“Should probably stop doing that,” he drawls.
I wait for him to continue the discussion. He doesn’t. Awesome. We sit in silence until Mr.Morrison announces it’s time to share with the group, but before we can start, I catch sight of a familiar vehicle pulling up in the distance.
Maggie’s SUV.
“Mr.Morrison?” I interrupt. “I’m sorry, but, um, that’s my aunt over there.”
He follows my gaze to the long drive at the front of the main building. Sure enough, Aunt Maggie is hopping out of the driver’s side. Her presence triggers a rush of anxiety.
“Can I go find out why she’s here?” I ask the teacher.
He nods. “Yes, but if you need to leave, make sure she signs you out properly with the office…”
I’m already hurrying off, hiking my backpack over one shoulder.
“Maggie!” I call out as she’s approaching the entrance.
She turns, her mouth set in a severe straight line rather than her trademark bright real estate agent’s smile. “Oh, darlin’. I was just coming to get you.”
“Why?” I ask, even before I reach her.
The smile comes out then, but it’s forced. So forced, it looks like it wouldn’t take much to make it crack. “Let me just sign you out and then we can chat.”
She’s gone before I can object, ducking into the school. I don’t follow. I wait outside, my apprehension growing. Whatever this is, it must be urgent or she would’ve waited to speak with me when I got home later.
Unless it’s something she doesn’t want Jasmine and Connor to know…Yes. Probably that. It’s difficult to speak in private at home without raising their suspicions.
And if it’s something she doesn’t want her own children to know, there’s only one thing it can be about.
My father.
I swallow back the nausea forcing its way up my throat. Maggie reappears a minute later, taking my arm and leading me toward the SUV. Her smile is still present, though it’s quivering at the edges, and the second we get into the car it fades completely.
“We have to talk,” she says.
“About?”
She wraps both hands around the steering wheel but makes no motion to start the car. “After you left for school, I received a call from Aaron Berkley in Nashville.” The name rings a slight bell, but it doesn’t send shockwaves through me until she adds, “Your father’s attorney.”
My stomach drops. I can’t even begin to guess what he wants, but I know it’s not good. My father hasn’t contacted me since he sent me that third and final letter when I was fourteen. At least, I don’t think he has. After I tore up the letters, I told Gran that if he ever tried to contact me again, I wasn’t interested.
I guess it only makes sense that he’d make one last attempt before he left this world.
I’m about to saytell the lawyer to go shove itwhen Maggie continues in a low, flat voice.
“He wanted to know if you’d be there for the execution.”
ten
The Thorn-Poke
I gag. Audibly. I actually have to hold back the hot rush of vomit gurgling in the back of my throat. “He—what?”
My aunt’s sympathetic look confirms I’m not hearing things.
“No,”I blurt out. “Why would he evenaskme that?”
And what kind of sick, twisted person would I be if I was like,Sure! What a great way to spend a Saturday!
