The Row Page 21

  The guard checks his pockets for anything my father might be hiding. The only thing he pulls out is a picture that shows Daddy and me when I was little. I’m sitting on his shoulders and he looks up at me with a wide grin on his face. I’ve never seen that photo before.

  The guard starts toward the garbage and Daddy moves to take it back. “Please, no.”

  “Against the wall, inmate,” the guard growls. This time he holds the picture up in front of Daddy’s face and then rips it in half. My heart suddenly feels the same rip.

  Jordan grabs my hand on the table, squeezing it in an effort to comfort me, but when I see Daddy’s gaze focus on the motion, I immediately push his hand away. The fierce and protective anger in my father’s expression is something I’ve never seen before. For the first time ever, I’m a little glad that he’s wearing handcuffs and am nervous for the guard to remove them.

  The guard finally eases up, spins Daddy back around with his back against the wall, and gets right up in his face. “Don’t—touch—the—guards.”

  Daddy lowers his eyes, looking completely submissive. It works to mollify the guard and he pulls his key out to unlock the cuffs. When he’s free, Daddy steps toward me and gently reaches for a hug. After the look he gave us when Jordan grabbed my hand, I’m nervous, but with the guard still watching, I go for it.

  Once I’m in his arms, Daddy whispers in my ear, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  I don’t know how to answer yet, so I just move back toward the table. As soon as we’re seated, the guard exits, closing the door behind him. I see him throw Daddy’s picture of us into the garbage outside. I can’t help but wonder if, by bringing Jordan to this visit, I might be doing something similar to my actual relationship with my father.

  Shoving aside that awful thought and the guilt that comes with it, I sit awkwardly beside Jordan and across from Daddy. They stare at each other openly, Daddy with obvious malevolence, Jordan with something bordering on defiance.

  This is going downhill even quicker than I’d thought.

  “So, I guess I don’t need to introduce you two…” I give a sputtering laugh.

  “It’s nice to see you again so soon, sweetheart, but when they told me I had two visitors today, I’d been hoping your mother had come,” Daddy mutters, looking only at me. Apparently his next option for dealing with this is to pretend Jordan isn’t here.

  “She isn’t feeling well.” I cut myself off before I end up spitting out anything less true.

  Instead, I try to ease into the discussion we need to have. It was the entire reason that Jordan came with me, after all. “Jordan is trying to help us.” I phrase it in the best way I can, hoping maybe Daddy will soften a bit with this knowledge.

  He looks directly at Jordan with clear skepticism. “He is, huh?”

  Jordan responds before I get a chance. “He is trying to help Riley.”

  I hurry on before he can say anything that will be harder to defend. “Yes, he is. I’ve been trying to understand what happened back then, Daddy.” Then I lower my voice and go on. “Jordan came with me to see Mr. Masters. We found out some information about the newest murder.”

  “That’s … interesting.” Daddy’s eyebrows shoot up and he leans back in his chair. His eyes dart back and forth between Jordan and me as though he’s trying to figure out this situation. It’s clear that he thinks Jordan got the info from his dad, and I decide not to correct him.

  “Yes,” I continue with more confidence, and let a little of the anger I’ve been feeling lately show through. “Now, I need to know if you were with Stacia on the night of one of the murders—and don’t try to tell me that she left early because I know there are times when she stays late but clocks out early. I’ve asked the security guard if she’s in the office in the past and he says she clocked out, but when I call her cell, she tells me she’s still there. Were you together on the night of Hillary’s murder? I know you were having affairs with both of them. Were you with Stacia when Hillary was killed?”

  Daddy’s mouth literally drops open and his eyes are completely focused on me now. “W-why are you even reading about the case or looking into all of this, Riley? I told you not to do that.”

  “That doesn’t matter, Daddy. You stole that option away from me when you told me … what you did.” I glance at the back of the guard through the door, but Daddy’s eyes widen and go directly to Jordan. He stares straight back at Daddy, making zero attempt to hide the fact that he knows exactly what we’re talking about.

  “You told him?” Daddy’s pitch drops and he glares at me. “You foolish, foolish girl.”

  “And I told him that you said it was a lie and why you said you did it.” I straighten up my spine and scowl in return. “You’re the one who put me in this situation, Daddy. Jordan is just trying to help me find a way out of it.”

  Daddy is silent, but he continues to glower from Jordan to me and back. Jordan looks like he really doesn’t want to be here, but I can tell from one glance that he wouldn’t leave me even if I asked him to.

  “He didn’t answer your question.” Jordan’s voice is low and deliberately quiet, but it draws a growl from Daddy anyway.

  And I’m tired of my father treating me like I’m the only one around here who can be questioned. “This visit isn’t about what I’m doing now, though, it’s about what you did back then. And he’s right: you never answered me.” I fold my arms and rest them on the table. “Were you with Stacia?”

  Daddy groans, and then his shoulders droop slightly. “I cheated on your mama because people make mistakes and I’m no better than that. I was mad at her for something and it felt like the only way I could make her hurt, too. It was stupid. I was stupid. That affair ended long ago, though, and the only reason I even see Stacia anymore is because I trust her to help me with this case. She’s smart, and she feels like our affair somehow landed me here. Don’t ever speak to her about this because she’d be horrified, but yes, I cheated, and I regret it.”

  I feel slightly lighter somehow to finally be hearing what sounds like the truth. I push for more information. “Were you with her the night Hillary was killed?”

  “No, I wasn’t.” Daddy hangs his head down and I feel my hope deflate. “I wish I had been just so I could’ve prevented all of this, but I wasn’t. I told them the truth when I said I have no alibi.”

  “None?” I ask, feeling desperate. “Not for any of the murders?”

  Daddy lifts his face and meets my eyes, his expression full of remorse and regret. “If I had, why wouldn’t I have used it back when I was arrested? Believe me, honey, I wish I had someone who could vouch for me. I wish I hadn’t spent so much time in my office alone.” He reaches his hand out and takes mine. “I wish I’d spent more time at home with you, with your mom.”

  The room fills with a quiet sadness in the wake of his statement. I look over at Jordan and am hurt to see him still staring at my father with such skepticism. An intense urge to fix something, to make it better for my father, overwhelms me.

  “It’s going to be okay.” He looks up at me, his eyes filled with nothing but despair. “There are many things with this new case that indicate it isn’t just a copycat. The killer knows too much for it to be that simple.”

  Jordan’s skeptical look gets darker, but I ignore it, pushing forward. “We have Mr. Masters trying to help in any way he can. He thinks he may be able to find something else that could help. He’s going to look—”

  Jordan nudges me softly with his elbow in a symbol to stop, but I think that maybe Daddy could make our search go faster if he tells us where the secret panel is.

  “He thinks you might have a panel or some kind of hiding place in your old office,” I whisper quickly, knowing it’s too late to go back now. “Do you think you might’ve put an old journal, or movie stub, or anything in there that could help?”

  Daddy looks puzzled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. He must be confused. There isn’t a panel like tha
t … and why is he even involving you kids anyway?”

  My heart plummets. “There isn’t one?” Somehow, between Stacia not being an alibi and the fact that there is no panel, this single conversation has ripped big chunks of my remaining hope away. I can tell from the concerned look that Jordan gives me that he can see it in my face.

  “No, there isn’t. I’m sorry.” Daddy releases a giant puff of air, and he gently squeezes my hand, which has gone limp in his. “But you two really just need to sit back and wait for this case to sort itself out. You already said the evidence points to it not being a copycat.”

  My father glances pointedly at Jordan before finishing. “I’m sure that even Chief Vega will have to come to the same conclusion at some point.”

  Jordan’s face reddens and he opens his mouth to respond, so I cut him off before he can.

  “I hope he will soon, but I’m not giving up.” I release a tense sigh and look over at Jordan, who has resigned himself to fuming silently beside me. “We should probably go.”

  Daddy looks reluctant to agree, but finally says, “That might be best.”

  We climb to our feet and the guard opens the door to watch us. I hug Daddy again and he whispers in my ear. “I know I’m just an old guy in prison, but maybe choose who you spend time with a little more carefully.”

  I whisper back, “He’s better for me than you think.”

  This doesn’t appear to make my father feel any better. And when Jordan steps forward and extends his hand, Daddy looks at it for a second like it might bite him before finally shaking it.

  “It was nice to meet you, sir,” Jordan says, obviously trying to be cordial. “I really do hope we find the truth.”

  It would be hard not to notice the edge Jordan puts on his last word and it’s clear that Daddy didn’t miss it either when he grunts in response. Daddy walks to the guard with hands extended to receive his cuffs. “Drive safe, Riley, and be careful who you choose to listen to.”

  31

  MY NIGHTMARES HAVE GROWN DARKER to match my life. The storm outside howls again, even louder this time. It sounds like something hunting for vengeance. The power is out, and I know Mama was here only a couple of minutes ago. I walk through the dim hallways calling her name, but there is no answer.

  In her room, her bed is made, but I see the lamp on her nightstand has been knocked over. I move to pick it up and jump when a roll of thunder crashes outside.

  My heart pounds loud in my ears as I try to catch my breath. I tell myself that it’s just a storm, that I don’t have to be afraid, but the hairs that stand up all over me don’t seem to listen.

  I lift the lamp up and as I place it back, another lightning bolt shreds the sky outside and I notice something strange. The side of the nightstand looks like it has a hidden drawer I’ve never seen before. It is barely cracked open, so I pull it out and see a shimmering light reflected back from inside.

  Pure curiosity drives me to reach in, and I lift out a necklace and a watch. My skin flashes hot to cold and I can’t breathe. They look just like the description of the jewelry that had been taken as trophies from the East End victims.

  Searching the drawer, I see the ring and earrings sparkling up at me. I drop the pieces I’m holding and back myself up into the corner, needing to put at least a couple of feet between me and the trophies a serial killer took from his victims. My mind is a whirl of confusion, trying to sort facts into any sort of order. Does this mean Daddy is guilty? Have his trophies been here with us the whole time?

  No, because Valynne’s earrings are in there. That means—

  “You really shouldn’t be in here, Riley.” Mama stands in the doorway, her face shrouded in shadow.

  “Mama … no…” My voice is a whimper and I cover my face with my hands.

  “It’s okay, darling. I don’t want to hurt you…” Her smile seems to turn my heart to ice. “I’ll only hurt him.”

  Glancing to the opposite corner where she is pointing, I can barely make out a hunched male figure. He isn’t moving. The cloudy sky outside opens for a moment and I see it’s Jordan. His skin is pale and a deep cut on the side of his head has bled down his face and across his shirt.

  I move toward him, but Mama flies to intercept me and I scream. The lightning cracks across the sky. The thunder drowns out any other noise.

  And then I’m sitting up in my bed. A real storm outside rattles the windows. I’m sweating and panting and my heart feels like it may never slow down again. Grabbing the water bottle off my table, I take a deep drink and just try to make everything in my body calm the freak down.

  I’ve had awful dreams about Daddy, but this is the first one about Mama—at least where she wasn’t a victim—and it’s left me thoroughly traumatized. I pick up a magazine and spend the rest of the night flipping through it instead of trying to sleep. Every time I start to drift off, a picture of Jordan bleeding fills my mind and I jerk myself back awake. I’d rather be totally exhausted all day Saturday than risk going back to anything remotely like that.

  * * *

  With so little sleep, Saturday has already been a long day. If I hadn’t fallen asleep on the couch while I was trying to read through my notebook this afternoon, I probably wouldn’t be able to function right now. We only have twelve days left—twelve. The countdown itself is suffocating me slowly. If it continues like this, it feels like I could die before we ever get to Daddy’s execution date.

  It’s after eight o’clock at night when I arrive at the park. I’m a few minutes late and Jordan is already waiting for me. He has a wide smile when he sees me pull in. I’m a little surprised because he hadn’t been exactly happy with me when we’d left Polunsky yesterday. He’d said he wasn’t mad, but he definitely wasn’t normal.

  I think about bringing the notebooks out with me. That is what we’re meeting to discuss, after all. We’re running out of avenues we can look into ourselves, and I need his help finding a new plan to pursue next. But I figure we might want to stay under the parking lot light or in the car anyway. It will be fully dark soon, and I don’t see us trying to read our notebooks on the grass in the dark.

  I open my car door and climb out. His white teeth are a stark contrast to his olive skin, and I feel my cheeks burn slightly thinking about his lips against my wrist two nights ago. It takes all of my energy to keep from kicking myself. I will not act like some swoony, ridiculous girl, whether or not Jordan makes me feel like one.

  I don’t know what we have going on between us at this point. The only thing that matters is that he makes me happy at a time when I shouldn’t be. Summers are usually an improvement over the school year, but with everything going on in the last few weeks, this one would have been a nightmare without Jordan’s help.

  “How was your day?” I ask casually as I lead the way over to the swings. In the blood-red light pouring off the gorgeous sunset, both of us look a little flushed. Then I wonder if it’s actually from the sunset at all.

  He chuckles as he follows me. “Neighborhood football again—does that answer your question?”

  I throw a tentative look at him over my shoulder. “If you really used to like it, maybe you should go back someday?”

  “Fine, maybe I will—if you promise to come see a game.” His brown eyes spark with the challenge he knows I might not accept.

  I groan, but then have to admit that deep, deep down, I would kind of like to see Jordan play. “Fine. One game is all I’ll commit to, and I can wear a hoodie and big dark sunglasses so no one recognizes me.”

  “Deal. I’d hate to ruin your rep.” He grins wide. “At least it wasn’t as bad tonight. I dropped two passes, but I actually had fun. Our end of the street won.”

  When we get to the swings, he takes a seat.

  “Do you always drop passes? Maybe you shouldn’t go back after all,” I half tease.

  “No. If I dropped passes all the time, I wouldn’t have been on the team, let alone a starter.” His eyes drift back to the sunset before
us. “I was just distracted today.”

  “Oh.” I try to decide whether I feel bad that helping me may be what’s affecting Jordan’s playing, but he interrupts me.

  “How’s your mom doing?” he asks, giving me a concerned look.

  “Improving, and she has an interview for a good job lined up on Monday. That should help. Thank you for yester—actually thank you for everything these last—”

  He doesn’t even let me finish. “No need to thank me. I’m just glad she’s okay. Are you?”

  I try to think of a response, but just end up shrugging. I really don’t know what the right answer to that question would be. He seems to understand, because he doesn’t press me. We swing in silence, watching the sunset together, and I realize this might be the most at peace I’ve felt in a very long time.

  I let my swing twist back and forth a bit, and something falls out of my jacket pocket. Before I get a chance to grab it, Jordan reaches out and picks up the paper I forgot I’d put in there.

  “What is this?” He unfolds it and gets too good of a look before I jump up from the swing and rip it from his hands.

  “It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.” I hold the paper behind my back, hoping he’ll just drop it.

  Jordan’s face looks like a summer storm heading over the horizon, and I know immediately that hiding this from him isn’t an option anymore.

  “Was that drawing of—give it to me.” His calm voice is a startling contrast to his angry expression.

  I groan. “It’s fine. This really isn’t a big deal.” I bring the paper forward and try to smooth it out. He stands up from his swing and I hold it out where we can both see. I look again at the crude sketches of Daddy in the electric chair and me hanging from a noose. Seeing them in the fading evening light sends a fresh chill through me. Jordan holds entirely still for several seconds.

  “Riley?” Jordan hasn’t lifted his eyes yet. He sounds horrified. “You’ve received more than one note like this?”

  I crumple the drawing a bit and drop it onto the ground. “Yes. I’ve gotten them off and on for years. At school in my locker, sometimes on the front porch, but this one was left on my car. People are stupid sometimes. It’s just something I’ve had to get used to. Don’t worry about it.”