Shame

want you to look at it like your life has just begun. Don’t take my baggage with you. Can you do that?”
    Caleb wasn’t sure how to answer that. Finally, he just nodded.
    “For your sake,” his father whispered, “I wish it were as easy as all that.”
    “Time’s up, inmate,” Sarge announced. He put enough emphasis in his voice to show that he meant business this time.
    His father motioned for just a little more time, his shackled hands held out like those of a supplicant. With his eyes he silently implored the guard, and in them Caleb saw a desperation he had never seen before.
    “Another minute,” Sarge said. His tone made it clear he would begrudge every one of those sixty seconds.
    With the extra moments, Gray Parker Sr. tried to figure out what to say to his son for the last time.
    “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “You never disappointed me, Son. Never.”
    His declaration surprised Caleb. Tears pooled in his eyes. He felt like a fish, with his mouth opening, and closing, then opening again.
    “Shhh,” his father told him. “There’s no need.”
    “Time,” Sarge said.
    His father’s last words to him were, “Be a good boy.”
    Caleb watched his father being taken away. Four hours later the state of Florida executed him.

9

    L OCKING THE DOOR behind them, they heard a man shouting, “Pepper, come here, Pepper.”
    They could see him standing on the outskirts of the parking lot, leash in hand, whistling for his wayward dog.
    Brandy and Joe said their good-nights at the door. Joe’s friends had a keg, and he was hoping they hadn’t finished off all of the beer. He loped over to his van.
    “Pepper. Come on, Pepper.”
    The parking lot was quiet, with only a few cars in the lot. Cardiff by the Sea was a quiet beach community that lived up to its tranquil name, closing down early on weeknights.
    “Pe-Pe-Pepper.” The man’s tone was equal parts chastising and affectionate. He had spotted his wayward dog.
    Brandy continued walking toward her car. Joe’s van started up. He pulled away quickly, spurred on by the thought of suds.
    “Come on out from under there, Pepper. Come on, boy.”
    The man was walking in the same direction as Brandy. He was hunched over, peering so as to be able to see under the car.
    “Bad dog,” he said. “Come here right now.”
    “He obeys about as well as my boyfriend,” Brandy said, laughing.
    “Is that your car?” the man asked.
    “Yes,” said Brandy.
    “I’m afraid Pepper’s taken refuge under it. I think he’s eating some trash that he knows I wouldn’t approve of. Give that dog a choice between a T-bone steak and two-day-old garbage, and he’ll take the garbage every time.”
    He closed the distance between them.
    “You’re describing my boyfriend again,” Brandy said, laughing some more.
    The man yelled out, with some impatience, “Get out of there, Pepper.”
    Brandy bent down, tried to catch a glimpse of the dog. “I can’t see him.”
    “He’s hunkered down near your left front tire, chewing on something. Probably something I don’t want to know. He’s hard to make out, because he lives up to his name. Pepper. He’s dark, very dark. I suppose you’re going to tell me like your boyfriend.”
    Brandy laughed but just a little. She tried to get a better glimpse of the man’s face, but the way he kept bending over and moving, it was hard to see.
    “Weren’t you in tonight?” she asked.
    “Where?”
    Her head tilted back to the doughnut shop. “D. G.’s.”
    “Not me.”
    He turned his head toward her for a moment before looking back to his dog. “You look familiar as well. I think I’ve seen you in class.”
    “You go to Mira Costa?” she asked.
    He didn’t answer her question, instead seemed intent on getting his dog. He got down on his knees and stuck his head under her front bumper.
    “Bad dog, Pepper” she heard him say, his voice muffled.
    Brandy opened her car door and listened as the man carried on a dialogue with his dog under her car.
    “What have you got there, Pepper? Give me that. Give.”
    What did the dog have, she wondered?
    “My God,” the man said.
    “What?”
    “I’m going to be sick.”
    “What is it?” Brandy asked, hurrying to the front of her car.
    The man eased his way from under her car. He was shaking his head and breathing hard.
    “Should I call the police?” Brandy asked.
    The man nodded.
    “What should I tell them?”
    “Tell them there’s a dead woman under your