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“After he gets out of jail he will be required to stay at a halfway house for felons for a week, to make sure he can acclimate to the world outside jail. And it’s my opinion,” said Vick, getting up to go, “that you should leave town for a few days if you can. It’s safer.”
“I’m not afraid of Torin,” I said again.
“Don’t let your childhood affection cloud your mind,” Vick advised me sharply.
I felt the cold sweat break out over my skin as I held the parole officer’s eyes, willing my face to look composed. I was lying through my teeth to him. My childhood affection wasn’t clouding my mind at all.
I knew Torin was dangerous.
“He may screw up during that first week,” Vick added, pulling out his pack of cigarettes as he walked to the front door.
He opened the pack, then turned back to look at me. “If he screws up at all, I’ll be sure his psycho ass is clapped back in prison. It wouldn’t surprise me if he can’t handle life outside prison and fucks up big time. He’s that kind of violent unpredictable asshole. And I don’t want a nice girl like you, Miss Reilly, to get hurt.”
“You don’t have to worry, honey,” Andrew said as I nodded, rubbing his chin on my dark hair affectionately. “I’m here. I’m going to cancel my work trip so you don’t have to be alone.”
I didn’t say anything, but I felt a desperate need for another cup of coffee as Vick pulled his county-issued car out of our driveway. I stood looking out over the front yard of our peaceful suburban neighborhood, the gracious streets tree-lined and calm, hearing the happy neighborhood sounds of barbecue grills, kids in their yards playing, afternoon tea brewing.
When I was 16 years old and my brother was almost 18 years old, Torin had killed our father. He had driven me to school, then come home and stabbed Dad with a hunting knife. By the time I came back on the bus, the trailer we lived in was surrounded with yellow police tape and Torin had already been arrested.
It was the worst day of my life and I had no desire to revisit it.
Chapter Two
Afew days later, I pulled out my laptop to look up Torin, but I couldn’t make myself type in the name of his prison. I already knew his release date. Midnight on September 23rd. Today.
I tried to calm down, running to the grocery store to pick up more supplies for my bakery.
He didn’t know where I was now.
He didn’t know where I lived.
I had no reason to believe the first thing he’d do when he got out of prison was hunt me down.
No reason? Was that really true?
In fact, wasn’t that a goddamn lie?
Didn’t I know exactly what my brother was like?
I felt flickers of nervous fear.
But maybe he was different now. It had been almost 10 years.
When I got home, Drew was already there, sitting on the couch and watching a pre-game show.
I noticed that the sink was still full of dishes from yesterday and I repressed an urge to complain that he never did them. I was just on edge, that was all. Drew did a lot of things around the house.
“Has anyone come to see me?” I asked, trying to be casual as I moved to the sink. If I didn’t do the dishes now, I wouldn’t have any space to make dinner.
“No, were you expecting someone?” my fiancé asked.
“No,” I said, dropping my keys in the little basket on the counter.
“Laoise, is that your brother?” Drew asked suddenly, pointing at the television screen.
I jerked my head around and there was Torin’s most recent prison ID. I felt an angry heat rush into my chest. Midnight-black hair, midnight-blue eyes, dark beard. Stark harsh line of a mouth.
“Yes,” I said.
