When One Door Opens (25 page)

“I need to talk to you about Logan,” she said, sounding earnest.

Wary of her motivations, he said, “What about?”

Karen looked at her hands as if debating what to say. “I think Logan needs help and I know you’re his… friend.”

Flabbergasted, Caleb stared at her as she continued. She bit her lip. “I think he’s been drinking on the job.”

An immediate denial died on Caleb’s lips before he could voice it. He had seen the longing in Logan’s eyes when he looked at the patrons drinking beer at the game.
What if he’s drinking at home when there’s no one there to see? What if that’s the real reason he doesn’t want me to visit?
Caleb’s knees began to shake at the thought. When he had met Logan’s AA sponsor, Stacy, she had said relationship and money troubles were the top stressors for recovering alcoholics.
What if the expensive tickets and my near meltdown sent him straight into a bottle of booze?

Karen gave an indelicate snort. “You should see your face.”

With a conscious effort, Caleb tried to focus on her.
Was she joking?
It seemed impossible that even she could be so cruel. “What are you talking about?”

She gave Caleb a hard smile. “Imagine how easy it would be for someone to convince Logan’s PO that he’s back to being an alky. Especially when Dabb finds out that Logan violated his parole a month ago by meeting me at a bar.”

Caleb felt a stab of irritation as he realized when she was talking about. Logan hadn’t mentioned it would violate his probation to meet her at a bar.
Why did he agree to meet her there?
Focusing on the here and now, he said, “Dabb’s too smart. He won’t believe you.”

“You did,” she said ruthlessly.

The truth in the words made the hot dog in his gut threaten to make a reappearance. He should have known better than to believe anything that came out of her mouth.

Likely sensing his distress, she went for the kill. “Could you live with yourself if you were the reason Logan got sent back to prison?”

Caleb sighed and rubbed his forehead. “What do you want, Karen?”

“Your uncle is retiring and his replacement officially takes over on Monday. I want you to convince Logan to leave with your uncle.”

Caleb gaped. He hadn’t known his uncle was thinking of retiring, let alone this week. Was the corporate head office forcing him out for someone younger and cheaper? It might explain why his uncle hadn’t mentioned it.

“Why do you need Logan to quit?” With a flash of understanding, Caleb understood why. Dabb. Dabb had permission from corporate to access the warehouse in order to check on Logan. And Logan had mentioned that Dabb had helped him get the job as a package handler.
Maybe he knows someone at corporate.
Dabb must scare someone like Karen shitless. But that still didn’t explain why the sudden rush to get rid of Logan’s PO.

“I could go to Dabb and tell him what you’re doing.”

She shook her head derisively. “You’re in love with Logan. You’d say anything to keep him out of jail and more importantly, you have no proof.”

The latter was certainly true. All those years ago at the warehouse, he had seen what? A Latino package handler he didn’t recognize stuffing something that looked like a stack of package labels under his shirt as he exited the bathroom stall. And he had seen Karen follow him out of the same stall. Suspicious, but no real proof of anything. Even tonight, she hadn’t admitted to committing a crime.

Holding up the phone, Karen said, “Time to call lover boy.”

Caleb raked a hand through his hair. “You expect me to convince him to quit his job over the phone? He needs Dabb’s permission to change jobs.” Trying another tactic, he asked, “Why call him now? He’s coming by after his shift tomorrow.”

“He had to agree to work a triple shift tomorrow to get off early today.”

Jesus. Fifteen hours? How could he survive that?
Another thought trickled in.
He did it for me.
Caleb’s eyes burned and his throat thickened. He took the phone from her.

L
OGAN
didn’t look at his watch until he’d reached his apartment building. The lit screen revealed the time: 8:09. He opted to sprint up to the stairs rather than wait for the elevator.

Dabb was leaning against his apartment door eating from a package of M&M’s. Logan wasn’t even surprised. He felt oddly deflated. He hadn’t been late to curfew once and the one time he was, of course, Dabb was waiting for him. Dabb must have a hundred ex-cons assigned to him, and he couldn’t be everywhere. Logan didn’t know why he’d told Dabb about the game, except maybe wanting his PO to know he wasn’t a completely useless boyfriend.

Dabb wasn’t dressed to blend in to this neighborhood with his khaki pants, sandals, and fanny pack. But Logan doubted anybody gave his PO a hard time, and it wasn’t because his untucked shirt bulged slightly at the hip. Dabb didn’t need a gun to be a badass. He just was. Logan wasn’t looking forward to this conversation.

Unzipping the pack, Dabb ordered Logan to step closer. He held up the breathalyzer and gave Logan the order to blow. When the beep sounded, he looked at the display and said, “Glad to see you resisted the lure of ballpark Budweiser.” He put the tester away and pulled out a mininotebook. “Now let’s talk about the curfew violation,” he said while scribbling on the pad.

Logan sighed. “Shit weather and a rain delay made us late getting out of the game.”

Without looking away from his notebook, Dabb said, “Let’s go inside.”

“Fine, but I need to call Caleb and make sure he got home okay.” Logan unlocked the door and entered, pulling out his cell phone and dialing Caleb’s number. The phone rang before he could punch the Send button.

“Hey, baby.” Logan wanted to ask how the ride home had gone. Instead, he settled for asking, “How you doing?”

Dabb started searching the apartment, opening drawers and sifting through stuff, no doubt looking for booze or drugs. Logan moved as far away from his PO as possible in the 350-square-foot apartment.

“F-fine.”

Wanting to keep this conversation short with Dabb listening, Logan said, “Let me call you back. Dabb is busy sniffing through my dirty drawers.”

“No!”

Logan heard what sounded like a muffled argument. “Caleb?”

For a blinding moment, Logan knew what real panic felt like. A barrage of worst-case scenarios exploded in his brain like a triggered minefield. The force of it sent him reeling against the wall. At the sound of the dial tone, reason punched through and reminded him he’d seen Caleb’s home phone number on the cell display.
He made it home, but who the fuck is with him?
He doubted Caleb was arguing with Mrs. Simon. Six rings later, the voice mail kicked in. Logan stared at the phone, trying not to lose it.

Raising a brow, Dabb asked, “What’s up?”

Logan’s phone rang before he could respond. In lieu of a greeting he asked, “Who were you talking to?”

“Uh, n-no one. I accidentally turned on the television.”

Logan frowned at the phone. It hadn’t sounded like the TV, but Caleb didn’t sound panicked. Tired and a little rattled, yes, but that was expected after a trip to the ballpark.

“Tell Dabb it was my fault you were late.”

“Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Get some sleep.” Logan ended the call and turned to find Dabb wearing an amused smirk.

“Do you want me to go over there and tuck him into bed?”

Logan scowled at him.

Dabb put up his hands. “Hey, don’t get grumpy with me. You’re the one who sent him home by his lonesome instead of bringing him back here. You could’ve been braiding each other’s hair and painting each other’s toenails tonight. Sleepovers are allowed provided the person has their own permanent residence.”

Logan looked away. “I don’t want him coming over here. Nothing but former drunks, druggies, and wackos live here.” Many of which weren’t very former.

“Newsflash, Logan. You’re one of them.” An uncomfortable expression crossed Dabb’s face as he shifted from one foot to the other. “Did Caleb tell you I showed him the crime photos?”

Logan stared at him. Caleb hadn’t said a word. He’d assumed Dabb had told him about the fight, but learning the details wasn’t the same as seeing the gory pictures of his crime. He brought a hand to rub at his forehead. He wanted to ask Dabb why he’d done it, but he was afraid of the answer he’d hear. Complete strangers went out of their way to help Caleb. He couldn’t be angry with Dabb for trying to protect him.

“You know what he said after I got done trying to scare him off?” Dabb said, pulling Logan back from his thoughts. “You deserve a second chance. He’s right. But you’ve got to let yourself have that chance. Pretending the past didn’t happen is a surefire way of reliving it.”

“What if I fuck it up?” Logan asked, hearing the desperate edge in his own voice, the way the words came out frayed around the edges. “What if I go back to being that man and I drag him down with me?”

“Being that man is a choice, not a foregone conclusion. Ask for help before you get to that point.” Dabb’s eyes turned cold and hard. “If you can’t, then you don’t deserve to be with him.” Logan wondered if the glint in his PO’s eyes meant he was ready to pinch hit if Logan couldn’t get his shit together.

“I’m not going to report the curfew violation, just don’t let it become a habit.”

“I won’t,” Logan said, opening the door for Dabb. “Thanks.”

Dabb looked like he had something more to say, but then he shook his head and headed out.

Chapter 10

T
HE
fog rising off the lake was still thick at 8:00 a.m. The billowing mists seemed to highlight the city grime by forcing people to focus on the clear pockets in front of them. Caleb shivered in the back of the cab, wishing he had put a jacket on over his sweats and long-sleeved T-shirt. The cold wasn’t the only thing making him shake, but he needed to stay focused in order to help Logan.

Arriving at his destination, Caleb paid the fare with a trembling hand, exited the cab at the corner of Monroe and Wabash, and entered the Office of Parole. In his last session, his therapist, Dr. Ryan, had made him create a list of triggers for his panic attacks. The emotional ones had been easier than the physical triggers. How could he describe that prickly feeling he got when someone was staring at him? Watching and waiting for him to fall apart. Caleb could feel it now. He zeroed in on the main desk and focused on it as he moved through the lobby, trying to ignore the way his skin twitched with each step.

A dark-skinned woman in her forties with close-cropped hair talked on the phone while typing into her computer rapidly. Her eyes narrowed as he approached. “Hold on,” she said, before covering the receiver. “Do you have an appointment?” Tilting her head to look around Caleb, she barked, “Why are you still loitering in my lobby, Carlos?”

Caleb looked over his shoulder and saw an attractive Latino man with warm, brown eyes and slicked back hair.

“I’m waiting on my ride,” Carlos said, before pressing his lips together as if to keep another word from escaping. He turned his attention to Caleb. “You an ex-con, pretty? Did some pig catch you on your knees?” He looked Caleb over, slow and deliberate.

The woman snapped her fingers. “What do you need, blondie?”

Caleb whipped his head toward her. “I’m here to see John Dabb.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No,” he said, realizing he had been stupid not to call first. He’d been too focused on psyching himself up to leave the apartment.

“He won’t see you without an appointment. I can call him and try and schedule one for ya, but that’s it.”

“Okay.”

This response seemed to throw her momentarily. Like maybe she expected Caleb to argue. Handing him a notepad, she said, “Write down your contact information and when you’d be available.”

When Caleb completed the task, the woman directed him to take a seat on a long, wooden bench.

Watching Caleb’s approach, Carlos asked, “Why don’t you come closer and keep me company until Big D gets here.”

Caleb took a seat on the bench. “She said he won’t see me without an appointment.”

“You watch.” Carlos pointed to the woman as she dialed a number. “Big D won’t send you away.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “He’ll give you hell for breaking the rules, but he won’t send you away.”

Caleb smiled. It was good to hear his impression of Dabb confirmed. Tough but fair. “Is Mr. Dabb your PO?” He flushed as he realized he had assumed the man was an ex-con, but Carlos didn’t seem bothered by it.

Carlos slid over the bench until their thighs pressed together uncomfortably close. “Yeah, they give all the faggots to Big D. Let the fag deal with the faggots.” He rolled his eyes. “Better we have him than some of those other
culos
. But if you get caught trickin’, he’ll nail your ass and not in the fun way,
bebe
.” Carlos licked his full bottom lip slowly. “A damn shame. I’ll bet your mouth would be worth it.”

Caleb snapped his gaping mouth shut when Carlos winked at him. “I’m not… a prostitute,” he whispered. The ding of the elevator compelled Caleb to stand, ignoring Carlos’s murmurs of appreciation.