The Row Page 22

  By the time I finish, the storm in his expression has turned into a full-blown hurricane.

  “This isn’t nothing, Riley. Who would draw something like this? Doesn’t having this kind of hostility all around you scare you? It damn well scares me. Why didn’t you tell me?” His stare borders on violence. “I thought you trusted me. I thought we were…”

  His words hang on the air, heavy and dense with implications. They make me want to beg him to finish his thought. What did he think we were? What could we even have the potential to be, considering our fathers, considering their history?

  But he won’t finish. He’s waiting for an answer from me. And I honestly have none.

  “Yes, it’s scary. It’s terrifying, but if I let myself be scared by every idiot in this city who has a paper and a pencil, I’d never sleep.” My voice shakes now that I allow myself to say these words out loud. I haven’t let messages like this scare me in a while, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still worry that next time it won’t be just a threat in a drawing or on a note.

  The anger in his face turns to fear, and then I see sadness that hurts me deeper than I knew it could. “Do you still not trust me? After everything?”

  I sit back on my swing and sigh. “Maybe I should’ve told you, but what good would it do? Like I said, this isn’t a new development, and I don’t want us to get distracted. We have twelve days left. We’re running out of time, Jordan.” My voice has a distinct note of panic to it at the end that seems to reach through his emotions. He watches me with a silent frown as I twist in my swing until I’m fidgeting and just wishing that he would speak.

  Eventually, I wrap my arms across my stomach, trying to protect myself from his disapproval, which stings worse than it should. “This is too important to me; you know that.”

  “You are too important to me! You’re more important than a case or a truth or anything else!” He turns away from my shocked expression, leaving me trying to get my heart to stop pounding in my ears. Jordan picks up the paper and scans it again before shoving it in his pocket. He turns to face me, then steps over, lifts my hands off the chains, and pulls me to my feet until I’m standing in front of him.

  “Trust me, Riley.” The worry I see in his eyes is plain. The hurt he’s feeling is fresh.

  “I do trust you—” I begin, wanting to reassure him, but he stops me.

  He grabs my hand and pulls it in against his chest, clasping it tight between both of his. His eyes plead with me to understand what he’s saying. “Believe me that I won’t hurt you. I won’t disappear. I’m not going anywhere.”

  The heartbeat that I feel beneath my knuckles is as steady and earnest as Jordan’s voice. I want to believe him. I want all of his words to be true, but saying that it is true, saying that I do believe him, leaves me open and vulnerable in a way that terrifies me. Only one thought keeps me from saying what he wants me to say.

  Not everyone chooses to leave me, but they still do.

  “I’m not saying that I won’t disappear until we figure this out. I’m not saying I’m here until we find out if your father is guilty or innocent,” Jordan gives voice to my fears. Then he brings my hand up, kisses the inside of my wrist again, waiting until I meet his eyes. And then he says the words that I never thought I would hear anyone say. “I’m saying I don’t care if your dad did it or not. I don’t care because it doesn’t change how I feel about you. I’m saying you never have to be anything more than just my friend, and I’ll still be here to help you. I’m saying I’m here for you as long as you want me around, Riley—no matter what.”

  When he looks in my eyes, I believe him. In spite of all my parents’ lies and the fact that I just found out my dad is a cheater. In spite of the fact that everything between us started out balanced on a finely woven tangle of lies from both sides. In spite of all the reasons my mind gives me not to get any closer to him than I already am.

  My heart wants to believe him, and although my heart has given me so many reasons not to trust it, somehow I still do.

  “I believe you,” I whisper, reaching my free hand out and brushing his soft, dark hair out of his eyes.

  “You do?” He looks like he isn’t sure he believes me and I can’t blame him.

  “I do.” I pause, searching for the words I need to say in return. “I promise, but you have to trust me, too.”

  A smile tugs at the corner of Jordan’s lips. “You make me nervous.”

  “What?” I laugh.

  His smile fades, but his gaze holds mine. “This whole situation scares me. This—what we’re doing—it could be dangerous. I’m scared that someday I may say something stupid to drive you away—and it would lead to you winding up dead somehow. I couldn’t take that again.” His face is full of the same emotions I’ve tried to hide from others: anger and sorrow, grief and pain, desire and desperation.

  “What do you mean—again?” My fingers itch to reach out for him, but I force them to remain by my sides until I get the full explanation.

  Jordan winces and presses his chin into his chest. I can tell he hadn’t meant for that word to slip out. Several seconds pass and I wait, biting my tongue, holding my breath.

  When he finally looks up to answer, it feels like a knife going through my heart to see his eyes so full of pain. “I’ve never told anyone this … but my mom called me on the night she died, before she left the hospital. She said my dad wasn’t there to pick her up and she was going to be late. I—I was selfish and I made her feel guilty because it was going to make me late to hang out with some friends. It’s my fault that she borrowed someone’s car and left right away instead of waiting. It’s my fault she was driving that night. All mine. Now … I can’t ever take that back, Riley.”

  Without thinking long enough to second-guess myself, I reach up and brush the fingers of my right hand against his cheek. He leans his head into my palm and closes his eyes tight against the onslaught of emotion. I try to reassure him. “You had no idea, Jordan. It was just a mistake. People make mistakes all the time.”

  “I told her that her schedule was ruining my life.” He whispers the words, and his breath is hot against my wrist. “Those were the last words she ever heard from me. The last thing I can ever say to her.”

  “She knows you better than to focus on that.” I’ve seen flashes of something painful that he’s been hiding, but I never dreamed he’d been keeping something like this buried. Something this painful, this poisonous—it can eat you from the inside out. It can turn you into someone else, and I can’t let that happen to Jordan. I bring my left hand up and place it on the other side of his face until he opens his eyes to look at me. “She wouldn’t want you punishing yourself for what you said. You know that, don’t you?”

  I move my hands down to his neck, watching the shadows play across his cheekbones. His eyes hide nothing from me now. He is haunted and damaged and in pain, so much more than I knew. He hides his secrets better than I ever have, but he isn’t hiding them from me anymore. He’s trusting me with something he hasn’t told anyone else. Shouldn’t I be able to put the same kind of trust in him?

  “What about you?” he whispers, and his voice is rough as it breaks through the quiet.

  I consider dropping my hands back to my sides, but I can’t make myself let go of him yet. “What about me?”

  “Do you know me better than that yet? Do you still want me punishing myself for not telling you who I was from the beginning?” He lowers his head so I can’t see his eyes anymore. “I never meant to hurt you. That has never been my intention. I’m still so sorry, Ri—”

  Suddenly, I can’t stand to let him apologize again for something so stupid that I forgave him for a long time ago. I do what I’ve been trying not to think about doing every day for a while now. I kiss him. I pull his neck down, stand up on my tiptoes, and bring my lips up to his.

  I’ve only kissed one boy before, and it was significantly different from this. During my years of perfected avoidance of people in
general, I’d done such a superb job that the only guy I ever kissed was someone I met in a mall even farther away than the one where I met Jordan. It was a couple of years ago. We’d flirted, hung out together for one afternoon, and he knew nothing about me. I had told him my name was Buffy and he’d actually believed me. His kiss was kind of sloppy and he tasted like popcorn.

  Jordan is completely different. He’s obviously surprised, because he falls one step to the side, but it only takes him one soft kiss to recover. By the time I’m trying to decide if this was a mistake and if I should pull away, he slams that thought clean out of my head by kissing me back—and doing one hell of a job at it.

  Jordan’s kiss makes mine look like a finger-painted portrait next to a Picasso. He wraps one strong arm around my waist and the other around my back and up to my shoulders. His fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of my neck and he pulls me off my feet and tight against him. My hands, which were behind his neck, end up in his hair as my arms cling around his shoulders for support. His lips are soft, and each kiss makes my entire body vibrate with a need to be closer to him. The movement of his lips over mine seems calculated to steal my breath away, and it’s clear that I’m woefully overmatched in this department. In chess terms, I’m a novice and he’s the equivalent of a grand master. His arms crush me against him with blinding urgency, but his kiss seems to think it has all the time in the world. It is slow, sweet, and I never want it to stop.

  I scratch the back of his neck lightly with my nails. He groans and I brush my fingertips through his dark, soft hair. He smells so good, but his kiss tastes even better. The fingers from the hand on my waist slide up across my ribs and it tickles. I laugh involuntarily against his mouth and he pulls back, grinning down at me.

  “What is this? You’re ticklish?” His eyes have a wicked sparkle to them now that makes me feel like dissolving into a puddle. “The incredibly tough and unbreakable Riley Beckett has a weakness?”

  He tickles my ribs with his hands again and I wiggle against him, laughing and trying to escape. Then he moves his head down and snuggles his face in against my neck. I freeze as tingles zing through my body from head to toe. I can’t find words to respond with anymore. Jordan chuckles low and soft as he drops a few kisses up my neck and chin, then kisses my lips again.

  This time I pull back and rest my head against his chest before I lose my mind completely. My heart is racing, and I have to catch my breath, but finally I respond by carefully lowering a few of my own barricades.

  “It would seem that Riley has more than one weakness.” I look up at him with a self-conscious shrug. “How’s that for incredibly tough?”

  I hadn’t thought it possible, but Jordan’s grin spreads even wider and he lifts me off my feet again in a tight hug. “She seems pretty invincible to me.”

  I close my eyes and hug him back. For just that moment, I allow myself to pretend that there is no ticking clock, no truth to find, and no father sitting in prison—instead, it is just Jordan and me.

  And invincible seems like the perfect word to describe this feeling.

  32

  I STOP STARING AT MY NOTES, stretch my neck from side to side, and look at the time on my phone. It’s almost ten o’clock now. Jordan and I have been sitting in my car at the park, going over our notes about Daddy’s case for more than an hour, and it doesn’t feel like we’ve gotten anywhere.

  “What are we missing?” I finally ask. “Is it crazy to think there may just be one fact somewhere that will tell us the truth?”

  Jordan slumps forward and looks at the dashboard glove box in front of him. “I don’t know, Riley.” He hesitates for a full minute, looking torn before asking, “Do you want me to talk to my father about it?”

  “No,” I respond, perhaps too quickly, and Jordan waits for me to explain why, watching me closely. I don’t say anything else because I don’t want Jordan to talk to Chief Vega until we either have irrefutable evidence or we are almost out of time. Until then, I’d prefer the chief to know nothing about me involving his son in all of this. But I really don’t feel like explaining that to Jordan.

  “I don’t want to either,” he says after a moment. “But I want you to know that if you ask, I will do it.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t think that’s the best option—at least not yet.” My phone rings and I pull it out of my pocket. The screen flashes the number for Mr. Masters’s office before I answer.

  “I’m surprised you’re still at work this late, Mr. Masters.”

  “I’m sure there are a lot of things I do that would surprise you.” A twitch of his humor actually comes through the drawl and I smile to myself under the parking lot lights. He continues, “Is everything okay? Is Mr. Vega with you?”

  “Yes to both, and please no lectures. I’m glad you called, though. You told me to let you know if I found anything interesting—” I plan to go on, but he speaks before I get the chance.

  “I want to know, and I have information for you, too, but I don’t feel like it’s safe over the phone. I’m not alone here.” His voice grows muffled. “I think it’s best if we meet in person. It has to be tonight.”

  “Okay. Should we come to your office?” I ask.

  “No.” His answer is immediate and he sounds like he’s thinking. “That won’t work either. We need to go somewhere we’ve never met before…”

  “Okay…” I’m starting to worry about him. “Is everything o—”

  “No, I’ll explain everything when we meet. Mason Park is our best option. Meet me in thirty minutes. Write down this number and call me when you get there.” His tone is brusque now, all soft edges gone, and my hand scrambles for a pen. I flip to an empty page in my notebook and jot it down.

  When I finish I say, “Okay.”

  “Be extra careful. And don’t be late.” Then I hear a beep and he’s gone.

  “Hmm…” I say as I stare at the phone. Mr. Masters is sometimes gruff, often stubborn, but he never makes me feel unimportant. I feel a moment of stifling worry before I stuff the phone back in my pocket. When I turn away from the window, my face almost collides with Jordan’s head.

  “What did he say?” Jordan leans back a bit to give me a little space.

  “He said to meet him at Mason Park in half an hour.” I reach down for my keys. “That’s nearly thirty minutes from here anyway, so I guess we better get going.”

  Jordan nods but I catch the slightest hint of hesitation and I raise my eyes.

  “What?” I ask, starting the car, but not putting it in gear yet.

  “Why Mason Park?” There is worry in his voice.

  I catch on to his question immediately, but I don’t know the answer. “He said it was our best option. Isn’t that the park where Hillary’s body was found?”

  “Yes.” His face is grim as I pull out from my space beneath the parking lot lights. It’s weird to think that we’re heading back to the place where the body of my father’s mistress was found.

  Well, one of his mistresses, anyway.

  Drawing one shaky breath, I grip the steering wheel tightly in both hands. “He was weird and it worries me. I guess we’ll have to ask him when we see him.”

  * * *

  Mason Park is massive. It sits on over one hundred acres in Houston’s East End. Right in the middle of it sits Brays Bayou. My daddy used to talk about bringing me here when he got out—back when he still talked about that like it was something that could happen.

  It’s nearly ten-thirty by the time we get there, and the lights throughout the park seem like pinholes through a black paper, fighting hard but never able to push back the penetrating darkness. The trees hang thick and heavy around the bayou, and the branches cast shadows across the ground like webs of a giant spider just waiting to ensnare us.

  I reach for my phone as soon as we’ve closed and locked my car. My hand dives into my pocket to retrieve the torn-out page of my notebook where I’d jotted down the number Mr. Masters gave me.

 
I’m not sure if it has to do with the way Mr. Masters ended our call earlier or just the bad vibe I’m feeling, but my tense body wants to finish this meeting and get out of here as quickly as possible. Dialing the number, I wait with my hand gripping the phone tighter than necessary as it rings in my ear.

  Mr. Masters picks up after the fourth ring and his drawl is back and slow as ever.

  “Good evening, Miss Riley.”

  “We’re here. Is everything okay? This is a pretty creepy time and place to meet.” My voice strains and I fight with the same worry that has been plaguing me the whole way here. Daddy has been the one who has watched out for me from behind bars. Ben Masters is the man who has always been anywhere I might need the extra support, and I’ve never truly thanked him for it. As much as I want Daddy to survive, I must make sure Mr. Masters comes out of this unscathed, too.

  One thing we know for sure, the murderer of Valynne Kemp is still out there. Whether they are a copycat or the original East End Killer, they’re dangerous. It’s unlikely that person would be happy with all the digging around that Mr. Masters has been doing lately.

  “Trust me when I say that here and now is the only place I thought we could meet safely. Don’t worry, but be careful.” His voice takes on a decidedly softer tone that I don’t hear from him as often lately, but it calms me down. “I’ll tell you everything when you meet me.”

  “Where should we go?”

  “Come to the grove of trees between the soccer and baseball fields,” he whispers, softer now. “And Riley? You brought Mr. Vega with you as well, right?”

  “Yes.” I lift my eyes to look for Jordan and find him standing behind me, leaning in close enough that he can hear everything.

  “Good … good,” he murmurs without explaining any further. “Make sure no one else is following you. See you soon, Miss Riley.”