MacArthur's Freehold
Enak Nomolos
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Title - Part I
Chapter   1
Chapter   2
Chapter   3
Chapter   4
Chapter   5
Chapter   6
Chapter   7
Chapter   8
Chapter   9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Title - Part II
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Title - Part III
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79


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Chapter 1 - HXGGOULLFQKM

Lying on his bunk, Darrell Carter stared at the bottom of his cellmate's bed. Over two thousand days, he thought. More like twenty-five hundred, he knew, as he used to do the calculation, but eventually stopped. There were two leap years in the seven of his imprisonment, so there were two extra days, he remembered.

It wasn't important anyway, as the days were almost up. His release date was a week away. Next Thursday, he thought, and wondered what would become of him after that. Forty-eight years old, nearly forty-nine. No job or any prospects for getting one, even if he wanted to. There would be no time between now and old age to earn and save money, no pension.

There had been, once. Seventeen years on the Saint Louis police department, retirement looked pretty good. Always a thrifty sort, and not given to wasteful habits even as a young man, he had had a fair amount of money in the bank, much more than the average working man, and the pension plan was generous.

Now it was all gone. The money spent on lawyers, the house repossessed, and the pension forfeited. He was about to be an ex-con without a dime to his name, nowhere to go and no idea what to do. He had attended and largely ignored the counseling sessions that were supposed to prepare ex-cons to reenter society. And he had refused to apply for parole, he had no interest in going to a halfway house in order to get out of the cell a few months early. He was going to do the full seven years, and then..

So he had sat through the reentry sessions and spent most of the time analyzing the demeanor of the other inmates - he had no interest in what was going on. His post-prison plans were set.

The thoughts he had dwelt on since his first day here came back. It was almost time.

He heard the cell door opening and looked over to see a guard. His cellmate was already at the visitors center, it could only be for him.

"Come on, you got a visitor," the guard said.

Carter had not had many visitors during his incarceration. His two siblings had never visited, and he had asked his parents not to. He did not want any of his family seeing him in prison. He was glad he hadn't married - not just because so many cops' marriages didn't work but having a wife and going to prison would have been that much worse. A couple of friends had come during the first months, but that soon stopped. He might as well have died.

The guard led him to a visitor booth and he sat down and looked at the man on the other side of the glass, not immediately recognizing him. Then he picked up the phone.

"Hello, Tommy, long time no see."

"Not that long." Tommy grinned. "Just seems that way in here. I've only been out a little over two years."

"That is a long time in here, as you know."

"Yeah." Tommy Lancaster closed his eyes for a few seconds as if remembering. "So how've you been lately? You're just about done."

"Yeah."

"Got any plans?"

"Same as always," Carter replied. "It's just a matter of how and when."

"You really are a hardcase, I guess. You probably could have saved yourself a year, maybe more, if you'd tried for parole."

"Yeah, well, you know me. I'm not begging for anything. When I walk out of here I'm free. No halfway house, no parole officer. And and my life is mine, what's left of it. The world can go to hell. It's already most of the way there."

"Look," said Tommy, "if you don't have anything lined up, I've got a proposition for you. It'll keep a roof over your head and food on the table. If it doesn't work for you you can walk away. What do you say I pick you up when you get out, I'll take you up to my place and give you some time to adjust."

"Sure, why not? What else am I gonna do?"

"Good. I'll give you a little teaser - prepare to be surprised. See you in a week. I'll be here to pick you up."

Tommy hung up the phone, grinned and made an OK sign, then got up to leave.