Hannah tries to fend off cabin fever while she waits for Detective Johnson to finally catch the ever elusive Joey. But will he be caught in time?

It had been a week since I’d been outside. A whole week! To say I was going a bit stir crazy would be the biggest understatement of the century. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever be allowed to be a regular person again. Of course, that presupposed that I’d ever been a regular person in the first place.

It was getting bad enough that even practicing, which had always been my escape from the real world, was proving difficult thanks to my inability to maintain focus on the task at hand. I did manage to renew my acquaintance with the Kousevitsky concerto, which I hadn’t played since college, but that was probably the highlight of the entire week.

Eventually I resorted to daytime television, which hardly did anything to prevent my brain to turning to mush but it did pass the time. And there was my one link with the outside world…my cell phone.

I was on said gadget when Detective Johnson came in to check on me. As soon as he saw the telephone in use, he loudly asserted, “Get off that phone now! Don’t you know that your location can be traced by tracking the signal?”

I timidly said into the phone, “Gotta go, Beth. Laters.” I closed the phone and, looking at the good detective, said, “No, I didn’t know that. But don’t they have to know the number in order to do something like that? I’m pretty sure Joey doesn’t have this number.”

As he reached over and took the phone from me, he replied, “What makes you think he doesn’t know the number?”

“Well, he hasn’t called it. Not once, even though I know for a fact that he’s still leaving nasty messages on my home phone. If he knew this number, I’m sure he’d be calling it instead.”

“But you don’t know that, do you?” he asked. “Maybe he just wants you to think he doesn’t know it so you’ll keep using it until he manages to triangulate your position.”

“Okay, that sounds a little paranoid,” I said rather skeptically. “You forget, Joey is a regular at Lou’s, a bar rat, power drinker, trustee of modern chemistry. I doubt he has enough brain cells left to even think about using something as technologically advanced as cell phone GPS to track me down.”

After pausing for a second to allow my point to sink in, I continued, “I think you’re attributing a lot more intelligence to this guy than he has.”

He smirked at me as he said, “I might have been inclined to agree with your argument if I hadn’t just gotten the scoop on our buddy Joey.”

“Wha…” I said intelligently before falling silent.

He then produced a file folder and began reading, “Joseph Warner, born June 4th, 1966 in Chicago, Illinois. Joined the Navy right out of high school and trained in telecommunications and computers before transferring to the Seals. Spent five years there before being dishonorably discharged for conduct unbecoming…it says here he had multiple disciplinary actions taken against him, but the incident that led to his discharge involved beating a fellow Seal to death because the guy owed him twenty bucks. Shall I go on?”

I gulped before saying, “No, I get your point. What now?”

He took a deep breath and sighed before saying, “I know your phone conversations has been about the only thing that’s kept you sane here, so this is what I’m going to do. You can use the secure landline for a total of one hour a day. You will initiate all calls and caller ID information will be blocked.”

“But…” I tried to begin.

“But nothing,” he rebutted. And thus my cell phone was taken away from me for the duration of my stay in their custody.

Over the course of the next few days it seemed that some progress was made in the hunt for the elusive Joey Warner. By tracking debit and ATM activity, the police were able to determine that he was still in the area, although he was jumping around the area enough that they weren’t able to pin down a more narrow location. I tried my best to simply stay out of it and let my protectors do their work, although I found the boredom to be almost more than I could stand.

Officers Banks and Sanchez were my primary keepers, occasionally being spelled by Detective Johnson. When I asked why these poor kids were stuck guarding me all the time, the Detective’s reply was, “So we can minimize the number of people who know your location.”

“What? You think Joey has a spy on the police force now?” I asked.

“Who knows?” he replied. “But this guy killed one of my officers. I’m taking nothing for granted here.”

With seeing her nearly every night, I became quite friendly with Officer Banks…or as she insisted I start calling her, Ashley. We talked for hours every night, with only her hourly sortie outside to break up the girl chat fest. Most of the time we talked about music or movies, but as time went on we began to share a lot about ourselves.

We had been discussing this movie she had brought for me to watch when out of the blue she asked, “When did you know you wanted to change?”

“Wow,” I said. “Talk about topical whiplash.”

We both began giggling at that for a moment, but once things settled back down she said, “Seriously, when did you know?”

I thought for a moment before replying, “Well, for me it sort of came in stages. When I was a kid I knew I was different, but couldn’t put my finger on why. Then in high school and college I started trying to figure out what I was. I did a lot of reading and spent some time seeing a therapist, but we never really got to the bottom of things because I was afraid to explore that road at the time.”

“So when?” she asked, staring at me as though I were the most interesting person she’d ever talked to.

“Toward the end of college, we started actually getting down to the truth. But then I met Holly and one night we…you know…and she got pregnant.”

“What happened?”

“I did what I thought was the right thing…I proposed and we got married. Talk about a mistake.”

She was looking at me and I could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes as I continued, “I mean, I love my daughter more than I can say, but my problem started tearing us apart. I freely admit that the bulk of the responsibility for our marriage failing falls at my feet.” By the time I’d finished with that statement we were both in tears.

“So what’s next?” she asked, once we had both gotten the waterworks back under control.

I thought for a moment before replying, “I guess that depends.”

“On?” she probed further.

“Well, on what happens with all this for one thing. And whether or not I can come up with the money to pay for further treatment for another.”

“I take it this is all rather expensive?”

“You could say that,” I said. “I mean, the actual surgery may be the biggest
single expense, but there are so many other steps before you can get to that. Not having any kind of medical coverage makes it all that much worse.”

“Does insurance pay for it?”

“Most companies won’t pay for the actual reassignment procedure, but they will cover some of the steps leading up to it.”

She looked at me for a moment before asking, “Like?”

“If the plan covers any mental health services, then it will cover the required therapy leading up to SRS.”

She interrupted, “SRS?”

I grinned and said, “Oh yeah, I forget you don’t know all the jargon. SRS stands for sexual reassignment surgery.”

“Ah,” she retorted, her face changing from confusion to understanding before settling on a look of pure empathy.

The more I talked with Ashley, the more I grew to really like her. Equally as important, I think she came to genuinely like me as well. With that in mind, I asked, “So why are you here every night instead of going out? Surely you don’t find this more interesting?”

“Hey, I like hanging out with you. And I get paid to do it!” she barely got out before breaking down in a fit of giggles which I quickly found myself joining in.

Our conversation was interrupted a short while later by Ashley’s hourly trip around the grounds. While she was outside, I started watching some of the movie she’d brought for me. I became so engrossed that I hadn’t noticed that she’d been gone a lot longer than usual.

When I did finally realize that she was still absent, I paused the movie and started looking around the house. I checked the bedroom, kitchen, dining room, and even took a quick look in the basement before heading into the living room.

As I entered, I found myself face to face with a battered and bloodied Ashley, who in no uncertain terms said, “Get to your truck! We have to leave, now!”

Not being one who needs to be told twice, I ran for the garage with the injured Officer Banks trailing behind me. I helped her into the passenger side before climbing behind the wheel and starting the engine.

I hit the automatic door opener and as I started backing out I saw a dark figure standing in the middle of the driveway in my rearview mirror. I threw the truck into reverse and hit the gas, aiming straight for whom I assumed was Joey.

He managed to dive out of the way, after which I romped on the gas pedal as hard as I could. I’m fairly sure I left rather impressive looking skid marks in the process.

While all this was going on, Ashley managed to call in the incident using her radio. “The safe house has been compromised. The witness and I are attempting to ensure that we’re not followed. Awaiting instructions.”

We wound around the city for nearly two hours, constantly checking to make sure we weren’t being followed, while we talked about what to do next.

“Do you need a doctor?” I asked.

“No,” Ashley replied, “I’ll be okay. It’s just a little blood and bruising.”

“What do we do now?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t understand how he found us.”

I sat there for a moment feeling guilty before I said, “I suppose it could’ve been me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Detective Johnson took away my cell phone the other day because he said it could be used to track down my location.”

“They can, but you have to know the number to do it.”

“That’s what I thought. I told him I didn’t think Joey had that number, since he’d never called it, but the detective thought it would be better to be safe than sorry.”

“Looks like he had a point,” she said. “But that still doesn’t explain how he found us. I mean, if it were the phone, why take this long to make his move?”

“I don’t know.”

We eventually found ourselves heading out of town and at Tim and Beth’s place. We pulled in and got out of the truck, then went straight inside after confirming that nobody had followed us.

As soon as Beth saw us, she came running to me and grabbed me in a fierce hug while asking, “Are you all right? What happened?”

Returning her hug, I responded, “We ran into a little bit of a problem. Any chance we can hang out here until the police arrange another location?”

Beth smiled and said, “Do you really think you need to ask?”

Looking toward Tim, who hadn’t yet acknowledged my presence, I asked, “What about him? You know, what with things changing with me and all?”

In answer to my questions, Beth turned and gestured toward Tim as if to say ‘ask him’.

I decided there was no time like the present and cleared my throat before saying, “Hey cuz. How’s it going?”

He looked up from the book he was reading and uncomfortably said, “Hey Har…Hannah. You all right?” I’m not sure why, but knowing that he was willing to make even that much effort for me brought tears to my eyes. Before I knew it I had headed toward him and gave him a gentle hug in response.

As I released the hug and tried to wipe the tears out of my eyes I said, “Thanks Tim.”

“What for? I haven’t done anything,” he replied.

“Oh, but you have,” I retorted as I gave him a smile.

Ashley interrupted the family reunion, “Is there any way we can stay here until my superiors figure out a new location for Hannah?”

“There’s no need to ask,” said Beth. “Coffee anyone?”

Once we’d gotten settled Beth made coffee for everyone, which we drank as we filled her in on what had transpired at the safe house. After that I crashed on the sofa while Ashley waited for word from Detective Johnson concerning our next move.

The next thing I knew, I was being shaken awake. As I started to regain consciousness, I realized that it was the good detective doing the shaking, at which I asked, “What’s next?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied.

“Gee, that engenders a lot of confidence in a girl.”

“Yeah, well I guess I deserved that,” he said, half chuckling. “You all right?”

“Still a little spooked, but all right. Is Ashley…?”

“She’s fine. A few scrapes and bruises, nothing major. Probably got worse during training at the academy.”

I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that my new friend was all right, but it was short-lived as I remembered what Detective Johnson had said to me about using my cell phone. That thought forced me to tentatively ask, “So was this my fault?”

He thought for a moment before replying, “Who knows? He might’ve tracked your location with the GPS, or he might’ve simply followed one of the officers guarding you.”

“You think that’s possible?” I asked. “I mean, I hate to say this, but Officer Banks was with me every night for over a week. If he knew that he could’ve easily tailed her straight there.” I felt a shiver run down my spine as I thought about that.

“It doesn’t really matter how he tracked you down. All that matters is that we don’t let it happen again.” After a brief pause to allow that to sink in, he then said, “Now on another note, we need to get you to a more secure location.”

“You’ll forgive me if I seem a bit resistant to that idea. After all, your last ‘secure’ location turned out to not be all that secure after all.”

“I suppose that’s true. Still,” he retorted, “I’d prefer having you somewhere easier to defend than here.”

“And I would hate to impose on my cousin any more than I have already,” I added. “I just wish this was over already.”

“I know, Miss Dawson,” he said, after which I glanced at my cousin Tim whose reaction surprised me in a good way. He simply smiled at me.

My mind began wandering, only to be brought back by the detective’s voice saying, “We could set up a trap for him, if you’d be willing?”

“What did you say?” I asked, as I missed some of what he’d said while allowing my inner thoughts free reign of my head.

“I suggested setting a trap for Joey,” he repeated.

I stared at him, my veins coursing with a combination of excitement and fear. Excitement that this might all end soon, coupled with fear that it might all end soon. Once I found my voice I asked, “What do you have in mind?”