He laughed, then winced. It hurt to laugh. “Bullshit.”
A guilty smile tugged my mouth.
“I’m glad you stopped by, actually,” Darrell said. He grabbed a letter from a nearby ledge and handed it to me. “I’ve got something for you.”
The envelope had already been opened, and the letter presumably read.
I noticed the sender’s address right away.
“I hadn’t checked my mail since I got out of prison,” Darrell said. “You wouldn’t believe the fan mail. I don’t know howthese people got my address.” He pointed to a giant stack. “Box was full. Of course, there are a few haters in there, but the overwhelming majority is supportive.”
I began to read the letter Wesley Oliver sent to Darrell. It was postmarked the day before his death.
A beaming smile pulled Darrell’s lips as I read the letter:
Dear Mr. York,
I know you probably have no desire to read or hear anything I have to say. But please read this in its entirety, as it will exonerate you. First, I wish to offer my deepest and most sincere apology for the havoc and chaos I have wreaked upon your life. Not a day goes by that I do not regret my actions. I know I cannot change the past, but perhaps I can set the future on its proper path.
My testimony, and that of my colleagues, was entirely fabricated. I did not see Sarah Sweet aboard your boat the afternoon of her disappearance. Neither did anyone else. I can say that with absolute certainty because she was aboard our boat on that fateful day.
It all began when we saw Sarah riding her bike home from the marina. I was a passenger in Holden Ellington’s truck along with Landon Walsh, Cameron Talbot, and Ian Harrison. I told Holden to pull over. I wanted to talk to Sarah. We were all planning on going out on Holden's father’s boat that afternoon, and I wanted to invite her. I had always fancied her, but I was too embarrassed to make my feelings known. At that time, Sarah had been the object of some ridicule among her peers. To my surprise, she accepted my invitation. We threw her bicycle in the back of Holden’s truck, then drove to the marina.We boarded his boat and set out for what would be the most horrific experience of my life, and Sarah's.
I will regret that day until my dying breath.
Please do not misunderstand. I am in no way asking for absolution or shifting blame. I take full accountability for my role in her ultimate demise.
We’d been drinking, and that clearly clouded my judgment. I'm not sure Sarah had ever indulged in alcohol before, but she quickly became intoxicated. From there, one thing led to another. What started as a simple kiss turned into something terrible. Before I knew it, with the encouragement of my friends, I took what I wanted from her. Then, my friends did as well. I'll never forget her tears and the betrayal in her eyes. There have been countless times since when I have relived that moment in my nightmares. Countless days where I wanted to end it all. Nothing ever took away the pain. Not the drugs, not the alcohol, nothing.
Again, I'm not making excuses or asking for absolution. But I believe the truth needs to be known.
After we had violated her trust, Holden began to panic. We all did. It would be her word against ours, but the gravity of what we had done loomed over our futures. Before I knew what had happened, Holden grabbed a wrench and hit Sarah in the back of the skull. There was so much blood. It gets kind of hazy for me after that.
Holden repeatedly beat her until she was gone. With the help of the others, he dumped her body overboard. Her clothes still remained on the boat as we headed back to shore. We tossedall of them away except for her undergarments, which, as you know, were planted aboard your boat.
When we returned to the marina, we cleaned Holden’s father’s boat and collaborated on the story we would tell the police. Sarah’s bicycle was still in the back of Holden's truck, which we disposed of later by throwing it in a dumpster behind the Mega Mart.
I hope this letter will bring you some sense of vindication. I plan on contacting the authorities and will turn myself in. I know there's nothing I can do or say that will take away the lost years of your life, but I do ask for your forgiveness. I hope the best years of your life are ahead of you.
Sincerely,
Wesley Oliver.
The letter was signed in blue ballpoint below.
Darrell leaned back with his hands behind his head in a triumphant pose. "What do you think about me now?” He paused. “I think I’ve got a helluva civil rights case against the county and everyone who perjured themselves. If you think I’m rich now, just wait,” he said with a grin.
Lexi smiled, along for the ride.
44
“Let’s get a handwriting expert to determine the authenticity of this,” the sheriff said after he read Wesley’s letter.
We had congregated in his office.
"The case needs to be reopened," I said.
"Once it's authenticated, I will take it to the state’s attorney."
