“Well, lethal injection is no picnic either,” Everett answers. “They’ve been getting in cheaper drugs that don’t do the job as efficiently as they used to. Not that it matters. Whatever way he goes, I hope it’s as painful as possible. Would it be too much to ask to have his head catch on fire?”
I wince and dig my fingernails into the armrest. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
Everett raises a brow. “Don’t tell me you think his life should be spared. He murdered those women, Ryan.”
“No, it’s not that,” I say, scrambling for a good reason why I’m so shaken by the news. “I just don’t know how I feel about…capital punishment. Like, in general. The thought of the state killing someone makes me squeamish, I guess.”
Nodding, he taps the dashboard screen and loads a playlist from his phone instead. “No more depressing news reports,” he announces. “Back to good ol’ country.”
I muster a smile, but I’m not feeling this date anymore. How could I?
“Do you mind if we head back home now? I’m getting pretty tired.”
I brace myself for his reaction, but he surprises me by nodding, his expression softening. “Sure. No problem.”
I gaze out the window as we drive along the dark, winding road. He tries to make small talk a few times, but I only respond with one- or two-word answers, and I don’t kiss him good night before darting out of the truck.
When I go inside, I find Maggie cuddled in the corner of the couch, watching a movie. Reese Witherspoon’s chirpy voice floats out of the surround sound.
“How’d it go?” my aunt asks with a smile.
I look around. “Where is everyone?”
“The twins are holed up in Jazzy’s room doing something very mysterious. Dan’s at bowling night.” Noticing my stricken expression, she clears a space on the couch for me to sit. “C’mere, darlin’. What happened?”
“I heard a news report over the radio. About my dad,” I whisper.
She tucks a lock of hair that’s fallen out of the clip behind my ear. “I saw it on my news feed.”
“Why would he choose…” My voice cracks. “I guess it’s brutal either way. I don’t know why it matters to me. I know what he did. But he’s still my dad. I don’t want him suffering.” I shift out of her grasp when she tries to draw me into a hug. “I’m tired. I’m going to go to bed now.”
“All right, honey. Good night.”
I’m halfway down the hall when my phone buzzes with a text from Everett.
Everest:You’re a damn good kisser, Ryan Shipley.
Everest:Can’t wait to see you again.
Sunday afternoon, Maggie has an open house, and Dan is at the Anders Home with his troubled youth group, giving Jasmine free rein to research my father’s case without nosy questions from her parents. She’s curled up in Dan’s recliner, while Connor and I are sprawled on the living room couch, watching football. Well, he’s watching football. I’m on my phone, messaging Mar and Ty. We have a group chat now.
I’m typing a response to Ty when Jasmine shrieks so loudly I almost drop my phone.
“Holy shit!” she exclaims.
Connor jolts up into a sitting position. “What the hell, Jazzy!”
“Oh my God, you guys.” Her eyes are bright with excitement. “Con, turn the volume down. We need to hear this.”
“Hear what?” I ask warily. I swear, if it’s another update on how my father has chosen to be fried to a crisp…
“You know Zed’s stupid podcast?Free the Sparrows? He justposted the nine-one-one call from the night Uncle Psycho was arrested!”
My heart flies to my throat, and I manage to swallow a shocked gasp at the last second. I keep having to remind myself that I’m not allowed to show too much interest in this stuff. I supposedly grew up in Europe, where the Gabriel Thorn case wasn’t even a blip on the radar.
But this is, indeed,huge. Neither the Starling police nor the FBI ever released that 911 call. The official statement was that with no trial, not all evidence needed to be released to the public. According to an article I read on Zed’s site, the Starling sheriff at the time believed the call was too “inflammatory” and would only upset people.
My palms grow damp. I manage to keep my neutral mask in place, but if I wasn’t seated right now, I’d probably keel right over.
