From the Desk of Zoe Washington(24)

“Do anything interesting today?” Dad asked me during dinner that night.

“Not really,” I lied, and chewed on a piece of asparagus.

“How has your internship been going?” Mom asked.

“Good.”

“What kinds of things have you been doing?” she asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” I said. What I really wanted to talk about was Marcus, but if I brought him up, Mom would just shut me down again.

“All right,” Mom said. She started talking to Dad about something that happened at work, and I stopped paying attention.

I ate a couple more bites of salmon and rice, and then asked to be excused.

Back in my room with the door closed, I searched for more information about Marcus and his case, but the other articles I found repeated the same stuff I already knew. None of them mentioned anything about an alibi witness. I even searched for Marcus’s name with the words “alibi witness” after it, in case I missed it somewhere, but no real results came up. Why was that?

I needed to know if Marcus was telling me the truth. If he was, I could keep writing to him and keep getting to know him. But if he was lying about this, then I couldn’t trust him.

For the longest time, I didn’t care whether or not I knew my birth father. I had my parents, and they were all I needed. But his letters were making me realize that there had always been a piece of me missing, like a chunk of my heart. I was finally filling in that hole. Marcus seemed to care about me. He actually wanted to know about my life. And he liked cooking! I probably got my love of baking from him. What else could I have inherited from him? I wanted to find out.

There was only one way I could think of to know whether or not he was really innocent, and that was to find the alibi witness. If I could find the person who was with Marcus when Lucy was killed, and could prove it, then I would be able to believe that he really didn’t do it. And that he was who he said he was.

I’d find Marcus’s alibi witness—and the truth.





Chapter Sixteen


There was one person who knew all of the details of Marcus’s case, and maybe even the alibi witness’s name—Anthony Miller, Marcus’s lawyer. When I searched online for his name, I found a website with a list of public defenders. Mr. Miller’s name was on the list. I read through the website and figured out that he was assigned to Marcus because Marcus couldn’t afford his own lawyer.

The contact page only listed a general email address and phone number for the law office. I sent an email to the general address, asking for information about the case, about an alibi witness. Anything that might prove Marcus was really innocent. I didn’t mention that I was a twelve-year-old.

Now I needed to write Marcus and tell him about my plan. I opened my desk drawer and took out my stationery.

From the Desk of Zoe Washington

July 27

Dear Marcus,

How are you? I’m good. I can’t believe summer is already halfway over!

I’m sorry it took me a while to write back. When I read your last letter, I thought you were lying to me. I didn’t think innocent people went to prison. But now I know that it does happen. I really want to believe you, but I barely know you. I haven’t even heard your voice before. So how am I supposed to know for sure? I thought of one way. Can you tell me the name of the alibi witness? Then I could find them and hear their side of the story. If I could do that, and they said they remembered you from the day of the crime, I’d feel so much better. Though I’d feel sad that you’ve been in prison all this time for no reason.

Have you heard of the Innocence Project? I read about them at the library. If you’re really innocent, maybe they could get you out of prison.

I paused writing and got out Marcus’s last letter from my backpack. I uncrumpled it and smoothed it out, then reread it. The last song he’d sent was “Water Runs Dry,” by Boyz II Men, so I played it on my phone and picked up my pen again.

I’m listening to the Boyz II Men song right now. Wow—their voices are so good. This might be my favorite on my Little Tomato playlist so far. Send more, please!

I can’t believe you like to cook! What’s your favorite recipe? Do you know one of your mom’s recipes by heart? Maybe I can try to make it myself. That’s so cool that you get to work in the kitchen at the prison. I guess I thought you stayed in a cell all day. Do you get to do anything else?

My baking internship is going well. I decided to make up a totally new cupcake recipe, so maybe Ariana will sell it at her shop. Can you think of a unique ingredient that would be good in a cupcake?

I thought of something—it was possible Marcus had never seen a picture of me. I found an extra wallet-sized print of my sixth-grade photo in my desk drawer. I didn’t always like my school photos, but that one had turned out pretty good. I liked the purple sweater I was wearing, and my half-up, half-down hairstyle looked nice. I’d put extra shea butter hair cream on it so my curls wouldn’t frizz.

Here’s my recent school picture. I thought you might like to see what I look like now.

Write back soon,

Zoe

I put the letter in its envelope and stuck it back in my hiding spot. Tomorrow, I’d give it to Grandma to mail.

I got up to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. But then something else gnawed at me.