's nice, but--"

"Cat, we went to Harvard. We're lawyers. We know how to get what we want. And we know you want this, too. Don't you?"

"Yes. I really do."

"Then we've already fought half the battle," Russ assured her.

* * * * * *

On an early Sunday morning six days before Christmas, Cat and Charley were waiting outside their Lake View condo when the long black limousine pulled up.

"Are we going to Huntsville or camping?" Cat asked.

"It's not as big as it looks," Charley said.

The driver opened the door for them. Judson, Ashley, and Russ were already inside. It looked like a lounge, with black leather seats, a TV, and a bar.

"Okay, maybe it is that big," Charley conceded.

They took the two seats in the back. Cat saw coffee and donuts waiting.

"We'll be hurrying down," Judson said as the limo pulled out. "I want to be there before ten. We can take our time coming back. Have dinner in Houston and return late. If Catherine wants to."

"My father took me to Houston once to see a big boat," Cat said. "It had cannons and everything."

"The USS Texas?" Judson said. "Young lady, I'll have you know the Texas is a ship. A battleship. Not a boat."

Cat looked at him with a smile.

"You already knew that, didn't you? You're teasing me again," Judson said.

"It's like shooting fish in a barrel, sir," she replied.

"You're allowed to call me Grayson."

"This is a business trip. Today you are Mr. Judson," Cat replied.

"Fair enough," Judson agreed.

They passed out of the city into the countryside going south on the I-45. After two days of winter storms, the weather was clearing.

"Have you ever been in a limo before?" Russ asked.

"I was supposed to go to my prom in a limo," Cat replied. "A nice boy asked me. He was on the football team. But my father had an episode and went into cardiac arrest, so I spent the night at the hospital instead. In my prom dress. Everyone felt sorry for me."

"Is that the night he died?" Ashley asked.

"No, he died two months later. I missed graduation, too. Dad felt really bad about that. Like he let me down. But he didn't. He was a great father."

"You can enjoy this limo," Judson said, pouring Cat a glass of champagne. "We rented it especially for you. So you can see how the other half lives."

"You guys have read entire books on me. How come I know nothing about you?" Cat asked, the champagne bubbles tickling her nose.

"We're not famous like you are," Judson replied.

"Famous and infamous aren't the same thing," Cat said. "Infamous. Do you like that I know that word? Russ explained it to me."

"You called Cat infamous?" Ashley said with a frown.

"I certainly did not," Russ defended. "Cat heard it on TV and asked why someone would call her that."

"Cat isn't infamous, but she is a troublemaker," Judson said.

"Why aren't lawyers infamous? You cause more trouble than I do," Cat asked.

"Some of us are," Ashley said. "When I graduated from Stanford Law, Grayson recruited me because both of my parents are well-known trial attorneys. With controversial clients, too. Embezzlers. Murderers. Politicians. Dad is still practicing in Los Angeles. Mom is in Atlanta."

"Is that how lawyers get hired? Family connections?" Cat wondered.

"It's always different," Judson said. "In the Navy, I was in the Judge Advocate's office. After putting in my twenty years, I set up my own practice and searched for the best of the best."

"Then how did you end up with Russ?" Cat asked with big eyes. Everyone but Russ laughed.

"I knew Russ's father from the service," Judson explained. "I offered both Russ and Charley associate positions, but Charley thought it was too corporate. I settled for Russ."

"Thanks for that, Mr. Judson," Russ said, sticking his tongue out at Cat.

"The Navy is where Patricia and I met," Judson mentioned. "She was a JAG officer, too, but grew tired of the law. She does charity work these days."

"Patricia is nice. You need to meet her," Ashley said.

"I'm not a charity case," Cat replied. "At least, I don't want to be."

* * * * * *

Cat thought the Texas State Penitentiary at Huntsville looked like a college from the outside. With barbed wire.

"They call it Walls Unit," Russ said, looking out the car window.

"Why?" Cat asked.

"Not sure. Something about the red brick," Russ replied.

The driver dropped them off outside the visitor center. Judson and Ashley led the way, Russ and Charley following with Cat.

"We'll be at your side every second," Charley said. "If you get afraid or start to panic, let us know."

"I should be okay. I have a lot more experience being locked up than you do. When they strip search you, don't make any sudden moves, and don't look the guards in the face."

"They aren't going to strip search us. Are they?" Charley asked.

"They always do," Cat replied. "They can't allow any contraband in the prison."

"I didn't know. No one told me," Charley said, his shoulders hunching.

"Are you carrying drugs?" Cat asked.

"No," Charley answered.

"If you are, they'll find them. The cavity search is very thorough," Cat warned.

"I didn't know this would happen. Maybe I should wait in the car?" Charley said, tugging his coat tighter.

"Jesus Christ, Charley, she's fucking with you," Russ said. "No one strip searches visitors."

Charley saw the smile on Cat's face. "You imp," he muttered.

They waited in a sparse, white-walled lobby for twenty minutes. The men all wore fine business suits and blue ties. Ashley had an expensive navy-blue outfit with a full-length skirt, a red jacket, and a yellow scarf. Very stylish. Cat wore a green turtleneck sweater under her long tweed overcoat, baggy blue jeans and corduroy boots. She topped it off with a black fedora.

"We're ready for you," the guard announced, waving them in. And taking a second glance at Cat as she walked by. She was not only pretty, but looked familiar.

They went through a series of gates and detectors until reaching a large cafeteria. Cat saw twenty or thirty tables. There were dozens of prisoners in khaki overalls and scores of visiting family members. It was noisy. Vending machines provided coffee, soft drinks, and snacks.

"This doesn't look so horrible," Charley said.

"Jim isn't considered a high-risk prisoner," Judson explained. "The hardcore facilities are in a different wing."

"Huntsville houses death row, too," Ashley said. "About two hundred men and a few women."

"Is Tommy Varoom here yet?" Cat asked.

"Varoom is still in Dallas being questioned by the FBI, but he'll be here soon enough," Ashley replied. "Along with Powell and Manners. You got all of them."

"They weren't even tried for what they did to me," Cat said. "They were convicted of murdering those poor women."

"The Feds can still try them for your kidnapping, Missy. One day, I think they will. To send a message, if nothing else," Judson suggested.

"That's not something to look forward to," Cat responded with a shiver.

"Is that a picnic area?" Charley asked.

They saw a patio just beyond a sliding door with tables, benches, and scraggily trees. The yard was surrounded by high brick walls.

"I bet it's better in spring than winter," Russ said, seeing the frosty conditions.

There was a table off to the side with five open chairs, and a tall good-looking man in his early-30s sitting in the sixth. He had closely cropped dark blond hair, a high forehead, and a welcoming smile. Broad shoulders and long arms gave him an athletic appearance.

"Jim's already here," Judson said. "Let me speak with him first."

Judson went forward, the others waiting.

"If this is too traumatic, you can change your mind," Ashley advised.

"Ash is right. We can still leave," Russ added.

Cat didn't react. She was looking at the prisoner with a strange, faraway expression. She seemed tense, but it wasn't fear. It had Charley worried. Judson waved for them to come over. They were both standing.

"Ashley, you know Jim. Jim Yearling, this is my associate, Russell Hartley, and Miss Hollinger's attorney, Charles Tieman."

There were no handshakes.

"And you've met Catherine Hollinger," Charley said. Not very politely.

"Yes, Miss Hollinger and I know each other. It's great to see you looking so well, Catherine," the prisoner said.

"Thank you, master," Cat replied.

There was an embarrassed silence as they took their seats.

"We're here to review outstanding issues and seek a resolution," Judson said. "As we have no stenographer, may I suggest we record the meeting?"

"No," Jim said.

"No," Cat agreed.

They were staring at each other. Jim's gaze was steady, touched with apprehension. He seemed anxious to say something but held back. Cat was harder to read. Her hesitation less easy to define. Everyone felt the tension.

"Are you okay?" Charley asked, holding her hand.

"Yes, Mr. Tieman. I'm fine," she replied.

"This won't take long," Charley assured her.

"No, it won't take long," Cat said, continuing to look at Jim with an unexpected intensity.

"Now that we've made the introductions," Judson hinted, glancing at Charley.

"Yes, sir," Charley said, taking out his notes. "It's our position that Miss Hollinger deserves compensation for what happened to her. We have a series of demands."

"What are those demands?" Judson formally asked.

"First, we want--" Charley began. Cat stopped him.

"I have a list," she said, producing a yellow sheet of paper from her coat pocket. Her notes were scrawled in pencil. "I've had expenses since being rescued. Food. Clothing. Alcohol. Charley and Russ are due something for letting me live in their condo. Also, I never got the money back that Tommy Varoom stole from me. Since he was your business partner--"

"Varoom was never my business partner," Jim interrupted.

"Since you and Tommy did business together, I think you should make up the money he stole until Charley can get it back for me. If Tommy pays up someday, you'll be reimbursed."

Charley took the list, giving it a quick scan.

"Fifty-six thousand dollars?" Charley sputtered. "He owes you millions."

"It's my list," Cat replied.

"It needs to be more. A lot more," Charley insisted.

"I thought you were my friend, Charley. Is this all about the money? Scoring a big payday?" Cat asked.

"You know it isn't," Charley answered. "But I don't understand."

"And I don't have to explain myself. To you or anyone."

"This would be an acceptable figure for our client," Judson said, drawing angry frowns from Ashley and Russ. "But in all fairness, I advise Miss Hollinger to consult further with her attorney before making a final decision."

"We need to talk," Jim said, looking only at Cat.

"About what, master?" she replied.

"Stop that."

"Or what? Will I be beaten?"

Jim stood and motioned to the sliding glass door. Cat rose from her seat, tugging her overcoat tighter. When Charley started to get up, she pushed him back down.

"You're not going out there. With him. Alone," Charley objected.

"I've been alone with him before," Cat replied.

Jim opened the door and followed her through. It was a cold day but not freezing. They went to a bench in the far corner where high walls provided protection from the wind.

"Just so you know, you have terrible lawyers," Cat said.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Every time I feel like walking out in front of a bus, one of your lawyers is there to stop me. According to Charley, if they would mind their own business, it would save you millions of dollars."

"It probably would."

"They are bad lawyers."

"That's not the way I look at it," Jim disagreed.

"What is it you want? Master."

"As stubborn as ever. I can't say how relieved I am."

"Thank you for the consideration. Master."

"Please stop doing that. I told you my real name when we were together. You never told me your name."

"It was against the rules. I would have been killed. And before long, I wish I had been," she replied. Jim wanted to reach for her. She held back.

"You never explained your situation. I eventually guessed, but you didn't make it easy."

"It was against--"

"Yes, it was against the goddamn fucking rules! Fuck the rules! I tried to buy you from Varoom. I extended the contract for thirty days, and then another thirty days, until I thought we had a deal."

"And then you gave me back to him. On April Fool's Day. I was certainly fooled, that's for sure. Tommy laughed about it. And then he gave me to Master #9."

"I read about what happened. You can't imagine how I felt."

"You can't imagine how I felt."

"I didn't give you to Varoom. I thought we were meeting to finalize a price. I offered more money, anything he wanted. He said no to everything. When I refused to let you go, Powell clubbed me over the head with a pistol. By the time I came to, you were gone."

Cat fell silent, trying to put it together.

"I didn't know that," she finally said.

"I never got the chance to explain."

"It broke me," she confessed. "I had nothing left to fight back with after that."

"I hired private detectives to find you, but you'd disappeared. And then I got word that if Varoom learned anyone was looking for you, he'd make you vanish permanently. I kept trying to make a deal. Varoom would only say you were being well-treated."

"Tommy doesn't make deals. Tommy exercises power. And for some reason I don't understand, he hates me."

"I'm sorry for what happened. Varoom got his hands on you again, and that was my fault. I was arrogant, and careless, and stupid. If there's any way I can ever make it up to you, just tell me what it is."

"You have my demands."

"Those are ridiculous demands. You need to be listening to your lawyer."

"Everyone wants to tell me what to do. I'm tired of listening."

"Do you hate me?" he asked.

"You know I can't hate you. That's why I hate you."

"I wanted to see you the moment you were found, but the police had the hospital under guard. And then I was brought in for questioning. Judson said I had to stay away. If I hadn't been arrested, I would have come anyway."

"It wasn't a good time," Cat said. "The investigators and lawyers were driving me crazy."

"What have you been doing since the trials ended? Are you okay? That Charley fellow seems to like you."

"He's gay. The other young guy is his boyfriend. I've been living with them for the last month since staying in the motel got too tough."

"Ashley told me about that. A hellhole called the Long Branch."

"It was better than a steel cage."

"After that first day, you were only in the cage a few times. Because you insisted. You wore towels around the house instead of clothes because you insisted. You refused to call me Jim, though I kept asking you to."

"Every time I returned from a new master, Tommy would take me down to his dungeon. He'd demand to know if the rules had been obeyed. I managed to lie about some things, but I couldn't lie about everything. He would have known."

"Some things? Like us lying in bed together every night? Making love instead of having sex? Like hoping for more?"

"There was no more for me. There never will be. Tommy didn't just steal my possessions, and my freedom. He stole my soul. He stole everything."

"I wish I'd understood better. I'm sorry."

"There's no point in being sorry. You're in prison."

"I've noticed."

"How are you being treated?"

"Better than you were. Can I ask a favor?"

"You can ask," Cat granted.

"I would rather not be in prison longer than necessary. Judson is appealing my conviction. If that doesn't work, I'll be up for parole in a few years. You went easy on me before. If--"

"I won't change my testimony. I told the truth. The part that I was allowed to tell. I've already told Mrs. Wilkerson I won't be bribed."

"You also told her you don't want to make my situation worse."

"I don't enjoy seeing you suffer," Cat said, dipping her head.

"If you never want to see me again, I understand. But I didn't call Judson here today to talk about money. Or my appeal. I wanted to see you. That's all I wanted. My feelings haven't changed."

"It's why I came. But you can't expect too much. It's not fair."

"All right. We'll take this slow. I'm not going anywhere."

"Literally."

"Is that a joke? Are you poking fun at me?"

"Yes, master," she replied.

It was cold. They went back inside. The lawyers were having coffee, though they weren't impressed with the quality.

"We're not making a decision on a settlement today," Jim announced. "I've advised Miss Hollinger to have further consultations with her attorney."

"That's good advice," Charley agreed.

"Do they have a ladies' room? Or do I have to pee in a john?" Cat asked.

"I think we can find one," Ashley said.

"Mr. Tieman, why don't you make sure they don't get lost?" Judson suggested. "You, too, Russ."

Soon only Jim and Judson remained at the table.

"She's not doing well, is she?" Jim asked.

"It's only been five months since the rescue, and three of those were spent in courtrooms under tremendous stress. I think the boys are making a difference, but she needs professional care and won't accept it."

"Someone needs to do something," Jim demanded.

"Ashley and Russ are trying. About this settlement?"

"Fifty-six thousand? Fuck that. Give it to her for now, but don't sign anything. I want you to set up a brokerage account. Put a million dollars in it. And get a doctor for her. A clinic. Whatever it takes, I'll pay for everything."

"Catherine says she won't be a charity case."

"Make up any story you need to. One day we'll tell her the truth, but for now, do whatever's necessary."

"Is this out of guilt, or have I been missing something?"

"You've been missing a lot," Jim replied.

* * * * * *

Continued in part four, Presents Under the Trees