Chapter 23
23
Present Day
I swerve into a parking spot and check my phone for what feels like the billionth time for any word from Essie.
Nothing.
I gulp down the last of my coffee and rub my tired eyes. I spent the entire night poring over Earl’s file and combing through every online detail.
Holding my attorney badge, I walk toward the prison, the golden sunrise above me.
The officer at the front desk eats a muffin as I sign in as Earl’s representation to speak with him. Guilt swirls in my stomach.
I should tell Essie I’m here.
But even if I tried, she’s ignoring my calls.
And this isn’t something I can text.
A guard leads me into a room that reeks of mildew and sweat. Since I specialize in family law, interviewing incarcerated clients is uncharted territory for me.
Two guards escort Earl into the room. His hands and ankles are shackled. As he sits across from me, I blink at him. He’s aged since his mug shot .
He settles his arms on the table and waits for me to speak.
“I’m Adrian with the Prison Exoneration Program,” I introduce. “I’m here to help you with your case.”
He stares at me with gratefulness. “I appreciate you coming, Adrian, and that the PEP is taking my case.” There’s a deep pain in his voice.
“Did you do it?”
It’s a stupid question. He applied for the program’s help, so why would he admit guilt? But it’s one I need to ask for my own sake.
“Hell no, I didn’t do it.” This time, instead of pain, there’s a slight twang in his voice. “I’m innocent.”
“It’s a question I had to look you in the eyes and ask.” I stare at him while opening the folder. “Tell me your story.”
“My story is that I’m innocent. Someone set me up.”
I run my thumb along a paper clip. “Why would someone set you up?”
“I was the easiest to blame. I made a few mistakes, and everyone in Blue Beech automatically decided I was some creep. Who better to point your finger at?”
“Why would they think you’re a creep?”
He sighs. “I was a custodian at the local high school. The kids, they liked to sneak around and hook up. I always ratted them out to the principal. Then, one night, I found them drinking and partying at the football field. I ran them off, called the cops, and reported it to the principal. After that, the popular kids decided I was enemy number one. They made my life a living hell, said I only found them because I was a stalker, and pulled a stupid prank on me that got me fired.”
“What kind of prank?”
“A student told me she couldn’t get her locker unlocked. I had a master key and unlocked it for her. She asked me to grab a bag from the top shelf since she couldn’t reach it. I did, and something fell out of it. On instinct, I bent down to pick it up, and before I even recognized what it was, the kids came out from around the corner. They took pictures of me standing next to this high school girl with her panties in my hand. I was fired the next day and investigated by the police.”
“They couldn’t check the cameras?”
“For some reason, they claimed they weren’t working that day.”
I adjust my glasses. “What does that have to do with you being set up for hitting two kids head-on and killing one?”
“I don’t know, man. All I can think of is they wanted to ruin my life. I went to work at the theater—that was my new job since I’d lost the one at the school. They messed with me there too. I have an alibi. I was picked up from the bar and taken home, and then I passed out. The next thing I know, the cops were at my home, saying I’d run some kids off the road and killed one.”
“There was damage on your truck.”
“I don’t know how that damage got there. My grandmother drove my truck home. Neither one of us drove after that. Someone must’ve taken my truck.”
“So, you think someone stole your truck, hit them, and then blamed you for it because you’d tattled on them?”
“I know it seems a little messed up, but yeah.”
“They were high school kids, Earl. The boy who died, he was friends with the kids you say could be involved.”
“I never said they were to blame. You asked why someone would want to blame me, and that’s why.”
“Anyone else?”
“There was this couple who kept trying to buy my grandmother’s property. They’ve been on my possible suspect list.”
“What was going on with the property?”
“After my grandfather died, he left the property to my grandmother and me. We struggled to afford it. This couple, they kept telling my grandmother to sell it to them, and she wouldn’t because I was able to keep us afloat. They kept offering her money, the amount going up each time—more money than it was worth.”
“Who was this couple?”
“Pete and Agnes White.”
I nearly drop my pen.
I thought moving to Blue Beech would be calm, no crime.
Boy, was I wrong.
There are too many dots to try connecting.
But I need to do it.
Earl and I talk for an hour before a guard comes in and tells us, “Time’s up.”
I spend another thirty minutes in my car gathering my thoughts.
My mother has always said to listen to your gut, and I am. I can’t put my finger on it, but something tells me Earl is innocent.
That, or he’s a damn good liar.
If he’s being truthful, then whoever did it is out there.
I need to find them.
If he is, he deserves to be free.
And Essie deserves justice for who actually committed the crime.
I’ll figure it out, but first, I need to talk to her.
When I get home and start on my next round of Earl research, I finally get a text from Essie.
Essie: Thank you again for the soup.