I pulled her contact information from my purse inside the trash bag and walked into the Shell station. A twentysomething, tattooed man worked behind the counter.
“Excuse me, do you have a public phone?” The first words I’d uttered in the free world.
He glanced up. “Didn’t charge your phone, huh?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Bummer. But I get it. I’ve lost mine twice. I’m such a klutz. We don’t have a public phone, but you can use my cell.” The man handed me his device.
I smiled my thanks and hoped I could figure out how to use it. So many options. Dad had a new Nokia back in 2004 with a flip cover—nothing like this. “Would you punch in the numbers for me? I’ve had a rough day.”
“Sure. What’s the number?”
I gave him the numbers, and he pressed them in while I feigned interest in a candy display, my focus somewhere between lemon sours and bitter chocolate. When he returned the phone to me, it rang twice and a woman answered. “Mrs. Campbell?” I said.
“Yes.”
“This is Shelby Pearce. I’m at the bus station—”
“Oh, my goodness! I thought you were arriving tomorrow night. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay.”
“Hold tight, hon. I’ll be there. Just need to make arrangements for my kids. They’re asleep.”
“I can call Pastor Emory.” My number two contact per the parole guidelines.
“Not a good idea. His whole family has the stomach flu.”
“Can you recommend a place where I could spend the night? I’d hate to inconvenience you.” I’d earmarked the little money in my jean pocket for groceries.
“Heavens, no. This is my fault, and I want to show you the cabin. Give me about thirty minutes. I’ll be driving a white Ford SUV.”
“I’ll be looking for you. And I appreciate all you’ve done.”
“Glad to help. See you soon.”
I clenched my belly to stop this unwanted worry. I was made of stronger stuff than this. After gathering my composure, I placed the phone on the counter and thanked the young man.
“Need anything else?” He pointed to a clock on the back wall. “We close in ten minutes.”
“A restroom?”
He pointed to the left rear.
The lights in the building dimmed, and I stepped outside. Rain splashed onto the concrete. The second time today I’d been drenched.
A police car pulled in front of the store. The headlights seemed to shine through my soul as though examining the detestable part of me. An officer exited his car and walked toward me with deliberate, heavy steps. He seemed to be in his forties and losing his hair at the crown, but I could tell little else with his head bent low in the rain.
Heat rose from my neck. Did he plan to arrest me for something? Logic told me cops weren’t the enemy, but I still trembled.
“Are you Shelby Pearce?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m Officer Hughes. Edie Campbell called me. She’s on her way. Asked me to look after you until she arrived. Want to sit in my car out of the rain?”
“I appreciate it.” My shoulders relaxed.
We hurried to his cruiser, and he opened the door for me. A first. He rushed around to the other side, bringing the rain with him. Once seated, he eyed me squarely. “I speak my mind, Ms. Pearce. Edie is my sister. She’s a widow raising two kids by herself while working full-time. I don’t agree with her renting out the cabin to an ex-con, especially a murderer. But she has a mind of her own. Believes she’s doing the right, Christian thing. As the only family left since her husband passed, I look out for her. The bottom line is, if you break one condition of your parole, I’ll escort you back to prison myself.”
I expected problems and I’d been instructed how to handle them. “Sir, I assure you I have no intentions of breaking any laws or rules. My intent is to live quietly and earn an honest wage.”
“Here’s my reminder that you gave up your Fourth Amendment rights as a condition of your parole. Expect me to be at your door often. This community and my family are important to me.”
“I understand, sir. So is my family.”
“Then tell me why your father called our office—worried about your release. Claims you threatened the entire family. Do this town a favor and leave on the first bus in the morning.”
3
My first day in prison, a spider skittered across my cell floor. I knew for sure it planned to attack me, and I had no way to escape. Now sitting in Officer Hughes’s cruiser until Edie Campbell arrived, the same panic threatened to paralyze me.
I’d survived the spider. A twinge of comfort rested there.
Why had the officer made such a ridiculous claim about me? “I have no intention of leaving, and I haven’t spoken to my family since the judge pronounced my sentence. My father has no reason to fear my release.”
“Ma’am, the sheriff told me about the call.”
I feigned interest in the dark street. One thing prison had taught me was to curb my actions and reactions. Right now, I wanted to wipe the smirk off Officer Hughes’s face. But losing control invited trouble.
“Do you have a job?” His voice broke through the steady tapping of raindrops against his windshield.
“I have a job at a café here in town, and I design jewelry.”
“Edie told me about your skills. You gotta be real good to make it in the arts and crafts world around these parts.” He frowned. “Folks might not be willing to buy your stuff since you’re—”
“I know what I am, Officer Hughes. My jewelry is unique, and it will sell.” Confidence and uncertainty exchanged punches on my ribs.
“Just sayin’ you might have to find other work too. The Winsome Horse Stables is always searching for someone to muck out their stalls.”
“Sounds like honest work to me.”
“Smelly. But I’m sure you’re used to that.”
“Is rudeness a way to protect your sister, or do you naturally oppose those who’ve made mistakes?”
“Fresh starts are for deserving people. I’m—”
A knock on the driver’s window stopped him. He slid the window down, the rain spattering inside. “You made good time.”
“My neighbor is a saint.” An attractive woman with shoulder-length brown hair and carrying an umbrella peered into the window. “Shelby, good to finally meet you.” Her smile broke through the gloom. “I’m sorry about my mistake. Has my brother been treating you with Southern hospitality?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m Edie. The ma’am stuff makes me feel like I’m a hundred years old.”
“Thanks, Edie.” I grabbed my bag from the floorboard and opened the door. “Thank you, Officer Hughes, for coming to my rescue.”
“Sure thing. Don’t forget our conversation.”
How could I? “It was enlightening.” I exited and shut the door. The chilling rain had more appeal than his company.
Edie dashed around the front of the car. “You’ll be soaked. Scoot under my umbrella.”