Shane

This must be what it's like to go through the foster care system, Markayla thought to herself bitterly. She placed the few belongings she had taken from the hospital on top of the dresser in the tiny room of the home she would reside in for an unknown period of time. It was a three-bedroom house with two other occupants. One was hiding from her husband and the other wouldn’t say what she was hiding from, and frankly, Markayla didn't even care. She just wanted some semblance of her life back and to be able to live without feeling as if she were the criminal instead of the victim. She felt like she may as well be tied to a chair because there was nothing she could do but read some of the old books that were present, which didn't interest her, or watch TV. She couldn't go online and log into any of her accounts or do anything she normally did. The house didn’t even have Wi-Fi or any other form of Internet service. She had to literally act like she was dead to the world, and being dead wasn't much fun at all. She worried about her house, she worried about her job, she worried about everything. She had managed to arrange for a trusted neighbor to water her plants and run water through the sinks and showers to keep the traps full without giving any more explanation than was necessary. Dora wasn’t stupid, though. Markayla was pretty sure she had a good idea that she’d needed to go into hiding since what happened was all over the news and Angeles was still at large. The government issued bi-weekly payments to the members of the Witness Protection Program for food, clothes and personal items. They had their own medical staff too, including counselors for those who had experienced grief and trauma. Markayla wondered how hard it might be to get a new job if that’s what she needed to do in the end. Or maybe it would be easy because people would feel bad for her. She tried to put her worries about the future and thoughts of missing Jack aside so she didn’t end up losing it completely. Finally, she sat on the edge of the bed and put her face in her hands. “Hey,” she heard from the doorway. Markayla raised her head. It was Vanessa. “Oh, hi there.” “Cheer up,” said the middle-aged woman as she approached her and sat down next to her. The bedsprings creaked noisily. “It really does get easier.” “I hope so.” “They’ll get this guy, trust me. That’s what they do.” “I hope you’re right because some people do get away with murder, you know.” “Yes, I know. But I’d say his odds of staying out there much longer aren’t good. Besides, you just gotta think positive,” Vanessa said, gently patting her back. Markayla forced a smile. “Thanks.” “Emily and I are going to watch a movie. You want to join us?” Markayla shrugged. “Might as well. Not much else we can do here.” Vanessa laughed in agreement. “Here it’s all about eating and watching TV.” Markayla sat in the living room on the couch next to Vanessa while Emily, a woman in her twenties, sat in a plush chair. The movie bored her to tears and she couldn’t focus anyhow. Her mind drifted from Jack to their house, from Angeles to Shane. Ah, Shane. His true identity had come as a real shock to her. It explained some of the questions he’d ask, his concern for her safety on her bike in the rain, and how he seemed to know where she lived. It was hard to go from thinking of him as a lab worker or accountant to an FBI agent. But what was up with the question about whether or not she was happily married? How did that fit into the bureau’s investigation? Had he just gone off topic for personal reasons? Unless she’d been reading him wrong, the guy really did seem to like her. It wasn’t just in the things he said or how he said them, it was in the way he looked at her. Well, she liked him, too. But not only did she just lose her husband, but she didn’t know a damn thing about him other than that he was an FBI agent who liked to keep in shape. Now was the time to do some thinking. Would staying with him really be a very wise thing to do?