But I think I’m like my dad after all. In spite of all my certainty to the contrary, I think that motherfucker turned out to be an actual good man in the end.
I’m actually…proudto be his daughter.
Even if the world’s an unfair piece of shit, and Tuckers are doomed to end up behind bars no matter what.
The hours bleed out, slow and grinding. Faces change in the cell but the smell doesn’t. I can’t stop thinking about Caleb. Is he freaking out? Is he blaming himself like he always does? Trying to take the whole weight on his own shoulders?
Not knowing is the worst part. It’s fucking killing me.
It’s late afternoon when they call my name again, but this time, it’s not for another round of questions. A corrections officer I haven’t seen before—stocky, silent, no-nonsense—motions for me to follow. She doesn’t say anything, and I scurry to follow her out of the cell.
This hallway is different.
“Am I being released?” I ask, voice roughfrom disuse.
She doesn’t answer. Just keeps walking like she didn’t hear me. Or doesn’t care.
At the end of the hall, a middle-aged woman waits behind a plexiglass shield. Her badge saysGonzalez. She looks like someone’s favorite aunt—warm eyes, silver-streaked hair pulled into a bun that’s halfway unraveling.
She slides a plastic bag across the counter. Inside: my phone and wallet.
“You’re free to go, honey,” she says gently, like I’m not standing here in yesterday’s clothes and someone else’s nightmare.
I blink at the bag. “Wait—what? Free to go? Did someone pay my bail or something?”
She leans forward, scanning the hallway before lowering her voice. “I’m real sorry about your daddy, sweetheart.”
I freeze. “My... what?”
“Your father. Silas Tucker.” Her voice softens, thickens. “I know your stepmama, you know. Helen Graham? We went to high school together. Sweet girl. Everyone tried to warn her about a man like Silas, but love makes fools of us all.”
My pulse starts to thrum. “I don’t—what are you talking about? What happened to him?”
She sighs, folding her hands like she’s bracing herself. “He confessed to stashing the… well, you know what, in your locker. When men like him fall in with those motorcycle gangs, they never really get free of it, do they? He said he thought he was being tailed by a cop after a product pick up, so he stashed it in your locker temporarily.”
The floor drops out from under me.
“No,” I say automatically. “That’s not—he wasn’t—he wasn’t even near?—”
“They’ve got footage,” she says gently. “Blurry, but they caught a man of his height in a hoodie, heading into the school a couple of days ago. And with his history? It’s enough. Third strike. He’s not coming home, honey.”
I grip the edge of the desk so hard my knuckles ache. My ears are ringing.
“He wasn’t there,” I whisper. “Was there footage of him putting it in the locker?”
“No cameras in the school. It’s a privacy thing. The parents fought for it a few years ago.” Her smile wobbles. “Sometimes, the people we love make choices we can’t understand.”
But I do understand. McKenzie all but confessed.
Which means Silas is lying.
He took the fall for me.
A man who spent half his life inside, who worked tooth and nail to claw out a second chance—to stay clean, to love Helen, to finally be present and be the Dad I always needed him to be, to both meandCaleb, and hell, lately I’ve even seen him reaching out toZ—just gave it all up.
For me.
“The confession,” I manage. “Can I see it?”