“Do you like chocolate?” he asked.
Brandy nodded.
“Have as many as you want. I’ll bring your Grandpa back in just a few minutes.”
They left, and Brandy sought solace in the sweets. I didn’t think she should have too many, so I tried to slow her down by convincing her that playing a hide-and-seek game with the chocolates was just as much fun as eating them.
The whole time, I wondered what the sheriff was telling my father. Would he be able to make my father understand that I hadn’t purposely chosen Cheryl’s husband? I’d never even met him. I just chose the man who’d been there last night.
Suddenly I had a horrible thought. What if Sheriff Enquist told my dad what Eddie did to me?
I didn’t want my dad or anyone else to know. I hadn’t told Salvador yet. If I did, how could he ever look at me the same again?
“Now you look for the chocolate.” Brandy grinned at me. “I’ll hide it. Close your eyes, Aunt Ruthie.”
I followed her command, taking comfort in her little giggles as she moved around the room, trying to find the perfect hiding spot.
Eventually, the sheriff and my father returned. The sheriff gave me an encouraging nod as if to say everything was now settled, and we could move forward.
Nervous, I glanced at my father. The way he looked at me made me realize the sheriff had told him about the rape. My stomach knotted.
It was then that I realized my father’s pity was much worse than his disdain. While intellectually I knew what happened to me wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t help but feel guilty. Could I have done more to stop it? Could I have fought harder?
I didn’t think so. Nevertheless, part of me would always blame myself for what happened that night.
* * *
Edmonds,Washington – 2018
After telling Brandy my story,I swiped at my tears. My sweet niece hugged me again.
“You did what you thought was right,” she said. “You didn’t act out of spite.”
“I ruined your father’s life.”
She pushed out a slow breath. “You didn’t ruin his life. Wayne Montgomery did, along with the justice department that failed to prosecute the right person.”
“But I picked him out of the lineup. I testified against him. I told the jury I was one hundred percent positive it was him that night.”
She shifted on the bed. “Aunt Ruthie, listen to me. You’re not the first person this happened to. The more I learn about wrongful conviction, the more outraged I become. So many people have gone through this.”
“Have they?”
“Yes. The most important thing now is that the error is being corrected, not just for my father but for anyone else who’s been wrongfully accused.”
Brandy brushed off her pants, an old habit from growing up with German shepherds that shed year round. Something else was bothering her. I wanted to ignore it, but somehow I found the strength to ask her about it.
“There is something,” she admitted.
“What is it?”
“I need your help with getting my father released.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. For years, I’d actively hated Eddie. I hated him so deeply that I wished for him to be raped, tortured, and killed in prison.
And yet, he was innocent.
“What do I need to do?” I asked.
She smiled. Then she explained the impossible task ahead of me.