The Row(25)

It still fills my nightmares. I can’t forget something like that.

The mayor stands with an arm around him, and on the other side of Chief Vega stands a tall, beautiful woman with a bright smile and long black hair. She looks familiar, too. Odd, because I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen her before. Close by her side stands a little boy, and I squint at the photo, sure I must be seeing it wrong. It looks so much like Jordan’s brother, Matthew.

I zoom in on the boy. Frowning before quickly scrolling through the article, I look for the paragraph I skimmed over about Vega’s family. When I find it my heart shatters as I read.

Celebrating this day with Chief Vega were his wife, Anna, and his son, Jordan.





11

I STARE AT JORDAN’S NAME ON THE SCREEN, willing it not to be true. I hadn’t known him long, but I’d felt like there could be something real with him. Whether intentionally or not, I’d trusted him with things—so many things. I’d believed he really cared about me.

I think back through all our texts and our conversations and don’t understand how I’d never asked for his last name. My mind whirls. Had I given him mine? Yes, he’d asked me my last name when I told him Daddy was on death row.

My hands go to my mouth before curling into tight fists at my side. The way he’d responded, taking that deep breath, the way his hand shook … he’d known exactly who I was in that instant. More importantly, I’m almost entirely certain he knew his father had been the one to arrest my father.

And he hadn’t told me.

I stand up so quickly my chair falls over behind me, but I ignore it. I pace circles around it as red-hot anger bubbles through my veins. Jordan had talked to me, comforted me, taken me home, and then texted me to check in. He’d called, and we’d chatted a few times. He’d had plenty of opportunities to tell me the truth, and he’d chosen not to.

I glance at the clock. I’m supposed to meet him in thirty minutes. Would it be better to just stand him up? Or to go and tell him exactly what I think about him, his secrets, and his father?

His father …

My feet seem to lock to the floor and I stop pacing.

I told Jordan—the son of the man who put my dad on death row—that my father had finally confessed.

It may not matter. If Daddy is sticking to this story, then he might have told all the guards and the warden by now.

But if he was just doing as I hope and simply wanted to help Mama and me move on … if he truly isn’t giving up, if he still wants to fight, then …

I pick up my car keys from my desk, grab my purse, and run out the door.

*

By the time I walk into Galaxy Café my body seems to have turned into a roiling mess of anger and sadness. I’d really started to like Jordan. I don’t blame him for being Vega’s son. He’s no more responsible for that than I am for being the daughter of a man in Polunsky. But how could he have not told me when he found out?

For that, I absolutely do blame him.

I’m right on time, but Jordan is here early, already in a booth in the corner. He waves at me and smiles widely.

I stalk past the host trying to ask me how many are in my party. When I reach the table, the smile and most of the color have drained from Jordan’s face. As I sit down across from him, the server walks up.

“Can I get you a drink or an appetizer to start with, miss?”

I don’t even glance up. I’m too busy trying to glare a hole into Jordan’s forehead. “I won’t be staying.”

“Oh … okay.” The server stands there awkwardly for a moment before Jordan looks up at him.

“Could you give us a couple minutes?”

“Sure.” The server turns his back, but I hear him let out a low whistle as he walks away.

Now that I’m here, I’m silent. I can’t seem to say the words that brought me here. I hold on tight to my anger because I know that if it leaves me, right here, with Jordan watching me with guilt and sorrow in his eyes, I will only be left with the pain of losing another friend.

And I’ve felt that enough for a lifetime.

“Riley…,” Jordan starts, and I look down immediately, staring hard at my firmly clasped hands on the table in front of me. He sighs deeply and continues, “I’m so sorry.”

“Did you realize it that night at the park? Or did you know before that?”

“At the park,” he answers softly. “I had no idea before that, but I knew who you were the moment you said your dad was at Polunsky. You only confirmed it for me when you told me your last name was Beckett.”

I shake my head. “How? Your dad must’ve put more than just my father in there.”

“He has,” Jordan says, then hesitates before evading my question. “It’s hard to explain.”

My anger increases at even the idea that he thinks he still has a right to keep any secrets from me after I’ve exposed all of mine. “Fine. I don’t care why.”

Jordan flinches, then starts talking. “I deliberately don’t pay a lot of attention to my dad’s cases and I think that’s because of you.”

I frown, caught by surprise. “What? Why?”

“When I was much younger, I remember seeing my dad’s name on a newspaper. I was excited, and so I picked it up and started reading. It started off talking about a serial killer he had arrested.” He pauses and looks down at the table for a moment before finishing. “But at the bottom, there were pictures from the arrest. The first one had a man being walked out of his house with handcuffs. But there was a girl standing in the doorway behind him. She had on big fluffy slippers and pajamas. Her hair was all tangled on one side like she’d been sleeping. She was sobbing and I’d never seen that kind of pain on another kid’s face before. It was an awful picture. I decided then that good men didn’t make little kids cry like that. I never wanted to know any details about his job after seeing that.”