The Row Page 16

  “Are you still happy you decided to come with me?” I ask, surprised at how nervous I feel about asking.

  “Of course. Why would you ask that?”

  He watches me closely as I answer. “I don’t know. It must be uncomfortable for you when people treat you less like you’re you … and well … more like you’re me.”

  He frowns. “What does that mean?”

  “He acted like you weren’t trustworthy simply because of who your dad is.”

  Jordan’s expression turns playful and he looks me straight in the eye. “Maybe I can win him over. It seems like only a little more than a day ago that you treated me the exact same way.”

  I laugh. “Probably was.”

  Jordan keeps walking, seeming content to go back to whatever he was thinking about. I can’t keep myself from asking anymore. “What did he say to you in the lobby?”

  The thoughtful look returns as he answers. “He said if we continue like this, one of us is going to wind up getting hurt—and that it better not be you.”

  “Okay, that’s awkward.” I shake my head, trying not to feel embarrassed by the assumptions Mr. Masters obviously made. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, I’m sorry.”

  Instead of accepting my words like I expect, Jordan stops walking and stares at me before moving slowly closer. I freeze in place as his warm fingers touch lightly across my bruised cheek. My whole body flushes with a sudden heat.

  His eyes meet mine and my heart races at all the emotion I find there. “What if he’s right?”

  Then Jordan pulls me against his chest and holds me tight. It takes me a moment, but I hug him back. I feel the worry coming from him and wonder if he finally understands that he’s in over his head in this quest to help me.

  Pushing that thought aside, I allow myself to enjoy him while he’s still here and melt closer into his arms. I’ve never felt so safe.

  Then I realize that I may be out of my depth with Jordan, too—but in a completely different way.

  23

  “FIRST STEP: ICE CREAM,” I say, changing the subject to one I feel more equipped to deal with. I pull myself gently out of his arms and lead Jordan down Louisiana Street toward a Cloud 10 vendor on the corner as the sun sets on the horizon. The shining buildings around us glint red in the light of the dying day. Texas can be a beautiful place, and Houston is no different. It’s gorgeous, but below that lurks a subtle, eerie tone for me that will forever be unsettling. My past here is too broken to see the beauty without any tinge of pain.

  I order myself a scoop of Lavender Milk Chocolate as everything we learned in Mr. Masters’s office swirls around in my head.

  “Sour Cream with Banana Jam, please.” Jordan orders without consulting the menu on the cart in front of us.

  I grab my purse, but before I can even reach inside, he’s pulled cash out of nowhere and is paying.

  “Wait, you didn’t need to—”

  Jordan grins and takes both of the desserts from the vendor. “I’m not saying this is a date or anything. What’s happening here is me holding your delicious treat hostage until you tell me what you’re thinking.” He gives me a sly smile and an attempt at an evil laugh before tucking my dessert behind his back.

  I can’t help but return his grin as I follow him to a nearby bench and we sit down. “It’s very hard to take you seriously as a Bond villain when the leverage you’re holding is ice cream.”

  “A good villain works with what he’s got.”

  “Well, as long as we’re agreed that this isn’t a date…” I grab for my ice cream and he lifts it out of my reach.

  “Oh, when I take you on a date, you’ll definitely know it.” There’s no way for me to mistake his meaning this time, although I see a hint of nervousness deep in his eyes.

  I raise my eyebrows, both incredulous at his confidence and a little surprised he would just assume I would go. When my speeding heartbeat pretty much declares my excitement about the idea of an official date, I tell it in my head to shut up. “When, huh? That’s pretty confident of you.”

  “Yes. When.” He gives me a firm nod like there is absolutely no room for arguing this point. Then he changes back to the original subject. “For now, though, information first, dessert later.”

  “I don’t know. Everything he said … it’s a lot to digest in a short time.” I deliberately don’t look at Jordan. In all honesty, I don’t have a clue how to feel. I haven’t had time to really think it through yet.

  To his credit, Jordan doesn’t look like he buys that as an actual answer for a second, but he does hand over my promised dessert and doesn’t pressure me further. When his eyes meet mine again, there is more concern than playfulness there. “Fine, just answer this then. Are you okay?”

  “I think so. We’re talking about something that happened when I was six—and then everyone has lied to me about it ever since—but it still makes me see everything differently.” A fresh wash of disappointment comes over me, and I take a bite of my ice cream, which tastes so amazing it actually does make me feel a little better. Cloud 10 may be my favorite thing about Texas. Still, I don’t feel ready to look at Jordan right now, so I keep my eyes on the sidewalk between my violet sneakers.

  “I can’t imagine that it wouldn’t,” he says simply, taking a bite of his own ice cream but keeping his eyes on me.

  I sigh and say the thought that bubbles in the back of my mind constantly. “We’re down to seventeen days now, Jordan.”

  “I know.” He responds quietly before surprising me by slipping one arm around my shoulders and squeezing me lightly against his side. It only lasts for a minute, but somehow just having him here helps me find a piece of hope to cling to.

  I clasp the cup of ice cream tight in my hands, my fingers cold even in the warm evening air. “Thank you for coming.”

  “I just want to be sure that you really want the answers you’re looking for. No one would blame you for preferring not to know, considering the time you have left with your father.” He turns his gaze from the office buildings around us down to me. “I already told you, Riley. I am all in with you on this. No matter what.”

  “Okay then. I don’t just want the answers. I need them. There’s no turning back now.” I swallow my nerves along with another spoonful of ice cream. “So I guess we’re in this together.”

  The sun sinks below the faraway horizon and the streetlamps come to life, casting us in an eerie glow. I can’t tell if it’s because of the creepy lighting or because of the task we’re facing, but Jordan’s smile has taken on a grim aspect when I meet his eyes again.

  Even in this unsettling atmosphere, his response reassures me the way it seems only Jordan can. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  * * *

  I spend much of Tuesday alone. Looking through my notes and Daddy’s old letters, I keep trying to wrap my head around the idea that he could possibly still be innocent of the murders … but guilty of betraying our family all the same. Cheating may not carry a prison sentence with it, but it’s still something that’s difficult to forgive. It’s a decision he made that could’ve broken our family. I don’t know how he could feel like the best answer was to convince everyone I trusted to lie to me about it. And I’m starting to feel like I don’t know him at all.

  Some of the things Mama said during our fight suddenly make more sense, but I’m still furious at her for taking part in Daddy’s lies. We’ll have to have a long talk the next time I see her. I’ll still be going to visit Daddy on Friday, of course, even if I have to keep it from Mama, but we’re both dealing with a lot right now, and I need to handle all of this chaos better if we are going to have even the slightest chance to heal our family again.

  I don’t see Mama all day, and although she responds to my texts, my calls go straight to voice mail.

  I had clung tight to Jordan the entire way home Monday night. The motorcycle is definitely growing on me. And as much as I’d like to deny it, anything that requires
me to get that close to Jordan without any need for excuse or explanation seems like something I could get on board with.

  When he dropped me off at my car, Jordan opened my door, but before I could climb in, he pulled me against him for an abrupt, tight hug. He kissed my forehead and whispered, “Everything’s going to work out, Riley. I promise.”

  Then he’d climbed onto his black bike and disappeared into the night.

  I don’t know how he feels confident enough to make a promise like that, but it helps me even if we know it might be a lie.

  We made plans to see each other on Thursday, but I feel pathetic that I miss him already by Wednesday morning. We’ve texted a little, but he’s taking Matthew to visit their abuela today, so I know I won’t hear from him again until tomorrow.

  I try not to think more about it as I make myself a bowl of fresh fruit. When my phone rings and the caller ID shows Mr. Masters’s number, I pick up immediately.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Miss Riley.” His slow drawl begins, as always, with the pleasantries. “How are you doing on this beautiful day?”

  “I’m okay.” My nerves make me blurt out exactly what is on my mind. “Do you have any updates on the case?”

  “No, I’m afraid not.” His voice becomes a bit harsher and I’m instantly on edge. “But there is something I need to speak with you about.”

  “Oh … okay. What is it?” I sit down at the table with my fruit bowl but don’t eat anything yet.

  “Your mama told me about your visit with your father after the hearing. She told me what he said.” His tone bites at me. My body feels chilled all over.

  I sigh, willing him to understand. “Then you also need to know that he said later that it was a lie. He said he’d lost hope and wanted us to be free to move on … that’s all.”

  “Hush. No need to get defensive.” He clears his throat and I hear pain in his voice for the first time. “I promise not to give up on him. Not until someone proves to me, without a doubt, that he’s guilty. And if that hasn’t happened in nearly twelve years, I don’t expect it to happen now.”

  I release a shaky breath of relief. “Thank you.”

  He pauses briefly before continuing. “Don’t thank me yet. I want you to do something for me now.”

  “What’s that?” I stir a red grape around in my bowl as I listen.

  “Consider not visiting this week.” These words come lightning fast, like he’s not entirely committed to saying them and he needs to get this out now or never.

  I don’t answer. I don’t know what to say. I drop my spoon with a clatter and roll my eyes. “What did she do to convince you to take her side?”

  Complete silence stretches out on the other end for long enough that I look at my phone to be certain we weren’t disconnected. Then Mr. Masters’s voice cuts through the quiet like a red-hot sword. “She did nothing, young lady. You aren’t the only one struggling at the moment. You know better than to believe that. Luck has bitten your family too many times over the last decade and you need to start sticking together.”

  He’s never spoken to me quite like that before and it shocks me. I whisper back quietly, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “Very well then,” he replies, much gentler this time. “Sometimes distance gives us perspective. My advice is what it is. Take it or leave it. I’m just working on turning that luck around for all of you.”

  “I promise to think about it.” I swallow hard, already knowing that my words are a lie. It isn’t that I don’t trust Mr. Masters to try to do what he says. It’s simply one single word in his plea that made up my mind for me—the word luck. Daddy has never had luck go his way.

  Chance is not our friend. And karma is our enemy.

  I hate all the terms people use to explain some hidden force in the universe that’s intended to balance the scales in favor of the good or the righteous. According to everything we’ve been given so far, our family doesn’t deserve any balance. We don’t deserve any help.

  So screw all of them. Screw chance, fate, karma, luck, providence, and everything in between. With only fifteen days left, I’m certainly not waiting around for them to show up now.

  “Actually, instead of me not going”—I talk faster, as it sounds like he’s getting ready to end the call—“what if we went together?”

  His end of the line is silent for a few seconds before he responds, but I can hear the curiosity in his voice. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

  24

  EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS VISIT to Polunsky feels strange. It isn’t like I’ve never been for a visit when Mr. Masters was also there, but it’s been a while. It’s a Wednesday, and we are sitting here waiting for Daddy. I’m not sure I’ve ever been to Polunsky on a Wednesday. Plus, we aren’t in our normal visitation room. This room is saved for privileged discussions between lawyer and client. There is no physical contact here, but we will have more privacy. The room is longer, not much wider. There are still the same dingy white cinder-block walls. I chew on my nail and ask myself again if bringing Mr. Masters and Daddy together is a good idea.

  The best I can hope for is that watching the two of them might give me new information or insight into the case that I haven’t had before. And at worst, I still plan to visit Daddy on Friday, so I get to sneak in a bonus visit. Which is not normally allowed, but since I’m coming in with Daddy’s lawyer during his regularly scheduled visit, and Warden Zonnberg likes me, they’re going to let me get away with it.

  I nudge Mr. Masters lightly with my elbow as he flips through a couple of papers in his file. “I don’t think I’m going to bring up his—” I choke on the word affair. I’m still processing this new information and I don’t feel like I’m ready to hear Daddy defend himself in this arena yet. Plus, I don’t want Mr. Masters to be punished for telling me. The last thing I want is to let my emotions get the best of me and storm out again. Not when he has so little time left.

  “Indiscretion?” Mr. Masters fills in a gentler word on my behalf and then reaches one arm around my shoulders to give me a quick hug. “This is your show, Miss Riley. And that’s your business when you want to bring that up. I just hope this accomplishes your goal.”

  “Me too. I guess I mostly just want to watch the way he interacts with you. See if he’s telling you the same things he’s telling me.” I don’t know exactly what I hope to learn from this, but I’m here now, so I might as well see it through. I hug Mr. Masters back and the guard opens the door and leads Daddy in.

  Daddy doesn’t look surprised to see me, and there is something wary in his eyes as he watches me step away from Mr. Masters and take my seat. The guard secures him to the table and reminds me that touching isn’t allowed in this room. Emotions fight within me as I search his face. As always, part of me feels happier just to be near him, but now that part is bombarded with so many other conflicting feelings. Worry because he doesn’t look like he’s sleeping well. Dread because the countdown to his impending execution is always present in the back of my mind. And a significant amount of anger at knowing this man cheated on Mama, betrayed our family, and then lied about it.

  Daddy waits until the guard walks out and closes the door before giving us a somewhat cautious smile. “We haven’t done this in a while.”

  Mr. Masters looks up from the papers and nods. “Riley wanted an extra visit, and I accommodated her.”

  The concern on Daddy’s face fades away at that. “Oh, I’m glad to hear that. Thank you for letting her come with you.”

  Mr. Masters nods without looking up. He must’ve found whatever he was looking for in his file because he closes it and sits back in his chair. He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Things are coming along well with the investigation into the other case. I would even go so far as to call it hopeful.”

  Daddy’s expression has gone serious and he’s staring so hard at his former law partner that I wonder if he’s forgotten that I’m here.

  “That’s goo
d. Any word on the new evidence?”

  “I spoke with Chief Vega yesterday—” Mr. Masters begins.

  “What did he say?” Daddy is so eager he cuts him off while I’m sitting here thinking about how bizarre my world has become. It’s so strange to hear them talking about Jordan’s father.

  “He said that they don’t have evidence that specifically points to this being a copycat case—at least not yet.” Mr. Masters leans in as Daddy releases a big puff of air and his smile returns.

  “I must caution you though, David. Don’t get your hopes up until we know for certain where the investigation will lead.” Mr. Masters sits back and crosses his arms over his chest. “You are too good a lawyer to fall into a trap like that.”

  “I know. You’re right.” Daddy’s smile turns wry and he winks at me. “But come on, Ben, relax a little. It seems like something drastic would have to happen to change anything at this point.”

  I find myself smiling back at Daddy for a moment before I remember all the things I haven’t yet confronted him about, and it slides off my face.

  “Speaking of which.” Mr. Masters’s tone takes on an icy edge, and he inches forward like he’s about to pounce. “I understand you told Riley a different story two visits ago.”

  The grin drops from Daddy’s face like a dead weight and he casts a hard glance at me. My stomach turns sour and I can actually feel all my blood rushing to my head. I turn on Mr. Masters, my mouth half open because I want to yell at him or tell him to stop, but I’m so shocked that no words come out. Mr. Masters throws me a split-second apologetic glance before moving his full attention back on my father.

  I watch him and realize he’s gone into full lawyer mode. This is a standoff—and Mr. Masters is trying to get answers for me in the only way he knows how. He’s putting Daddy on the stand right here in this visitation room. Some of my outrage fades, but I still wish he’d discussed this with me first.