Murder Deja Vu

turned his back without giving him the benefit of doubt? For all the lost years? Whichever or for all, the sorrow cut into his heart with the same effect as if a knife had made the slice—sharp and penetrating and painful.
    “I don’t deserve it,” the old man said, “but can you forgive me?”
    Reece’s chin quivered, surprised that his father had such an effect on him. Could he forgive this man who had given him life and whose remorse now surfaced because he faced his end? “Yes, Dad,” he managed to say. “I forgive you.” He sat down on the chair next to the bed and lifted his father’s skeletal hand to his lips. “I forgive you.” The tears ran down his cheeks. He didn’t know if his father knew the police were after him for another murder, but he sensed time running out. “I need to go now.”
    “I should have talked to you, son. I should have heard your side of the story. Not only what Carl told me.”
    At first, Reece didn’t know what his father meant. It took a moment to process the words. “What…what did Carl tell you?”
    “About how you confessed everything to him. About why you murdered that girl. That’s why I stayed away. I thought if I saw you, I’d give you away.”
    Reece swore his heart stopped beating. He thought he’d experienced every possible emotion, but what passed through him at that moment relegated them all to nothing more than empty definitions. He struggled to bring the words to his lips. “Dad, hear this. I didn’t kill that woman. That’s the truth. I don’t know why Carl lied to you, but I never confessed anything to him because I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it, do you understand?”
    “You didn’t do—”
    “No. I spent fifteen years in prison for a crime I didn’t commit. And now someone’s trying to frame me again.”
    Tears flooded his father’s eyes. “Why did Carl say that? Why?”
    “I wish I could say I don’t know, but I’m beginning to think I do.”
    “Oh, my God. What have I done?”
    Leaning down, Reece whispered in his father’s ear. “You did what you believed was right. I hold no animosity.” The weight Reece carried in his chest all those years lifted, but a heavier burden descended. He had to let it go for now because he heard voices outside the door, coming closer. “I have to go, Dad. I don’t want anyone to see me.”
    “Go, son.” His father grabbed his arm with strength Reece wouldn’t have believed the old man still possessed. “I love you,” he said. “I always have.”
    Reece swallowed a breath. “Thank you for that. It means a lot.” It did too. And he could say those words now without suffering the hypocrisy. He leaned down and kissed his father’s forehead. “Do me a favor. If Carl visits, don’t tell him I’ve been here or that we’ve had this conversation, okay?”
    “I won’t. God help me, I’ve been a stupid man, Reece, but I think I know what’s going on. I’m glad I won’t live to go through it again. You’ll make it. You’re a survivor. You’ll make it.” Thom Daughtry’s breathing labored, the beeps on one of the machines quickened, sending pulsating noises throughout the room.
    “Gotta go, Dad.” He squeezed his father’s bony hand before he rose and headed for the exit. After one glance back, he slipped through the patio door and closed it behind him at the same time someone came into the room. He didn’t look back but ran to his car and drove out of the parking lot, his heart pounding like a jackhammer.
    How could he have been so dense, or had he known all along and refused to accept it? His own brother. Not Mark or Steve or Jordan or any of the others at the bar or party that night twenty-one years ago. No, the brother who supposedly loved him. The brother who sat silently while guards led Reece out of the courtroom to begin another life.

Chapter Forty-Three
Sweet Thang

    “I wish Reece would call,” Dana said. “Shouldn’t he have been here by now? I’d call him, but I don’t want to call attention to him if he’s somewhere people might notice.”
    “Call him,” Frank said. “The phone’s on vibrator. That’s the way it’s programmed.”
    Dana dialed Reece’s number, but he didn’t answer. She tried half a dozen more times, but he still didn’t respond. She left message after message. “Now I’m worried.”
    “No sense worrying till you have to.”
    The door buzzer rang.
    “That’s probably him now.” Frank pointed to the intercom. “Go see,