The Inmate (80)

There are still a couple of inches of dusty snow on the ground as I walk the familiar path between my house and Tim’s. How many times had I made this journey as a child? Too many to count. Every time I left the house, it felt like the last words out of my mouth were, Going to Tim’s house! Be back later!

I should have trusted him. I should’ve known he would never do anything that horrible. Shane had me completely brainwashed. Not that it’s any excuse, but I wanted so badly to believe that my son’s father wasn’t a monster.

I was wrong.

I stand on Tim’s front porch, hugging myself, working up the courage to ring the doorbell. It takes me at least a minute or two, and then before I can second-guess myself, I reach out and push my index finger into the bell.

I stand there for close to another minute. There’s a very real chance they might not open the door for me. That I might have to trudge back to my house without even getting to talk to Tim, much less tell him how sorry I am and have him slam the door in my face.

But then the locks turn. I plaster a smile on my face just in time for the door to swing open. But it’s not Tim at the door. It’s Barbara Reese.

I haven’t seen Mrs. Reese in over a decade, but she looks at least two decades older—the same as my mother did before Pamela Nelson killed her. The last time I saw her, her hair was the same maple color as Tim’s is, but now it’s gone all white.

“Hi!” I wring my hands together. “Mrs. Reese, it’s me—Brooke.”

“Yes,” she muses. “I know.”

Of course she knows. She hasn’t been living on another planet for the last three months.

“I…” I dart my gaze around—I’m having trouble looking her in the eyes. “I was wondering if… if Tim is around?”

“Yes,” she says, “he is.”

She is not going to make this easy for me. It’s what I deserve though.

“Could I talk to him?” I ask.

Barbara Reese gives me a long look. I square my shoulders, trying to measure up, even though I already feel defeated. Who am I kidding—I blew it with Tim, not just for me, but for Josh as well.

“I’ll go get him,” Mrs. Reese finally says.

I feel a rush of gratitude. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

She cocks her head thoughtfully. “You look good, Brooke. I can see why he liked you so much.”

With that slightly baffling statement, Mrs. Reese disappears from the doorway, closing the door part of the way behind her. I stand there, shivering slightly in a jacket that isn’t warm enough for the amount of time I’ve been standing out on this porch. I hear raised voices inside the house—Tim and his mother arguing. I can only imagine what they’re saying to each other. He doesn’t want to see me. That much is clear.

After what feels like an eternity, the door swings open again. And there he is. Tim Reese. The boy next door. The guy I thought I was falling in love with before I temporarily sent him to prison for murder.

Oh boy.

He doesn’t look great. I remember how I swooned a bit when I saw him standing outside the elementary school on Josh’s first day of school. But now he looks tired and pale and about fifteen pounds thinner.

And pissed off as hell.

“Brooke.” His eyes are like daggers. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t invite me in. He doesn’t even budge from the doorway.

“Um.” I wish I had planned something to say. I could have written down a little speech. Why oh why didn’t I write out a speech? “I wanted to say hi.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Hi?”

“And welcome home,” I add.

There isn’t even a hint of a smile on Tim’s lips. “No thanks to you.”

“Look…” I squirm on the porch. “This hasn’t been easy for me either, you know—”

“I was in prison, Brooke.”

“Yeah, well.” I raise my eyes to meet his. “Josh’s dad tried to kill me. So, you know, it hasn’t been any picnic.”

“No kidding.” Tim folds his arms across his chest. He’s wearing just a sweater, and I’m cold in my coat, so he’s got to be freezing, but he doesn’t look it. “I’d been telling you all along that Shane was dangerous. Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I warn you repeatedly?”

I hang my head. He absolutely did.

“The guy stabbed me in the gut.” His fingers go to the area on his abdomen where he still has that scar. “I was practically bleeding to death, barely conscious, and I dragged myself off the floor when I saw you make a run for it. I grabbed that baseball bat off the floor and hit Shane as hard as I could, so he wouldn’t come after you. I didn’t even know I had it in me, but I knew if I didn’t do it…”

I swallow a lump in my throat. I know what he did for me that night. And how did I repay him? I refused to believe him when he was framed for murder. “I’m sorry,” I croak. “You have no idea how sorry I am that I didn’t believe you.”

He blinks at me. “I don’t know what to say. It’s a little late for that.”

“I know you hate me.” I wring my hands together. “I get it. But look, don’t take it out on Josh. He’s lost everyone but me. And he really likes you. At least… at least spend some time with him. It would mean so much to him. I could clear out of the house if you wanted, or I could send him over here or…”