Chapter 7: The Man Beyond the Fence
I didn't open the envelope.
Not because I trusted Monique.
Because I suddenly understood that whatever was written inside mattered less than the person standing beyond the fence.
I walked toward the back door.
Monique grabbed my arm.
“Marcus, don't.””
I pulled free.
“Stay inside.””
“Please.””
“Stay inside.””
Her eyes filled.
“You don't understand what he wants.””
I looked at her.
“Apparently, neither do I.””
I stepped outside.
The back porch light washed the yard in pale yellow. The fence at the far end stood about thirty feet away, its shadow stretching across the grass.
Nobody was there.
Then a figure moved.
A man stepped from behind the shed.
Older.
Thinner.
Gray at the temples.
But there was no mistaking him.
Raymond Bell.
He raised both hands.
“I’m not carrying a weapon.””
I stopped.
“You better not be.””
He glanced toward the house.
“I came here because you deserve to know the truth.””
I laughed bitterly.
“Funny. Everyone seems to know the truth except me.””
Raymond took one step forward.
“Your wife told you I tried to kill her.””
“She said you fired a gun at her.””
“I did.””
The answer stunned me.
No hesitation.
No excuse.
“You did.””
“Yes.””
“Then what exactly am I supposed to hear?””
“The part she left out.””
I tightened my grip on the envelope.
“Start talking.””
Raymond looked toward the kitchen window.
Monique was standing behind the glass.
She looked terrified.
Not angry.
Terrified.
Raymond noticed it too.
“She’s still afraid of me.””
“She has reason to be.””
“Yes.””
His answer was almost too calm.
I studied him.
“You went to prison.””
“Yes.””
“For shooting at her.””
“Yes.””
“Then why should I believe anything you say?””
“You shouldn't.””
That stopped me.
Raymond looked directly into my eyes.
“Don't believe me. Verify it.””
“Verify what?””
“That I didn't shoot at Monique.””
I stared at him.
“You just admitted you fired the gun.””
“I fired it.””
“That sounds like the same thing.””
“It isn't.””
He reached slowly into his coat.
I tensed.
“Easy.””
He pulled out a folded photocopy and held it between two fingers.
“Court transcript.””
“I don't want paperwork.””
“You need it.””
I didn't move.
He set it on the ground.
Then he backed away.
“The prosecution said I aimed at her chest.””
My eyes narrowed.
“What really happened?””
“She had a gun too.””
I turned toward the house.
Monique didn't move.
Raymond continued.
“I came to take Kayla.””
“You admitted you wanted custody.””
“I did.””
“And?””
“She pointed the gun first.””
I shook my head.
“You expect me to believe she tried to shoot you?””
“No.””
He looked down.
“I expect you to find out.””
The yard suddenly felt too small.
“You've had seventeen years to tell your story.””
“They didn't want my story.””
“Who?””
“My lawyer.””
“Why?””
“Because the prosecutor had an eyewitness.””
“Who?””
Raymond looked toward the kitchen.
“Your wife.””
I felt my chest tighten.
“She testified.””
“Yes.””
“And you were convicted.””
“Yes.””
“Then why weren't you acquitted if she was lying?””
“Because she didn't lie about everything.””
He took another step backward.
“She told the truth about the gunshot.””
I stared.
“But she lied about who fired first.””
My phone buzzed.
A text from Jamal.
*Dad, don't trust anybody right now. Check the garage wall.*
I looked at Raymond.
“You know my son?””
“I've never met him.””
“Then how do you know about the garage?””
Raymond's expression changed.
“I don't.””
Another buzz.
*There is a panel behind the old water heater.*
I looked toward the house.
Raymond said quietly, “That was hidden after my trial.””
“By who?””
He answered without blinking.
“Monique.””
I turned and went inside.
Monique stepped away from the window.
“Where is he?””
“Gone.””
She looked relieved.
“Good.””
I held up the envelope.
“What is this?””
“Nothing.””
“Then open it.””
“I don't want you to.””
“That's not your decision.””
She shook her head.
“Marcus, please.””
I walked past her.
“Where's the garage key?””
She didn't answer.
“Monique.””
“In the drawer.””
I grabbed it.
She followed me.
“Don't do this.””
“You've been telling me what not to do all night.””
“Because I know what's in that garage.””
“So do I.””
Her face changed.
We entered the garage.
The old water heater stood in the corner beneath a shelf of rusted tools.
I moved the boxes.
Nothing.
Then I noticed a section of drywall that looked newer than the rest.
I pressed it.
It gave.
Monique whispered my name.
I pulled.
A small access panel opened.
Inside was a plastic storage box.
I took it out.
My hands were shaking.
“What is that?””
Monique didn't answer.
I opened the lid.
Inside were photographs.
Court documents.
A newspaper clipping.
And a small digital recorder.
I picked up the first photograph.
Monique, seventeen years younger.
Raymond beside her.
And a third person standing between them.
I knew him too.
My former fire captain.
The same man Raymond had said was involved.
Under the photograph was a date.
March 14, 2009.
I picked up the recorder.
A red light blinked.
Battery still inside.
I pressed play.
Static.
Then a woman's voice.
Monique.
“You can't keep threatening me.””
A man's voice answered.
Raymond.
“I want my daughter.””
“You'll never have her.””
“You don't get to decide that.””
Then another voice entered.
A man's voice I recognized immediately.
Captain Harris.
My old captain.
“Both of you need to stop before this gets worse.””
The recording crackled.
Then Monique said something that made my blood run cold.
“Marcus will never know.””
I stopped the recording.
Monique covered her mouth.
I turned toward her.
“What did I have to do with this?””
She shook her head.
“You weren't supposed to hear that.””
“What did I have to do with this?””
She started crying.
“Nothing.””
“Don't lie to me.””
“I was trying to protect you.””
“From what?””
She whispered,
“From what Harris did.””
I stared at her.
“What did he do?””
She couldn't answer.
The garage door suddenly rattled.
Someone had grabbed it from outside.
Monique jumped.
The sound came again.
Then a man's voice called through the metal.
“Marcus.””
Raymond.
“Don't let her destroy the evidence.””
Monique looked at me.
May you like
And for the first time since I had known her, I saw something worse than fear in her eyes.
Guilt.
