The moment would present itself. Tommy knew. These policemen were creatures of habit, though not necessarily disciplined. And when they took him out the final time, Tommy would make his escape, because if he didn’t, he didn’t believe he’d live through the next few days.
His weakness, him curled into the corner, appearing as vulnerable as possible, would be what might work to save him. His cowering and whimpering would ensure they didn’t believe he had it in him to run. His back was covered in his cellmate’s spray, the disgusting filthy way these men marked their dominance. As the cold air met his wet back, he shivered. He pushed his head against the plaster, trying to reduce the throbbing as his brain pulsed against his skull. He was back where he’d started almost two years before. In jail, promising himself he’d never go back. This time he knew he could keep the promise.
“Arthur, Harmon, Ridley. Shopshire—you’re staying till you get sprung.”
Tommy eyed Benny Shopshire, and he winked back. It was happening just as they’d thought it would. Benny had an attorney who owed him for throwing a boxing match so he could collect a significant amount of money on his loss. He wouldn’t have to go into the cellar cells. He would simply wait for this lawyer to arrive with cash.
Though the plan seemed solid, Tommy’s heart raced. If he didn’t get away during this transition, he’d be tucked into the cellar. The time in the cell made it clear that, although he wanted to protect his mother, Pearl, Katherine, Yale, his father, he needed to escape and then leave Des Moines. The idea broke his heart, but he saw no other way. They’d all worked so hard to make it back to each other, worked so hard for the little cottage, but staying in Des Moines would not be the answer any longer. Hearing the whispered conversation that hid information between Mama and Judge Calder made him sure. Living in town with the judge would not be an option. He’d be stowed away in a workhouse or Glenwood, drugged, unable to act other than to allow himself to be abused.
If he stayed and fought the judge . . . Tommy chortled. Fought the judge? All the judges? Were any of them not crooked? No. In order to save himself, Mama, all of them, he’d have to leave town.
An officer called two prisoners. Tommy straightened and turned knowing Ben and he would be left with the second officer. A light forced his eyes closed again, and those two men shuffled toward the door.
Tommy’s mind began to clear, and he readied himself.
A second officer came and he and the first tied the two prisoners’ hands behind them. As they were finishing the knots on the second man, Tommy’s breath turned shallow. This was it. He scanned the hall beyond the officers to see if any other policemen were around. He wasn’t sure he could do it. But this was it. He had to get his family out of Des Moines.
He tossed himself onto the floor and began to fake a convulsion. At first one officer circled him, staring, a surprised look on his face. Tommy rolled his eyes back as far as he could and jerked with stiff arms and legs.
“You deal with that shit. I’ll get these two downstairs.” The second officer took Harmon and Ridley down the hall. Tommy, still shaking, focused just enough to see the officer disappear into the stairwell with the two men, and Tommy was left with the first officer. He raised his hand toward Benny, as planned, and on cue Benny managed to make himself vomit.
“Sweet mother of God, what’s wrong with you heathens tonight?” the officer groaned.
Tommy jerked and flopped. The officer yelled for someone, but no one came, and somehow Benny kept the vomit spewing. Soon the officer was tending to him with his back to Tommy.
Tommy leapt to his feet and rushed down the hall to the front door. The officer in the reception area was gone, and Tommy made the cleanest escape he ever could have imagined.