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The pasta I’m cooking boils over onto the electric burner, and I scramble to remove the pot. Reid’s mother stopped by twenty minutes ago to break the news that now has me trembling as if I’d seen a ghost.
“Makenna, I’m only telling you this, so you’ll take precautions,” she says, her eyes full of genuine concern.
Take precautions? She can bet her ass I’m taking precautions. First thing tomorrow, I’m applying for a conceal and carry permit.
The man who killed Reid filed an appeal against the courts for lack of impartiality on Judge Landry’s behalf. Apparently, since he’s Reid’s father and also consulted on the case, the asshole’s lawyers found a loophole. It took almost two years, but the appeal was granted, and he will be given a new trial. As if that weren’t bad enough, the guy obviously has friends in pretty high places. Instead of awaiting his new court date in jail, he was released earlier today on bond, pending a hearing. He better hope that he doesn’t run into me in a dark alley. I’ll blow his sorry head off without even flinching. Well, I might flinch a little, but it will definitely be a shoot first and ask questions later kind of event.
“Does it matter who sentenced him? He killed a man in cold blood. A jury found him guilty. Reid is gone. None of us will ever see him again. And this guy gets to walk the streets because of some stupid technicality?” I slam the pot down in the stainless-steel sink and bury my head in my hands. “It’s not fair. It’s just. not. fair.”
She enters the kitchen and drapes a comforting arm over my shoulder. “I know. I know. Justice doesn’t always work the way we want it to.”
Justice? If the law doesn’t care about justice, who will?
“Isn’t there something Reid’s dad can do? All the people he knows. All his years on the bench. He has to be able to do something.” I sound desperate, I know, but I can’t help it. This can’t be happening.
“He’s working on it. He knew going into this that he shouldn’t have overseen the hearing. But the case was so open and closed, he didn’t think it would ever make it through any kind of appeal. This guy must know some pretty powerful people,” she says.
I let out an exasperated sigh, throw my hands up in defeat, and scream.
“Unbelievable. If we can’t defend Reid’s death, who will? If the man who took him from us is out there, roaming free, what value did Reid’s life have? It’s so unfair. He deserves better than this.”
Mrs. Landry picks her purse up off the sofa table and moves toward the door. “We’ll get justice, Makenna. I promise. One way or another. His death won’t be for nothing.”
I nod through tear-filled eyes and hold the door open for her.
“Just promise me you’ll be careful. We don’t know what this man plans on doing, but we do know what he’s capable of,” she says as she hugs me goodbye.
I sit in complete silence, staring at the walls, for what seems like hours after she leaves. The pasta has been long forgotten. I don’t have the appetite to eat it anyway.
Does she really think he will come after me?
Of course, he will. I’ve seen enough crime shows to know the first person a criminal goes after once he’s released from jail is the person who put him there.
I worry for a moment about Reid’s parents, then decide they’re probably well protected. Between state-of-the-art security systems and contacts on the police force, they’re covered. My security system consists of an aluminum baseball bat I keep tucked under my bed and a single deadbolt. And as far as contacts, I have Brynn, who has probably slept with a few of NOLA’s finest, but that’s the extent of it.
I suppose I should be afraid, but my fear is overcome by anger, and I secretly hope he does corner me in a parking lot, so I can finish what Reid started.
“Oh my God, Maks. You can’t stay by yourself,” Brynn shouts into the phone.
“I’m fine, Brynn.”
I can tell by the way she’s breathing and her brief interruptions to take a drink of something, she must be at the gym.
“He’s dangerous.”
“I can handle it. I’m not leaving my house. What if he breaks in and takes something I can’t get back?” I say, worried about all the things I have that belonged to Reid.
“That’s crazy talk. Makenna. Those are things. Possessions. What if he hurts you? Or worse.”
I know I’m not thinking logically right now. There’s a convicted murderer on the streets. I helped lock him up. And I’m more worried about him stealing a T-shirt than what he could do to me. Now who’s the crazy one?
The next two days are miserable. My brain knows a person can’t function on little to no sleep, but somehow, I’ve managed to do it. I picked up a can of pepper spray until I’m able to buy a gun. The state trooper said something about having to take a class first. Glad I’m not facing a potentially dangerous situation or anything.
I haven’t been back to Suppato’s since the night Cal kissed me. I haven’t mentioned anything to anyone at work, simply because I don’t want a drama label attached to my name. So, every night after my shift, I end up looking over my shoulder until I’m safely in my car and heading home.
He was released from prison, and it feels like I’ve taken his place. I don’t do anything outside of school or work. I lie awake at night listening for noises out of the ordinary. I can’t eat. All I can think about is the complete and utter unfairness of it all. And that really pisses me off.
Thursday night after work, I watch as a set of headlights follows me out of the parking lot. I don’t start to panic until they’ve followed me four blocks off my normal route home. Sour acid rises in my throat. I force it back down as I make yet another uncharacteristic left turn and they continue to follow, picking up speed whenever I do.
