Babymaker Page 5

  I stand up and toss some money on the bar. He doesn’t look up at me and I have nothing left to say to him. What’s there to say? He can’t fix it, and I got what I came for.

  As I head toward the door, I stop and turn back to him. “One more thing. Why’d you keep the tape?”

  He looks at me, confused. “Tape?”

  “The one with me on it. You supposedly gave it away to the guy that bribed you, that’s why the cops couldn’t find it five years ago. But the PI that helped free me found a copy. Why’d you keep it?”

  He shrugs. “Didn’t know, honestly. I thought the tape was gone forever, but apparently the footage was backed up on a hard drive.”

  “Where was the hard drive?”

  He shrugs again. “Don’t know. Not around here. You should ask that guy, what’s his face.”

  “Who?” I press.

  “Jason Slick. Real boring looking guy, but he’s the one that found me and made me talk.”

  I nod. “Thanks.”

  “Yeah, sure.” He turns back to his drink, and I leave the place.

  Back in my truck, I sit behind the wheel for a while, thinking. Jason Slick must be the name of the private investigator. I never learned it, although I remember glancing at him when I was in the courtroom. His testimony was important, but I never got to hear it. They rushed through my second trial even faster than the first one, I guess because of how embarrassing the whole thing was.

  But that’s the man that helped save me. He knows what’s going on, because he found that hard drive somewhere. If I’m going to get to the bottom of this, I’m going to need to find him and ask.

  I glance back at the bar. Inside there, Ron’s still drinking before his night shift, just waiting for the day that he goes to jail for good. Out on bail, I’m guessing, but not out forever. He’ll rot in prison, and part of me hopes he dies in there.

  But truth is, guys like that, they’re already dead. Just wasting their time, going through the motions, waiting until their heart stops and they go wherever you go when you die.

  I’m not dead yet. I’ve got a second life to live, and I’m not going to waste it. I start up my truck and head back to Coldwyn.

  I won’t make the mistake of staying overnight in Ocilla ever again.

  8

  Avery

  It’s cold in Coldwyn in the middle of the night. The town’s name is pretty apt, although it’s something of a cliché. I mean, this is freaking Maine, of course it’s cold.

  I step on a twig and it cracks under my foot. I feel totally exposed out here, though it’s far from the first time I’ve gone for a walk around the creek at midnight. This is the first time I’ve gone to meet Luke like this, though.

  I come up to the spot we agreed on. I’m running a little late, because Thomas’s bedroom door was open all night. I finally worked up the nerve to sneak past at like ten after midnight, and I was annoyed to see him passed out on his bed.

  I come around the bend, toward the large rocks that sit next to the creek. I spot a form sitting up on top of them, huddled into himself for warmth.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” I call out to him.

  He turns to me. I can see Luke’s face in the moonlight, and there’s a little smile on his lips. He unfolds himself and hops down lightly, meeting me halfway.

  “Glad you came,” he says. “I was getting ready to leave.”

  “Thomas wouldn’t go to sleep,” I say. “But I’m here.”

  “Good.” He looks at me for a second. “Come on.”

  I follow him up on top of the rocks and we sit down. I lean back on my hands and he cocks his head at me.

  “Been a while, huh?” he asks.

  I nod. “We used to spend a lot of time here.”

  “Too much time. We should’ve been spending more time in my truck.”

  I grin at that. “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Yeah, definitely. If I had known I’d be going away for five years, I would’ve tasted you every single second of every single day.”

  I blush a little bit. “I’m not sure I could’ve handled that.”

  “I think you could’ve,” he says. “If I remember right, you were just as starving as I was.”

  My blush gets deeper. “Things change.”

  “Not everything.”

  I look at him. “Is that why you wanted to meet? Just wanted to talk about our old sex life?”

  He grins at me. “Maybe. Would that be so bad?”

  “Maybe,” I answer, looking away. I can’t control my blushing and I know he knows what I’m thinking.

  I wish I could feel him again. I’d let him, right now, if he wanted it. I haven’t felt a man in five years, which is probably crazy since I couldn’t have known that he’d be getting out. Still, I was single-minded and couldn’t help myself. I wasn’t exactly saving myself for him, I was just… busy with other projects.

  “I went to Ocilla yesterday,” he says softly.

  I raise an eyebrow, surprised. “Why?”

  “Went to see that night clerk. That guy that was bribed to lie about me.”

  “Wow,” I say, surprised as hell. “Really? What was that like?”

  “Odd,” he admits. “I thought I was going to be mad, and I was, but…”

  “What happened?”

  “He was pathetic.” Luke makes a face. “He disgusted me. That loser got to spend five years out here in the world, wasting away like a corpse, and I was stuck behind bars losing some of the best years of my life.”

  “Must have been hard,” I whisper.

  “It was,” he agrees. “I wanted to hurt him, but when I saw him, I knew it wouldn’t be worth it.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “Yeah, well. I did get something good out of it at least.”

  “What’s that?”

  He shifts toward me and for a second, our shoulders touch. A thrill runs through my spine, and I forget why we’re here, I forget all about the past, the prison, the heartache. For a second, I’m just with Luke again.

  “He described the guy that bribed him that night.”

  I frown a little bit. “Really? Are you investigating this thing?”

  He nods. “Of course.”

  “Luke, the police have all that. They’re looking into it.”

  He waves that away. “The police locked me up to begin with. You think they give a fuck about finding the real killer?”

  I bite my lip. He has a point, and that’s something I’ve said over and over again. Still, I don’t want him getting obsessed over this… not like I did.

  “You’re free now. What does it matter?”

  He stares at me hard. “I’m not free yet,” he says softly. “You think people aren’t talking still? People think I killed that woman, even if my alibi proves I wasn’t anywhere near the accident. Nobody cares that I got freed, they only know my name and what they think I did.”

  “Who cares what they think? This town is backwards and stupid, you know that.”

  “I know.” He leans back and looks up at the trees and the moon coming through the branches. “But I still care. I hate thinking someone’s out there, walking free, while I did time for their crime.”

  I sigh. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  He grins at me. “Nothing can hurt me any more than what I’ve already been through. Plus, I’m tough, you know that.”

  I smile as he pushes me a little bit. “Yeah, yeah. Mister tough guy.”

  “Anyway, now I know what the guy looks like. I just have to ask around and find him.”

  “Just be careful,” I say softly.

  “Of course.” He shrugs a little. “I also learned the name of the PI that helped find that hard drive. Apparently it’s a guy named Jason Slick. I’m going to look him up and see what he knows about this case.”

  My blood runs cold suddenly and my heart picks up. “You are?”

  “Sure, might as well. He saved me. I’m sure he knows more about my case tha
n anyone else.”

  I take a deep breath and look away from him, hiding my expression. I didn’t think he’d figure that name out so easily, especially since I expressly told Slick not to reveal himself to Luke under any circumstances, and I even paid extra for it.

  “How’d you find it out?” I ask him, not making eye contact.

  “Ron told me.”

  Right, of course he did. Slick had to interview Ron to learn more about what happened that night, to try and establish Luke’s alibi.

  I don’t want Luke to go anywhere near Jason Slick. Not that Slick is a problem in himself or something. He would love to talk to Luke.

  But I told him not to. I don’t want Luke to know that I was the one paying for the PI that ultimately saved him. I don’t want him to know how obsessed I’ve been with trying to prove his innocence, how many hours I’ve spent going over the evidence, knocking on doors, begging people to help me. I kept this case alive through sheer willpower. That’s the reason I don’t have a real job or a real life. I don’t want Luke to know how much I’ve sacrificed.

  I have a lot of regrets. I don’t think I’ve been the best mother. Every spare moment I have, I spent it with Max, but more and more over the last few years I’ve been leaving the house and researching what happened that night. I have no friends, no lovers, nothing. All because of my single-minded desire to save the man that I love.

  And now he’s here. I feel like I should be happy. All my hard work paid off, I actually won. I found the right PI at the right time and gave him all the information he needed to crack this thing open. I saved Luke, he’s free because of my tenaciousness.

  And yet I don’t feel good about it. In fact, I’m embarrassed about how obsessed I was. Barely eating, barely showering, spending late nights on the internet researching the most arcane and absurd things, trying to find any loophole in the law. I called hundreds of lawyers, bugged so many people. My parents threatened to kick me out more than once if I didn’t stop, but I just got better at hiding it.

  I’m afraid Luke will be angry. Not that I got him out, but that I sacrificed so much to do it. I gave myself entirely and completely. Even though I didn’t contact him, I also never let him go, not for a second.

  I feel like a crazy person. I did this good thing for him, and yet I’m terrified of him finding out about it. I’ve done so much, so why can’t I just tell him the truth?

  “When are you going to see him?” I ask, trying to play it cool.

  “Not sure,” he admits. “Sometime soon, I think.” He sighs and looks over at me. “You okay?”

  I glance back at him. “Uh, yeah, of course. I’m fine.”

  He looks at me quietly for a second. I’m afraid he can see right through me, that he can tell I’m hiding something. Instead, he just smiles at me.

  “Can I see some pictures of Max?” he asks.

  “Of course.” I pull out my phone and scoot closer to him, happy to change the subject.

  We scroll through my photos app, which is basically full of Max. He’s quiet as we go through it, and I do all the talking. I tell him about Max’s life, his first words, the first time he walked, the first time he fell down and hurt himself, the first time he smiled. I tell him as much as I can as we go through the pictures.

  He reaches out and touches my hand. “Stop,” he says softly.

  I look at him, surprised.

  “Okay,” I say. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s just… I don’t know him.”

  “Of course not. You’ve never met.”

  “But he’s my son. Shouldn’t I feel that?”

  I laugh softly. “No, I mean, not yet at least. You need to see him first. You’ll feel it then.”

  “Why?” he asks.

  “The two of you are really similar.” I smile to hide how painful that actually is. Max has been a little reminder of Luke these past four years. “You look the same obviously. The same color eyes. But he’s stubborn like you. Other little things too.”

  “Like what?”

  I scrunch up my face. “It’s just the way you talk. I can’t explain it.”

  “So I act like a four-year-old?”

  I laugh. “Exactly.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. I do love Legos.”

  “He does too.”

  “And Star Wars.”

  “Loves Chewbacca.”

  He grins at me. “Okay. Maybe this kid isn’t half bad.”

  “He’s your son,” I say softly. “He’s half of each of us. I think you’ll get along with him. I hope so at least.”

  “Does he want to meet me?” he asks.

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “I haven’t told him you’re back yet.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “You haven’t?”

  “It’s not an easy thing to do. He’s young. But I’ll figure it out.”

  “Okay.” He goes silent and looks back up at the sky. I realize we’re sitting very close to each other, shoulders touching, but I don’t move away. I put my phone in my pocket and I lean into him, letting myself feel it for the first time, really feel it.

  He’s real, and he’s home. I’ve been dreaming of this, just sitting next to him. There were nights when I would have given anything just to hear his voice, just to feel his hand against mine.

  He looks down at me. “You should probably get back soon,” he says softly.

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  He doesn’t go to move. “It’s familiar.”

  “What is?”

  “This.” He nods at me. “Sitting with you.”

  “I didn’t forget,” I say softly.

  “No, I didn’t either.” He looks away from me again. “There were nights I wanted to, but I never did.”

  “Luke…”

  “It’s okay,” he says. “I get it. I’m not angry. You did what you had to do to survive.”

  I bite my lip again. “Yeah,” I say. “For me and Max.”

  “I wish I could have helped you, in those early years.”

  “Me too, but my parents were there.”

  He laughs softly. “Your mom and dad change a lot of diapers?”

  “None. Thomas did, though.”

  He looks surprised. “Really?”

  “Really. Well, at first. And then he stopped when Max started eating solid food.”

  He pauses a second. “Why?”

  “Think about it.”

  It takes him a moment but he laughs. “Oh, gross.”

  “Yep. That’s being a parent.”

  “I won’t pretend like I’m not at least a little happy I missed the diaper changing phase.” He hesitates a second and looks at me. “He is potty trained, right?”

  “Right,” I say, smiling. “He’s four.”

  “I have no clue what four-year-olds are like.”

  “You’ll find out.” I put my hand on top of his and he takes it, squeezing.

  We sit like that in silence for a few minutes until finally he lets go. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

  He slides off the rock and helps me down. We walk side-by-side back through the woods toward the road. When we get to the streetlight, he stops just out of range of the glow.

  “I shouldn’t go further,” he says. “Don’t want to risk you getting seen with me.”

  “Okay,” I say, and stand there awkwardly for a second. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

  “Yeah,” he says. “See you.” And without another word, he stalks off, back into the forest.

  I stand there for a moment before I head back home. My mind is whirling from that meeting, my body full of conflicting emotions.

  I want him again, so badly it hurts. Every time he looks at me or touches me, it drives me nuts. But I’m terrified he’ll find Jason Slick and learn what I did to help free him. I don’t even know why I’m so afraid of him knowing, but I’m convinced he’ll be angry. I don’t want to risk whatever I have with him. It feels so tenuous, like we’re h
anging on by a gossamer thread.

  I keep my head down as I walk, my emotions pouring out of me in all directions. I don’t think I’ll be sleeping tonight.

  9

  Luke

  I sit outside of The Miller, my car idling, looking across the street at the trees crawling up a short hill. I’m waiting for the paper mill’s whistle to blow, indicating a shift change. It’s almost six, so it should be any second.

  The paper mill empties out after a shift change, and most guys come here. The Miller used to be called something else, but they changed it to Miller when they realized that it’s mostly just mill guys coming every day. It’s an unofficial thing, but it’s just what guys do in this town. They work hard, grab a few drinks, and then head home.

  I need to find out who bribed Ron the night clerk. There are only so many people in this town that could possibly afford to do something like that, and I figure the Walkers and the Sellers are the prime suspects. That means the guys who work for them just might know who I’m looking for.

  It’s probably a long shot, but I might as well try. The whistle blows suddenly, forcing me to sit upright. I kill the truck engine and head inside before the rush starts, posting up at one end of the bar. I order a beer and hunch forward, sipping it and keeping to myself.

  The place slowly fills up. Mill guys all look alike, or at least they do to me: worn down, beaten up, eyes sunken in, bodies broken. They all dress in the same work clothes, jeans and dirty shirts, and their fingers are always stained. I have nothing against mill workers, they’re hard-working guys doing a hard job to support their families. No, I have something against the town that forces them all into the mill. There are barely any other opportunities in this place, and if you’re staying, you’re probably working in the paper mill.

  I watch as the guys filter in, and about ten minutes after the whistle blew, the place is packed. I sip my drink and try to decide how I’m going to do this.

  Before I can make a move, though, one of the guys sitting near me makes eye contact. He’s an older guy, probably in his forties, needs a shave and a haircut, sharp nose, brown eyes, and clearly recognizes me.