I’ve done enough of that.
But in that stuff I said straight out that I lied and Arnie Fuller asked me to do it and compensated me for doing it. I was with you that weekend, all weekend. You didn’t attend a poker game and you didn’t kill a man because that whole time you were with me.
I would say I’m sorry but I expect you don’t care if I am. I would explain why I did what I did but I expect you don’t care why either.
But I will say that I’m glad you’re happy. I met your wife and saw her with you at the garage so I know that to be true. I talked to Stella and she said you’re doing great and moving on. You were always a strong guy and I guess I figured you’d make it and I wasn’t wrong.
I still wish I didn’t do what I did to you and not just because I have to write this letter and what it means that you’re reading it. I’ve been thinking about it for years, five years, and I thought it would be worth it but it wasn’t.
I hope what I’ve done will be enough to clear your name and right the wrongs done to you.
And that’s it, I guess. There isn’t much more to say.
I made a lot of mistakes in my life, you were always a good guy and the biggest mistake I ever made was doing what I did to you.
I hope you live free and happy.
Misty
By the time I was done reading it, I didn’t know how I managed it because my hand was shaking so hard.
But I managed it and when I was done I managed to move across the kitchen to the side counter by the stairs to get to my purse and grab my phone. Then I managed to find Ty’s number, hit go and put it to my ear.
Three rings then, “Mama.”
“Ty,” I breathed, moving back to the letter and then I couldn’t figure out what to say.
“What?” he barked in my ear, I jumped at his harsh tone and realized he’d mistaken mine.
“No, no, it’s not bad, baby, it’s not…” I sucked in breath. “Okay, now, listen. I was thinking about paint chips and curtains and going to La-La Land to get you some dessert for tonight and so I wasn’t –”
“Babe,” he bit off, clipped and impatient.
“Right,” I whispered, sucked in more breath then went on. “I accidentally opened your mail and what I accidentally opened was a handwritten letter from Misty Keaton that lays it out that she lied about not being your alibi.”
Silence. A very long silence. A very long, very heavy silence.
So I called, “Ty?”
“You’re shittin’ me.” That was a whisper.
“No,” I whispered back.
“You’re shittin’ me,” he repeated.
“No, honey.” I kept whispering. “Do you want me to read it to you?”
“Yeah.”
I picked it up, my hand still slightly shaking and I read it to him.
My hand dropped to the counter when I was done and he murmured, “Shit.”
“You okay?” I asked.
“Fuck,” he murmured in answer.
“That’s not an answer, honey,” I said gently.
Silence.
“Ty? Honey, talk to me.”
“Right now, Lexie, take that upstairs and put it in the safe.”
I grabbed the envelope with the letter and immediately started walking to the stairs saying, “I don’t know the combination.”
“Twenty-four, fourteen, thirty-three, sixty-seven.”
“Um… is there a bunch of right and left rolling with that?”
“Mama, it’s a keypad.”
“Oh,” I whispered.
“Twenty-four, as in, two then four, then hit the enter key, one then four, enter key and three then three, enter then six then seven, enter and open. You with me?”
“I think I can negotiate a keypad, honey lumpkins, but my locker at school you had to do all this winding around, back and forth and eventually I had to learn how to pop it because I could never get the fucking thing open.”
“This isn’t your locker at school. It’s a fucking expensive fireproof safe with a keypad.”
“Whatever,” I muttered then said, “I’m here, hang on.” I squatted, punched in the numbers then turned the handle and it opened. I put the letter in on top of Ty’s wads of cash, his gun, clips, ammo, the envelope with our marriage certificate and my boxes of diamonds then I closed the safe. “It’s there.”
“Good, baby. Gonna call Tate and see how to play this. Obviously, I can’t waltz into the Carnal Police Station so it needs to be safe until I know what to do with it.”
“She said she sent other stuff.”
“Well, I’m not feelin’ like waitin’ while that shit processes it’s way to someone who’s gonna pull their thumb outta their ass and turn the wheels of justice so my name is cleared. I’m a priority to me. She sent that shit in the mail, who knows what the fuck’s gonna happen to it but whoever reads it isn’t gonna know who the fuck I am and since they don’t know, they aren’t gonna care as much as me.”
I grinned into the phone and muttered, “I see your point.” I listened to his soft laughter then asked, “Do you think this will do it?”
“Don’t know.”