The Row

I can’t move as I read the letter again and again. At the back is a smaller envelope with the photos Mr. Masters mentioned. Daddy’s handwriting looks harder and more jagged than in his letters to me, but it’s his all the same. I stare at one with Mama’s head scribbled out. The words She must die are scrawled across the bottom.

My feet feel like lead and my head can’t seem to stop spinning. This can’t be right. It can’t be right.

I keep reading it, hoping to find the line that proves this to be some kind of cruel hoax.

I keep reading it because somewhere in my soul, I already know that it’s true.

Mama …

Dropping the envelope, I scramble for my phone and my keys, and I head out to my car. I don’t know where I’m going, but I can’t just sit here. Knowing that I can’t call Mama, I call the only other person I can think of—Jordan. It rings only once.

“Riley? I was just going to call you.”

“He did it, Jordan,” I choke out around the raw fear that seems to have formed a ball in my throat. “He killed those women and now he has my mom. I think he might hurt her.”

There is a moment of shocked silence before he answers. “I’m parked on the corner of Adams and Seventy-Second in the East End. Come to me right now.”

“I was going to go to the police and tell them he has her. Tell them we have to find my parents.” My voice is shaking so badly I just hope that Jordan can understand what I’m saying. I rub my palm against my forehead in confusion at the stoplight, trying to figure out what way I should turn.

“That’s what I’m saying, Riley. Your parents are here.” Jordan is speaking so fast that I struggle to make sense of what he’s saying. “Don’t worry about the police. I’ll call my dad right now and tell him. I’ll call you right back.”

“What? Jordan?” I stammer, trying to understand why he is with my parents.

Then there is a click, and I jerk back the phone to see the words CALL ENDED printed across the screen in big red letters.

I force myself to take slow, deep breaths even though I’m flying down the freeway at speeds my car has never seen before. I almost hope a cop turns on his lights and starts following me.

I can lead him straight to my father.

Why on earth would Jordan be with them? Maybe if he’s there then Mama will be okay. I cling to that bit of hope and try not to think about how many hours my parents have been alone together today.

My phone rings and I pick it up immediately. “What the hell do you mean you’re with my parents?”

Jordan answers without missing a beat. “I’ve been driving myself crazy, Riley. I miss you. I was worried about you. And I wanted to make sure that your father wasn’t coming after my dad.”

I want to say the same things back to him, but this isn’t the time for all of that. I want to save those words for later, when I can hold him tight. When all my insides aren’t twisted into a tight knot because I know that Mama is safe. “Why are you with them?” I spit out each word.

“I was in the park this morning, Riley. I saw them drive by and hoped it was you in the car with your mom, but it wasn’t. It was him, so I followed them…” His words trail off softer at the end of his last sentence.

“You did what?” I hiss as I turn with screeching tires onto Adams. I’m just a few blocks away now.

“I know you believed he was innocent, but I just couldn’t make it all fit.” He stops for a minute like he’s unsure whether I want to hear the rest. “I wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt anyone else.”

I spot his bike and pull to a stop behind him. I don’t even respond, I just end the call and slip my phone into my pocket. I’m out of my car almost before the engine completely cuts off. Jordan sees me and the look on his face says he isn’t entirely certain how I’m going to react.

In my mind, there is only one possible thing to do.

I run to him, throwing my arms around him and knocking his body against the back wall of the alcove he’d been standing in. His warm body begins to calm the trembling in mine that wouldn’t seem to stop. He pulls me in so tight against him that I can’t tell where I end or he begins.

Jordan smooths my hair with one hand and buries his face against my neck. “Shh, it’s going to be okay.”

“Thank you.” My face is pressed against the warm black T-shirt he’s wearing. “Thank you for watching them.”

“You’re welcome.” He kisses my cheek and then I pull back, grabbing hold of his hand. “Most of the day they were just running errands, and everything seemed to be fine. Right before you called me, though, he took her into one of these abandoned warehouses, and she looked reluctant to go inside. That’s why I was about to call you.”

“Which building are they in?”

He steps around the side of the building and points. “Two buildings down.”

The sun has completely set now, but the heat from the day is still out in full force. The alcove we’ve been standing in feels more like a steam room than a hideout.

J. R. Johansson's books