Chapter 6
Freedom smelled like gasoline.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Not flowers.
Not fresh air.
Gasoline.
Rachel's old Honda had been idling in the prison parking lot because the heater was broken and the September morning had turned cold.
I didn't care.
I stood beside the passenger door with Emma holding my hand and breathed exhaust like it was perfume.
Then Rachel repeated the sentence.
"Daniel's gone."
I looked at her.
"What does that mean?"
"The detective said he left during questioning."
"How?"
"They hadn't arrested him."
My anger came fast.
"They found stolen money in his storage unit."
"I know."
"He confessed to you."
"Not officially."
"He threatened you."
"I know."
"And they let him walk?"
Rachel flinched.
I immediately lowered my voice.
None of this was her fault.
"Where would he go?"
"I don't know."
I did.
Or at least I had an idea.
Daniel had one place he talked about when life went wrong.
Our father's old hunting cabin near Cedar Ridge.
Except my father was dead.
And the cabin wasn't ours anymore.
Daniel had bought it from my mother three years earlier.
I looked at Rachel.
"The cabin."
Her eyes widened.
"You think?"
"He used to disappear there after fights with Melissa."
Daniel's ex-wife.
"He could be anywhere."
"Maybe."
Emma tugged my sleeve.
"Daddy, can we go home now?"
I looked down.
Her face was hopeful.
Home.
Such a simple word.
Such a complicated place.
"Yeah."
Rachel touched my arm.
"Police said Mom's house is safer."
"I don't want to hide."
"Michael."
I looked at Emma.
Rachel was right.
"Grandma's first."
Emma cheered.
"Grandma has pancakes."
I almost laughed.
A dangerous man had framed me for a felony, stolen almost two years of my life, threatened my wife, and possibly fled.
My daughter cared about pancakes.
Thank God.
We drove.
I sat in the passenger seat staring at everything.
Billboards.
Traffic lights.
People walking dogs.
A teenager looking at his phone at a bus stop.
A woman drinking coffee while driving.
Curtis had been right.
The world hadn't stopped.
People didn't know I had just walked out of prison.
They didn't care.
That felt strangely comforting.
Emma talked nonstop from the back seat.
She told me about school.
Her teacher, Mrs. Patterson.
A boy named Noah who ate glue.
A girl named Lily who said unicorns weren't real.
The tragedy of cafeteria broccoli.
I listened to every word like scripture.
Rachel kept glancing at me.
Finally she asked, "Are you okay?"
"No."
She nodded.
"Me neither."
I looked at her.
Then we both smiled weakly.
That was marriage, maybe.
Not pretending everything was okay.
Just admitting it wasn't and staying in the car together.
At her mother's house, the front door opened before we reached the porch.
Linda ran out.
My mother-in-law had always been reserved with me.
Before prison she shook hands at holidays.
After my conviction, she barely spoke during visits.
That morning she hugged me so hard I nearly dropped my bag.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
I knew what she meant.
For doubting.
For believing Daniel.
For not bringing Emma to visit more often.
Maybe for all of it.
I held her.
"Me too."
Inside, breakfast covered the table.
Pancakes.
Eggs.
Bacon.
Fruit.
Coffee.
Too much food.
Prison teaches your stomach not to trust abundance.
I sat at the table and stared.
Emma dropped three pancakes on my plate.
"You have to eat."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Lots."
"Apparently."
She poured syrup.
Too much.
Rachel laughed.
I took one bite.
Then I stopped.
It tasted like childhood.
Warm.
Sweet.
Real butter.
I looked down because tears had filled my eyes.
Rachel noticed.
She didn't say anything.
She simply touched my knee under the table.
After breakfast, Emma pulled me upstairs.
She had prepared a room.
Technically it was the guest room.
But she had taped drawings everywhere.
WELCOME HOME DADDY.
NO MORE JAIL.
OUR FAMILY.
One drawing showed a giant red X over a gray building.
I swallowed.
"Do you like it?"
"I love it."
She climbed onto the bed.
"You're sleeping here."
"Okay."
"I can sleep here too."
Rachel appeared in the doorway.
"No, ma'am."
"But Mommy!"
"Daddy needs rest."
"I don't."
I smiled.
"I really do."
Emma pouted.
Then she whispered loudly, "Mommy snores."
"I do not."
"Yes, you do."
For three minutes, we were normal.
Then the doorbell rang.
Every muscle in my body tightened.
Rachel saw it.
"Michael."
I stepped between her and the stairs.
Linda called from downstairs.
"It's Detective Shaw."
I exhaled.
Not enough.
We went down.
Detective Marcus Shaw stood inside.
Late forties.
Dark suit.
Tired eyes.
He offered his hand.
"Mr. Hayes."
I stared at it.
He noticed.
"Wasn't on your original case."
That mattered.
I shook.
"Where's Daniel?"
"We don't know."
"You let him leave."
His jaw tightened.
"We didn't have probable cause to arrest him when he initially came in."
"You had footage."
"Not authenticated."
"Cash."
"Search occurred after the interview began."
"So where is he?"
"That's what I'm here to discuss."
We sat.
Emma stayed upstairs with cartoons.
Shaw opened a notebook.
"Daniel's vehicle was found thirty minutes ago."
"Where?"
"Bus terminal parking lot."
Rachel covered her mouth.
"He ran."
"Possibly."
"Any buses?"
"We're checking passenger lists and cameras."
I leaned forward.
"Check Cedar Ridge."
Shaw wrote.
"Why?"
I explained the cabin.
He nodded.
"We'll send county deputies."
Rachel looked at him.
"Do you think he'll hurt us?"
Shaw chose his words.
"I think you should take precautions."
I hated careful answers.
"Meaning yes."
"Meaning we don't know what state of mind he's in."
"He framed me."
Shaw met my eyes.
"I know."
"No. You know evidence suggests it."
Silence.
"I know he framed me."
My voice remained steady.
"He watched me get arrested."
Rachel looked down.
"He testified."
I continued.
"He sat six feet from my wife and told a jury I stole money."
Shaw nodded.
"And if he believes his life is collapsing, I need to know whether my family is safe."
Shaw closed his notebook.
"We can arrange patrols."
"That's not what I asked."
"No detective can promise safety."
At least that answer was honest.
"Then tell me what I can do."
"Don't contact him."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Don't go looking for him."
I didn't respond.
Shaw noticed.
"Mr. Hayes."
"I heard you."
"Good."
He stood.
At the door, he turned.
"One more thing."
"What?"
"We found something else in the storage unit."
Rachel and I looked at each other.
"What?"
"A laptop."
My pulse jumped.
"Daniel's?"
"Registered to him."
"What was on it?"
"Encrypted."
I nearly laughed.
"Of course."
"Our digital team is working on it."
"How long?"
"Could be hours. Could be days."
He left.
By afternoon, exhaustion caught me.
I lay on the guest bed while Emma colored beside me.
"Daddy?"
"Yeah?"
"Was jail scary?"
I stared at the ceiling.
Sometimes adults think children want simple lies.
They don't.
They want truths they can survive.
"Sometimes."
"Were people mean?"
"Sometimes."
"Did you cry?"
I turned toward her.
"Sometimes."
She considered that.
Then she nodded.
"I cried too."
"I know."
"Mommy cried when she thought I was asleep."
My chest tightened.
"Did she?"
"Lots."
I looked toward the door.
Rachel was standing there.
She had heard.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Emma kept coloring.
That evening she fell asleep against my chest during a movie.
I didn't move for an hour.
My arm went numb.
My back hurt.
I didn't care.
Eventually Rachel carried her upstairs.
When she returned, she sat beside me on the couch.
The house was quiet.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"You've said that."
"Not enough."
"Rachel."
"I almost stopped believing you."
I looked at her.
She continued.
"When they found the money... I wondered."
"I know."
"You knew?"
"I saw it."
She wiped tears.
"I hated myself."
"I hated you a little."
She winced.
I reached for her hand.
"I hated everybody."
A tiny laugh escaped her.
Then I became serious.
"But we're here."
She squeezed my fingers.
"Are we?"
"What?"
"Still us?"
Twenty-three months.
Glass walls.
Suspicion.
Fear.
Marriage doesn't freeze while someone is in prison.
It stretches.
Sometimes it tears.
"I don't know," I admitted.
She nodded sadly.
"Okay."
"But I want to find out."
She looked at me.
"Me too."
Her phone buzzed.
We both jumped.
A message.
Detective Shaw.
Rachel opened it.
Her face drained.
"What?"
She handed me the phone.
The message was short.
Deputies reached the Cedar Ridge cabin.
Daniel was not there.
But someone had been.
Less than an hour earlier.
And on the kitchen table, deputies found a photograph.
A photograph of me.
May you like
Standing outside the prison that afternoon.
Holding Emma.
