before him. He didn’t look at Stynes.
“I’m sorry for that boy’s family,” he said. “I really am. I pray for them and for that boy.”
“Justin Manning. He has a name.”
“I can’t admit to something I didn’t do.”
“Why don’t you sue us then? You were wrongly convicted. Take us to the cleaners. Get a bunch of money and move to the Bahamas.”
“I don’t need earthly treasure,” Dante said. “And besides, I did commit wickedness and needed to be punished for it. Like Christ on the cross, I accepted my punishment.”
“Oh, Jesus, Dante,” Stynes said. “You’re really shoveling it.” Stynes shook his head. The man still didn’t meet his eye, and Stynes figured he had pushed about as hard as he could push against someone so obtuse, such a true believer. “I’m going to have to notify your PO that you’re getting too close to little kids,” Stynes said.
“He knows I work here.”
“I’ll do it just to be a dick. The PO will probably call you in for a piss test. They like doing that to ex-cons, even ones who don’t do drugs. He’ll probably even search your room. You better hope you stashed the porn in a good hiding spot.”
“I’d like to get back to work now, sir.”
Stynes went to the door. He looked back one more time.
“Think about doing that, Dante,” he said. “Think about stepping up and giving that family some peace.”
Dante resumed stuffing envelopes. He didn’t even look up.
Stynes stopped by Reverend Arling’s office on the way out. The reverend had his head bent over the computer screen, the glasses again perched on the end of his nose. He looked up when Stynes knocked on the doorjamb.
“Ah,” the reverend said. “Done hassling the brother, are we?”
“His PO might come by and follow up.”
“There’s nothing to find.”
“I have a feeling that if you keep Dante around, there will just be more of these visits.”
“Jesus ate with the lepers and the tax collectors,” the reverend said. “I can handle one wayward brother in my church. But you know what is interesting, Detective? You come here to hassle Dante, but does anyone hassle you about what ran in that newspaper story?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that Dante has done his time, paid his debt, but still you come around. Meanwhile, no one questions that all-white jury, that circumstantial evidence at the trial. Why isn’t Dante afforded the same consideration as a white police detective?”
Stynes had a lot of things he could have said, most of them not appropriate for the confines of a church. He chose to walk away. “Save it for the pulpit, Reverend.”
“That’s right,” Arling said. “Walk away. You won’t even address the crime being committed against me. This hardworking church’s dollars being siphoned away.”
But Stynes was through the side door and on his way to the car. The heat pressed against his scalp and the back of his neck. He opened the car door, slipped off his jacket, and tossed it onto the backseat.
Three hundred dollars? Was it worth it to go back for three hundred dollars?
“Shit.”
Stynes reached into the backseat and grabbed his pen and pad. He walked back to the church, the sweat popping out on his skin.
He couldn’t wait for the day he could just walk away and stay away.
Chapter Thirteen
Janet spent her morning at work and the day before that
And in spare moments-a short bathroom break, a quick visit to the break room for a cup of yogurt-she pushed Michael out of her mind, reminding herself always that she was no longer sixteen and no longer looking to date the coolest guy in school. Sure, Michael still looked good despite the signs of aging and, sure, she still turned flutter- hearted just being in his presence. But Janet knew who she was-a working single mother with a larger mission in life, one that didn’t involve men. She needed to worry about raising her daughter, excelling at her work. Moving forward.
And while she-mostly-managed not to think about any romantic possibilities with Michael, she couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d told her and she’d told him:
Michael thought he saw his father, Ray Bower, in the woods the day Justin died.
In and of itself, Janet wouldn’t have thought much of the revelation. The Bowers lived close to the park, so maybe Ray was there. Or Michael could have been mistaken, conflating some other memory from his childhood with the day Justin died.
But Janet had told Michael about the man from the porch, and if there was someone else-even this man from the porch-who claimed that the events of that day didn’t happen the way everyone thought, then maybe there was something to it, something to be explored more fully.
And Janet hadn’t even spent much time factoring in the questions asked by the newspaper reporter-
“There you are.”
Janet looked up from her desk. Her mind was drifting too far, letting thoughts that didn’t belong at work grab too strong a hold in her brain.
Madeline stood before her, and as strange as it seemed, Janet wanted to thank her for the diversion, for getting her mind away from problems she couldn’t solve.
“Here I am,” Janet said.
“You seem distracted,” Madeline said. “Ready for lunch?”
“Lunch?” Janet looked at her desk calendar.
She needed it. Hell, she even thought she deserved it.
“Let me grab my purse,” Janet said.
They walked across the mostly quiet midsummer campus. Scattered students went by, those taking summer classes, and occasionally they passed a faculty member in their warm-weather wardrobes-shorts and Birkenstocks, pale legs flashing in the sun like the bellies of beached fish. When she felt she had the time, Janet took classes. She had completed half the hours required for a bachelor’s degree in history and needed to get back to it. Ashleigh would be gone in a few years, off to college herself, and Janet considered her next, longer-term life project. Finish the bachelor’s and then what? Try for a master’s? Why not?
“I can’t stop thinking about that article.” Madeline held her hand over her heart, like she was about to pledge allegiance. “Heartbreaking,” she said. “Just heartbreaking. I had no idea your mother and brother weren’t buried next to each other.” Madeline acted as though she should have been consulted about it because she-and she alone-could have prevented it in the first place. “What are we going to do about this?”
“We?” Janet asked.
“Yes. Have you looked into moving one of them?”
“Justin would have to be moved. The plots on either side of him are taken.”
“Okay. And there’s an empty spot next to your mom?”
“Yes, but it’s not that easy. You need to pay for the reburial. You have to buy a new casket.”
“We do have wet weather here. That can cause damage.”
“Believe me, I’ve looked into it, and we can’t afford it right now. It’s just-it’s a dream, that’s all.”
