The Truth About Love (23 page)

“So, you’re not”—she could tell this was making him uncomfortable—“you’re not a couple?”

“No, Daddy.” And given how he’d walked out on her the other night, she knew that wasn’t ever likely. “We’re not a couple.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

L
andon took the last turn Gina had read aloud to him from the GPS in her phone. His truck bounced through the potholes on the old country road. They’d eventually have to talk about what the last few weeks meant between them—and what kind of relationship, if any, they had—but for now all he could focus on was the fact that he’d put an innocent man in prison.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” she asked.

No, he wasn’t sure. In fact, he was nervous as hell. But he’d already spoken to Tim Alexander’s mom and asked if he could see her son. She’d been leery at first, but now here he was, pulling into their gravel driveway in rural Pascaloosa County.

In front of him, a small gray house stood alone on a tiny patch of hardened earth. Waist-high grasses surrounded the brown yard, as if waiting for a breeze that would never come in the middle of a Florida summer. At least not this far inland.

He parked his truck next to an old Dodge Dart, and both he and Gina stepped out into the yard.

The sound of a TV blared from the front of the shack, through the dilapidated screens that covered the window and the door.

“No air-conditioning?” Gina whispered. “In this heat?”

He’d come to the same conclusion she had. No one deserved to live like that. Not in the clutches of the humidity that gripped this part of the state eight or nine months out of the year.

Inside, the sound from the TV silenced, then footsteps clunked across a wooden floor.

By the time Landon had reached the porch, a tall, thin figure shadowed the inside of the screen door.

“Tim.” Landon recognized the boy from the basketball game.

“Yeah.” The screen door creaked open and the boy stepped outside. He wore nylon gym shorts and a red T-shirt. A tuft of yellow whiskers that looked like rug fuzz clung to his chin.

“I’m Landon.” He offered his hand, but the boy didn’t shake it.

“Mama said you were coming by.”

“She’s not here? She told me to come by sometime after three.”

Tim nodded toward the driveway. “Car wouldn’t start this morning. She has to wait for her friend, Carol, to bring her home from work.”

Landon tried to imagine what Tim must be going through. He’d had just twenty-four hours to think about meeting Landon. And now his mother wasn’t here for him to lean on, to rely on. “You okay to talk a minute? I mean, without her here?” Must seem crazy—and a little dangerous—for a high school kid to meet with him, given the fact that his dad had been convicted of killing Landon’s mom.

Tim studied the horizon, not looking at Landon. “They think my dad may be innocent. This group called Morgan’s Ladder—they’re trying to help him.”

“I know.” Landon motioned toward Gina. “Gina, here, works for Morgan’s Ladder.” They’d agreed before they came here not to tell Tim about the latest developments about Seth Rowling. No use stirring up the kid’s hope if for some reason all this fell through.

Tim’s eyes darted to her, then back to him, then to Gina again, as if he wasn’t sure what to say. His gaze finally rested on Landon. “I heard you came to my game the other day.”

Landon nodded. “You pretty much dominated under the boards.” Maybe the kid would warm up to him if they talked sports. “But your point guard needs to pass the ball more.”

“Coach yells at him about that all the time.”

Landon chuckled. “I can see why.” He avoided looking at Gina. Maybe she thought he should stop with the small talk and get on with the real conversation. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought her here.

“So, why are you here?” Tim tucked a stringy, blond strand of hair behind his ear.

“Because I know what it’s like to grow up without a dad.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know about having a dad in prison?”

“Mine chose not to see me much.” Landon’s voice cracked. “I’m not sure which is worse.”

“And you didn’t have a mom.” The boy’s gaze met Landon’s.

“Not since I was nine.”

“But my dad didn’t do it. He tells me that every time I see him.”

Landon nodded. How did you tell a kid you were sorry for taking his dad away from him? But Cyrus’s release wasn’t Landon’s decision and he wasn’t about to say anything that could give the kid false hopes. “I hope he gets out. I hope they determine he didn’t do it.” He took a deep breath. “And assuming he’s innocent . . .”

“He is.” Tim’s voice had more authority, more conviction in it than anything he’d said to this point. He turned to Gina. “Tell him my dad is innocent.”

“We—”

Landon put a hand on her arm to stop her. “I came to say I’m sorry.”

Tim kicked at a loose piece of wood on the porch floor. “I could never watch FSU games with other people when you were playing. The announcers would talk about your mom. And everyone would stare at me.”

“I know how it goes. I’m still the only guy I ever met whose mom had been killed.” Landon sucked in a deep breath, willing himself to go on. “Add in a dad who’s a drunk . . . and you’re never convinced your family is as good as anyone else’s.” In a way, he was glad Gina was here, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about baring his soul in front of her.

Tim’s head whipped up, again studying the horizon, as if he didn’t want to acknowledge that Landon was talking about both of them.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be here without your mom home,” Landon said. He took the piece of paper he’d prepared at home from his pocket. “Here’s my cell number. Call me anytime, if I can help with anything.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Landon had wondered that same thing many times and always came down to the same conclusion: One afternoon. Two lives altered forever. Two little boys who grew up thinking they weren’t as good as everybody else. “Because your life could have been a lot different. Just like mine.”

“Mama said other people lied to put my dad in prison.” The boy eyed the slip of paper, but didn’t take it. “If it’s their fault, too, then why are you so worried about apologizing to me?”

Landon paused. How could he convey that he felt forever linked to the boy? That their lives were so similar, yet so different? “Maybe I can help with something. Maybe you’ll need someone to talk to.” Like Calvin had always been there for him, Landon wanted to be there for Tim.

The boy finally took the paper from his hand. Landon stepped off the porch and toward the driveway. Gina followed.

“Hey, miss,” Tim called after her.

She turned toward him. “Yes?”

“Thanks for trying to get my dad out.”

She cast a worried look in Landon’s direction before answering. “We’re doing the best we can.”

“It’s gonna suck if he has to stay in there.”

Gina opened her mouth, then closed it again, as if she wasn’t sure what to say.

“Yeah.” Landon jumped in to save her. “It’s gonna suck big-time.”

He got in the truck and watched as Tim walked back into the house. Gina got in beside him and buckled her seat belt.

He draped both arms over the steering wheel and took a long, deep breath. “You were right.”

“About what?”

“That was a really hard conversation.”

She placed a hand on his thigh. “You handled it well.”

He started the truck. “He needs to know he’s a good kid, regardless of where his dad has been.”

“Does that apply to everyone?”

He glanced at her as he turned to look behind him to back up. “Why wouldn’t it?”

“
 ‘He needs to know he’s a good kid, regardless of where his dad has been.
’ 
” She repeated his exact words. “Seems like it should apply to you, too.”

He turned up the radio, purposefully ignoring her. He wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t get into it. To begin thinking that maybe he—like Tim—was a person separate and apart from his past. Besides, his dad hadn’t been locked away—without cause—in some prison for fifteen years. No, Martin had been free to roam wherever he pleased. To be a part of Landon’s life or not. And he’d chosen not to. At least not until Landon’s football career had heated up. At least not until the day he’d shown up drunk at Landon’s high school practice, bragging to everyone that Landon was his son.

But, as tempting as it was to talk to Gina about it, he wasn’t going to do it. It had been hidden away far too long. His old rule had served him well: don’t talk to anyone.

Suzanne looked uncomfortable in her trim business suit—the same one she’d worn the day Buford Monroe had been let out of prison. Gina wondered if her boss wore that same outfit every time one of their clients was exonerated. Every other day, she was a throwback to the sixties, but when an innocent prisoner was about to be freed, she was all business.

They’d had a flurry of activity at Morgan’s Ladder these last few days, all culminating with today’s scheduled release of Cyrus Alexander.

Suzanne leaned toward Gina so that their conversation could be private. “You asked Landon if he wanted to be here today?”

Gina waited to answer while another Tallahassee news crew passed them, moving into position in the administrative area of the prison to capture Cyrus Alexander’s release for the evening news. “He left town for a couple of days.”

“He’s going to have to answer the questions eventually. They’re going to find him.”

Gina nodded. “I know. We practiced what he was going to say. He hates all this.” She waved her hand to indicate the bevy of camera crews assembled not far from them. “All the notoriety.”

Suzanne scoffed. “Then he’s living in the wrong town.”

“I know.” He was in the wrong town for a lot of reasons.

“You’ve been a good friend to him.”

Gina let the hint of a smile cross her face. “Thanks.”

“Too bad you have to leave so quickly. I think the two of you might have something between you.”

She was convinced her boss was making idle chatter because she was nervous about speaking to the press. “Shouldn’t you be thinking about Cyrus Alexander?”

“Ms. Holmes?” A loud male voice boomed from the doorway of one of the offices that lined the corridor. The two women turned. “We’re ready for you now.”

Gina followed her boss into the room where they would have a few minutes of privacy with Cyrus and his family before he was released. They were introduced to Tim’s mother and a couple of aunts. Then they came to Tim.

Suzanne offered a handshake.

The boy awkwardly took Suzanne’s hand in his and shook it. “Thank you.” The boy’s voice was thick with emotion. “For everything.”

Suzanne beamed. Gina had never seen her so happy. “I’m glad we could help,” Suzanne said as she turned to introduce Gina.

Tim’s eyes lit up as he stepped forward, and Gina automatically wrapped her arms around the boy’s scrawny body. “Tim.” She wanted to make him less nervous. To somehow convey that everything was going to be okay. That his father would meld into the family like he’d never been gone. Of course, she couldn’t guarantee any of those things, but she could hope.

She closed her eyes as the boy hugged her tight for several seconds. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

When they parted, Gina grabbed his hand and held it as she stood next to him.

Gina loved the surprised look on her boss’s face. There wasn’t much Gina could do that Suzanne didn’t already know about.

Suzanne leaned toward her. “You two have met?” she asked.

“Landon went to see him a few days ago,” Gina whispered. “I tagged along.”

Suzanne smiled. “I knew I liked that man.”

A back door to the office opened, and Cyrus Alexander, his hair cut and his civilian clothes pressed, walked in. Tim’s grip on Gina’s hand tightened to the point of pain, but she knew the boy was nervous. The least she could do was to live through a few excruciating seconds while the boy’s world changed forever.

Cyrus’s eyes glistened as he looked around the room and smiled at each person. When he got to Tim, he rushed forward. Tim dropped his grasp of Gina’s hand and stood completely still, waiting for his father to cross the small room.

Cyrus wrapped his arm around his son and held tight. Tears streamed down his face. “I can’t believe I get to hug you,” he said.

Gina’s eyes burned as she fought back her own tears. She was happy for Cyrus and for Tim, but she also imagined Nick Varnadore’s family gathered in a room like this one, reuniting with the son who’d missed his high school graduation while he was behind bars. Yes, justice was important, but justice gone awry was just so . . . damn unfair.

Cyrus separated from his son and hugged the boy’s mother. He kissed her on the lips—the first real kiss they’d shared in years. “You’ve done a good job with our boy.”

She smiled at Tim and then at Cyrus. “I know,” she said.

The group let out a burst of nervous laughter.

“Are we ready?” the prison official asked.

Suzanne looked to Cyrus for an answer.

He gave one quick nod of his head. “I been in here too damn long to wait any longer.”

As they’d planned, Suzanne led the group out of the office and toward the camera crews that clamored for a glimpse of Cyrus. Bright lights flicked on, and news reporters, previously lounging about the corridor, straightened their jackets and tamed their hair.