The Row Read online

  Chief Vega walks out of a room with Jordan directly behind him and when he looks at Stacia I know he recognizes her, because his hand moves to the butt of his gun and he keeps it there.

  “Hello,” Stacia says, putting one hand on her hip in a big and exaggerated motion. “I need some assistance.”

  “How can I help you?” Vega asks, taking a few cautious steps closer. I see other officers around the room take their cue from him and move in front of any civilians they are with. Several also put their hands on their weapons, and I see a woman in the back whispering quietly into a phone. My back stiffens and fear makes me take one slow step to back up toward the darker recesses of the office.

  Stacia notices my movement and her face lights up. “Riley!”

  I freeze, then step forward into the doorway again. “Hi, Stacia.”

  “Come here, sweetheart.” She waves for me to join her by the front desk, and when I hesitate, her face crumples. “You should be front and center for this…”

  She doesn’t have a weapon and half the guns in the room could be pointed at her in under a second. Jordan’s eyes meet mine and they plead with me not to go—he gives a stiff shake of his head. I look back to Stacia. If me standing beside her will get her to explain what happened tonight, then—for Mr. Masters—it’s worth any risk.

  I slowly walk toward her and Jordan tries to come after me, but his dad stops him. He whispers something back to Jordan that makes him stop fighting.

  “I’m here.” I stop a few feet away and try to look calm. “Why are you here? What do you want to tell me?”

  “I know you saw me at the park so you know already—” A half sob escapes her chest before she smiles ruefully. “That I’m a killer.”

  My heart burns with pain and anger in my chest. The bizarre thought that confessions aren’t supposed to be like this crosses my mind before I bite my tongue and wait for her to continue. She doesn’t, so I say, “Why did you kill him?”

  “Them,” she corrects me immediately. “Why did I kill them.”

  “Why did you kill them?” I repeat, feeling sick to my stomach, but I force myself not to turn away or run.

  “Because it helps me feel better when I don’t feel—happy.” Stacia closes her eyes for a second and I see Vega moving a few feet closer. When she hears his shoe squeak, Stacia opens her eyes and grabs a pair of scissors off the front desk. She holds them out toward me. Then she grabs me and wraps her arm around my neck when I try to step away. Every gun in the room is lifted to point at her.

  “Let her go, Stacia.” Chief Vega sounds perfectly calm.

  She growls into my face and the hair on my body stands on end. She presses the scissors against my throat. “I thought you wanted to hear my story!”

  “I do,” I answer quickly. “I don’t like scissors, but I’m not going anywhere.”

  Stacia calms down immediately and loosens her grip on my neck, pulling the scissors a few inches away from my skin. “Good.”

  “Who did you kill, Stacia?” I ask softly, careful not to move or even breathe very loudly. With enormous effort, I manage to keep my eyes toward Stacia and not on the silver sheen of the scissors she holds in front of my face or on the many guns in the room now pointed toward us.

  “I knew since you saw me with Mr. Masters that I wouldn’t get away with it. But if I’m getting credit for him, I want credit for the rest.” She laughs softly and moves the scissors through the air like she is tracing an infinity sign. “I killed all of them.”

  My throat closes up and she suddenly looks less like Daddy’s weird mistress or his assistant—and more like a dangerous psychopath who is waving a sharp object in my face. I start to tremble again before I lock up all my joints in an effort to stop it.

  The next time the blade moves before my eyes, I flinch and she freezes, looking sad. Then she lifts the scissors to her neck and drops her arm so I can take a step away. I turn to see her touching the scissor tips to her earrings and then her necklace. She grabs hold of my arm. “Did you see?”

  “Yes, very nice,” I answer immediately, but then the earrings catch the light and I actually look closer at them. They’re high quality and look very expensive. My hand covers my mouth and my eyes go wide. “Oh my God. A—are those Valynne Kemp’s earrings?”

  Stacia nods with approval like I’ve finally reached the right answer. “And…?”

  My eyes quickly scan her other jewelry, and I see she has a necklace that could be Hillary Vanderstaff’s, a ring that could be Sarah Casey’s—even a watch that isn’t her usual one. It must be Maren Jameson’s watch. Stacia has the trophies from all the victims, both the ones Daddy was convicted of murdering and the newest one. And she just wore them all into the police station. Could Stacia have been the East End Killer this whole time?

  I glance over at Jordan and his father. They both have looks of complete shock on their faces. From the edge of my vision, I see an officer sneaking around the corner of the desk toward her.

  “How did you get this jewelry?” I ask, forcing myself not to bite at the hope that dangles itself like bait before my nose.

  Stacia looks at me like my question disappoints her, and she shakes her head. “I’ve always had it—ever since the nights I killed them. Vega is a fool, putting your daddy away when he had nothing to do with it. I hoped they would eventually figure out he was innocent, but they didn’t. After he was arrested, I tried so hard to stop. But then I had to start killing again, to give them a clue.” She looks at me and shrugs. The combination of madness and utter sorrow behind her gaze is terrifying. “I couldn’t let them execute him for something I did. I guess we do crazy things for the people we love.”

  “Stacia, I need you to put down the scissors and let Riley go,” Chief Vega says quietly.

  Her hand loosens on my arm, and my instincts scream at me to move away, to run, but I’m so close to getting what I’ve always wanted that I can’t back down now. “Why did you kill them?”

  She shrugs and says simply, “Because they looked like your mother. And she had your father, so I couldn’t stand by without doing anything.”

  And then, as if she had heard her name mentioned, my mom rushes in through the door to the police station. Her hair is mussed and her coat is buttoned wrong. Vega had obviously woken her when he called, but I’m relieved to see she looks totally and completely sober.

  Mama lets out a huge puff of air when she sees me, then her eyes go to the scissors pointed at my chest—and then up to Stacia.

  Then the thing I least expect happens. Mama lets out a wild snarl and leaps on Stacia. She hasn’t even hit her before Stacia drops the scissors in shock. Then Mama is on her and she punches Daddy’s mistress twice before two officers pull her off and another takes Stacia back toward a holding cell.

  Stacia yells out to Mama through her already swelling lip, “You know he always loved me more. You’re just the woman that he refused to abandon. I’m the strong one. He’s always known that.”

  Now that I don’t have scissors pointed at me anymore, my heart resumes a normal rhythm and I feel like I might be sick. Did Stacia really kill all those women because she loved Daddy and couldn’t handle the jealousy? I know she killed Mr. Masters because he found out. I was there to see it. What if she had just decided one day that killing replacements for Mama wasn’t good enough? What if she decided it was time to go for the real thing?

  My chest burns, and I have to force my breathing to slow down so I don’t pass out. Jordan’s eyes are full of worry when they meet mine.

  Mama’s knuckles are bleeding as she turns to the officers and asks politely, “Could you release me? I need to clean up this blood before I make a mess.”

  I grab some tissues from a box on the desk and bring them to Mama as the officers receive a nod from Chief Vega and step away. She dabs at a few drops of blood on her right fist, wincing. Then she wraps both arms around me tight. “You, my dear girl, have some serious explaining to do.”

  I laug
h and hug her back. “Yes, I guess I do.”

  Chief Vega walks up and taps my shoulder with Jordan right behind him. “Are you okay? That was dangerous to face her like that, but very brave.”

  “I’m fine,” I say, taking a step back out of Mama’s hug, but she keeps her arm around my shoulder, and I’m glad. I need that strength to ask the question that I’m about to ask. “Does this mean—does this mean that my father will be released?”

  Vega’s jaw tightens and he doesn’t answer for a few seconds. “That isn’t up to me, but I will make sure all of the evidence and Stacia’s confession are processed and presented before a judge first thing Monday morning. The rest will be up to the court and the district attorney’s office.”

  My chest feels like it has a slowly filling balloon trapped inside it that he just popped. I can’t say I’m surprised by his answer, and honestly a piece of me deep, deep down feels the smallest bit of relief. Maybe they’ll just delay his execution and his release may take a while. That way I can figure out how to deal with the idea that my father may finally come home—only now I think of him less as an underdog hero and more as a cheating, lying stranger.

  Chief Vega looks from me to my mom and then he lowers his voice. “I’m sorry I can’t promise anything more. I will say that this case looks very different right now than it has in the past.”

  Mama looks down at me and forces a smile, but I see a tiny amount of anxiety behind her gaze.

  And I wonder if she might be seeing that same anxiety in me.

  34

  IT’S MONDAY AFTERNOON. Jordan has been at my house for an hour, and we haven’t spoken more than two dozen words the entire time. We’re watching some old Twilight Zone episode we found online. It’s kind of creeping me out and that’s the only thing we’ve discussed. I keep worrying this could be what I’ve been afraid of all along. Maybe now that we don’t need to talk about Daddy’s case anymore, we have nothing else to talk about. My heart tells me that fear isn’t true and Jordan deserves more credit than that. Maybe something else is bothering him—whatever it is, I hate it. What does it say about us if things get awkward and uncomfortable the moment we don’t have a life or death question we’re trying to find the answers to?

  Mama calls me from the other room and I jump off the couch at the first excuse to get away for a minute. It’s weird having Jordan and Mama around at the same time, but she set up some new rules while we were on the way home from the station Saturday night, insisting that we stop sneaking around.

  “If you are going to date someone, you’ll do it in daylight and under my nose, young lady. You’ll do it proper or you won’t do it at all,” she’d said.

  “Yes, ma’am” is still basically the only acceptable response when Mama talks to me like that.

  I jog into the kitchen, where Mama sits at the table with the phone in her hands. Her skin is pale, and when I sit down, she grabs my hand. “I just received a phone call from Chief Vega.”

  “What did he say?” I’m not sure if I want to know.

  “They received preliminary forensic results back on the scarf Stacia wore into the station,” she answers, and her grip on my hand tightens. “They’ve matched it to all of the murders; it has DNA from five different people. They believe it was the weapon used on all of the women.”

  I don’t know what to say. I can’t speak and I can’t seem to figure out what kind of response she is looking for from me. Finally, I come up with something truly profound. “Wow…”

  “Chief Vega said that he and the DA had a judge issue an emergency stay of execution, and they have a hearing scheduled with the DA and a judge on Friday. If the results come back like they’re expecting, your father’s conviction will be overturned.” Mama blinks a few times as if she can’t even believe the words she’s saying herself. “It sounds like—like he’ll be exonerated, Riley. He may be released in less than a week.”

  I try to swallow but I can’t, and I actually feel light-headed. No response I can give would be adequate. I’d honestly given up hope on ever getting Daddy exonerated. At some point over the last few years, I’d settled for just hoping that they wouldn’t go ahead with killing him.

  And now with this stunning news, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry … or both at once. On the one hand, Daddy may be released from Polunsky. I won’t have nightmares about his treatment, the food, or the other inmates anymore. I won’t have to worry about him anymore.

  On the other hand, I’ve learned so much in the last couple of weeks. I won’t be able to forget it, no matter how hard I try. How can I go back to respecting and honoring him when I’ve learned that he’s never been the man I’ve built him up to be?

  Can I trust him not to cheat on Mama again? Can she?

  What if she decides he can’t come back here at all? Would that be better?

  I tighten my grip on Mama’s hand and put on a smile, vowing to myself that wherever Daddy ends up, I will make sure he never hurts Mama again.

  And who knows? Hopefully he’s learned his lesson from his time in prison. Eleven and a half years served for crimes he didn’t commit should at least buy him a fresh start, right?

  Mama still watches me, waiting for my response, so I say the only thing that is completely, one hundred percent true.

  “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

  * * *

  After an extensive reminder of the rules for having Jordan over, Mama leaves for her job interview. When I come back to the living room, I see Jordan poring over a page from his notes on the East End Killer case again. I’m certain the only reason Mama hasn’t taken our notes away already is because she doesn’t know where I hide them.

  He’s studying something so intently that he doesn’t even realize that I’ve come back. Something about Jordan waiting until I leave to pull out the notebook rubs me the wrong way.

  “Hey,” I say quietly, and he jumps. Seeing him close the notes immediately only increases my irritation. “What are you doing?”

  “Just double-checking a couple of things.” He’s deliberately vague as he watches me, then he tries to change the subject. “Want to watch more of this show?”

  “No,” I answer softly, knowing that with Daddy coming home soon, we’re going to have to sort this out sooner or later. “Is there anything that can convince you that he didn’t do it?”

  Jordan sighs and hangs his head. “Are you convinced?”

  “Yes!” I answer immediately, deliberately avoiding taking any time to think. “She had the trophies and the murder weapon. She confessed!”

  He whispers so softly that I barely hear him. “So did he.”

  I flinch, feeling like he smacked me. “I never should have told you.”

  “No.” Jordan looks up now. He keeps his words quiet, but I see a steely resolve in his eyes. “You should have told everyone.”

  “You’re just biased!” My voice feels like it’s rising in volume and I can’t stop it. Daddy’s possible release has me scared and excited and angry, and Jordan is providing me with the perfect punching bag to take all those mixed-up emotions out on. “He may have done a lot of awful things, Jordan, but he isn’t a killer.”

  “How can you know that? How can you even believe you really know him after everything we’ve learned?” He points at me with the corner of his notebook, and I rip it from his hands.

  “Apparently, I know him better than I know you!”

  Jordan reaches his hands up and pushes his hair out of his face. I can see his frustration growing, but I don’t care. Can’t he see that the last thing I need is his questions on top of my own right now?

  He looks me dead in the eye, and I see something else in his face now. Fear. “What if you don’t know him at all? What if they release him out on the streets and he hurts someone else? What if this time it’s your mom … or you?”

  “I guess we’ll find out soon, because your dad called to say that he’ll likely be released next week!” I spit out the last word
so hard that a dark strand of my hair swings in front of my face.

  My words obviously shock him because a full twenty seconds pass before he replies. “This isn’t some game we can keep playing anymore, Riley.”

  I jerk back. “This has never been a game to me.”

  “I know it isn’t—I just meant—” He groans and I can see several emotions behind his expression. Then he seems to decide to go a different direction. “So you’re telling me that the moment the courts start believing he’s innocent—now you suddenly think the system isn’t broken anymore?”

  “And you suddenly think it is?” Cynicism drips from my tone as I throw my hands up in the air and turn away. Every argument he uses on me, he could just as easily say to himself. How can he not see that? “You were there when Stacia confessed, too. You saw all the evidence she had—”

  “Think about what we saw, though. She is clearly unstable, and also desperate to do anything to save the man she loves from being executed.” He speaks slower, obviously trying to keep our argument from escalating out of control.

  “Fighting within the law, even threatening a judge or something, I could see her going that far. But you’re suggesting that she killed Mr. Masters and Valynne Kemp and now could very likely end up on death row herself?” I lift both my eyebrows. “You’re giving her credit for an incredible amount of loyalty.”

  “Yes,” Jordan says, giving me a pointed look. “Something your father seems to inspire in women all over Texas.”

  I draw in a sharp breath, bristling at the jab even though a voice deep inside tells me that he has a point. Before I dare speak, I bring my hands up and massage the back of my neck. The knot of tension there just keeps growing with this argument. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why wait eleven and a half years if she’s willing to do something this drastic? Why not just lie and provide him an alibi to begin with?”