Collared(50)

“How would that be a crime, for Christ’s sake? I mean, come on, putting a guy like that out of his misery? Although if it was my daughter, I would have beat a lot more misery into that son of a bitch before putting him out of it, if you know what I mean.”

The two men around him bob their heads.

“I know they’re saying he never touched her like that, but he might as well have for as much as he f*cked her up. That is not the same Jade. That’s not Jade at all.”

Chills spill down my back, and I know I should keep moving. I don’t need to hear anything else.

“I wish that sick f*cker was right here right now because let me tell you what.” One of the others sets down his plate and points at the ceiling. “I’d string him up by his ankles and let everyone in this room take a swing. I’d let Jade take as many as she wanted until it was his guts spilling out instead of Butterfingers and bubblegum.”

The other guys are still nodding, and I know I should keep going. Pretend I didn’t hear any of it.

“I wouldn’t want one.” My voice doesn’t sound as small as I’d thought it would.

The three officers twist around to find me standing in front of them. I see regret. I see shame. I see more pity.

“I wouldn’t take a single swing.”

“I’m sorry, Jade. We didn’t mean for you to hear any of that. Just forget about it. We’re a couple of old-school cops with a little too much whiskey in them right now,” the one who suggested the stringing up says. He’s fair-skinned, but he’s reddening in embarrassment.

“He wasn’t a bad man.”

The three of them look at each other.

“He took a young girl. From her family. From her life. He took her for ten years and did terrible things to her,” one of the others says, glancing at my neck. “That isn’t just a bad man—that’s the devil himself.”

My throat is tightening with emotion. I’ve managed to not think about Earl Rae tonight, but now that I am, I can’t stop thinking about how today was his funeral. Today was the day his body was laid to rest at Holy Names Cemetery, and all of these people are thinking the worst kinds of things about him. These three are talking about wanting to kill him all over again.

It’s the day of his funeral, for Christ’s sake, and I’m at a party, talking and smiling and pretending like I belong here.

I back away from the trio of men, eyeing the door. “He wasn’t a bad man,” I repeat, slipping farther away.

They don’t argue with me this time. Instead they drop their heads and stare into their empty drinks.

I keep backing toward the door, managing to slip by friends and family and acquaintances. They don’t see me. Or maybe they do and are just pretending not to for my sake. When I reach the doors, I slip through them undetected. Not even my mom, who hasn’t seemed to look away from me for more than five seconds, sees me. I don’t see Torrin anymore, but I guess he’s still here. I want to invite him to leave with me, but I don’t because somewhere inside, I know my dad’s right—Torrin and I have never been able to “just” do anything.

Besides, for what I have planned for tonight, it’s better if I’m alone. No one else understands. They all have opposite views from mine on this.

On my way out of the building, I skim through the coat closet to find the one I know Dad brought in for me. It’s summer, but I still get cold. Especially when it gets dark. I find the dark jacket Mom picked out for me and slide into it. I check the pocket to make sure the twenty I slipped in there earlier is still there, and I keep going.

No one’s in the hall as I leave. No one’s outside the doors when I escape. No one’s around to watch me disappear.

I’m glad for it.

I rode the bus a few times with Torrin when we sneaked into the city, but I’m nervous as I wander toward the bus stop a block down from the event center. It’s late. It’s dark. And I feel like a mewing white kitten that’s just been dropped into a cage of owls. It’s the first time I’ve been on a dark sidewalk alone since . . . and every car that passes makes me flinch.

I tie my jacket around me tighter and wait for the bus. I don’t have to wait long thankfully. When the giant machine whines up to the curb, its doors pop open.

“Will this take me by Holy Names Cemetery?” I ask the driver from the curb.

She looks down at me, in my long gown and afraid to climb the steps of the bus, and waves me on. “It will take you close. You’ll have to walk a few blocks if you don’t mind walking.”

I exhale and climb on board. “I don’t mind walking.” I pay for the ride and slide into the first empty seat. The bus is mostly empty, and the ride goes fast.

After making a few stops, the driver twists back in her seat. “Hun, this is your stop. Holy Names is three or four blocks down Ash here.”

I pop up and make my way off the bus. “Thank you.”

“Be careful, okay? It’s not safe for a woman to be out walking alone by herself at night.”

I nod and smile at her, wondering what she’d say if I told her I was off to Holy Names to visit the grave of the very person who’d abducted me a decade ago.

The bus doors whine closed behind me, it screeches away from the curb, and then it’s quiet. I double-check the street sign hanging above to make sure this is Ash, then I start walking.