He nods rapidly several times. “Ask me anything.”
“In the letter you wrote me, you said there was evidence that would show you weren’t driving your truck that night, but you wouldn’t tell mewhat that evidence was. I’m here, sitting in front of you, telling you it’s time you share that information. What is it?”
He seems taken aback by my question. I need his answer, though. And there’s no reason he shouldn’t give it to me. He’s never mentioned Foster’s name to me, so he wouldn’t think I knew that’s his source. We only learned who it was because Ben’s PI flipped on him.
The risk we’re taking today is huge, and we need as much information as possible. We need to know what we’re looking for, whether it’s something digital or physical photos or a voice recording. Or if it’s just a stack of papers. We need to be able to narrow our search when we’re given the opportunity.
When he doesn’t answer me immediately, I remind him of what he just said. “What happened to ‘ask me anything’?”
“Sorry. I’ll answer you. But please, I’m trusting you with this. You don’t know how easy it is for evidence to disappear. And I’m afraid if the wrong people know what’s out there, that’s what will happen.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t taking this seriously.”
A few more seconds tick by.
“It’s a video from a security camera at the gas station on the corner of the intersection where the accident happened.”
I wait for him to say more but he just watches me.
“And this…person who came to you and told you this, did he say when he got it? Way back then or just recently?”
“He said he got it the morning after the accident.”
“I’m guessing it was a cop who came to see you?” I’m pushing Paul to see if he’ll trust me with Foster’s name. “I mean, who else is checking surveillance cameras the morning after an accident.”
Paul’s eyes get big. “I…uh, please don’t make me answer that.”
So, the answer is no, he’s not trusting me that much.
“Did you ask him why he didn’t turn over the video that morning?”
Paul shrugs. “I did. All he said was, at the time, he was doing someone a favor.”
“But it does show something? Something that would prove you weren’t the driver?”
“Yeah, that’s what he says.”
This is so frustrating on so many levels. “Did he tell you who the driver was?”
Paul shakes his head. “No, he didn’t tell me that. He didn’t really want to tell me any of this. He only came here to apologize to me since it was his fault I’m stuck in here. Told me he found God and he had to make things right. He knew I didn’t kill your parents, but he let me take the fall for it anyway. I told him the only way I would forgive him is if he got me out of here. That’s the only reason he told me about the video. Then he said he’d try to figure out a way to get me free but that he’s in a tough spot. There are some very connected people who are gonna be pissed off if he flips on them and he’s worried about his wife and kids. He asked me not to say anything until he figured out how to get the video to the right people.”
“But you did tell people. I saw your mom’s posts on social media. She’s telling everybody.”
His eyes squeeze shut, a pained expression crossing his face. I’m guessing he’s not allowed online so he probably didn’t know. “She wasn’t supposed to do that. Mama contacted that group that helps us get our case appealed after I told her there was new evidence. Figured a lawyer’s gotta keep my secrets so that was fine. But I didn’t know she was going to go public with it like that.” He runs a hand across his face. “Shit, that’sprobably why…that guy…hasn’t been back. He’s probably pissed at me for telling Mama.”
I sink back in my chair. Oh, God, Paul doesn’t know. Kevin Foster died more than a month ago.
“I need to go. I’ll be in touch if I discover anything.” I can’t be the one to tell Paul that Foster is dead.
Paul’s face drops. “You’re leaving already? I get up to two hours for a visit.”
“Sorry, I can’t stay any longer.”
He pulls something out of his pocket and pushes it across the table. It’s a leather bookmark. “Thank you for visiting me.”
I don’t touch it and instead look at the guards. One of the rules was very clear—there is no exchange of items between visitors and inmates.
Paul must see the concern on my face because he says, “It’s okay. I got approved to bring this in and give it to you. Since I made it in the shop here, I can gift it to anyone I want.”
