Chapter 40
Emmaline
My hands were folded so tightly in my lap that my fingers were going numb.
I forced them open and smoothed my skirt, then gripped the edge of the chair to keep from fidgeting.
The clock on the far wall ticked at the top of each minute, snagging behind my breastbone.
The AC rattled and smelled of lemon cleanser over something older. The vinyl seat clung to my thighs.
Wesley wasn’t in yet. Neither was Bodie.
Roxie slid into the chair on my left and pressed a packet of tissues into my palm without looking at me.
On my right, Aunt Viv sat so straight her spine could’ve been a ruler.
The rest of the family—Ben and Aunt Loretta, Uncle Hank, a couple of cousins—were waiting back home in Gibson Hollow.
We’d all dressed like we were going to a Sunday funeral.
At the far end of the row, a couple of seats away from the rest of us, Marla sat with her ankles crossed and a small, satisfied smile fixed to her mouth like she’d practiced it.
When her gaze cut to me, the smile didn’t move, but I felt it like a cold draft down the back of my neck.
I’d slept maybe two hours at Adalyn’s, thinking about Bodie’s voice at her door—wrecked—and my mother’s words crawling under my skin. The line I’d overheard in his office—I already said I’d do it. I just worry I’m making a mistake—kept looping in my head.
Do what? My mind had filled the blank with me. With us. With everything I was terrified to lose. But if that had been the absolute truth, why had he come after me like he had?
Now the blank sat between me and the table where three commissioners were arranging papers and uncapping pens. The middle one, a woman with iron-gray hair and a face that gave nothing away, glanced up and scanned our row the way one might check for exits.
The door at the front of the room opened, and two officers escorted Wesley in.
His eyes found me immediately. That old, instinctive lift of his chin—the one that said I’m fine, I got it—landed square in my chest. I managed a tiny smile.
He didn’t return it, but the muscle in his jaw eased a little as the officers guided him to the single chair placed before the commissioners’ table.
He sat. The cuffs stayed on. That part made my throat ache.
The gray-haired commissioner called the hearing to order.
Her voice was level, sanded smooth by practice.
Paper rustled. Someone coughed. I watched a thin curl of my hair slide across my forearm with my breathing.
When they asked Wesley to state his name and prison number, he did without the bored defiance he’d worn like armor in years past.
“Mr. Maddox, you’re appearing for parole reconsideration,” the commissioner said. “We have your file, work reports, program completion certificates…” She leafed through a stack. “We’ve also received several letters from your family and from residents of Gibson Hollow.”
Roxie’s knee bumped mine and stayed pressing, a small tether.
The commissioner folded her hands and looked at Wesley. “Tell us briefly why you believe you’re prepared for release.”
He cleared his throat. For a second, he looked like he might balk. Then he inhaled, slow and shaky, and started.
“I… I made a choice.” His voice came out rough from disuse or nerves—I couldn’t tell.
“I thought I was solving a problem. We were behind—rent, utilities, Gran’s roof needed fixing.
A guy I knew offered me a way to make a lot of cash fast. I told myself it was one run.
Nobody was getting hurt.” He stared at his hands before forcing his gaze back up.
“That was a lie I told to make myself feel better about doing wrong. I knew it was wrong. I did it anyway.”
Silence hummed. The AC rattled. One of the commissioners wrote a note.
Wes swallowed. “I can’t take back what I did.
But I can be honest about it. I’ve stayed out of trouble inside.
I did every program they offered. I got multiple construction-related certifications.
” He huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh if the room had been kinder.
“I got people willing to give me a shot on the outside. I got a place to live lined up that ain’t the same roof I got us in trouble trying to fix.
I… I want to go home and work and make things right where I can. ”
The words weren’t polished. They didn’t sound coached. They sounded like my brother, stripped of swagger.
“Thank you,” the chairwoman said. “We also have two individuals who have asked to address the board in support of your release.” She glanced down her list. “One is your sister, Ms. Emmaline Maddox.”
Every eye in the room turned. I stood on legs that had forgotten their job and made myself walk to the little space in front of the table, the vinyl of my shoes whispering on the tile. The commissioners didn’t ask me to swear anything. They merely waited for me to speak.
“My brother was seventeen.” My voice sounded steadier than I felt.
“He was trying to solve grown-up problems without grown-up tools.” I curled my fingers together so I wouldn’t fidget.
“He’s not blameless. He’s told you that.
But he’s not the same kid who made that call.
The man you’ve got sitting there is someone who’s taken the help offered to him and done the work.
He has steady work waiting. He has a safe place to live that isn’t dependent on anybody else’s goodwill.
He has a family that will be there.” I made myself look each commissioner in the eye. “He has me.”
I didn’t say that I wasn’t sure what else I had anymore.
I didn’t look back at the row of chairs to see whether my mother was smirking, collecting every tremble and saving it for later.
I did allow myself one quick glance at Wesley.
His mouth was tight, but his eyes were bright.
I stepped back and returned to my seat, sucking in air as if I’d sprinted a hundred yards.
The chairwoman cleared her throat. “The other request to speak comes from… Chief Bodie Gibson, of Gibson Hollow.”
My heart stuttered. I turned my head toward the door as it opened.
Bodie stepped into the room, broad shoulders filling the doorframe, jaw set, eyes scanning once and finding me like a magnet finds north.
That single look was flint on dry tinder.
The room swayed. I gripped the seat to keep from standing up, from making an idiot of myself and running to him.
He gave me the smallest, briefest nod. I’m here.
He wore his uniform, not the formal dress blues, but the pressed charcoal shirt with the badge catching every bit of the room’s light. He walked to the little rectangle of space where I’d just stood.
The chairwoman’s gaze sharpened. “Chief Gibson, before you begin, I need to ask the capacity in which you’re speaking.
As the arresting officer of record in Mr. Maddox’s case?
As the current head of law enforcement in the jurisdiction to which he proposes to return?
Or as a member of Mr. Maddox’s family by marriage? ”
Bodie’s mouth quirked, not quite a smile. He rested his hands lightly on the edge of the table. “Yes, ma’am.”
A couple of people in the back row chuckled, then swallowed it when the chairwoman didn’t. “You recognize the potential conflict of interest?”
“I do.” His voice was steady, the kind he used when a situation was tense and needed a calm center. “I already said I’d speak, and I gave that commitment before I considered how complicated it might be to wear all those hats at once.” He drew a breath. “Here’s why I decided to keep my word.”
The chairwoman gestured for him to proceed.
“I arrested Mr. Maddox.” He didn’t soften the verb.
He met it square on and kept going. “He was caught in possession of high-dollar stolen property and was part of the chain moving it. That was true then, and it’s still true now.
If you release him to my jurisdiction, I will enforce the law without fear or favor.
If he violates, I will arrest him again.
That’s not a threat; it’s the oath I took. ”
My throat closed around a sound I didn’t dare let out. Down the row, my mother sat a fraction straighter, like she’d just been handed ammunition. I dug my nails into my palms.
“But I also know the kid I arrested isn’t the man sitting here.
” He tipped his chin toward Wesley, not deferential, just…
seeing him. “I watched Mr. Maddox’s case from a distance over the last nine plus years.
I’ve read incident reports, program completion summaries, letters from employers inside.
He’s done the work. He’s earned certifications that translate outside.
Hell, his construction skills make him more employable than half the guys already walking the streets.
And while our town has made great strides since the flood last year, those are all skills that are in great demand. ”
He shifted slightly, straightening. “I’m not here because I think my opinion should carry more weight.
I’m here because I believe in people owning their choices and being given a fair chance to make different ones.
Mr. Maddox made a bad call under pressure.
He paid for it. He’s still paying. I’m asking you to let him pay the rest by building something instead of sitting still.
By giving back to the community he originally stole from.
If you grant release, you have my word I’ll do my job.
You also have my word that he won’t be alone on the other side of that door. ”
There was a scrape as one commissioner shifted in his chair. The chairwoman watched Bodie a second longer before lowering her gaze to her notes. Bodie stepped back, like a man who’d said everything he’d come to say and wasn’t going to gild it.