“That’s great,” I say under my breath.
Oh, hmmm. Maybe this is it then. Nothing suspicious. Maybe the guy who broke into my apartment had nothing to do with Owen. I was so quick to judge him and to put the blame on him. Nicholas’ explanation seemed so plausible, but what if I was wrong? What if that guy had something to do with Nicholas instead?
A robot voice comes on the line and tells us that we only have a minute left.
“Will you be here to pick me up?” Owen asks.
“When? Where?”
“At the front gate of the prison. Six a.m.,” he says. “Be there at six but it may take longer. Sometimes there’s a delay and it’s out of my control.”
“Yes, of course, I’ll wait,” I say. “After all of these years I’m pretty used to working around their schedule.”
Owen sighs and then chokes up. When he gathers his composure, he says, “We won’t have to work on anyone’s schedule after tomorrow.”
“No, we won’t.” I smile.
When I’m about to say goodbye, Owen interrupts me.
“You have no idea how much it means that you were there for me all of these years. I know that we were never very close as kids, but you taking the time to write me all the time and talk to me…it really made the time bearable. I love you, Olive.”
“I love you, too,” I say, tears welling up in my eyes.
I hang up the phone and stare at the blank screen, wiping a rogue tear from my eye.
“He’s getting out,” I say. “He’s really getting out.”
Nicholas doesn’t reply. Standing up, he paces in front of me in a circular motion. His nostrils flare. His chest thrusts out with his elbows firmly planted away from his body.
“Are you…upset?” I ask.
He cracks his knuckles. Glaring at me, his eyes tighten and then turn to ice.
“You can’t go there,” he finally says. “You can’t meet him when he gets out. Absolutely not.”
***