Page 29 of All I Want for Christmas

He turned and gave me a snide look. “I’ve kept your husband out of prison a time or two, so maybe rethink that holier-than-thou position.”

He had a point.

Skeeter was being heldin a federal prison in Forrest City, Arkansas, which was close to the Tennessee border. We arrived in town slightly after noon, and Carter suggested we stop and grab lunch before going to the prison, but I told him if I tried to eat, I’d likely vomit.

I hadn’t seen Skeeter since we’d all had our big showdown with Kate, and I wasn’t sure how he’d react to seeing me. Because, in the end, in her delusion, Kate had kidnapped Hope hoping to lure Rose to her death. Kate knew how devastated I was over my infertility and had worked out her weird plan toget me a baby. And since she saw Rose as competition for my affection, her plan took care of two problems at the same time.

Nevertheless, her plan hadn’t made sense, not that Kate was thinking sensibly at the end. If Rose had died, Hope would have gone to her father—Joe. But part of me would always wonder if somehow Kate had known the truth. And if shehadknown, I hoped to God she hadn’t told anyone else before she’d been killed.

Saving Hope and Rose had been the reason Skeeter was in prison, and the ultimate reason for it was because of me, even if I hadn’t been privy to or approved of Kate’s plan. But I couldn’t help wondering if Skeeter blamed me. Was that blame, along with Jed’s perceived betrayal, one of the reasons Jed was going to be questioned? Had Skeeter set it up to make us pay? If so, I was here to see if I could find a way to atone for our sins.

The dark clouds in the sky were heavy with rain, casting a gloomy mood as we walked across the parking lot to the entrance to the prison. I’d visited Witt a few times when he’d been incarcerated, so I was familiar with all the heavy security, but it didn’t make me any less anxious.

“Oh, by the way,” Carter said when we were several feet from the entrance. “You’re my assistant.”

I laughed. “How many assistants have you brought here?”

“You’re the first.”

He opened the door before I could question him. He told the guards he was James Malcolm’s attorney and that I was his assistant, and that he needed to speak to Skeeter about his case. The guard looked me up and down and I was sure he was going to tell me I wouldn’t be allowed in, but then Carter reached out his hand to shake with the guard, and I was pretty sure I saw a folded hundred-dollar bill in the guard’s hand when he pulled it away.

I hadn’t been prepared for that, but this wasn’t the first instance of Carter bribing law enforcement and people in authority. I knew he’d paid off some of the staff at the hospital when Kate had been incarcerated in a psych ward. I also knew Skeeter’d had a source in the Fenton County sheriff’s department, and I suspected he had contacts in other places of authority too.

So, why was he in prison? Were the FBI, DEA, and ATF outside of his sphere of influence? Maybe, but I couldn’t help thinking that being here was part of his plan. I just had no idea what that plan could be. Apparently—if Carter was telling the truth—neither did he. His frustration seemed too genuine to be faking it.

The guards patted us down and we checked in our phones and other personal effects, leaving Carter with a notepad and a pen before they led us down multiple dingy halls. The guard stopped outside a solid metal door, unlocked it, then pushed it open.

“Wait in here while they get him,” the guard said, then practically shoved us in before closing the door.

The room was small—about ten-foot square—with a narrow window high up on the wall that let in a sliver of natural light. Fluorescent lights hung from the ten-foot ceilings. A wooden table sat in the middle of the room, with a metal bar down the center of the table, presumably for handcuffs. Two metal chairs were on our side of the table and a single metal chair sat on the other. A door was in the middle of the wall opposite us. It was a depressing space with dingy gray walls, but then again, wewerein a prison.

Carter gestured for me to sit, and I did because if I didn’t, I’d start to pace. I knew I needed to appear confident, but right now I was scared to death. I wasn’t sure what I was hoping for was even possible, and yet, I was pinning our entire future on it.

Carter sat beside me and put a hand lightly on my upper arm. “Hey,” he said, then waited for me to lift my gaze to his. “Just be yourself. He knows you, so don’t pretend to be anything else. Just plead your case.”

I nodded, feeling close to breaking down, so I took a deep breath and tried to settle my nerves. I needed to be myself, but I couldn’t fall apart, either. Skeeter Malcolm abhorred weakness.

Several minutes later, the door across the room opened and Skeeter, wearing a bright orange jumpsuit, appeared in the doorway. His gaze landed on Carter then quickly shifted to me. A momentary look of surprise filled his eyes before it shifted to indifference. A guard stood behind him and he shut the door after Skeeter entered the room.

Skeeter moved over to the table and pulled out the chair, the metal scraping against the concrete floor. When he took his seat, he leaned back and looked me up and down.

“When I heard Hale had a friend with him, I can’t say I expected it to be you.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.

“How’re you doin’, Skeeter?” I asked, then immediately regretted it.

He held his hands out at his sides. “Oh, you know…” He glanced around the room.

“Sorry. Stupid question.”

“So, to what do I owe this visit?” he asked, but he seemed tense, casting a sidelong glance at Carter before returning it back to me.

I felt like an idiot for not realizing he’d jump to conclusions seeing me here. “This isn’t about Rose,” I said softly. “She’s okay.”

He gave a slight nod, then seemed to relax a little. “Then what are you doin’ here, because I can’t imagine you came all this way to shoot the shit.”

I swallowed hard, suddenly unsure about my plan, but Carter beat me to action.

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