Innocent

by Wyn Mallory

  Innocent

  Wyn Mallory

  Copyright 2017 © Wyn Mallory

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Lindsay

  Chapter 2

  Riley

  Chapter 3

  Lindsay

  Chapter 4

  Riley

  Chapter 5

  Lindsay

  Chapter 6

  Riley

  Chapter 7

  Lindsay

  Chapter 8

  Riley

  Chapter 9

  Lindsay

  Chapter 10

  Riley

  Chapter 11

  Lindsay

  Chapter 12

  Riley

  Chapter 13

  Lindsay

  Chapter 14

  Riley

  Chapter 15

  Lindsay

  Chapter 16

  Riley

  Chapter 17

  Lindsay

  Chapter 1

  Lindsay

  I step out of the probation office into the sunlight. I can go anywhere, do anything. It’s a strange feeling after four months in prison. I’m going home.

  After catching the bus, I’m nervous on the way there. My parents were really pissed at me the last time I saw them, and they didn’t come to visit me in prison. Or to meet me today. I sent an e-mail to tell them about my early release, but maybe they didn’t see it. Everything happened really fast.

  They’ll probably be at work like usual and my stepbrothers at school. Luckily, my key is in the bag that was given back to me this morning. I can let myself in. Maybe I’ll cook dinner to surprise them and get everything off to a good start. No doubt things are going to be awkward for a while, especially with my stepmother, but I know my Dad and I can work it out.

  I get off the bus a few blocks from our house and walk through the familiar neighbourhood. I can’t wait to see my home again, to have my life back and sleep in my own bedroom. My hand is shaking with excitement as I put the key in the lock. When it jams, I laugh at myself for being so impatient. I take a deep breath to steady myself and try again. But the problem isn’t my shaking hand. The key really doesn’t fit in the lock. I wiggle it to be sure, but it won’t go in. Now I notice that the lock is shiny new. It’s been changed recently.

  Have I been kicked out of the house? Through the window, I can see the familiar furniture. So close to the comfort of home, but I can’t get in. I don’t know what to do. Maybe I’m jumping to the wrong conclusion. It could just be that the old lock broke and they had to get a new one. I won’t know for sure until my parents get home from work and I can talk to them.

  My best friend, Alyssa, lives across the street. If she’s home, maybe I can wait there. I want to see her anyway. I haven’t seen her since this all began, and I need to tell her what happened. I go over to her house and don’t even have to ring the doorbell. She comes outside before I make it all the way up the path. She must have seen me coming.

  “My mother says you can’t come in,” she tells me. “I can only talk to you for a minute.”

  It’s like a punch in the stomach. Banned from my best friend’s house. “My parents aren’t home and my key doesn’t work,” I say feebly.

  She looks uncomfortable as she replies, “It’s a new lock. I heard your mother talking to mine about it. She doesn’t want you living there any more.”

  I’m not surprised that my stepmother doesn’t want me there. Even though we had gotten along in a fake sort of way for years, I always knew she didn’t really like me, but it’s upsetting that my father has cast me aside. We were really close when it was just the two of us, and even after he remarried, we still had a good relationship. He should have believed me, but I guess I’ve lost his trust.

  “I don’t have anywhere to go,” I say to Alyssa.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.” She doesn’t really look sorry. She looks like she wants to get away from me, but I have to ask another question. “Do you think they will let me come back to work?”

  Alyssa and I had worked at the same coffee shop for almost two years. We had even been hired on the same day. I remember how excited we were to get our first jobs.

  She shakes her head. “They don’t need any staff.”

  I read in her eyes, “and if they did, they wouldn’t hire a criminal.”

  “I guess I should get going, but maybe we can meet up sometime this week,” I suggest, pretty sure that I know what her answer would be. Like with the door locks, I think it couldn’t hurt to double check, but I’m wrong. It does hurt.

  “I’m really busy this week. With school and work and everything, I’m busy all the time” she mumbles.

  That’s right. She had started college. Without me. We had done everything together since we were kids. But those days are over. I had missed out on college and lost my scholarship because of this nightmare. And now it looks like I’ve lost my best friend.

  “I didn’t do it,” I say for the first time in months.

  She looks away and I know she thinks I’m lying. “I have to go now,” is all she says as she turns away.

  Blinking back tears, I let her go. We’d been friends almost all our lives. We had practically grown up together, but now she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. She doesn’t believe that I am innocent.

  Nobody does. Not my parents, my friends, the store detective, my lawyer, or the judge. They all thought I did it. So did all the other inmates. After the first week in prison, I learned to shut up about it. They either laughed at me or looked bored like the store security officer did when I told him I didn’t take that stuff.

  I was totally surprised when he stopped me outside the store and asked me to go to the security office with him. A manager came with us and I was thinking it would be nice if he apologized after I proved my innocence. Maybe he’d even give me a coupon or something to make up for it. I wasn’t going to make a fuss, but a little gesture would be nice.

  They asked me to empty out my bag. I didn’t hesitate to comply. It was a big bag and I kept all sorts of stuff in it, so I just turned it over and shook the contents onto the table. At that moment, a small inconvenience turned into a disaster. I nearly went into shock seeing things that weren’t mine come tumbling out. While I stared at the pile with dismay and bewilderment, the two of them pulled out everything which belonged to the store and made a list. Make-up, perfume and jewellery. There were about a dozen things, and for a minute I had no idea how they got there.

  That was when I figured out it had to have been Brooklyn. She had been holding my bag, and hers was identical. Not really a funny coincidence, I was starting to think. I guessed that she had swapped them for a while, filled mine with all that stuff, and then given it back to me before we left the store. I felt like such an idiot for not noticing anything. I guess she was really good at it, just not good enough to escape the notice of security, but I was taking the fall for her. They hadn’t asked her to come in, and I was willing to bet she was long gone and not waiting for me.

  I told them somebody else had been holding my bag for a while, but they ignored me and carried on making their list. They even added some perfume which really was mine. It came from their store, but I had bought it there the week before. I told them so, but of course they didn’t believe that e
ither.

  The manager called an employee, gave her the list, and asked her to price out the items on it. She stared at me with curiosity, and I wonder if she was new to the job, unlike these guys who acted like they dealt with shoplifters every day. Maybe they did. After a while, a police officer arrived, and he was just like them, doing everything mechanically, filling out the paperwork and reading me my rights. It was just another day’s work for all of them, but the worst day of my life.

  No, it was the second worst day. The worst day was when the judge sentenced me. Another guy who didn’t care. He barely looked at me as the case was presented. On the advice of my lawyer, I didn’t say anything about being innocent.

  “You will only be in front of the judge for a minute or two,” he said, straightening his sleeve in a distracted way. “Just say that you are very sorry and will never do it again. They will go easy on you since it is a first offense. We might even be able to have the charges dismissed, but I wouldn’t count on it. They are more likely to give you probation.”

  “If they aren’t dismissed, will I have a criminal record?”

  “Yes,” he said without bothering to look at me, “but you will probably not go to prison.”

  “Probably?” It was sounding worse and worse.

  “There is very little chance that they will give you prison time. Most likely, you will be put on probation and have to do community service.”

  “But I will lose my scholarship if I have a record. You have to get the charges dismissed, or else I won’t be able to go to college.” I had worked hard to get in, and for the scholarship. At that moment, everything began to fall apart.

  “I will ask for a dismissal because it is a first offence, but I don’t have much hope that it will be granted. The value of what you took is too high. Not enough for an automatic prison sentence, at least, but too much to get a dismissal.

  “I didn’t take anything,” I practically shouted at him. “I already told you that.”

  “Don’t say that to the judge, for goodness sake,” was his reply. “Judges don’t want to hear it. Just say you’re sorry like I told you, and you’ll hardly be noticed. They get these cases all the time. The penalty is almost always probation.”

  But not in my case. It turned out that the store employee had written down the wrong value for a pair of earrings. My lawyer hadn’t seen the revised values, or if he had, he hadn’t bothered to pay any attention to them. The new amount changed the severity of the crime. I had turned eighteenth back in the spring, or else my age might have helped me avoid a sentence, but everything was against me. The judge did everything as fast as my lawyer had said he would and barely looked up from his papers when he sentenced me to a year in prison.

  The only people who weren’t bored were my parents. They were mad. They came to see me once while I was being held for trial. Dad yelled at me a lot, and my stepmother went on about how I had disgraced them, but when they left, I saw her gloating. Now I realize that she was happy to have a chance to get rid of me. I just can’t believe she turned my dad against me as well. He could have come to visit me without her, but nobody ever came.

  Not my parents, not my friends, not my boyfriend. That’s one more thing I have to check. Do I still have a boyfriend? I guess not, but I like knowing exactly where things stand. Maybe he is waiting for me, in which case it would be a shabby thing not to let him know I’m out. He might want to help me, and I’m in no position to throw away a chance for help just because I’m afraid my pride is about to be hurt.

  I have to take another bus to get to his place. As it slows down for the stop, I see him on the other side of the street. With Brooklyn. Standing on the corner, kissing her. It answers my question. I stay on the bus.

  Now I know. I don’t have a boyfriend, but I’m not really upset. The truth is that there were no sparks between Jason and me. I was already having doubts about being together before I went to prison, but I felt bad about breaking up with him so I hadn’t gotten around to it. He was a nice guy and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. At least that’s been settled for me.

  I wonder briefly about Brooklyn. Is this a coincidence, or was she trying to get me out of the way? I really hope not, because I would have willingly stepped aside if I’d known she was interested. But then I remember the expensive make-up and perfume she’s been wearing for the last year or so. I think she’s been stealing for a while. Maybe even using other friends like she used me. Going out with Jason is probably just a coincidence. I was just convenient for her, especially since I didn’t pay much attention to my bag.hardly ever paying attention to my bag. She has a lot of different ones, now that I think about it. I might not have been the only person she ever used like that. Now I’m guess she’s pulled that stunt at least a few times. I was just the one who got caught with the things she stole.

  She cost me four months in prison and my future. Now I realize how bleak it looks. I have no home, and without an education, I’m doomed to low-paying jobs and struggling to make ends meet. I pretty much hate her for it. It’s a good thing I didn’t get off the bus and tell Brooklyn what I think of her. I might have ended up in a fight for the first time in my life and then back in jail for violating my probation conditions. Thinking about that reminds me that I am required to tell my probation officer if my address changes. If I catch a bus heading downtown, I should be able to make it to his office just in time.

  I laugh at myself for this sense of urgency. I’ve been in prison and everybody thinks I’m a criminal, but I’m really the kind of person who always follows the rules and obeys the law. I don’t want to be in violation of any of my conditions for a minute longer than necessary, so I hurry to make it to the probation center and get there just before they are supposed to lock up for the day.

  This isn’t such a bad place. The woman at the front desk was polite to me this morning and now she greets me cheerfully even though she was probably just thinking about going home. I apologize for rushing in at the last minute and explain that I came to change my address.

  “I remember you from earlier,” she says. “You saw Mr. Willis. Unfortunately, there has been a complication.”

  I look at her in shock, thinking that she means I have to go back to prison. She immediately looks contrite and pats me on the arm. “Nothing that affects you,” she says in a kind voice that makes me start crying.

  She hands me a tissue and asks if I’m okay.

  “I’ll be fine in a moment,” I say, drying my eyes and telling myself to pull it together. “It’s just that it’s unbelievable how nice you are. And the man I talked to this morning. Everybody I know wants to avoid me, but here I feel welcome, which is really weird.”

  “Mr. Willis is nice,” she agrees. “The situation to which I was referring is that a different officer will be handling your case now. I’m not sure which one. I’ll just check my list.”

  “No need for that.” A man comes out of an office behind her desk. “If I heard the name correctly, then this is one of the cases that was passed on to me.”

  I look up and my jaw drops. Mr. Willis was a tired-looking man, with thinning gray hair, who drooped like an unwatered plant. The man standing in front of me now is full of energy and vitality, not to mention super handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, well-built, and smoldering eyes. I know I’m staring, but I can’t stop myself. My probation officer is hot.

  “It’s Lindsay, right?” he says. “I’m Mr. Brent.”

  He holds out his hand to shake mine and this prompts me to stop staring and return the gesture. Our palms meet and I feel a warmth that spreads over my entire body and centers between my legs.

  “I heard you say your address is changed. Come in my office and we can make the change to your file.”

  On his desk, I see a stack of files. “My new cases,” he says. “I was just going over them, which is why I recognized your name.” He starts looking through the pile.

  “What happened to Mr. Willis?” I ask. I had felt sorry for the
guy this morning.

  “He had a heart attack.”

  “Oh my God, that’s terrible. Is he okay? I thought he looked ill.”

  He stops his search and looks intently at me for a moment before answering. “He’s doing pretty well considering what happened. I heard from his wife that they think he’ll be fine if he takes it easy. Which means he’ll have to retire.”

  “I’m glad he’s going to be okay. He was decent to me.”

  “He’s a good man. I’ve learned a lot from him working here. I’ll miss having him around here.” Mr. Brent is talking to me like I’m just another person, and I really appreciate how he makes me feel ordinary and not like a criminal.

  He finds my file in the stack, opens it, and picks up a pen. “What is your new address?”

  “I don’t have one actually,” I say nervously. “I thought I was going home, but my parents don’t want me there.”

  He looks at me again and our eyes meet. I see understanding in them. I can tell that this guy is dedicated to his job and really wants to help people. That turns me on even more. I’m a sucker for guys who want to make a difference in the world. I’m incredibly attracted to him and it feels good. Except that I shouldn’t be having these feelings for my probation officer.

  That’s not the only problem. I’m not just hot anymore. Now I’m wet. And this is my only pair of panties.

  Chapter 2

  Riley

  I’m lost in those sweet, innocent eyes. What judge put her in jail, I wonder. If it had been me, I would have let her off. I don’t care what she did. There’s no way she’s bad. I glance down at her file. Shoplifting. I just can’t see it. Not her. I know criminals, and she isn’t one. I’ve met kids who stole for fun, for a dare, or out of desperation. I’m not seeing any of that in her eyes. I don’t know how she ended up here.

  She’s hot too. I see women wearing short skirts and low-cut tops almost every day. Some of them just want to get a rise out of me. Some are hoping I’ll go easy on them. Not a chance of it. I’m not falling for that crap. If you want a break from me, you earn it by giving something in return. By which I do not mean sex. I’ve heard of guys who take advantage of this job, but I’ve never considered it. If anything, I’m tougher on those who flaunt themselves at me, but I’ll bust my ass to help those who gain my respect. The ones who really want to go straight and are willing to put in the effort.