Page 17 of Carter
“Just me.”
“Yes, just you,” I say. “That’s what makes this difficult, but difficult doesn’t scare me, Carter. Never has, never will. You’re the only listed witness on this case, other than the businesses that handed over surveillance video.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I know this is difficult for you. I want to make this as easy as I can. I don’t want to bring up old wounds for nothing; I hope you know that. Truly, I just want to give you and Ryan some closure.”
He flinches at the mention of Ryan’s name, sniffles, then wipes his eyes.
Carter shifts in his seat, sitting up straighter and finally reaching for his donut. He pulls it from the bag and takes a big bite.
Maybe it wasn’t a punishment. Maybe it was restraint because he knew he’d need it for a moment like this. When words are too hard.
“Tell me about him,” I say.
Carter’s eyes go wide, and he swallows, then reaches for his drink.
“About Ryan?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because all I know about him is how he died. I’d like to know more.”
Carter grits his teeth and looks away, his eyes glossing over. Sighing, he puts the donut on the bag and sucks on the tips of his fingers to get the glaze off.
“Ryan was amazing,” he says. “The kindest, most generous person I ever met. There aren’t many people like him out there. I am so lucky to have had him in my life, even if it wasn’t for very long.”
“How long?”
“Two years.” He laughs bitterly. “Felt like an eternity—the best eternity. Yet not nearly long enough.”
I nod, understanding what he means. That’s how I feel about my mother. I didn’t have enough time with her.
“Ryan was so smart. He loved reading. No matter what it was, he’d read it. And he took that information everywhere he went. He was the person who was full of useless information, but it was always so easy to start a conversation with a stranger. And he loved talking. Always talking. Always making friends. Alwayshelping people.” His voice cracks. He clears his throat. “That’s what got him killed.”
“What got him killed was not his kindness. It was a man who deserves to be in prison.”
He blinks again, looking away and grabbing his donut again. Only this time, he’s looking at it like it’s crawling with bugs. He drops it again.
“I’m sorry, this is just really hard.”
“I know it is.”
His gaze flicks up to me. “You said you lost someone?”
“My mother.”
“Recently?”
“No.”
“Does it ever get easier?”
The word tastes like ash in my mouth.
“No.”
