“How long before we get there?” My nerves seem to be getting worse with each mile.
“Not long. Another ten minutes.”
I check the time and it’s just before two. We’re right on schedule.
Deacon is leaning back in his seat, one hand on the steering wheel. I find myself staring at that hand. Then at him. He really is so good-looking. He glances at me, one eyebrow raised, and I twist back around in my seat until I’m facing forward, slightly embarrassed at being caught watching him.
“How are you so calm?” I ask.
Thankfully, his attention goes back to the road. “Because this isn’t the first time I’m doing something I’m not supposed to.” While almost everyone else in our house has had brushes with the law, Deacon is firmly on the wrong side of it and makes no apologies for it.
I let out a deep sigh as I lean back against the seat. “I’m really nervous.”
“I know you are. But we’re all here for you, and I’m not going to let this go sideways.” All playfulness is gone, and I’d love nothing more than to believe it’s as easy as that. I trust this group—my friends—more than anything, but that doesn’t mean something can’t go spectacularly wrong.
“I really appreciate everything y’all are doing because there’s no way I could have pulled any of this off on my own.”
He glances at me, concern on his face for the first time today. “No, not having that right now. I can hear it in your voice. In your head, we’ve already screwed this up somehow. And if that’s what you’re thinking, that’s exactly what will happen.”
“Okay, you’re right. We’re just getting started.”
He slows his car down and flips on his blinker. “We’re almost there.”
I glance up and see the sign.
Louisiana State Penitentiary
It’s time to talk to Paul Granger, the man who was convicted of killing my parents.
Chapter 13
Camille
BEFORE THE ALIBI
Saturday, September 12
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ben asks me for the third time tonight.
I nod and smile and try to relax even though I’ve been on edge since my conversation with Aubrey Price a few days ago at that bar. I’ve half expected her to show up at our house, demanding to speak with Ben, but so far she hasn’t reached out to him…that I know of.
It feels like she’s a ticking time bomb ready to explode.
That’s my own fault, though. The easiest assumption was that Ben was having an affair. Once I saw that napkin, I never considered another option. It was my mistake going into that bar, thinking I understood what was going on.
Ben slides his arm around my waist, pulling me in close as we make our way through the crowded room. My lemon chiffon gown blends in with all the other shades of yellow the women are wearing to thisfundraising gala for the Tarver Braddock Foundation. Of all the charity events Ben drags me to, this is one I actually look forward to supporting. Their main goal is to spread happiness to strangers with random acts of kindness in memory of the young man the foundation is named after, who passed away in an accidental fire several years ago. In the videos they post on social media, the pure joy when they surprise kids with scholarships or pay for groceries for unsuspecting shoppers right before a holiday is contagious.
“Camille! Ben!”
We both turn when we hear our names. It’s our friends Phoebe and Wesley Heights. Phoebe hugs me when she gets close while Ben and Wesley shake hands.
“You look gorgeous!” Phoebe says as she pulls away from me.
“So do you! I love this dress!”
Phoebe hooks her arm through mine, leaning close. “Save me from my table. It’s all of Wesley’s work friends and two of the wives apparently hate each other. It’s so awkward!”
“Ours may not be much better! I told Riley to sit with us, promising I’d introduce her to Hank. You know how much he loves me setting him up!”
