“Then why are you calling? Why now?”
“So many questions.” He sighs. “It’s important to me, for my spiritual and personal growth, to tell you that I forgive you.”
My eyebrows reach for the sky. “You forgive me?”
“Yes,” he continues. “Whatever demons forced you to carry out these terrible deeds are your own to deal with. I see that now. As much as I loved you, it was wrong of me to try and help you cover up your crimes.”
“Yourlovealmost killed me.”
“Attacking you was a momentary lapse of reason on my part. Something I very much regret.”
“Do you really think there’s a chance they’ll drop your charges to accessory and time served?”
“Anything is possible through the power of prayer. My therapist has also helped me understand myself and be a better, more empathetic person. To prepare for my return to the world and life outside of prison,” he says. “Prayer and therapy are how I turned my life around and learned to accept the unfortunate role I played in enabling you.”
“Enabling me?” I shake my head. “How many hours did you sit in your cell rehearsing this speech?”
“Sidney, I don’t expect you to understand. But I found God and—”
“Oh, yeah? Where was he hiding? Behind the sofa?”
Noah pushes aside the curtain and checks on whatever is happening out front. The man is now as unhappy as the dog. Though he’s doing a lot less growling.
“Don’t interrupt me, please,” says Ryan, an edge coming into his voice for the first time. “Hearing your name mentioned on the morning news made me realize some things. That this violence and corruption…this evil in your soul is a disease. One that’s sure to catch up with you sooner rather than later.”
“Okay.”
“It saddens me that you’ve spent all these years alone.”
“Been listening to the podcast, have you?” I ask. “They sure are your fan boys.”
“Though perhaps isolating yourself was safest for the general public. You abstained for so long, I hoped perhaps you’d changed. But apparently not.”
This is all such bullshit. He’s giving me nothing useful. And the chances this conversation is going to wind up in the documentary are right up there. I put the call on speaker and start searching my name online.
“I know your grandmother was a just and peaceful woman,” says Ryan. “Who tried to raise you to be a decent person.”
“Do not talk about her.”
“It gives me hope that one day you’ll seek forgiveness and admit to the terrible things that you’ve done. But I wanted you to know, there is nothing but love and compassion in my heart for you, Sidney.”
“Thanks. That really means a lot coming from you.”
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me on my engagement?” he asks. “Being in a stable healthy relationship with a good woman has really helped to ground me. I’m so excited about our future together. The idea of starting a family.”
He prattles on as I scroll through a news feed. There’s a photo of a luxury hatchback parked in a woodland area surrounded by crime scene tape. One of the car doors is open and various official-looking people are standing around. Some of them wear police uniforms. The article says the owner of the vehicle ismissing, though no names have been released yet. Nothing about a body being found. There’s obviously plenty of rumors going around, however, for reporters to be standing outside my house already. My history with Ryan has to be the sole link between me and the story about this vehicle. I mean, what else could it be?
This cannot be happening again. Women going missing and the community living in fear. The way I want to scream.
“But it’s important for you to know that it’s not too late for you to seek help,” he says. “Even now…”
Then it hits me.Shit.“That’s Grace’s car. It’s my cousin’s car.”
“Who?” asks Ryan oh so sweetly.
“You know who I mean.” There’s something stuck in my throat. It might be my heart. I don’t know. But puking isn’t out of the question. “What have you done to her?”
“You’re forgetting again. I am incarcerated. There’s no way I could have been involved.”
