My father sat in his leather recliner reading his morning paper and drinking his black coffee while my mother got ready to go to work.
“And this man,” a photo flashed on the screen next to the news anchor, “Garrett Henry, has been taken into custody as a suspect.”
My eyes felt like they might pop out of my head. Garrett’s mugshot was terrible. His eyes looked like he’d been crying and his hair was all messed up—whether from our makeout sesh or from Luke’s rough handling, I couldn’t tell.
“Wait, what did the TV say?” My mother emerged from the hall bathroom where she had been applying her makeup.
“Nothing. It said nothing.” She knew Garrett’s name. If she found out I was dating a suspected murderer, she’d lose her mind.
“I’ll back it up for you.” My father held up the remote and hit the rewind button. Why did TV have to be so sophisticated?
The news reporter repeated her story about Boy Boy and Garrett, my mother’s eyes growing until they became as large as dinner plates.
“That-that’s—” She turned her attention to me, one finger pointed at the TV screen. “That’s the man you went out with yesterday.”
“No, it’s just—”
“Don’t you lie to me, young lady.” Her voice was the same pitch it had been when I’d come home at four in the morning on my eighteenth birthday declaring I was no longer bound by her rules. “I know exactly who that is. I stalked him on the Facebook.”
I stopped myself from pointing out it was called Facebook, not the Facebook. “It’s a big misunderstanding.”
“So you are dating that man?” my father asked, his voice thick with concern.
“Yes. But he’s not a killer.” I added quickly. “He’s a really nice guy who Luke decided to arrest.”
“Luke arrested him?” Mom yelled. “If Luke thinks he’s bad, Rylie, then he most certainly is.”
The pitter-patter of two dogs running up the stairs mixed with my mother’s hysterics.
“Luke also thought Dave killed Ronnie and he was wrong,” I reminded her.
“I don’t want you seeing him,” my mother managed to say.
“Well, it’s kinda hard to date a guy in jail,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.
“Don’t sass your mother,” Dad said. “She’s only looking out for what’s best for you.”
“Wait where did that dog come from?” Mom’s finger pointed directly at a happy-faced Babbitt.
“That’s Garrett’s dog. I’m taking care of him while Garrett’s . . .”
“In prison,” Mom said.
“In jail,” I corrected. “It was late when I got in last night. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Of course I don’t mind.” She patted Babbitt on the head. “But I want you to stay completely out of this investigation. The last time you worked a murder, you almost died.” She choked on the last word. “I will never get over the phone call telling me my daughter is in the hospital after an attempted murder.”
My heart dropped at the tears in her eyes. “Don’t worry, Mom. Garrett is innocent. I’ll try to stay out of it, but shouldn’t I at least help the police with what I know?”
“Luke can handle the investigation, sweetie,” Dad said.
I couldn’t argue with my dad like I could with my mom. I nodded. I’d be careful. They’d never have to know I helped clear Garrett’s name. And once his name was cleared, I’d invite him over to meet them.
“I’d like to visit an inmate,” I said to the woman behind the bulletproof glass at the local jail.
“Visiting hours are almost over, maybe you should come back tomorrow.” Her eyes were bored as if she had no interest in her job whatsoever.
“I only need five minutes, I promise.”
“Fine. Whatever. Which inmate?”
“Garrett Henry.”
A smile breached her face. “You Rylie?”
“Uh, yeah.” How did she know?
“Luke told me you might show up. Sit down over there, I’ll come getcha when Garrett’s ready.”
I sat in one of the hard plastic chairs lining a brick wall. The air was stale and cool and smelled like cleaning solution. Everything around me was hard—from the concrete floor to the steel doors.
A loud buzzing sound came from a door leading to what I assumed to be the cells. With a click, the door swung open, and the receptionist motioned for me to follow her.
I stood and walked down a long brick hallway back to a small closet-type room with a chair, a pane of glass, and an old-fashioned telephone with the heavy metal-wrapped cord. Garrett sat behind the glass holding his phone up to his ear. A smile breached his lips but didn’t reach his eyes.
“Five minutes,” she said and slammed the door closed.
I picked up the receiver. “Garrett? Can you hear me?”
He nodded. “Loud and clear.”
Seeing him in an orange jumpsuit with a guard hovering behind him made my stomach turn. “How are you?”
“Hanging in there,” he said. “How’s Babbitt?”
“He’s great. I thought I lost him yesterday, but he was on the couch.”
“He’s pretty lazy,” Garrett said.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I took him home with me. I couldn’t stand the thought of him being there all by himself.”
Garrett smiled. “Of course I don’t mind. Are he and Fizzy getting along well?”
“Like they’ve been BFF’s for their entire lives.”
“Good.” Garrett looked as relieved as he could while being incarcerated.
“So you know when we first met?” I asked, not wanting to spoil the mood but needing to ask him my question.
“Rylie,” Garrett said shaking his head. “Just so you know they record every conversation I have in here other than with my attorney, so anything we talk about could be held against me.”
Damn. So I couldn’t ask him about the boat and the pills and the money. Not outright anyway.
“Okay.”
“But yes, I remember when we first met. When I was fishing on the boat, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And you thought I was up to something?”
I didn’t want to say anything more than what Luke already knew. “I did.”
“You thought there was another person in my boat from what I can tell after being questioned all night.”
“I did. And I’m
