Page 62 of Clumsy in Love

While drinking coffee and eating leftover hoagie, she sorted a week’s worth of mail that had piled up on her entryway table. Junk, junk, bill, junk. An envelope caught her eye. There was no return address or stamp. Just her name scrawled on the front. She opened it and pulled out a single sheet of paper. Her heart stopped, and the sandwich turned to stone in her stomach.

It was a page from her high school yearbook. Specifically, the varsity girls basketball team—Holly and her friends beaming at the camera, organized around a three-foot trophy. Under the photo was a handwritten message.Testify, and the whole team dies!

The phone rang, causing her to jump. It was a New York area code. She took a breath and calmed herself enough to answer.

“Holly Bennett?” a man asked.

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“My name is Micky Ketchum. I’m with the DA’s office. The grand jury is scheduled for next week, and we need to meet with you before then. I understand you live out of state. When is the soonest you can come to New York?”

Holly stared at the yearbook page, her eyes blurring with tears. “I can’t testify,” she said.

“What do you mean?” the man said, voice instantly on edge.

“I’ve changed my mind. I didn’t get a good enough look at the killer to identify him.”

“Ms. Bennett, without your testimony, there is no case against Cruz. He will walk if you don’t testify.”

Holly thought of Cruz’s cold eyes. The way he shot the undercover officer without blinking an eye. The threat she held in her hand was not an idle one. And the subtext was that he knew where she lived and who meant the world to her. Her stomach turned over, and she worried she might be sick. “Isn’t there any other way?”

“There is not. The entire case hinges on you.”

What was she supposed to do? Let a murderer go free or bury her friends? The answer was as simple as it was complicated. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t.”

“But Miss—”

She hung up before he could say more. There was no choice. Even if she testified and Cruz went to jail, he still had a whole gang at his command to do his bidding. They could kill her and her friends as punishment for not obeying. Or just for the hell of it.

No. She would protect the only family she had left. They sometimes joked about taking a bullet for each other, but she had no intention of testing their mettle. The police would have to make a case against him without her testimony.

She was so upset that she almost canceled her trip to the prison. But in the end, decided she’d procrastinated long enough. Her father had betrayed many people financially, but Holly, he’d betrayed emotionally. Seeing him would be the first step toward working through it.

Two hours later, Holly wiped clammy palms on her pants, kicking herself for not taking Alex up on her offer to come with her. “Why amInervous?” she asked herself. “I’mnot the crook.”

She moved up the line with the other families waiting to visit an inmate. A burly guard barked orders, telling everyone to put their personal belongings in a locker, then ushered them through a metal detector. Anything they wanted to take in—books, treats, even eyeglasses—had to be examined by a guard.

Once she passed through security, she entered a room that looked a lot like her junior high cafeteria. Holly had been expecting little phone booths separated by glass like they always showed in the movies, but this was less intense. Must be a perk of “minimum security.” Following the lead of those who’d clearly done this before, she sat at one of the small round tables and waited.

At exactly eleven o’clock, guards opened a set of double doors, and men in orange jumpsuits filtered in, searching for their loved ones. Holly was a little surprised at how many familiesthere were. Young children ran to hug their dads. Wives and girlfriends got straight to kissing. Just when she thought he wasn’t coming, her dad came through the doors.

It had been two years since she’d seen him. She’d been away at school for the trial and sentencing hearing. She’d returned home just in time for a contentious, uncomfortable goodbye as her father went off to prison. Contentious because her mom was so angry. Uncomfortable because, well, what do you say in that situation?

“Holly,” her dad said, approaching as if she were a time bomb.

“Dad.” She stood and gave him a quick, awkward hug.

“I’ve missed you,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”

His eyes were weary, the happy spark from her childhood, gone. And in that moment, she felt sorry for him. Just for a moment though. Then she remembered all the harm he’d caused to so many people.

“How are things going? How’s work?”

She almost answered, but then focused on why she’d come. Not just to shoot the breeze. Not for witty conversation. She’d come for answers. For some kind of closure.

“Dad. I can’t just pretend we’re catching up after a semester at school. I can’t pretend I’m not hurt. And disappointed.”

He nodded. “Of course. I understand. You want to know why.”

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