“So, what about the Judge?” asked Ken nervously.
“I threatened to put his head in a jar if he told anyone.”
“Ouch,” said Ken, starting to laugh and catching himself. “So, he’ll keep quiet?”
“Probably until right before he’s hanged or otherwise. Then he’ll sing like a sparrow because, well, why not?”
Ken paused… “I thought the jump would have my stomach all tied up in knots. But nope—turns out it’s this talk.”
“What do we do?” Ken asked.
“I’m glad you asked. I’ll make this quick because people are starting to stare over here. There are three sets of keys to the jailhouse and every cell. Sheriff Johnson has one, his lead deputy another, and the last set is right here,” she said, pulling a ring with six keys attached out of her purse, just high enough for him to see. “So, the short of it is, if you want to save your skin and mine, we have three choices. You kill him tomorrow night; it has to be before Saturday. Or we set him free in the cover of night, and if he’s smart, he’ll never return. In this scenario, the Sheriff and his men will be so focused on Saturday’s events they won’t have time to go looking for him for at least another day.”
“Wait…that’s it? What’s choice number three?”
“There isn’t a number three,” she said, with a sigh.
“Kate, I don’t like this at all. None of it.”
“Neither do I, but it’s him or us. I can control everything else, but not this unless the Sheriff decides to let him walk, and I highly doubt that now. It’s the only way, unless you have a better suggestion.”
“Can I think about it?”
“Sure, but don’t take too long. I’ll make sure I serve dinner tonight, so I can let the Judge know I’m serious. All I need from you is an answer of one or two when I ask how many ketchup packets you want.”
“Then what?” asked Ken.
“The note I pass you when I pick up the plates will have the next instructions. Eat it when you’ve read it.”
“Eat it?”
“Yes, there can be no trace of it, and it will go down in small bites. Understand?”
“Yes, Kate. Unfortunately, I do.”
She dropped the keys back into her purse, making a mental note not to forget to hide them in her special spot inside an old high-heel shoe in the back of her closet.
The third set always stayed in the home safe, but she had made two duplicate sets more than a year ago, taking an entire day and traveling up to Denver to use an anonymous locksmith. He questioned her at first, stating they looked like jail cell keys. She said, “That’s not your concern,” slipping him a crisp $100 bill before paying the flat rate charge per specialized key.
“Not bad for a high school dropout,” she said aloud, to no one else as she walked out to her car. Kate was never book-smart but she always considered herself streetwise, and she never once felt she was selling herself short.
* * * *
Friday came quickly, with everyone anticipating tomorrow’s happenings.
Convincing her fiancé to let her serve tonight’s jail dinner was easy with the promise of his favorite smothered pork chops when she returned and “whatever happens after that,” using the classic line she had heard once in a movie.
“Just slide it under the cell,” he called out as she walked out the door, “and don’t get within arm’s reach of any cell, no matter what.”
“Got it, babe. Just relax,” she said, handing him a jar of James’ finest. “I’ll be back in no time.”
“Don’t forget the keys,” the Sheriff called out. “You will need them for the front door.”
“Oh, silly me,” she called back. “Can you get them for me? I can never remember the combination to the safe.” The lie rolled off her tongue so smoothly she almost believed it.
“You should really know it,” he replied.
“That’s why I have you, my strong man,” she flirted as he retrieved them. “I’ll be back before you miss me,” she said, with a smile.
* * * *
Kate would take the truck down to the jailhouse with the meals she had prepared at home. She needed something that went with ketchup, and she opted to serve something quick and easy. After all, she was due to cook a special dinner for the most powerful man in Weston, and probably the county. Hotdogs and tater tots were on the menu at the jail.
The town general fund was paying for the meals, but the Sheriff’s budget was slowly draining. Ken was the exception, reminding him of a younger self. Or maybe the younger man he wished he had been. Either way, he was resolved to clear the jailhouse in one fell swoop, dreaming of a few days off, fishing at the lake his dad took him to as a young boy—Trinidad Lake Park. He would mention this to his girlfriend at least twice a week for the last three years.
“We leave on Monday,” he told Kate before she left.
“I’m not going fishing at some god-awful lake thirty miles away,” she responded.
“It’s 18.”
“What?”
“I said it’s 18, and that means it’s within our 20-mile town radius. I’ve been thinking of doubling that to 40 miles before some other Sheriff, or Judge, beats me to it with their town. Anyway, I aim to go fishing in my town. Besides, I haven’t met my citizens on that side. Technically the entire lake is mine, anyway. How cool is that?”
“It’s cool, all right,” she responded, “but only if they already know it. You had better take some backup if you want to make it back home.”
“Maybe I should just take Judge Lowry with me! He loves to fish, you know,” he told her.
“I know you’re joking, honey, so I won’t even respond to that. Speaking of him, what are your plans?”
“I don’t know. Wish I did, Kate, ’cause man, I need a break.”
“You could...” she started to say, before
