The Inmate

Tracy Gifford is the girl who was found dead over the summer. Obviously, none of us have been on a date with her.

But then Tim raises his cup. And he takes a drink.

I’m not sorry I hit Shane in the head with that icicle. I had to do it. Tim said he was dangerous and that he was going to hurt my mom. And I could hear when he was talking on his phone that he wasn’t being nice to her. Tim was right.

I had to do what I did.

“I told Shane what they did to me,” she says, “and we planned the whole thing together. It was all his idea. He is such a good son. He would do anything for his mother. Anything.”

“You need to know,” Tim said, “there’s a man named Shane Nelson who might contact you someday and want to hurt your mom. This man, Shane Nelson—he’s a really bad man. Really bad. So if you ever see him or hear from him, you need to know that he’s dangerous.”

“Those two deserved to die. I would have done it anyway—even if I didn’t have to do it to get you to come back here.”

I clasp a hand over my mouth. My parents’ accident. I had thought it was an act of God, but apparently not. This woman killed them. She’s even crazier than I gave her credit for.

“When Shane was five years old, I fell in love with your father.” Her voice cracks slightly. “We were together for almost a year. He was supposed to leave your mother for me. He told me he would. He was supposed to save us—me and Shane. But then he decided he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave your mother and he couldn’t leave you. So he left us instead. You got to live the life that Shane and I should have had.”

“Killing the other three was unfortunate,” Mrs. Nelson says in a voice that doesn’t sound like she cares much at all. “You were the target, my dear. A lesson had to be taught.”

Oh my God.

Tim and Shane did it together.

Oh God. It’s him. It’s Hunt. He was found dead—possibly today

It can’t be Marcus Hunt. It can’t.