Intent(78)

“Good morning, baby. Did you sleep well?”

“Yep. Like a rock,” she replies.

I can’t help but laugh. “A walking rock. Do you remember climbing in my lap while it was still dark outside this morning?”

She giggles but eyes me suspiciously, like she’s not sure if I’m teasing her or not. “No. I didn’t do that.”

“Yes, you sure did. Your daddy had to carry you back to bed.” I lovingly tousle her hair and walk over to Ace. The smell of bacon frying has my stomach doing somersaults—and not in a good way.

“Hungry?” His tone is casual, but his eyes give him away. He’s testing me.

“I’ll just take some toast to go. I need to go into town and take care of something.”

“Something? What is ‘something,’ Layne?”

“I’ll tell you all about it when I get back, if it turns out to be important.” I quickly kiss him before he can reply, grab some toast, and give River a kiss on my way out.

Something about Ace’s story kept nagging at me while I was getting dressed. When another conversation popped up in my mind, I decided a trip into town was necessary. As soon as possible, before Marcia comes over this afternoon. I just hope my gut instincts are right so I don’t end up making a fool out of myself.

When I reach Magnolia Way, my nerves kick up a notch or ten. The only house on the street is a magnificent, red-brick mansion. The lawn is perfectly manicured. The flower beds are beautifully kept with flowering shrubs, blooming annuals, and mounds of fresh mulch. The front door opens as I’m walking up the sidewalk and Louise steps out onto the porch.

“Good morning, Layne. George and I wondered when you’d show up. Come on in,” Louise says warmly.

The inside of the house is just as warm and inviting as the outside. Even though it’s immaculately kept, not a speck of dust in sight, it has that “lived-in” air about it. A lot of love has been freely shared in this home.

“Hello, young lady. Come have a sit with me,” George jokes good-naturedly. “Make my wife jealous so she’ll pay more attention to me than she does her hydrangeas.”

“Oh, you be quiet, you old coot!” Louise playfully jabs back at him.

I love them already.

“I’m sorry for barging in on you so early this morning. To be honest, I’m not completely sure why I’m even here. I guess I’m just hoping you can help shed some light on a few things for me.”

“Let me tell you a story.” George dips his chin to his chest and squints one eye. “Hypothetical, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Once upon a time, there was a judge who had the distinct misfortune of seeing a child appear repeatedly in his courtroom. Juvenile court is hard on everyone. Seeing all the kids who come through the system and knowing you can’t save them all is heartbreaking. Takes a toll on you after a while.

“There was one girl who started getting in trouble at an early age. She was ten the first time the judge saw her in his courtroom. She started out with what seemed like normal childhood antics at the time—rolling yards with toilet paper, shoplifting a pack of gum, borrowing a bicycle without permission. Her lawyer always convinced the judge to handle it off the record to give the girl one more second chance.

“As the girl got older, her crimes increased in severity. Her childish pranks morphed into assault, harassment, and underage alcohol possession. The judge became concerned for the girl’s safety as much as for the safety of others. He ordered her into psychiatric testing and treatment. It seemed to help her for a while. Until she went off her medication, that is. Then she became even worse than she was before.

“She showed up again one day when she was seventeen. You see, the kids were the judge’s weakness. He just wanted to help them, but being too soft on them doesn’t help them any more than being too hard does. But it was too late for the girl who had frequented his courtroom. The crime she was accused of was worse than anything before, and he just couldn’t believe it could be real.”

George stops speaking and stares at nothing in particular. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he tries to swallow the emotion that threatens to overtake him.

“What did she do, George? What was the crime?”

“Another student found a handwritten note that was allegedly written by the girl. It detailed how she was going to burn a house down while the family slept inside. It listed step-by-step details of how to approach the house, how to set the origination point so it would appear to be an accident, and how she’d sit back and watch as the flames claimed the lives and property of a family that had wronged her.”

A shiver runs up my spine and chills spread across my skin. This hypothetical story is hitting a little too close to home.

“How had they wronged her?”

“She’d been neglected for most of her life. One day, she accidentally found out they’d lied about her whole existence. Her parents had experienced marital problems, separated for a while, and her mother got pregnant by another man. When her mother reunited with her husband, he agreed to raise her as his own, but the girl was a constant reminder of a dark time in their lives. The parents started taking in foster children and showered them with the love and attention the girl had always craved.

“Her grandparents tried their best to fill the void her parents created, but there’s nothing that can replace a mother’s or father’s love. When the girl eventually confessed that she’d known about it since she was ten, it finally made sense why she’d started acting out. So, at seventeen, she’s standing before the judge again, charged with this horrendous crime of conspiracy to commit arson and murder.