The Row(86)

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.