Chapter 11: Three Days

"Caleb? Say something."

I stubbed out my cigarette in the overflowing ashtray, smoke curling around my head.

"What else did he say?"

"He said I have three days. If I don’t turn myself in, I’ll pay with my life."

Three days. Again, three days—the same deadline Rachel gave us. Did this guy really know everything?

But now, things were different. He was in the shadows, we were exposed. No way to silence him without risking everything.

"Shit, maybe we should just turn ourselves in."

Jason’s voice crackled, resigned but scared.

"No!" I blurted, panic rising.

"Why not? Jail’s better than dying—unless you want to pay with your life for that girl? You’ve got a family. I’m still single."

Jason could talk about turning himself in because his rich dad would pull strings. Me? I’d lose everything.

My little girl’s only five. If I’m branded a killer, she’ll grow up alone, bullied, shunned, maybe worse.

Just thinking about it made my heart ache, like I’d swallowed broken glass.

I really don’t get it. It’s been fifteen years. Rachel’s gone. Why dig this up now?

Even if we go to jail, even if we die—Rachel won’t come back. The dead are gone. Shouldn’t the living get a shot at peace?

Selfish bastard!

I can’t let him ruin me!

"Say something, man! Why so quiet? Back then, when you killed Rachel, you—"

I cut him off, voice low:

"Let’s talk in person. I’ll come find you—I’ve got an idea."