That Night

*

The police called next and I had to go into the station. The officer was decent, polite, but I was on guard as I walked him through my actions the night of the theft. At the end, I said, “Look, I know there’s been a witness, but it’s just someone out to get me. A lot of people in this town hate me for what they think I did to my sister. But you won’t find one camera in that complex that saw me, one other person, or one fingerprint on that safe. I finished my shift downtown and went home. There’s no way I’d lose my job over a thousand bucks.”

All the officer said was, “We’ll be in touch if we have more questions.”

Outside the station, I saw Frank McKinney getting out of his patrol car. He stopped when he noticed me. I was frozen, suspended in time, remembering how I’d liked him as a kid, his eyes watching me in the rearview mirror the night we drove to the lake, how he wouldn’t look at me at the trial. Another person who thought I was a murderer, who was disappointed in me. He looked different, still handsome but worn down somehow. His mustache was mostly dark, with just some streaks of silver, but his hair was almost fully gray. He wasn’t that old, only his early fifties, but his face was heavily lined now.

He walked toward me, said, “Toni.”

“McKinney,” using only his last name, unwilling to put him above me.

“I heard you were out on parole.” He glanced at the station behind me, no doubt wondering what I was doing there.

“Yeah, and I’m trying to keep it that way but your daughter’s making it difficult for me.” I held my breath, pissed at myself for letting my anger show.

He looked at me. “What’s going on?”

“Ask her. And while you do that, tell her I’m not going anywhere.”

I walked away, my back stiff and my face hot. I sat in my truck for a moment, trying to calm down. I glanced over. He was standing on the front step of the station, watching me. Toni, that was really stupid. Way to draw attention to yourself. I pulled slowly out of the parking lot, praying I hadn’t just started a shitstorm.

*

In the morning I met with Suzanne and her supervisor. I went over everything again, careful to keep a polite tone though I was angry I was even in this situation. “I have no priors for theft and I had a good prison record. There’s no evidence I did this—just a witness who wouldn’t give a name, and if it’s who I think it is, she hates me and wanted me to get fired. I think I’ve proved that I’m trying to get my life back together and complying with all the conditions of my parole.”

Suzanne made some notes, then held my gaze, her eyes revealing nothing as she said, “You can go now, Toni. We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”

I drove back to Campbell River wondering if this was it for me, if I was going back to prison. For a moment I was tempted to pull a runner, flee for the border or up north, get lost in the woods where no one could find me. But then I thought of Captain, waiting for me to come home. I had to suck it up and wait.

I was on the boat, trying to come up with a list of places where I could apply for work, assuming I wasn’t going back to prison, when Suzanne called.

“We’re not going to suspend your parole right now, but if anything else happens…”

My body filled with relief. “Nothing will happen—I swear.”

“And you need to find a job where you aren’t near any cash.”

“Seriously? That means I can’t work in any restaurants.”

“There are lots of other jobs.”

I gritted my teeth. Just agree, don’t argue. “Okay, I’ll get on that right away. Thanks, Suzanne.”

“Stay out of trouble—and stay away from anyone who’s going to get you in trouble.”

Easier said than done.

*

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