Murder Deja Vu

another. But I like your style, girl. Lana, sweetheart,” he said, his voice now more gravelly, “bring out the good Russian vodka. The three of us are gonna get shitfaced.”
    By four in the afternoon, they were. Dana couldn’t remember drinking hard liquor in the daytime. A couple of Bloody Marys or screwdrivers at lunch, maybe. Like fine wine, good vodka went down as smooth as satin. She was certifiably crocked.
    Frank, on a roll, reeled off stories ranging from gut-wrenchingly funny to pitifully sad. Sometimes he had difficulty speaking, a combination of his illness and his damaged throat. Dana knew why Reece loved him so much. She also knew Frank was trying to take her mind off the possibility that Reece might be caught.
    “He won’t be,” Frank assured her. “Reece is thinking clearer now. I can see it.”
    Dana didn’t want to put Frank on the spot or make him betray a trust, but she wanted to know things about Reece’s time inside. Not about the things that would humiliate him, but about how he survived. She didn’t need to ask, although with all the vodka she’d consumed, she felt less inhibited than usual and probably would have asked if Frank hadn’t started reminiscing.
    “He’s brilliant, you know. There were men inside who hated him for that and others who took advantage, like me. I wasn’t the only one he taught. Guys like me, in trouble most of their lives, were in trouble partly because we didn’t have an education.” Frank drained his glass of vodka and cleared his throat. “When you can’t read, you’ll always be on the bottom rung of the ladder, working menial jobs. That leads to making money in other ways, not usually legal, which leads to dealing with people who drag you deeper into their worlds of violence and crime. It’s a natural progression, or maybe regression would be a better word.”
    “But you learned, and here you are, doing illegal things by the looks of it. I’m not judging. Just saying.”
    “I did get a straight job when I got out. Was doing good too, but then I got sick. The treatments took a toll. My boss wanted to keep me, but the chemo made me so weak, I was worthless. I needed money, Dana. Living while dying is expensive. I had friends who set me up. I didn’t have Medicare then. I have it now, and a little social security, but I don’t need to tell you how little I get after spending half my life behind bars.”
    “You did what you had to. Like I said, I’m not judging.”
    “That’s what Reece is doing now. Things he has to do. He’s come a long way.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Lana had filled Frank’s glass, and he sipped. “He came to prison from a different world. Experienced some things no man should. He spent some time in solitary, and that changed him.”
    Dana’s heart skipped a beat. “Why?”
    “One time, a guy who hated him went too far. Reece got his fill and struck back. He was like a kid who’d finally snapped after being bullied his whole life. Reece beat the shit out of him. I mean beat the bastard to the ground. Personally, I thought he needed to do that. I watched and let it happen. They put him in solitary.” Frank put the cannula to his nose and breathed deeply a few times. He didn’t remove it. “I thought it’d make him stronger in the long run, but after he came out, he drew into himself. For a while I couldn’t reach him. I didn’t realize how confinement affected him. Four walls closing in. No sun. Some can take it. Others can’t.”
    It explained why Reece slept under the stars. “Was that the only time?”
    “No. It happened twice more, but for a different reason. After this incident, his haters had new respect for him and stayed away. They didn’t want to wake the sleeping giant again. But he changed. Got harder.”
    The phone rang. Lana answered. She spoke a few words, then held the phone out to Dana. “It’s Reece. He wants to speak to you.”
    Dana took the phone, her heart thundered like a teenager with her first boyfriend. She didn’t know what to expect, but he sounded okay.
    “How are you?” he asked.
    She told him about the police coming and the secret closet. She told him she was half in the bag. He laughed. “I love you,” she said to quiet at the other end of the line. “Did you hear me?”
    Reece took his time answering. “I’ve lost my voice. Those three words took it from me.”
    “I mean it. Never in my life have I meant anything so much.”
    “I don’t want you hurt,