question answered by the judge. He’d seen it before where cuts were made, and fire personnel took matters into their own hands. A fire was set to make a statement about the need for the fire department.
“Why not?”
“I didn’t do it!” I holler louder. Is she kidding me?
“The county was trying to take away your job.”
“So you think I set a fire to save myself?”
Rita huffs, assessing me for no more than a second. “Why the hell do people do anything?” she mocks. Her eyes roam the length of my body, but it’s not the look of desire she’s given me every time I’ve seen her in the past week. “Good people make bad decisions all the time.”
“Am I the good person or a bad decision?”
Rita’s eyes narrow behind her glasses. Unbelievable. I don’t need this shit, and I don’t need her.
“I didn’t do it,” I repeat through gritted teeth. This was the day of my arrest all over again, where I pleaded with the sheriff and arresting officers. People I’d known for years, who worked side by side with me to investigate crime scenes, only to have them not believe in me. My own anger rises.
“My brother could have died in that fire.”
“And my fiancé did,” Rita states again. The man inside was the high school principal, working during his summer vacation for some reason. There was no hint anyone was in the building. No car in the lot. No lights on in the school. For all I knew at first, the principal could have started the fire himself, but there hadn’t been a motive or evidence for such a thing. It was assumed he hadn’t desired his own demise, either.
In addition, my own brother was hurt in that fire as a first responder to the blaze. He could have died under the weight of a fallen support.
“I don’t believe this,” I mutter under my breath, swiping a hand into my hair before slipping to the back of my neck. I cannot catch a break in life. I have no idea where I’d gone wrong. My brother. My wife. My department. And now Rita.
Suddenly, I’m so angry. Angry with everything.
I don’t need her acceptance. I didn’t need her to believe in me, but I still thought she understood. Rita seemed like someone who would take me as I am. She’d already trusted me with her body. We’d spent time together, learning about each other. For all her talk of second chances, she felt like a second chance.
Hope is almost as bad as karma.
“I don’t want to see you again,” Rita states, and I cannot bite my tongue.
“Gonna be hard to do, sweet, as I work for you.”
“We’ll find you another placement.”
Shit. Shit. This is bad. This is really bad. I could return to prison if Rita wants to take this to task. She could tell my parole supervisor what happened between us, or how the placement was a bad decision. She could tell the system she doesn’t trust me. I could be investigated all over again. Insubordination for sleeping with the supervisor or something ridiculous like that would land me behind bars once more.
“Please, Rita,” I beg, thundering down the remainder of the ramp. “I cannot go back to prison.” Rita glances over my shoulder toward the front door, and her eyes soften for the breath of a second before her arms fall to her sides.
“Well, too bad.”
Stopping in my tracks, I stare at her as she stares back.
“You don’t mean that,” I whisper, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’m so very sorry, but I didn’t set that fire. Do not send an innocent man back to that hellhole.” My voice chokes around the possibility. It’s been roughly a month. I have five more to serve.
Rita shakes her head, tears now dry as her eyes are ice cold.
“I can’t do this,” she says, turning away from me.
“Rita, wait.” I catch her by the elbow, but she yanks her arm free, glaring at me. “Please.”
“No, Jake.” She looks up at me. “Your charm will not work on me this time.” With that, I watch her cross my lawn and climb into her SUV, driving off with my heart and my destiny.
“Boy, that was rough,” Nolan states as I re-enter the house, passing his chair and heading for the stairs. I need to get out of here. I need my keys for my truck and some escape.