Free With Good Behavior by Jennifer Lane

strong arms that day—a sense of safety he’d never felt before. Far off in the distance he heard the cries of a young boy, echoing in his mind like his own helpless, abandoned whimpers. The fearful sounds became louder, and Grant snapped out of his trance to see the alarmed faces of ship passengers all around him at the railing.
    “Somebody get him!” a man yelled.
    “Henry!” a woman screamed. Grant followed the sound of abject panic and saw the chardonnay lady wildly waving her arms, staring at the river below. Grant trained his eyes on the water and was horrified to see the boy thrashing in the river, his small head bobbing precipitously, about to go under.
    “Man overboard!” Grant roared, and without thinking, he climbed the railing and launched himself into the river.
    The icy water sliced through him, but instinct and Navy training took over as he calmly swam toward the boy. The ship engines kicked off, and he inched closer to his rescue target in what felt like dead silence. The boy was sputtering and his eyes flashed with terror each time he was able to kick to the surface.
    Almost there,  Grant told himself as he took swift, sure strokes. His sopping clothing weighed down his arms, and he mentally kicked himself for failing to remove his shoes before he jumped into the water. He was a little rusty in Navy rescue techniques after two years in prison.
    Finally he reached the boy, and he extended his strong arm, trying to rein him into a safe embrace.
    “It’s okay,” he shouted. “Just relax. I got ya.”
    The boy frantically kicked and clawed before finally going limp in Grant’s arms. He still appeared conscious, so Grant guessed he must be in shock. He treaded water with some difficulty, but kept them both afloat until Roger restarted the engines and navigated the ship closer to them. Tommy (who apparently used the commotion to take a break from Grant’s former toilet-cleaning duties) tossed out a life buoy, which Grant retrieved, lifting the donut-shaped raft over the boy’s head and encircling him in the floating device. Grant kicked and pulled them both toward the rope ladder that had been extended over the hull of the ship, and he carefully helped the young boy up before climbing the ladder himself.
    Pulling himself over the gunwale, he heard the mother screech at her son, “Why in the hell did you jump off the boat?”
    “My Cubs hat flew off my head!” he whined, his body shaking from the cold. “It went into the river, and I wanted it!”
    His mother snatched the towel offered by a staff member. Wrapping her trembling son in the fluffy fabric, she placed her face within inches of his. “You ever try something like that again and I will  kill  you!”
    Roger arrived on the scene, studying the soaking-wet white shirt clinging to his employee’s chest. His eyes trailed down to the water dripping off Grant’s black pants onto the deck below.
    “You kept your shoes on, you idiot.”
    “Sorry.” Grant grimaced, shaking water out of his ear.
    Roger leaned in closer and whispered, “You just saved my ass, Madsen. Well done.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Looks like you’re more valuable up here on deck. You’ll never have to clean toilets again.” Roger nodded, then turned on his heel and headed back to the bridge to guide the ship to the docks.
    Grant grinned as Tommy handed him a towel. Maybe the man overboard had just swum closer to shore.

8. Forty Percent
    W as she having a heart attack?
    Sophie had trouble getting air as she paused outside Officer Stone’s door. Her throat constricted with fear, and the dull pain in her chest sent waves of alarm coursing through her body. Had her mother felt this way prior to her heart attack? Would Sophie soon be seeing her mother again? She grasped the blurry frame of the metal door in front of her, maintaining a white-knuckled death grip as black spots danced before her eyes.
    Wait a minute. Tightness in her chest? Racing heart? Fear of dying? This