I met Hicks’s eyes. “On the advice of my lawyer, I wish to remain silent.”
He tried a few other tactics, telling me that Ryan was in the other room right now, spilling everything. That he didn’t believe I’d delivered the killing blows—I wasn’t strong enough—but I had to tell them what really happened. That he knew I wanted to come clean, wanted to spare my family the hardship of going through a lengthy trial. He went on and on. It was hot in the room, and I was thirsty and exhausted. His voice began to lull me, and I started to think maybe he was right, maybe it would be easier for everyone if I just confessed, but I snapped myself out of it. I didn’t kill my sister, and he was lying about Ryan.
“On the advice of my lawyer, I wish to remain silent.”
He gave me a cold smile and stood up. “I know you did it, Toni. You and your boyfriend are going away for a very long time.”
I stared at the table in front of me. He was wrong. He had to be wrong.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CAMPBELL RIVER
MAY 2013
The day after Ryan surprised me at the marina, I had a meeting with my parole officer. Her office was in Courtenay, about a half hour from Campbell River, so she either came up for a “walk and talk” or we got coffee at a restaurant. Suzanne was all right. I liked her a lot, which was amazing considering my general dislike of authority figures. She was an older woman, somewhere in her fifties, and heavy—she was always sucking back iced mochas, sugar candies, chocolates, told me I was too skinny. She liked Captain and let me bring him on our walks, sneaking him cookies, talking to him in funny voices, rubbing his big block head.
Suzanne was pretty tough on me at first, though, said she wanted me to do well, that none of her parolees had been sent back and she planned on keeping it that way. But I could tell that it was more than that. She genuinely gave a shit, made sure I was following my programs. She knew how hard it was for former inmates to transition, how institutionalized we could get. We’d started off with weekly meetings and phone checkins. Now we were meeting twice a month, and eventually, if all went well, we’d be down to once a month.
That day we went through the usual questions. At the end she said, “Anything you want to talk about?”
“Nope. I’m good.”
She stared at me for a moment. I held my breath. She knew something. Had she heard that Ryan had come to the marina? Had someone seen us?
“I just want to remind you of your parole conditions and that you need to avoid known offenders.”
Okay. So she didn’t know he’d already seen me, but she knew Ryan was around and she was testing me. I decided to cut through the bullshit.
“If you’re talking about Ryan, I don’t want anything to do with him.”
She studied my face, her friendly expression now all business. She’d been doing this job for years. She could sniff out a lie in a heartbeat. But I’d also spent years in the system. I knew how to keep my feelings locked in.
She nodded, satisfied, but added, “Be careful.”
“Of course.”
It was the first time I’d kept something from her. It made me nervous, but I didn’t want her to start keeping a closer eye on me. Just in case Ryan came back. Just in case he did have something I wanted to hear.
*