Ellison
I pull into the semicircle at the front of our house. It’s a combination of pure joy and seasickness when I spot the old red Mustang parked to the side and a hulking figure on the front steps. Beside him is a brown bag I’m betting is full of doughnuts.
It’s Henry, and if Henry’s here he knows Mom and Dad are gone. Odds are he also knows I should have been home and I wasn’t. Placing the car in Park, I read his calculating stare. I’m so busted.
I’m out the door and he’s off the steps. “Where the hell have you been?”
“At a friend’s house.” It’s not a lie.
“I’ve been here since eight in the morning, so try again. I texted your dad, waving the white flag, asking if I could visit you at home since, according to news reports, you were home. He told me yes. He told me to stay with you as long as I wanted because you were alone, and he mentioned you were freaked out by being alone because of some media breach. He said you were heading straight home from the airport last night. Guess what happened when I got here? You weren’t the one who was surprised.”
“You could have called.”
“Didn’t think I’d have to since your parents thought you were home. So spill, Elle, and tell me the truth because I don’t do lies. Not even from you.”
I dig my suitcase out of the trunk, find my house key, walk past Henry and unlock the door. “I spent the night with my boyfriend.”
My back heats as I walk in and turn off the alarm. Henry’s rage is red-hot and could possibly melt skin off bones. He slams the door behind him. “What did you say?”
“I stayed the night with my boyfriend.” I leave my suitcase at the bottom of the stairs and head for Dad’s office. I’m not sure if I have the courage to stand still, nor do I believe I’ll have the bravery to do what needs to be done if I wait.
Henry’s footsteps are so heavy behind me I can’t help but wonder how exactly he goes into enemy territory without announcing his arrival from a mile away. I reach Dad’s office, and enter knowing that I’m about to commit an act of treason so great that if my father ever found out, he’d probably strangle me.
“That wasn’t funny, and what are you doing in here? Isn’t walking in here without permission breaking a seal in hell?”
“I wasn’t joking, and I go in here all the time.” Not for snooping, but I do.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly. I think you said you have a boyfriend and you stayed the night with him.”
I drop into Dad’s chair, and like it was a few weeks ago, there’s Drix’s binder. I pick it up, place it on the desk and begin flipping through it. “Do you need your hearing checked?”
Henry’s talking, yelling actually, and I’m not listening. I’m scanning one page, then the next, searching for something, anything that can help. Drix didn’t do it. He didn’t rob the convenience store, but Drix took the plea deal, according to Kellen, because he didn’t see any other option.
Lying—Drix said sometimes it happens because it was the only way to survive two bad choices. I glance up at Henry and interrupt the string of words falling out of his mouth. “Do innocent people get railroaded into plea deals?”
He balks as if he was in the midst of being run over by a Zamboni. “What?”
“You worked internships in law offices and for the district attorney. Do innocent people get railroaded into accepting plea deals?”
Henry curses under his breath and drops into the chair on the other side of Dad’s desk. “You think you’re in love with the boy from your dad’s program, don’t you?”
“Not think.” This incredible feeling in my chest that flows to the tip of my toes has to be love.
“You told me you weren’t interested in him.”
“At the time, nothing was between us, but stuff has happened since.” I suck in a breath because admitting this to my cousin in broad daylight makes it real. “I love him.”
Henry looks like I shot him. “Do your parents know?”
I shake my head. “I was informed to stay away from him.”
“Sounds like you listened.”
Sure does. “Does it happen? The railroading?”
Henry’s lips flatten. “Yeah. It happens. District attorneys are under pressure for convictions. Someone is arrested, evidence points in their general direction, a plea bargain frees up time, takes some burden off the overwhelmed prison system, and it gives district attorneys the statistics of convictions they need when people are up for reelection. I still have enough optimism left in me to believe that no one is trying to put an innocent person away, but I do think they find just enough evidence for guilt, and they go for the easy win.”
“What about the attorney of the person accused? Shouldn’t they help if people say they aren’t guilty?”
“Good attorneys are expensive. Hell, bad ones are expensive. Public defenders are swamped. They have way too many cases than they can handle. In some states, they barely have an hour to spend on their clients’ cases before going in front of a judge. A lot of times they’ll recommend the plea deal because they need to focus on crimes with bigger penalties—like life in prison or death. If you’re talking about this kid from your dad’s program, I can see why a public defender would have pushed the plea deal. This kid didn’t even serve time in real prison.”
Didn’t even serve time in real prison. A part of me wants to scream. “Drix didn’t do it.”
“Are you sure? If I was interested in a pretty girl, I’d claim I was innocent, too.”
“He’s not the one who told me. Someone else did.”
Henry’s talking again, and I’m ignoring him again, and I flip the page. My lungs squeeze all the air out of my chest. It’s a still frame image from the security camera.
It shows a guy. Drix’s height, but not quite Drix’s build. Drix’s type of style with a T-shirt and jeans. Ball cap on his head hiding the color of his hair, sunglasses over his eyes, bandana hiding the rest of his face, boots on his feet similar to his.
Proof. I need proof. I stare at the picture, searching for something, for anything to help prove his innocence because even though he hasn’t admitted it to me yet, I know he didn’t do it. I understand he was someone different before the arrest, but all that he’s said since I’ve known him...it makes sense.
Another pass. I start at the cap, down along the face, at the T-shirt, along the arms, and my entire body twitches. “There’s a tattoo.”
“Are you listening to anything I’m saying?”
“Drix doesn’t have a tattoo.” I tear the picture out of the binder, slam it shut and then put the binder back in the stack. I’m on my feet, and Henry’s moving right along with me.
“Stop.”
But I can’t stop. I’m out of Dad’s office and yanking my keys out of my pocket, but a hand on my wrist jerks me back. “Elle, you have got to listen to me.”
Henry’s expression causes me to go dead in my tracks. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I need you to stop and think before you go blowing up your world.”
It’s not my world that’s falling apart. “What are you talking about?”
“You are going to sit and talk with me. When we’re done you can go off and do what you need to do, but not without talking to me first, do you understand?”
Henry is protective, overly so, but he’s also my guardian angel. As he stares down at me, he’s not the army boy spewing directions. He’s my brother, and he’s trying to tell me there’s danger ahead. “Okay.”
My stomach drops when he releases me and heads to the kitchen. It’s there that the most serious talks happen, and something tells me, my life is about to change.