The Row Read online

  As I turn off the light and walk toward the living room, my phone dings once and lights up from my desk in the darkness. I freeze, not sure if I’m strong enough to handle turning Jordan away again.

  His text somehow makes me feel better instead of worse like I’m expecting.

  Jordan: I promised I wouldn’t leave you and I’m keeping that promise. Let me know when you need me.

  Let him know when I need him? I groan to myself at the yearning that fills me just to be near him. I always need him. When I turn to face my doorway, Daddy’s standing there and I jump.

  “Oh. Hi.” I stuff my phone into my pocket and smile at him.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to see my daughter’s room.” His words are kind, but he doesn’t look at my room at all. His eyes watch me too closely to see anything else.

  “Well, this is it.” I flip the light back on and gesture around at the walls that have been a light yellow since Mama and I painted them ourselves the summer after sixth grade. Looking around, I realize this place is filled with memories of Mama—and nothing of Daddy. He looks like a square block we’re trying to fit into a round hole.

  I sigh at the lost expression on his face as he finally looks at the room around me. I step forward, grab his hand, and pull him in toward my closet. Opening the door, I show him my stacks of shoeboxes, but he simply frowns in confusion.

  “These boxes are filled with all the letters you wrote to me. I’ve never thrown any away—not a single one. There are more boxes in the attic,” I state simply, and when I glance over at him, his eyes are watery. “This is the part of my room that has always belonged to you.”

  Daddy pulls me into a tight hug and seems too emotional to respond. I hug him back as tight as I can, closing my eyes and trying to memorize what he smells and feels like outside of a Polunsky jumpsuit. I’m determined to make new memories with my father that will never fade, even if I can’t store them safely away inside any shoebox.

  He kisses the top of my head softly and whispers, “Thank you, Riley. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve missed, for the lies.”

  “Let’s just start over,” I say back. “I’m happy you’re home, Daddy.”

  He squeezes me again and then tilts his head as he sees something over my shoulder. Then he chuckles low and pulls back with a wicked grin. “Feel up to a game?”

  I glance over at the corner where I keep my glass chess set. It’s tucked to the side on a small table because it’s been a while since I’ve had anyone to play with at home. Mama used to play, but once I started beating her consistently we both lost interest, and she became too busy with work. The idea of playing a game with Daddy, using real pieces, in my own bedroom, spreads warmth through my chest.

  I grin at him. “Only if we can use this pretty one instead of the one we used at Polunsky. I’ve had more than enough paper cuts, thank you.”

  He moves to my table and helps me clear off the other things cluttering it. When we both sit down, he has a competitive twinkle in his eye. “Let the match begin.”

  36

  “CHECKMATE,” I WHISPER, almost in shock as I scan the board again to be certain I didn’t miss anything. Once I’m sure, I raise my eyes to Daddy’s. He’s still staring at the board with a puzzled frown on his face, but when he lifts his eyes to mine, he smiles.

  “Indeed.” He examines the board again, looking slightly shocked. “You beat me.”

  It’s our second game. Daddy beat me soundly in the first one. This time the result is the opposite. I see Mama standing in the doorway with a wide grin on her face and her eyes on me.

  “Looks like you’ve finally met your match,” she says to Daddy and he laughs almost to himself.

  I suddenly realize I’ve been hogging him since he got home, and maybe Daddy and Mama need some time together, too.

  “I’m exhausted, though.” I don’t have to fake the yawn, but I need to embellish a bit. “I think I need to go to bed.”

  Daddy comes around to hug me. “I guess you’re too old to need to be tucked in anymore.”

  I laugh. “Maybe … but that doesn’t mean you can’t still do it.”

  * * *

  After my parents tuck me in, I try to get comfortable, but my brain refuses to slow down. Sleep won’t come. Just as I’m finally starting to drift off hours later, I hear them arguing. It’s only an occasional raised voice, not specific words because they both seem to be making an effort not to let me hear. If I’d already been asleep, it probably wouldn’t have woken me, but instead of sleeping soundly, I’m awake and now a spectator to a show that I’m not supposed to see. I creep out of bed and over to my door; I open it slightly and sit against the wall beside it, listening.

  “How could you tell her something like that?” Mama says in the closest thing to a shouted whisper I’ve ever heard.

  “I’ve already explained myself and apologized, Amy.” His response is normal volume and I have to strain to hear it, but there is enormous tension in his voice.

  “Fine.” Mama sounds like she’s finally releasing years’ worth of pent-up frustration. “But you need to know, I’m stronger than I was before, David. I won’t put up with the things you did back then anymore. If you cheat again, Riley and I will be gone forever.”

  “Don’t threaten me,” Daddy snarls and I almost jump up to stop them, but his voice drops back to normal almost immediately. “We both made mistakes, don’t forget that.”

  Mama doesn’t answer for a bit and I can hear the injured note in her voice when she does. “You wouldn’t ever let me, would you?” Before he can respond, she goes on. “I’m sorry. I’ve said it a million times. Don’t turn your back on me again, David. His name was Andrew, and I pay every day for what happened, but it was an accident.”

  They go on like this for hours. Arguing about anything and everything in voices just low enough that I know they think I can’t hear them. My dream for any future as a family becomes more and more trampled beneath each word. At one point the arguing slows.

  “Riley has to be our only focus now.” Mama sounds exhausted, and I wonder why they don’t just go to bed.

  “Always,” Daddy answers, and my last thought before sleep overcomes me is that it’s nice to see them agree about something.

  At some point in the darkness of night, Daddy comes in and finds me curled up with a pillow beside my barely open bedroom door. I’m surprised at how strong he still is when he picks me up and carries me back into my bed.

  “I’m sorry, Riley.” He kisses my cheek, but I’m still too far from fully awake to respond. “I promise I will make this better.”

  * * *

  By the time I wake up, it’s late afternoon and the house is quiet. A note sits on the counter from my parents. Daddy went shopping for a car and some new clothes that will fit him better. Mama went with him apparently, which is probably a good sign.

  After eating, showering, and checking my phone again for any other word from Jordan, I get ready and then pick up a book Mama bought for me a couple of years ago. She called it a “happy book.” She thought it would be better for me than reading The Count of Monte Cristo again. I hadn’t even read the back cover at the time, but I want to now.

  Maybe it’s about time I give “happy” a try.

  The book is actually quite good, and by the time I look up again, the sun is heading for the horizon. I put the book aside, pick up my phone, and call Mama. Daddy doesn’t have a phone yet anyway. I hear her ringtone coming from the other room, and I go searching for it and find it on her bed. It’s weird, but not unheard of. Mama has left her phone home a couple of times since she lost her job. She told me she wants to enjoy feeling untethered while she can.

  Walking outside, I check our front porch swing just in case they’d come home but stayed out here for some reason. I feel uneasy, but push the feeling aside. After looking into details from murders for a few weeks straight, it’s hard not to look at everything in my life with a little suspicion.
/>
  I head toward the mailbox, my eyes checking both ends of the street. In the distance, I hear the roar of a motorcycle and my stomach flops as I search for Jordan and his black bike, hoping against hope that he misses me enough to ignore my request and come back, but then the sound fades away and I feel like I lost him all over again.

  I come back in with the mail and drop it on the counter. I spy my name on the second envelope and realize I didn’t even look through the stack.

  Pulling out the one with my name printed in clear block letters, I frown, and my anxiety grows when I see there is no return address.

  I carefully rip it open and pull the letter out; I don’t even have to read a word to recognize Ben Masters’s handwriting. I stumble toward the table and sit down. My heart aches from his loss all over again, and I flip the envelope back over to check the postmark. The date is from Wednesday, four days after he died. Did he arrange for someone else to send this before he came to meet us on Saturday?

  I read the first two lines and my heart feels like a sledgehammer pounding against the walls of my chest.

  Miss Riley,

  I hope I’ve already told you this is coming and to ignore it. If not, then something went very wrong and you’re in tremendous danger.

  My eyes fly to the bottom of the page and I see Mr. Masters’s handwriting growing more and more rushed as the letter goes on. My fingers grip the paper tightly as I stand, instinctively walking to the living room and locking our front door.

  I read on.

  I’m certain I’m being followed. Tonight, while searching your father’s old office, I found the panel I’ve been looking for.

  I’m so sorry to tell you this, my dear Riley, but behind the panel I found what I feared most. I found jewelry, the very trophies from the murders your father is accused of committing.

  He is guilty. There can no longer be any doubt. He murdered those poor women. His confession to you may be the only truth he’s told any of us in years.

  Behind the panel I also found a few wedding photos of your parents. They had red X’s through your mother’s face and lines across her throat. I’m including them so you can see for yourself. He wrote terrible, horrifying things on those pictures. I recognize his handwriting, Riley. I have no doubt that he wishes to harm her.

  I’m so very sorry to have such terrible news. Please understand that the only safe situation for your mother is for your father to remain locked away.

  I’m bringing the jewelry to you tonight so you can see the pieces for yourself. Then I’d like your friend to call Chief Vega so I may discuss what I’ve found with him. If I don’t meet you, please give the chief this letter as soon as possible.

  I believe Stacia has been sucked into your father’s plot and he may be using her to meet his needs outside of the prison. That’s why the office isn’t safe to meet. Nowhere is safe. I chose Mason Park because it’s the one place that I think may keep her away. I think the site where your father left the body of his previous mistress haunts her. She doesn’t want to follow us there … at least, that’s what I’m counting on.

  Make certain this truth is told, and be extremely careful of Stacia. Tell your mother. Tell Chief Vega. Tell everyone, Riley.

  Your father must not be allowed near your mother. I’ve spent years as a criminal defense lawyer, and I’ve never seen anyone more skilled at deception or more dangerous than he is.

  You are a daughter to me and always will be. Don’t allow yourself to think you are anything but brilliant, courageous, and kind. In the sight of things that would’ve made others crumble, you stand tall. Don’t forget who you are and that I love you.

  You are nothing like him, Miss Riley. Do not ever doubt that.

  By your side always,

  Ben Masters

  I can’t move as I read the letter again and again. At the back is a smaller envelope with the photos Mr. Masters mentioned. Daddy’s handwriting looks harder and more jagged than in his letters to me, but it’s his all the same. I stare at one with Mama’s head scribbled out. The words She must die are scrawled across the bottom.

  My feet feel like lead and my head can’t seem to stop spinning. This can’t be right. It can’t be right.

  I keep reading it, hoping to find the line that proves this to be some kind of cruel hoax.

  I keep reading it because somewhere in my soul, I already know that it’s true.

  Mama …

  Dropping the envelope, I scramble for my phone and my keys, and I head out to my car. I don’t know where I’m going, but I can’t just sit here. Knowing that I can’t call Mama, I call the only other person I can think of—Jordan. It rings only once.

  “Riley? I was just going to call you.”

  “He did it, Jordan,” I choke out around the raw fear that seems to have formed a ball in my throat. “He killed those women and now he has my mom. I think he might hurt her.”

  There is a moment of shocked silence before he answers. “I’m parked on the corner of Adams and Seventy-Second in the East End. Come to me right now.”

  “I was going to go to the police and tell them he has her. Tell them we have to find my parents.” My voice is shaking so badly I just hope that Jordan can understand what I’m saying. I rub my palm against my forehead in confusion at the stoplight, trying to figure out what way I should turn.

  “That’s what I’m saying, Riley. Your parents are here.” Jordan is speaking so fast that I struggle to make sense of what he’s saying. “Don’t worry about the police. I’ll call my dad right now and tell him. I’ll call you right back.”

  “What? Jordan?” I stammer, trying to understand why he is with my parents.

  Then there is a click, and I jerk back the phone to see the words CALL ENDED printed across the screen in big red letters.

  I force myself to take slow, deep breaths even though I’m flying down the freeway at speeds my car has never seen before. I almost hope a cop turns on his lights and starts following me.

  I can lead him straight to my father.

  Why on earth would Jordan be with them? Maybe if he’s there then Mama will be okay. I cling to that bit of hope and try not to think about how many hours my parents have been alone together today.

  My phone rings and I pick it up immediately. “What the hell do you mean you’re with my parents?”

  Jordan answers without missing a beat. “I’ve been driving myself crazy, Riley. I miss you. I was worried about you. And I wanted to make sure that your father wasn’t coming after my dad.”

  I want to say the same things back to him, but this isn’t the time for all of that. I want to save those words for later, when I can hold him tight. When all my insides aren’t twisted into a tight knot because I know that Mama is safe. “Why are you with them?” I spit out each word.

  “I was in the park this morning, Riley. I saw them drive by and hoped it was you in the car with your mom, but it wasn’t. It was him, so I followed them…” His words trail off softer at the end of his last sentence.

  “You did what?” I hiss as I turn with screeching tires onto Adams. I’m just a few blocks away now.

  “I know you believed he was innocent, but I just couldn’t make it all fit.” He stops for a minute like he’s unsure whether I want to hear the rest. “I wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt anyone else.”

  I spot his bike and pull to a stop behind him. I don’t even respond, I just end the call and slip my phone into my pocket. I’m out of my car almost before the engine completely cuts off. Jordan sees me and the look on his face says he isn’t entirely certain how I’m going to react.

  In my mind, there is only one possible thing to do.

  I run to him, throwing my arms around him and knocking his body against the back wall of the alcove he’d been standing in. His warm body begins to calm the trembling in mine that wouldn’t seem to stop. He pulls me in so tight against him that I can’t tell where I end or he begins.

  Jordan smooths my hair with one han
d and buries his face against my neck. “Shh, it’s going to be okay.”

  “Thank you.” My face is pressed against the warm black T-shirt he’s wearing. “Thank you for watching them.”

  “You’re welcome.” He kisses my cheek and then I pull back, grabbing hold of his hand. “Most of the day they were just running errands, and everything seemed to be fine. Right before you called me, though, he took her into one of these abandoned warehouses, and she looked reluctant to go inside. That’s why I was about to call you.”

  “Which building are they in?”

  He steps around the side of the building and points. “Two buildings down.”

  The sun has completely set now, but the heat from the day is still out in full force. The alcove we’ve been standing in feels more like a steam room than a hideout.

  “My dad said to wait out here,” Jordan says as I start walking toward the warehouse. “They’re on their way.”

  “And you should absolutely do that.” I stop, placing my hands on his chest as I push him gently back toward the alcove. “But I can’t leave Mama in there with him for one more minute.”

  I don’t miss the fact that I haven’t thought about Daddy or used his name since I read Mr. Masters’s letter. I can’t face that now, not until I know Mama is safe.

  “I won’t let you go in there alone, Riley.” Jordan’s words are hard as steel and I know he doesn’t want to give me a chance to argue.

  I do anyway. “He won’t hurt me, Jordan.”

  “You can’t know that,” Jordan pleads.

  “I do know that. Trust me.” I kiss him softly on the lips before turning and sprinting toward the warehouse. Only when I silently pull open a broken door on the opposite end of the building do I realize Jordan is barely a step behind me.

  When I frown up at him, he looks at me with grim determination. “I trust you completely, Riley, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to trust him not to hurt you.”