Rebecca gasped. “So soon? How is that possible?”

  “It’s how the city deals with these types of things. He’ll probably get a slap on the wrist from the judge and a fine. He’ll be in and out in a matter of minutes.”

  “Do you really think so, Mark?”

  “I’m sure of it,” Mark replied, although the truth was that he wasn’t sure of anything. He knew that Keith had been in some scuffles and situations that Rebecca was unaware of, and he had no idea how a judge might handle things.

  Rebecca returned to the couch and placed her hand on Mark’s. “You’ve been such a good friend to Keith. I know he hasn’t been the easiest to get along with since losing his dad. I think you’re the only one of his friends who hung around. I appreciate that more than you will ever know.”

  A lump gathered in Mark’s throat, which he swallowed quickly before talking. Rebecca was in a bad enough state without dealing with a blubbering fool or hearing that Mark was also on the brink of ditching his best buddy. “If you want, I can come and get you tomorrow and take you down to the courthouse.”

  “Don’t you have any classes?”

  “Not till later in the day. I might not be able to stay with you, but I can definitely get you there in time for the courtroom opening.”

  “I would so appreciate it, Mark. I don’t drive much since, well, since I got sick. I get so tired.”

  The young man gave Rebecca a quick hug, his hands coming into contact with jutting bones that once again showed how frail Keith’s mom was. He stood and headed for the door. “I’ll be here around eight-thirty.”

  He barely heard Rebecca’s thank you as he bolted out the door and down to his car. Mark drove around the corner and pulled over, finally giving in to the tears that had threatened to spill since setting foot in the Mills’ house.

  KEITH PUSHED HIMSELF up from the uncomfortable bed and stretched, his muscles popping as he worked out the kinks that came with a night on the world’s thinnest mattress. Blinking wildly, he took in his surroundings, more than a little surprised to see that he had the cell to himself. This was not his first visit to the drunk tank, but it was the first time there weren’t a few other roustabouts sleeping off a bender.

  Shuffling over to the toilet, Keith placed a hand against the cool wall of the cell and closed his eyes as he unleashed a stream of urine into the bowl. It was a natural, necessary act, but it made him feel much better after it was over.

  He returned to the bed and sat down, the springs groaning in protest with each movement. His backside had barely touched the mattress when a cop appeared at the cell door.

  “Time to get up, Mills. You have an appointment before the judge in thirty minutes.”

  “I don’t have a lawyer.”

  The cop laughed. “There’ll be a court-appointed lawyer there. One of those losers that like to work pro bono and get idiots like you back on the street.”

  “Do I get something to eat first?” Keith asked.

  “Does this look like the fucking Ritz-Carlton to you, Mills?” The cop pointed at the sink beside the toilet. “Get cleaned up and be ready to go in five.”

  Keith had barely wiped the water from his face when the cell door opened, and a huge cop, seemingly made of all muscle, entered and snapped on a set of handcuffs.

  “Is this really necessary?” Keith asked as the cold metal bit tightly into his wrists.

  “It’s procedure,” the police officer growled.

  In a matter of moments, Keith found himself in the back of yet another squad car, but only for a couple of minutes, which was all it took to get from the station to City Hall. The burly cop led him inside and pushed him down on a bench outside the courtroom.

  “Could you take these off, please?” Keith asked, nodding towards the cuffs.

  “No.”

  “Where’s my lawyer?”

  “Inside. You can meet him when they call your case.”

  It all felt unfair to Keith, but he decided to keep his feelings of injustice to himself. The glare that the cop was giving him made it clear that he would come out on the losing side in any argument.

  Mike looked up and down the hallway outside the courtroom and felt his heart skip a beat when he saw Mark and his mother appear through a door at the end of the hall. He lowered his head, hoping to become somehow invisible, but his mother’s voice echoed down the corridor.

  The sound of Rebecca calling her son’s name alerted the burly cop, who blocked her access to Keith. “You can’t talk to him, ma’am. Not before the judge has his say.”

  The cop led Rebecca and Mark inside the courtroom, all while Keith stared at the floor and wished for a hole to open and swallow him up. The ground beneath his feet stayed intact as a court employee poked her head out the door and said, “Mills, Keith Mills.”

  The large police officer hauled Keith to his feet, removed the cuffs, and marched him into the courtroom, sitting him at a table up front beside a harried-looking lawyer sifting through a large stack of manila folders.

  “Jake Hendry,” the lawyer said, extending a hand as he continued going through the folders.

  “Keith Mills.”

  “Good to meet you, Keith.”

  “Um, do you know about my case?”

  The lawyer retrieved the proper folder, slipped it open, and quickly scanned the contents. “I do now. Seems straightforward enough. We’ll have you out of here in a jiffy.”

  Keith quickly gave his attorney the once over and suddenly didn’t feel so good about the proceedings. The man’s jacket looked ready to fall apart at the seams, loose threads hanging from every part of the stitching. His white shirt was leaning more toward off-yellow, with a variety of stains visible on the collar. The tie was the worst part of all, with the pattern looking more like something found on a Las Vegas casino carpet than a fashion statement.

  Keeping his eyes forward, Keith rose when the bailiff announced the judge’s arrival. His feelings about the professionalism of his lawyer took a backseat to the horror he felt at seeing the judge, a man with whom he had some history.

  “Be seated,” Judge Carter said as he took the case file from the bailiff. He quickly perused the contents before looking at Keith. “Mr. Mills, it seems we meet again.”

  “Yes, your honor,” Keith mumbled.

  “Mr. Hendry, how does your client plead?”

  The lawyer moved some papers around, clearly unprepared. “Could I have a moment, your honor?”

  “Quickly,” Carter snapped, “we have a busy docket today.”

  Hendry leaned over to Keith and whispered, “How are you pleading?”

  “Jesus, you tell me.”

  “Um, I would suggest that you plead guilty. The cops let the other guy go, as they got a written statement from the gentleman working at the liquor store saying that you started the entire thing.”

  Shaking his head, Keith said, “What happens if I plead guilty?”

  The lawyer stood. “My client pleads guilty, your honor.”

  “That’s not what I said,” Keith hissed, tugging at the lawyer’s jacket sleeve. He jumped from his seat. “Sir, your honor. I acted in self-defense. Look at my nose and eyes. He hit me first.”

  “Sit down, Mr. Mills,” the judge snapped. “I’ve looked over the statements, and it seems rather clear cut to me. You will remember the last time you were here, how I warned you to stay out of trouble?”

  “Yes, your honor,” Keith said, sitting back down and hanging his head in shame.

  “It seems you either didn’t take that advice or simply chose to ignore it. Do you have a job at this time?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Are you in school?”

  “No.”

  The judge flipped the folder closed and leaned back in his chair. He removed his glasses and chewed on the end of one of the arms. “Mr. Mills, I was lenient with you before because I felt some sympathy for you and your situation. I suggested you get help with your drinking, but you have done nothing. This time, I am sentencing you to ninety days in a state-approved rehab facility. I will also need you to secure a place to stay once you are released.”

  Everyone turned at the sound of a commotion in the viewing gallery caused by Rebecca Mills leaping to her feet. “He’ll be staying with me,” she called out, gasping for breath.

  “And who might you be, ma’am?” Judge Carter asked.

  “I’m his mother.”

  Hendry seemed more than happy to let things play out without any of his input. He scribbled notes on a yellow legal pad that had nothing to do with Keith’s case.

  The judge pointed at the table where Keith and his lawyer were seated. “Please, Mrs. Mills, come and have a seat with your son.”

  Rebecca slowly made her way to the front of the courtroom, the color draining from her face with the exertion of the short walk.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, Mrs. Mills, are you feeling okay?” Carter asked.

  Trying to catch her breath as she spoke, Rebecca said, “I have cancer, your honor, and I need my boy to take care of me while I receive treatment.”

  The judge tossed his glasses on the bench and pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking carefully about what to say next. “Ma’am, I admire your courage in all that you have dealt with over the past few years, but I cannot let my sympathy for you get in the way of how I deal with your son’s actions. On his previous visit, he was warned in this court that there would be consequences if he returned, so I have to let my decision stand.”

  “I understand, your honor, but will you please allow me to visit him while he is in rehab?”

  “I believe I can allow a weekly visit, but it will be under the supervision of an employee of the facility. Mrs. Mills. I trust you to do the right thing by your son, but I’m not so sure I trust him to do what is right.”

  “That would be fine, your honor. Thank you,” Rebecca said meekly.

  “Do you have anything to say for yourself, young man, before I move on to the next case?”

  Keith glumly shook his head, embarrassed that his mother had to witness what was almost certainly his rock bottom.

  “Then, by order of this court, you will serve the next ninety days under the care of the New Beginnings rehab facility. Everything you need will be provided for you, including transport to said facility later today. Until then, Officer Darby will take you back to lock up.” The judge hammered his gavel on the bench and called the next case.

  Chapter Six

  The minivan rolled to a stop in front of a set of ornate wrought iron gates framed by a high brick wall that would require mountaineering gear to climb. A sentry booth sat to one side of the gate, manned by a bored-looking older gentleman who waved at the van driver as the gates swung open.

  They drove along a narrow gravel path lined by trees on either side, the sound of the tires on the uneven surface echoing loudly inside the van.

  Keith peered out the window and took in the surrounding area. Before long, the trees thinned out, and a beautiful old house came into view. He wasn’t sure what to expect from the rehab facility, but he certainly hadn’t thought it would be like some country estate plucked from a period piece movie. He might have been more inclined to admire the beauty of the architecture and the grandeur of the surrounding gardens were he not about to be imprisoned in the place for the next three months.

  The van came to a halt in front of a wide set of steps leading up to the property. Officer Darby, who now seemed inseparable from Keith, stood up, crouching over so his head wouldn’t scrape the top of the van, and said, “Welcome to your new home, Mills. Get your ass in gear now.”

  Keith picked himself up and made his way to the front of the van. He stepped outside and stretched, emitting a loud yawn as he did so.

  “Wake up, shithead,” Darby said, roughly nudging Keith in the shoulder.

  A man dressed in what looked to be an expensive suit came bounding down the front steps, rubbing his hands together as though ready to get down to business. “Who do we have here?” he called out.

  Darby shook hands with the man and jerked a thumb at Keith. “Your new patient for the next few months. Keith Mills.”

  The man offered a small bow and a smile, revealing a perfect set of teeth that were either fake or perfectly maintained. Given his slicked-back hair, blemish-free skin, and choice of high-end attire, Keith assumed the latter was the truth. This was a man that looked after himself.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Keith. May I call you Keith?”

  “Sure.”

  “Excellent. I’m Doctor Gabe Abernathy, the head therapist here at New Beginnings. We’ll be seeing a lot of one another over the next few weeks, and I certainly hope we have a productive relationship.”

  Keith shook the man’s hand and offered up a weak smile. He was beginning to feel lightheaded, probably due to a severe lack of food, and his mouth felt as though it had been stuffed to its brim with cotton balls. Keith knew that a drink would solve the latter issue, but he had a feeling that bar service was not going to be on the menu at New Beginnings.

  “I can take it from here, Officer Darby. Thank you.”

  The cop grunted and gave Keith another nudge. “Behave yourself. If I have to come back here and get you, I won’t be a happy camper.”

  Keith and the doctor watched as the minivan took off, heading up the gravel road that led to freedom. The pain in Keith’s head began to feel worse, and he let out a small groan.

  “Did you eat anything yet?” Abernathy asked.

  “No, sir.”

  The doctor laughed and placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Please do call me Gabe. I’m not one to stand on ceremony, and I don’t need my ego stroked, so Gabe is perfectly acceptable, or Doc, if you prefer.”

  While the man seemed nice enough, Keith had a hard time trusting him. He couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but a smarminess about the doctor grated on Keith’s nerves. Maybe it was just the hunger and need for a drink that made him feel that way, but he planned on keeping his cards close to his vest until he got to know the man better.

  “Lunch is already over, but I’m sure we can get you a sandwich and a glass of milk while we get you situated.”

  “I would appreciate that,” Keith said.

  The doctor extended an arm and pointed up the stairs. “Excellent. Please follow me and allow me to give you the grand tour.”

  The interior of the property was as impressive as the exterior. While the place was obviously old, the furnishings and interior design leaned more towards the modern. The large reception area in the lobby seemed at odds with the rest of the building, reminding Keith that he was in a clinical facility and not on a tour of a stately manor.

  Gabe whisked Keith around the main floor, pointing out the recreation room, which was home to a television, a pool table, a well-stocked set of bookshelves, and a row of computers, all of which appeared to be powered down. Noticing Keith looking at the computers, the doctor said, “Patients get access to the internet for an hour each day, but, of course, there are restrictions in place to prevent you from visiting websites that might not be helpful to the healing process.”

  With the main floor tour complete, Abernathy led Keith upstairs and into what he called the dormitory area. Doors lined both sides of the hallway, and all were closed, save for one.

  “Are the doors all locked?” Keith asked.

  “Heavens, no,” Abernathy laughed. “Our current residents are all in group therapy at the moment, and we ask that they keep their doors closed when they are not in their rooms.”

  Nodding at the open door, Keith said, “I’m guessing that’s mine.”

  “Indeed.” The doctor showed Keith into the room, which was relatively small but comfortable looking. The single bed was perfectly made with bright white linens and flanked by a pair of bedside tables, one holding a lamp while the other was home to a digital clock radio. A desk and chair sat below the high window, looking over the expansive grounds. There was a cupboard holding what looked to be a uniform similar to what prisoners wore, although the shirt, pants, and shoes were a pale green as opposed to the orange that felons generally sported. A small ensuite bathroom with a toilet, sink, and walk-in shower filled the rest of the space. To Keith, it looked like a motel room, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

  “What do you think?” Abernathy asked.

  “It’s nice,” Keith replied, giving his new home the once over.

  “Once you get settled in, we’ll get you set up with some reading and writing materials. We encourage all our guests to keep a journal and study to learn more about their, uh, afflictions.”

  A knock at the door interrupted the conversation. Keith turned and saw a man dressed all in white standing at the door holding a sandwich wrapped in a paper towel and a glass of milk. The orderly was tall, and while he was thin, his body appeared to be all muscle. His face was slender and bore the pockmarks of childhood acne, and his jet-black hair was styled in a way that made it clear he was trying to cover a bald patch.

  “Ah, Benny, please come in. Keith, this is Bernard, one of the assistants assigned to your floor. If you need anything, he’s the man to talk to.”

  The orderly placed the food and drink on the bedside table and extended his hand. “Good to meet you, Keith.”

  “Is it Benny or Bernard?” Keith asked, wincing at the strength of the handshake.

  “Makes no difference to me. Whatever makes you comfortable, my friend.”

  The doctor clapped his hands and turned to leave. “We’ll leave you to get settled in, Keith. Once you’ve eaten, please change into the clothing we provided, after which you are free to explore. All I ask is that you stay clear of the areas marked as off-limits.”

  “When do I start, you know, the therapy side of things?”

  Abernathy grinned. “Anxious to get started? I like to see that. You’ll have your first group session after breakfast tomorrow, then you and I will meet one-on-one a little later in the day. It may all seem hectic and confusing initially, but I am confident you’ll get into the rhythm of New Beginnings in no time.”