Free Last Breath by Brandilyn Collins, Amberly Collins Page A

into the paper bag he’d carried out of prison. He stepped from his second floor room to the oven-like heat of a Phoenix June morning and hurried down the long outside corridor to the stairs.
    On the street he walked three blocks before spotting a cab to flag down. In the back seat he closed his eyes, remembering prison. The noises, the smells. The danger. Never knew who’d shank you in the back.
    He’d die before he went back there.
    The cab slowed. He opened his eyes and saw the bank. Snatching up his paper bag, he slid from the car and paid the cabbie.
    Inside the bank, he waited for help at one of the customer service desks. An attractive thirtyish woman with blonde hair beckoned for him to take the seat across from her. He stared at her, thinking of Rayne.
    â€œHow can I help you, sir?”
    â€œI need an ATM card.”
    â€œAll right. Do you have the number for your account?”
    â€œCan you just look it up for me?”
    â€œSure. I need to see some ID.”
    He pulled a worn wallet from his back jeans pocket and took out his driver’s license. “Here you go.” He slid the white piece of paper in front of her.
    She smiled, reading his name on the license. “Franklin Borden.”
    â€œYeah.” He smiled back. “That’s me.”

16
    T wo brisk knocks sounded on Mom’s hospital room door. I turned around in my chair near her bed. “Yeah?”
    The door opened part way and Ross stuck his head inside. “The cavalry’s here. With food.”
    Disappointment carved through me. Mom’s story had so transported me, I almost forgot the present. Now reality came flooding back—my hunger, Mom’s injury, Cat.
    Officer Hanston had never called me back.
    â€œCome on in, Ross,” Mom said.
    The door opened fully and he stepped inside, clad in jeans and a black Rayne T-shirt, his scraggly hair in a ponytail. He carried two full McDonald’s bags, which he handed to me. “Didn’t know what breakfast stuff you’d want, so I got one of everything.”
    â€œThanks.” I took them from Ross’s hand, my hunger doubling at the enticing scents wafting from the bags. Sinking down on my bed, I pulled out a breakfast burrito and unwrapped it.
    Ross walked over to Mom. “How ya doing, Rayne?” He sat down in the chair I’d been using, half his profile to me.
    I took a bite of the burrito and tasted the salty, velvet explosion of eggs and cheese.
    Mom managed a smile. “I’m doing okay.”
    â€œLess pain?”
    â€œLong as I don’t move.”
    He patted her casted arm. “I sent Wendell down to bring up your suitcases, Shaley’s too. The car’s at a delivery door. Reporters are still camped out at the main entrance.”
    â€œThanks. What’s happening with the band?”
    â€œThey’re coming to see you soon.” Ross turned to me. “Wendell told me you saw that photographer around here.”
    I swallowed a bite, reaching for my phone. “Yeah. I need to find out if they caught him.”
    Mom and Ross waited while I called Officer Hanston. They hadn’t found Cat yet, he told me. Officers were still looking. I shot Ross a weary look and shook my head. “Okay, thanks. Please call me when you get him.”
    I ended the call and sighed. How could Cat hide so well? Everything within me still wanted to go out and find him myself. This was stupid , having to sit in this room and do nothing.
    Ross gave me a look like he knew what I was thinking. “Sit tight, Shaley, they’ll get him.”
    Yeah, yeah.
    Breakfast didn’t taste so good anymore. I finished the burrito and halfheartedly fished in the first McDonald’s bag. I pulled out a blueberry muffin.
    Ross cleared his throat. “When everybody gets here we need to have a meeting.”
    Mom’s mouth twisted. “What’s there to talk about? The tour’s over.”
    Ross nudged his