The Meat Cellar (Book #1 in trilogy)

Epilogue: Loca

"Hey, loca," called out my older Spanish cellmate. I stopped looking at the photo I had of Sam in my hands and lifted my head from the bottom bunk to look over at her.

"What?" I asked, in a rather grumpy tone.

"Your husband is on the tv again," she replied.

Considering I had already seen his public statement, I really did not need to rush over to catch another glimpse of him, but I got to my feet quickly anyway. I walked over to catch the tail end of his announcement at the podium in front of reporters and then saw him walk back into a building with who I thought was the investigator from our case.

I slumped down on the chair next to Rosa and sighed. Sam's announcement was six months old and I had received just one phone call from him since I signed the papers for the sale of our house. He still had not found a new place to live, but he was doing well; not one of Martin's people had been able to track him down and threaten him.

"Do you think he is still waiting for you?" Rosa asked, glancing over at me as I stared at the television.

I shrugged. Holding up his photo in my right hand I replied, "These eyes say yes, and so did the ones from the announcement on tv. But I have only heard from him once."

"I told you he was not going to wait, loca. He called you once over the past six months and you have tried calling him once every month. He has a new bitch."

Her words stung a bit, but I still did not believe them.

Breathing deeply in through my nostrils, I looked down at the photo of Sam still in my hand.

"I guess I will find out next year if he has a new bitch. That is when I get my first visitation for good behaviour."

She skeptically glared sideways at me. "Really, loca? And how are you going to find him if he moves? He is not obligated to tell you. And how can you be sure you will get the visitation? A lot can happen in one year."

"I know that," I assured her. "I will just start at his parent's place. If I do not find him there, or they do not tell me, I have my ways." Glancing upward, I thought about her second question for a moment. "A lot can happen in a year, but I am not worried at all."

Rosa turned to face me. "You are loca. So loca. You better watch what"—she pointed her finger at me—"you do when you get out, or you will be back"—she pointed down—"here before you know it. If you want your man, you will find him, I know that. But, I am warning you, do not bring crazy to him. If you do that"—pressing her finger against her own chest—"I will not even see you again."

I stared off into space as I thought, If I get out, I won't ever come back. I will die before that happens.