The Inmate

by Freida McFadden

I look like I’m in college, and I feel like I’m fifty. Story of my life.

The real reason I was reluctant to take this job isn’t that I’m scared a prisoner will murder me with my own shoe. It’s because of one of the inmates in this prison. Someone I knew a long time ago, who I am not eager to see ever again. But I can’t tell that to Dorothy. I can’t reveal to her that the man who was my very first boyfriend is an inmate at Raker Maximum Security Penitentiary, currently serving life without the possibility of parole. And I’m the one who put him here.

I don’t quite understand how you can love somebody so much, yet so frequently want to throttle them.

This town is home for me, but to Josh, it’s a town full of strangers. And I can think of a few other reasons why he would be scared about starting school after what happened back in Queens.

The problem with your kid getting older is they know there are some things you can’t promise.

I can’t quite read the expression on Josh’s face. The other problem with your kid getting older is that they can tell when you’re lying.

I close my eyes and I can still see his ruggedly handsome face. His eyes looking into mine. I love you, Brooke. That was what he said to me just a few hours before he tried to kill me. And that’s not even the worst thing he did.

I’ve been here less than a day, and the guard already thinks I’m a problem. But it sounds like they need me more than I need them, so my job is safe. For now. As long as Shane Nelson doesn’t need to be seen in the medical ward anytime soon.

It felt like Tim and I would always be friends that way. Tim was the one who bought me the snowflake necklace I always wear. He got it for me for my tenth birthday, because one of our favorite things to do together was play in the snow—sledding,

I never saw the face of the man who tried to kill me. The power was out that night and everything was pitch black. But I knew Shane very well. I knew the feel of his body. The smell of him. I knew it was him. It had to be. Because if it wasn’t him, I have made a terrible mistake.

I’m not as experienced at drinking or partying as my friends or boyfriend are. This is only the second time I’ve had alcohol and I’ve never been drunk before. To be fair, my parents barely let me out at the beginning of the year because they were so panicked after that girl Tracy Gifford was found dead.

“Never have I ever,” he says, “been on a date with Tracy Gifford.” Shane is staring at Tim as a bolt of thunder shakes the room. Tim raises his eyes, and a look passes between them that I can’t quite identify. We all sit there, our hands frozen on our paper cups. Tracy Gifford is the girl who was found dead over the summer. Obviously, none of us have been on a date with her. But then Tim raises his cup. And he takes a drink.

Sometimes people do exactly what you think they’re going to do, and they still manage to disappoint you.

“Brooke, listen to me.” Tim squeezes my hand as he looks me right in the eyes. “I haven’t seen you in ten years. In that time, I’ve dated a fair number of girls. But it never worked out—it couldn’t. And it was all because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Anyone else I dated, it wouldn’t be fair to them.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “I’ll never feel about anyone else the way I feel about you.”

“Tim, do you remember this guy?” “Yeah. Mark Hunt. I remember him.” I shake my head. “I’m having a little trouble placing him.” “He was kind of a weird kid.” Tim drops his voice a notch. “Some football players you might have known beat him up bad enough to put him in the hospital once.” And suddenly, it all makes sense. Why Hunt hates Shane so much. Why he’s made it his mission to torture him. That asshole lied to me. And I’m going to make sure he knows that I know what he’s doing.

Our eyes lock. For a moment, he’s the boy that I used to watch playing football when I was a cheerleader. He was so great at it. And he looked so hot in his football uniform. But most of all, I loved how excited he used to be when he would spot me on the field and wave to me. I would never have believed that boy was capable of trying to kill me. The truth is, I still don’t believe it.

Josh leans back in his chair. His face turns pink, and I don’t realize he’s crying until he swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. It’s so hard to watch him cry quietly. I miss those loud, dramatic tears from when he was little. This is so much more heartbreaking.

While I’m waiting, I look at the first story: Local Prison Guard Found Murdered I stare at the headline, my heart sinking into my stomach. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.

I don’t know when this happened or how, but somehow, Marcus Hunt has been murdered. This is breaking news. Which means they must have just found him recently. Was he killed overnight? I have no idea. But I do know that this morning, my car keys were in a different place than I left them when I came home yesterday. And I also know that after everything that happened at Raker Penitentiary, Shane must despise Marcus Hunt with a burning passion.

Chelsea was screaming in the upstairs bedroom. She wasn’t screaming because she saw what Shane was doing to me though—because the door to the bedroom was closed. She was screaming because somebody was coming at her with a knife. Except it wasn’t Shane. It couldn’t have been. There was another killer in the house that night. Out of the three survivors, there was only one other person it could have been. Oh my God. Tim and Shane did it together.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll be back eventually.” Before I have a second to feel relieved, he adds, “After all, I need to make sure you suffer for what you did.” “Shane…” “I wonder,” he says, “if you’ll scream louder than Tracy Gifford did.” My mouth drops open. I try to speak but no words come out. “Goodbye, Brooke.” I can almost hear him smiling on the other line. “Or should I say, see you later.”

Tim and Shane were working together. While Shane was strangling me in the living room, Tim was upstairs, and he… he stabbed my best friend.” “No,” she says. “He didn’t.” “You don’t know that!” “Yes, I do.” She shakes the gun at me. “Because I’m the one who stabbed Chelsea.”

“You really think that goody two shoes Tim Reese would have done that?” She snorts. “He was just our patsy, starting with that girl he dated… Tracy Gifford. The plan Shane and I came up with for that night was to let him live so the police would blame it all on him. And if you hadn’t gotten away, it would’ve worked.” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This doesn’t make sense. I know what I saw in Tim’s basement. “What about that woman, Kelli Underwood?” She licks her chapped lips. “I had to get my son out of jail. I knew you were going over to Tim’s house that weekend, so I got everything ready. I even called in the anonymous tip to the police. And it was so helpful that the two of you exchanged keys so I could get into his basement.”

you should have seen your face when he gave you that necklace I sold him at the flea market over the summer. I found it on the floor of my house after you ran out, and I thought it might come in handy someday.”

“Did you ever wonder why your parents were so adamant that you couldn’t date Shane? You probably just thought it was because he was white trash. They never told you the real reason, did they? Because if they did, you would’ve stayed away from him instead of dating him behind their backs.”

“When Shane was five years old, I fell in love with your father.” Her voice cracks slightly. “We were together for almost a year. He was supposed to leave your mother for me. He told me he would. He was supposed to save us—me and Shane. But then he decided he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave your mother and he couldn’t leave you. So he left us instead. You got to live the life that Shane and I should have had.”

“Those two deserved to die. I would have done it anyway—even if I didn’t have to do it to get you to come back here.” I clasp a hand over my mouth. My parents’ accident. I had thought it was an act of God, but apparently not. This woman killed them. She’s even crazier than I gave her credit for.

I can’t bear to tell him the truth. I hated this man, but Josh doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know that the icicles from the tree may have saved his life. He doesn’t know that the man lying in front of us in the snow is his father—the one he has been desperate to meet all these years. He doesn’t even know Shane is dead.

“I’m mad at you. I’m really mad. I thought after everything we went through together, you trusted me more than that. But… Christ, Brooke. I’ve known you since we were in diapers. You were my best friend for my entire life. You were the first girl that I ever… well, you know. And that night at the farmhouse when I told Shane he better treat you right, I meant it. Because you deserve the best.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “So, no. I don’t hate you. I could never…” He doesn’t hate me. Tim Reese doesn’t hate me. I almost cry with happiness.

He doesn’t hate me. That is a good start. Friendships have been built on less.

“There’s something really important I need to tell you, Josh.” “What?” I said. I put on a serious face so that he could tell I was old enough to hear something important. “You need to know,” Tim said, “there’s a man named Shane Nelson who might contact you someday and want to hurt your mom. This man, Shane Nelson—he’s a really bad man. Really bad. So if you ever see him or hear from him, you need to know that he’s dangerous.”

I trusted Tim. So when Shane took me out into the woods to make that snowman, I noticed that all the trees had a lot of icicles. They looked really heavy and pointy. Shane was a lot bigger than me, so I figured if I wanted to protect my mom, this was my only chance. I waited until Shane was standing under one of the branches. I reached up and shook the branches, and all the ice fell on him. It was a lot of snow and ice. It was enough to make him fall down. I walked over to see if it had knocked him out, like in Little League last year when Jaden threw that ball at Oliver’s head (accidentally). But it didn’t knock Shane out. He was on the floor, rubbing his head, but he was still fine. That’s when I saw the icicle on the ground. It was huge—about the same size as the bat in Little League, where I’m the best hitter on the whole team. So I picked it up with my gloved hands and I swung it—the way Tim showed me when we practiced in the fall. And I swung it again. And again. And again.

When I do something bad, Mom always tells me to say I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry I hit Shane in the head with that icicle. I had to do it. Tim said he was dangerous and that he was going to hurt my mom. And I could hear when he was talking on his phone that he wasn’t being nice to her. Tim was right. I had to do what I did. After all, I would do anything for my mom.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS My husband just caught me writing this. I admitted to him that writing the acknowledgments can be the hardest part of the book. I save it until the bitter end—as close as possible to release as I can get without risking forgetting about it entirely. I am always scared of thanking people inadequately. “Do you have to write an acknowledgment for every book?” he asked. “Yes.” “But why?” “Are you asking me why I have to thank the people who helped me? Are you asking me why that’s important to do? Is this a serious question?” “Okay fine,” he said. “Hey, do you ever thank me in your acknowledgments?” “Yes, sometimes,” I said thoughtfully. “I mean, I thank my family. You’re in my family.” “Hey, I’m helpful! I give great suggestions. It’s your fault if you don’t take them.” “…” “Conjoined twin. I’m telling you.”

Sounds like a conversation that could take place between my husband and myself. 😂🤣