Chapter 29
Dylan
I was sitting in a dirty plastic chair next to my grandma in the jail visitation room. The stench of cigarette smoke and mold swallowed us and clung to my clothes. Across from me sat my mom.
She looked nothing like herself. I knew it was her, of course.
The facial features were there. But the once so lively and sparkly person I knew was now nothing more than skin and bones.
Her orange jail suit hung off her bony frame.
Her collarbones jutted out sharply, and her hands rested limp in her lap.
Her hair was wild, dull, and like hay, with strands sticking out at odd angles, like it hadn’t been brushed in weeks.
Her cheeks had sunken inward, creating spooky-looking shadows all over her face.
Her eyes stared past me, fixed on nothing. Like she was already gone and only her body was still here. Moving when told. Just a machine without a beating heart that would land in the junkyard soon.
As a teen mom, she always looked so young. People sometimes asked if we were siblings. Now that thought seemed crazy. Mom looked more zombie than human.
I could barely look at her. It was like my heart shattered into a million pieces, then somebody fed the pieces into a grinder so my heart could never be put back together again.
I wanted to scream.
Break things.
Punch a hole in the wall large enough so we could both escape.
But I had to be strong. For her. And as much as it hurt, I couldn’t put into words how much it meant to me to be able to see her again. Talk to her again.
If you wanted to call this talking.
A female correctional officer stood next to her. She was kind enough to hold the phone up to Mom’s ear so she could hear me.
“So, yeah,” I said, leaning forward. “I guess I’m kinda dating, but I’m gonna break up with her.”
I sounded casual. Like this was just another conversation at home before dinner.
“She’s just kinda mean, you know,” I continued.
“I heard her make fun of this new girl at school. About her crooked teeth. And you know I don’t like bullies.
” I paused, thinking, then shrugged. “She won’t be heartbroken for long, though.
She’s the prettiest girl in school. She can have another boyfriend just like that. ”
Snapping my fingers, I nodded to myself, as if Mom and I had just come up with this plan together. “So yeah. I’ll break it off.”
My lips curled into a soft smile.
There was a time when Mom would’ve begged me for moments like these. Begged me to talk about school. About football. Soccer. Girls. Back then, she got little more than annoyed shrugs and clipped answers from me. It’s nothing. It’s whatever.
Now I offered her everything. Every detail. Like it might be the last time I could tell her who I was.
I glanced briefly at Grandma, who sank her teeth into her lower lip, staring at the floor. She swallowed hard as tears filled her eyes.
“Wrestling is going well,” I said. “I made the team.” I quickly pulled my sleeve over the bruise on my lower arm so she wouldn’t notice. The one from my fight with Dad.
“Dad is doing good too,” I said quickly, worried she might have seen the lie and suspected something. “Oh, and soccer is going well too.”
Mom just stared past me, not even blinking.
“The last match we had, we won. And I kicked the winning goal.”
My hands moved more as I talked. More animated. More effort for her.
“And there’s this new girl on the girls’ soccer team. She’s kinda cute.” A faint smile tugged at my mouth. “And she’s, like, doing work with the homeless and stuff. You know. Good heart and shit.”
I glanced at Mom, waiting for something. Anything. But nothing came, so I continued.
“I might ask her out once things are over with Amelie.” I shrugged again. “We’ll see.”
There was an awkward silence. It was kinda hard to hold a conversation for two. When it got quiet, Grandma jumped in.
“Oh yeah,” she said in an excited tone as she straightened in her chair. “Dylan got an A in math.”
“Like, what the fuck, right?” I added.
“Language,” she scolded me.
I waved it off. “You’d think with everything going on—” I stopped mid-sentence. Swallowed. Reset.
“I mean … anyway. Grades are good. Girls are still going. And soccer needs me so bad they’re basically begging me to come to practice.
” My voice softened. “And the little monsters are doing well too. Ethan’s using the potty now.
Well, kinda. And Lila wants a horse.” I paused, thinking hard. “Let’s see, what else—”
“Five minutes,” the guard reminded us.
“Dylan.” Grandma reached out and placed her hand gently on my shoulder. “Could I have a moment alone with your mom?”
I looked at her. Then at Mom. And nodded.
“Well … I’ll see you next week, Mom. Make sure you eat more. I love you. A lot. I always will. Okay?”
I stood up quickly, just in time before the first tear might roll, and handed the phone to Grandma.
Then I left without looking back. To make sure she wouldn’t see me cry. To make sure my visit helped her. Not make her feel worse.
* * *
Nicole
My instinct was to run after Dylan, to make sure he didn’t fall apart the second the door closed behind him. But I stayed. I needed to talk to Lacey. So much depended on it.
Quickly, I grabbed the phone and scooted my chair closer to the glass.
“Lacey,” I said, leaning in. “Listen to me.”
My eyes flicked toward the guard. She was distracted, watching another family two stalls down.
“I found him,” I whispered. “I found the man who killed Zach.”
I tapped my own forehead. “The man with the scar. Right here.”
For a moment, her eyes moved. Just barely. But they moved. Up. Toward me.
My hands started shaking as I scooted even closer, pressing my knees into the wall separating us.
“His name is John Myers,” I whispered quickly.
Her eyes locked onto mine. God, have mercy. For the first time in weeks, Lacey was actually looking at me. Really looking at me.
“He … he—” I stuttered. Then got hold of myself. “He was seen that night. Covered in blood and—”
“Time’s up,” the guard barked.
“No, wait!” I shot to my feet so fast the chair tipped backward.
But the guard had already grabbed Lacey’s arm, trying to pull her up, and she resisted. She actually resisted!
There was still life in her!
She pushed against the guard’s grip, and her thin body went rigid.
“Wait!” I shouted. “I found him, Lacey. You hear me?”
Her eyes were wide now. She shook her head. Hard. Over and over. Like she was terrified.
“Wait!” I yelled again, barely noticing the guard next to me.
“Ma’am, you need to calm down,” she ordered. She was a short woman with a tight, shiny bun. She gripped my arm.
Lacey was fighting now. Pushing against the guard, her eyes never leaving mine. Her head was shaking violently.
Another guard rushed in to help drag her away. It should have been easy, considering her weight.
It wasn’t.
By God, my daughter was fighting.
“Please wait!” I shouted after them.
But the heavy metal door slammed shut behind her. The sound echoed back to me.
And she was gone.
I stood there, shaking.
“Ma’am, please leave,” the guard next to me demanded. Her fingers dug into my arm harder.
I tore myself free. “I’ll leave.” I raised my hands in surrender. “I’ll leave.”
The guard walked me out of the visiting room. The heavy door swung open and heads turned, curious eyes following me as I passed.
Dylan was waiting in the hallway.
“Everything okay?” he asked the second he saw me.
“You good?” the guard with the bun asked me in a brisk tone.
I nodded.
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t pull this shit again, or your visitation rights will be revoked.”
Then she turned and walked back into the room without waiting for an answer. The door shut behind her with a thud.
I turned to Dylan.
He was staring at me. His shoulders slumped, and his lips started to tremble. Whatever strength he’d held onto in that room was gone. The strong young man who’d sat across from his mother was gone. And what stood in front of me was a hurting boy.
Then he broke. The sound came first. A rough inhale that turned into a sob. Then another. His body folded in on itself as tears poured down his cheeks. He cried and cried, shoulders shaking, face pressed into my shoulder as I wrapped my arms around him and held on tightly.
“I know,” I said. “I know.”