Page 75 of The Inmate
“Yeah…”
“Nat…” His Adam’s apple bobs. He has the same purple circles under his eyes that I covered up this morning with makeup. “I’m so sorry about everything. I feel awful about it.”
“It’s not your fault.” It’s not. It wasn’t right of me to ask him to lie to the police. That’s not the kind of thing you ask your boyfriend of less than two months to do for you. That’s more of a six-month relationship request. “And it’s fine.”
“Yeah?”
I nod. “The police came by last night and looked around…” That’s a very diplomatic way to describe the way they trashed my house. “But they realized I don’t have anything to do with Dawn’s murder. Maybe now they can focus on actually finding out who really did it.”
“I hope so.”
“Also…” I hold up my phone. “I’ve been getting these weird calls from blocked numbers the last few days. Ever since I was in Dawn’s house. I finally used this app to figure out the number, and it turns out the calls are coming from some motel in Rhode Island.”
“Really? That’s weird.”
I show him the address on my phone. “This doesn’t look familiar to you, does it?”
“Nope.” He squints down at the address. “Why would someone in a random motel be calling you?”
“I have no idea, but…” I look back at the phone number and address. “It’s got to have some connection to what’s going on. After this race is over, I’m driving out there.”
“Good idea.” He nods in approval. “I’ll come with you.”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “You want to go all the way out to Rhode Island with me?”
“Sure.” He grins. “If you wouldn’t mind letting me tag along.”
I can’t help but smile back at him. It would be nice having his company. And after the way Seth treated me yesterday, things are truly over for good inthatrelationship. There aren’t going to be any other one-offs, that’s for sure. I can’t believe I was wasting my time with that jerkwho is still freaking marriedwhen I’ve got a boyfriend who obviously cares about me a lot.
I tug playfully at the hem of Caleb’s T-shirt. “And maybe tonight we can have a make-up dinner for the dinner we missed last night?”
His eyes light up. “You’re on.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the news crew setting up the cameras. Fantastic—the crew has arrived just on time. I have plenty of time to do a quick interview to explain the goals of the charity, and then they can catch the beginning of the race.
About a dozen people have shown up to run today. I initially had nearly fifty people expected, but it looks like the Dawn situation has kept people home. It stings, because a larger number of participants helps to spread more awareness of the charity—but we still get the money to donate either way. This is for Amelia—I can’t forget that. And even though some of the runners stayed home, a considerable crowd is forming to watch the beginning of the race.
As I face the crowd, I force my lips to form a smile. I’m not exactly in a smiling mood, but if I keep it on my face, maybe I’ll start to feel better. I wave at the spectators, and a heavyset man wearing one of our T-shirts waves back at me.
That’s when I notice somebody behind the man. Somebody familiar. I recognize that stringy brown hair and horse face.
Is that Seth’swife? What is she doing here?
“Hi, Natalie!” Maria Monteiro from the news team waves to me, and I’m forced to rip my eyes away from the crowd. Maria covered the race last year as well, and she looks perfectly made up in a dress suit, her black hair shiny and her lipstick blood red. “Do you have time for a quick interview before the race?”
“Absolutely!” I hesitate. “But I just want to say, I’d rather not talk about my coworker, Dawn Schiff. I know she’s been all over the news lately, but I don’t want to detract from the reason we’re running today: to raise money for cerebral palsy.”
Maria can’t hide the disappointment on her face, but to her credit, she quickly recovers. “That’s fine. I completely respect that.”
“Thanks, Maria. I appreciate it.”
I glance back at the crowd, my eyes searching for Seth’s wife again, but she seems to have vanished. Or more likely, it wasn’t her to begin with, and I’m just being paranoid. I reach behind my head to straighten out my ponytail, and I smooth out the creases on my T-shirt so viewers will be able to see the writing. Maria gestures to her cameraman, and he points the lens in my direction. Maria gets out her microphone, and I know from last year that she’ll probably record a little intro later, and then splice the whole thing together.
“So, Natalie,” she says, “this is your fifth year running this 5K, isn’t it?”
I nod and feel my ponytail swish behind my head. “That’s right. We’ll be raising money for cerebral palsy.”
“And that’s a charity very close to your heart, isn’t it?”
