I want to hold on to his innocence like I did when he was arrested. I want to start a new life with him, the one he promised. But something doesn’t feel right.
“I don’t think you did it.” My voice cracks. “Why are you lying?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jeffrey says. “I already took the plea deal.”
“It does matter. It matters to Jenna.”
The situation reminds me of my experience as a child. My father went to prison, even though I knew with all my heart that he was innocent. In the end, he died a convict, and it destroyed our family.
“Jenna will be fine,” he says under his breath, but his expression is tight.
He has given me an answer even if it’s not in words. He’s been skirting around the subject of guilt or innocence and to me, that means there’s something he’s not saying.
I sigh. “What are you not telling me, Jeffrey? Please talk to me.”
He picks a piece of lint from his sleeve. “Why do you care so much?”
“I care because we used to be friends.”
I don’t want to tell him about the ribbon. I’m too scared to bring it out into the open, to make it real.
“This conversation is over,” he says, standing up. “I have to go.” He moves the handset a few inches from his ear but doesn’t lower it.
I stand up as well and put a hand on the glass between us. One guard gives me a death glare and I step away immediately.
“Was it Alex?” I ask before he drops the handset. I did not plan for the words to come out, but now they hang in the air between us like a bomb about to explode.
His eyes widen with what looks like surprise. He brings the handset back to his ear.“Why do you say that?”
My stomach tightens, causing the area around my C-section incision to erupt with pain.
“Was it him?” I ask again. Tears tremble on my eyelids and I blink them away.
“As I said, I need to go.” He lowers the handset back into its usual place and walks away. He doesn’t look back.
I continue to stare after him until he disappears through a metal door. Only then, do I turn and leave the building.
It’s a cool April day, but the sun feels too warm against my skin.
I make my way to the car and sit behind the wheel, clenching my hands tightly in my lap.
The truth was written all over Jeffrey’s face. He thinks Alex did it, or maybe he knows it.
What if it’s true? What if my husband commited murder and the wrong person is in prison?
Many questions race around in my mind as I drive through the city. When I get to the apartment, I stare at the bed we’d shared.
Had I been sleeping next to a child murderer and a rapist?
I’d forgotten to make the bed, so there’s still a dent in his pillow. I remember him sleeping so peacefully this morning. Is it possible for a murderer to sleep that soundly, knowing they put someone in a coffin?
I lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling, trying to put the pieces together in my mind.
When he was arrested, it was reported that he had hovered around the children at the school, that he was sometimes seen watching cheerleading practice from a distance.
But that’s not unusual, is it? He worked at the school. He was bound to show up at places like that. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
Or does it?
