The Lion, the Lamb, the Hunted: A Psychological Thriller by Andrew E. Kaufman Page B

Ronnie gets arrested, and here’s where it gets complicated: if she provides an alibi, it all comes out in court, that she left the kid unattended.”
    “Tough decision for a mother to make,” I said. “Let Ronnie die or lose custody of her daughter.”
    “Yeah. Of course, he felt partially responsible. I mean, he wasthe one who insisted she come see him in the first place.”
    “So what happened next?”
    “Emma decided to put the alibi in writing and give it to Ronnie.”
    “In other words, putting the ball in his court.”
    “Right.”
    “But he never used it.”
    Nissie raised a brow. “Part two—the trickiest part of all. The baby didn’t actually belong to Emma’s husband.” She rested her arms on the table, crossed them, then leaned in toward me. “She belonged to Ronnie.”
    “Wow.”
    “Understatement. So there he was, between a rock and a hard place. Use the alibi, they’ll take his daughter away from Emma for sure. And then who gets her? The scumbag, abusive husband.”
    “A risk he wasn’t willing to take,” I said.
    “Exactly.”
    “So it all boiled down to keeping himself safe or keeping his kid safe?”
    She nodded, shrugged. “He rolled the dice on a trial without the alibi.”
    “And lost.”
    “She gazed down at the table and frowned. “Unfortunately, yes.”
    I thought about what it must have been like for him. The sacrifice. To put his child’s life before his own because of love. Then something else crossed my mind. “How come you didn’t convince him to use the alibi, and then you fight for custody yourself?”
    She shrugged. “I never had the chance.”
    “Why not?”
    “I didn’t know about the note until after Ronnie died. He left it for me. I guess he wanted me to know he wasn’t the monster everybody thought he was.” She shook her head, a hint of anger mixed with sadness. “But I already knew that.”
    I tipped the note up. “And you never gave this to the folks at The Observer? They never saw it?”
    She straightened her spine as well as her facial expression. “I wouldn’t give those people the time of day.”
    “How come?”
    “Because they’re scum, that’s why.” She looked away and sneered. “The way they covered the trial was shameful. They had him convicted before he ever set foot in the courtroom. Banner headlines every day, practically calling him a pervert child killer. They turned it into a damned circus carnival, and when I tried to complain, they wouldn’t hear it.”
    “So after that, Emma ended up keeping the girl?”
    She shook her head. “Overdose. She died right after the execution. I wondered if it was guilt about Ronnie, but — ”
    “Then the little girl went to the ex-husband anyway? After all that?”
    Nissie’s expression changed to one of determination. “Hell, no. I fought long and hard, but I finally won. She’s my kid now.” And then she smiled.
    I smiled, too.
    She pulled out her wallet, flipped it open, turned it toward me. With alternating glances between it and me, she said, “Jessica.”
    “She’s beautiful.”
    “That was at her college graduation. She’ll be thirty-five in August. A lawyer, if you can believe it.”
    I looked from the photo to her and said, “Something good came out of something bad.”
    A tear filled her eye. She wiped it away, a bigger smile now spreading across her face. “Yeah, something did … after all.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

    My mother’s needs always came first, with mine getting pushed to the end of the line. Not only that, but she used me to help satisfy those needs, placing me in danger and going places other parents would never tread. I don’t know if she understood the damage she caused or the demons she left with me: The demon of, You are Worthless . The demon of, You’re a Sad Excuse for a Human. The demon of, Nobody Loves You.
    I fight those demons every day.

    I was eight years old. My mother decided she needed a radio for the kitchen, and as was often the case,