Page 89 of The Inmate
I can’t argue that he hasn’t made a valid point. But I can’t help but feel he’s not as invested in this plan as I am. He didn’t even want to do it in the first place. When I suggested it, he looked at me like I was being ridiculous. Natalie drove his sister to kill herself, and he was willing to justlet it go. If I said the word, he would probably happily bring me back to Dorchester and tell the police I’m alive and well.
“I just want to make sure she pays for what she did,” I murmur.
Caleb sits beside me and the mattress makes a crunching sound. “I know. I do too. But we’ve done all we can. I don’t think it’s worth taking any other risks.”
“Yeah…”
He picks up my hand in his. “You agree, right?”
“Um…”
“Dawn.” He applies firm pressure on my hand. “Tell me you agree. You’re not going to do anything stupid.”
“Caleb…”
“Promise me. Promise me you’re not going to do anything else.Promise me.”
“Fine. I agree.” I pull my hand away. “What do you think I’m going to do, anyway?”
He gives me a look. “I don’t want to think about it.”
He goes back to his bag, and I pick up his phone again, scrolling through the articles. The truth is, I’m just telling him what he wants to hear. He doesn’t get it. There’s nothing more important to me than this plan.Nothingis more important than avenging Mia’s death. Even him.
Even me.
ChapterFifty-Two
NATALIE
I feellike a walking zombie and am in no mood to talk to my parents. But according to one of the guards, they are on the phone.
In some ways though, my parents are my only hope. I don’t have enough money in the bank to bail myself out of jail. So if I don’t convince them to lend me some money, I’ll be stuck here until my trial.
That’s not an appealing thought.
The guard leads me to a bunch of phones set up on the wall. I look at the row of phones, not sure what to do. I glance over at the bald guard, who isn’t giving me any instructions.
“Um,” I say. “What should I do?”
“You pick up the phone and talk,” he barks at me.
I want to snap back at him that I know how a phone works, but I suspect that won’t make my situation any better. Then I notice that one of the phones is off the hook and the receiver is lying on a counter beneath it. I reach for the receiver, which feels sticky in my hand.
“Hello?” I croak into the receiver.
“Natalie!” My mother’s voice is far too loud, as usual. “Natalie, are you okay?”
I’m in jail. What the hell does she think? “I’m okay.”
“Are you eating? Is there food there?”
“Yes, there’s food. This isn’t a death prison.”
My mother is used to my sharp replies on the phone, so it surprises me when she bursts into tears. Which in turn makes a lump rise in my own throat.
“Natalie, how could you do this?” she sobs.
I stare at the receiver, stunned. How could she think that I’m guilty? It was bad enough that Seth thought I stole money from the company. Now my own mother thinks I’m a murderer?
