The Row(30)

“Maybe telling me the truth from the start?” I shake my head. “We’ve already discussed my father way more than we should have.”

He reaches out and rests a hand on my shoulder. It sends an unexpected shiver through me. “I just want to help you, Riley. Besides, Dad insisted on heading up this new case. He’ll have to look at the evidence and decide whether this is the same killer, won’t he? Does what your dad said even matter anymore?”

“Chief Vega insisted on it, did he? Well, that’s just super.” My defenses immediately rise like walls against the enemy. “Go ahead, assign the one cop to the case who actually benefited from putting my father in prison. Like he’s going to be interested in looking for the evidence that says he made a huge mistake in the first place.”

Jordan inhales sharply. He doesn’t speak, but he refuses to look at me, studying the park around us instead. I think over my words, regretting them instantly but not taking them back. I meant what I said, but I hadn’t been trying to hurt Jordan.

“Listen…,” I finally say, but he doesn’t let me get any further than that.

“My father is a good man, and he knows he’s capable of making mistakes.” Jordan’s eyes are on me and I can’t look away from their intensity. “I promise that he doesn’t want to put the wrong man in jail. He would never want that. Besides, from what your dad told you, it seems his so-called bias about your dad being guilty may have been right all along.”

His words rip the wind from my lungs. When I speak again, my voice comes out smaller than I want. “Fine. I don’t know what to think anymore, okay? I need to know the truth. There is still a good chance my dad could be executed in three weeks and I’m running out of time. If you tell your father that he confessed to me—”

“I don’t know. It seems like a confession is something he’d want to know now. And how would telling my dad change anything?” Jordan steps in front of me until I have no choice but to look at him. This time there’s a hint of remorse in his eyes.

“Come on. Don’t be na?ve.” I can tell the words bite as I say them, but he has to know better than this. “Your father is investigating whether he could’ve been wrong when he worked on this case initially. He could believe my father has maintained his innocence the entire eleven years, or he could believe that he confessed one time to being guilty. You don’t see how that could make an incredibly big difference to the way he considers evidence? You have to admit that you can see what I’m saying.”

Jordan looks away. I swallow hard—there’s no denying that we both have solid points. I’m only slightly surprised to find that the idea of having someone to talk to about all of this feels more comforting to me than confining.

“Three weeks, Jordan.” I look up at him, pleading. “You of all people have to understand this. If you needed me to keep a secret for three weeks that could’ve saved your mom’s life, what would you have done to convince me?”

He sighs and drops his chin to his chest before answering. “You said you need to know the truth. You don’t want me to tell anyone. Let me help and I won’t. What are you planning to do?”

“Isn’t this considered blackmail?” I glare at him as the sky over our heads rumbles.

“I don’t want it to be.” His expression softens. His hand reaches out to brush the tips of my fingers before falling back to his side. “Please, Riley, let me make my mistake up to you. Let me help.”

I look away. Fear of letting him get close enough to hurt me again wars with a betraying sense of hope at the idea of spending more time with him. I tug my fingers through my hair and sigh. “It sounds like I don’t really have a choice.”

“Then what’s the plan?” Jordan’s frown doesn’t leave his face as he nods. It might not be the response he was looking for, but it’s all I can give him right now.

I blow out a puff of air. “To start, I’m going to try to force my parents to tell me the truth about what happened twelve years ago that could have landed us in this situation now. I have to know how their marriage was, what he was like before prison, and most importantly whether anyone who knew him actually believed that Daddy was capable of murder. That begins with talking to my mom as soon as she’s home today and going to visit my father tomorrow. From now on, no more keeping me in the dark.”





14

WHEN I WALK THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR, Mama jumps up from the couch and my first thought is that someone died. She’s at home? In the middle of the day? I literally don’t remember that happening—ever. I hesitate to come in because I’m not sure I can handle any more unwelcome revelations without cracking.

She smiles and suddenly I know exactly why she’s home right now.

“You heard?” I say, closing the door behind me.

Mama walks across the room to me. “It’s what we’ve been waiting for.”

Mama grips my shoulders with her long, thin fingers, and they feel like a vise. She looks happier than I’ve seen her in as long as I can remember, so I slap a smile on my face. I feel queasy at the idea that we’re celebrating something that involved a woman’s death, but we’ve had so little hope for so long that I refuse to take this moment away from her.

“I can’t believe we finally have something like this to fight back with,” she whispers.