“How will they be able to tell it isn’t a copycat?” I ask, gathering my courage to bring up the last visit.
“There are always details from cases like these that are withheld from the media. A copycat would get some of the details right, but not others.” Daddy takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a second before looking down at where his fingers clasp together on the table in front of him. “At this point, we just hope that every detail is the same. That way they can’t rule out the possibility that I am innocent. That this new victim was murdered by the same killer as the others they’ve believed I killed.”
I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. My eyes follow Daddy’s movements, his expressions. When he goes over this information, there is a slight smile at the corners of his mouth that turns me cold. Is it because he’s hopeful for this new chance at a future or because he hopes he can somehow fool everyone?
My brain hurts from trying to decipher this code. My heart aches because I have to.
On the other hand, am I seeing these things in him because deep down I now fully believe his confession? Or maybe it’s because doubting Daddy is easier than fighting with everyone else against the idea of his guilt anymore?
“Just say what you’re thinking, Riley.” Daddy finally breaks the silence.
“My brain is going to explode. What the hell am I supposed to be thinking?” I push my hands into my hair and then stare at him.
“Watch your language, Riley.” Daddy’s brow lowers to match his voice.
“My language?” My voice tilts with a hint of the crazy I’ve been trying to keep buried all day. “My language is quite tame, Daddy, considering our location. Or have you forgotten that we’re in a prison? You’re lucky I’m not breaking out my big-girl swear words after what you told me last week.”
Daddy flinches like I’ve struck him. He looks genuinely shocked, and then his shoulders hunch. “Riley, sweetie, you have to know that I was lying.”
My mouth falls open an inch before I catch it. I have to know? He dares to give me this burden of his confession that he’s never even hinted at before and then try to take it back and expect me to see that coming? At the same time, the blossom of hope takes root in my heart. I don’t know whether to nurture it or pluck it out like a dandelion from the grass. As if I wasn’t confused enough already.
I say nothing, studying his breathing and wishing I could read him the way he’s always been able to read me. I want to see the truth through his body language instead of his words. As agonizing as it feels to recognize it, I know that I don’t trust his words anymore. I can’t. Either he lied last week, or he’s been lying my whole life.
Either way, he’s a liar now. Something he never was to me before.
After a few seconds he leans toward me, raw anxiety plain on his face. Even through the arrest, the trial, and all the appeals, I have never seen him look this desperate. “Riley, you must believe me. I am innocent. I’ve always said that, haven’t I?”
My soul feels like it’s being ripped just seeing him like this. My heart pounds loud in my ears, my voice chokes with the emotion I’m fighting not to show him. “Until last week.”
Reaching out, he grips my hand tight in his. I want more than anything to believe him completely when he says, “Please, I only said that to help you and your mama let me go when I’d given up hope. Please don’t use my one lie to trap me now that I finally see a light that could free us all.”
I pull my hand away. My voice breaks and a couple of tears roll down my cheeks before I can stop them. “And what a horrible lie to tell.”
“Don’t you see? I need you to understand. Your confidence in me matters more to me than what anyone else thinks.” His face cracks and I see my own emotion reflected back at me. “I thought it was over. I was trying to do the right thing for the ones I love the most. I hoped that if you thought I deserved what was coming to me then it’d be easier for you and your mama to move on. You’ve been stuck in one spot your whole life because of me. I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving you without making sure you’d be free to really live.”
His words are the ones I’ve been hoping for. They’re the only reasoning that makes a twisted kind of sense. They dull the edge of my anger, but it doesn’t disappear—and neither do my doubts.
Daddy tentatively takes my hand again in his and this time I don’t pull away. I quickly wipe the tears from my face with my sleeve.
“You didn’t do it?” For some reason, I need to hear him say it again.
“I. Am. Innocent, Riley.” He emphasizes each word separately, trying to force them into my brain.
“I’m not done asking questions.”
He squeezes my hand. “I’ll have the answers.”