Before Mrs. Reese can complete her sentence, Shane snatches the phone right out of my hand. He presses it to his ear, listens for a second, then clears his throat loudly.
“Mrs. Reese,” he says in a firm voice. “This is Shane Nelson. You need to leave Brooke alone. Don’t call this number ever again.”
With those words, Shane jabs at the red button on the phone, then tosses it on the kitchen counter. “Some nerve of her,” he mutters.
“To be fair…” I look up at him. “Your mother called me when you were on trial and said almost the exact same things.”
“Right, but I was innocent.”
“I’m sure Tim’s mother thinks he’s innocent.”
“Oh, please.” Now that I’m off the phone, he fills up his water glass, right to the brim. “She knows the truth. How could she not know? She raised him, after all.” He takes a drink from his water glass. “Don’t you think if Josh were a killer, you would know it?”
It’s funny because when I believed Josh’s father was a murderer, I was always watching my son for sociopathic tendencies. If he had shown any at all, I would’ve jumped all over it—but Josh was a good boy. Still, kids change after they grow up. Will I know him when he’s thirty as well as I know him at age ten?
“I don’t know,” I finally say.
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t be na?ve, Brooke. Tim’s mother isn’t looking for the truth. She’s just looking to get her son off the hook. You can’t let that happen.”
He’s right, of course. Mrs. Reese will do whatever it takes to get her son acquitted. But it’s going to take a lot more than convincing me.
Chapter 47
After the stressful day I have had, I can’t even contemplate cooking dinner. Instead, we order a pizza. There’s a cute moment when Shane and Josh discover they both love pepperoni on a pizza, and I swear, Shane looks like he’s going to tear up.
The conversation at dinner flows easily. I had forgotten how naturally charismatic Shane could be, and even though he’s trying a bit too hard, Josh doesn’t seem to notice. Josh has been a bit down ever since Tim was arrested, and this is one of the nicest dinners we’ve had since that night.
After Josh goes upstairs to finish his homework, Shane remains at the kitchen table, smiling to himself.
“What?” I say.
“He’s a nice kid,” he says.
“Yes. He is.”
“He seems smart too.” He cocks his head. “Good at sports?”
“Really good. You should see him hit a baseball.”
His eyes widen. “Could I?”
“Well, not now. But when the weather gets better. And Little League starts up in the spring. You can go to his games—I’m sure he’d love that.”
I’ve never seen anyone’s entire face light up at the prospect of attending a kids’ softball game, which are admittedly pretty boring. “Thank you, Brooke,” he says.
“For what?”
“For doing such a good job raising our son.”
I take a quick glance at the stairwell. “Careful what you say. The walls are thin around here.”
“Right. Sorry.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I appreciate you putting me up here, and I’ll be out of your hair soon.”
I blink at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh.” He lifts a shoulder. “I forgot to mention. I heard from my lawyer, and apparently, my mom left me the farmhouse in her will. So after I get that place cleaned up, I can live there. I figure I’ll head over tomorrow.”