Page 13 of The Innocent

“You get to spend your money the way you want.” He winked. “And I get to spend mine the way I see fit. It would be a damn shame for any other woman to get your perfect hat.”

Was this happening? Who gave a stranger an expensive gift?

“My card is in the bag. We have an online store, and we do giveaways and sales all the time, if you ever want to check it out. And when you’re ready to come in and shop, we look forward to seeing you.” Elodie angled her head. “I usually end that spiel with a name, but I don’t know yours.”

She chuckled, gripping the bag. “Um, Imogene.”

Elodie’s eyes softened. “Beautiful name. It suits you.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. Two compliments in one day. This was a record.

“I should get going. But I will be back.” She turned to Sal. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Imogene.” Sal winked. “That’s a name I’m going to remember.”

She waved, walked out of the door, and headed toward the lot, clutching her bag with her brand new hat. Sometimes life handed people small moments as a reminder that as bad as life seems at the time, good things are around the corner.

Thanks, Sal.

*

Imogene wiggled the key into the lock of her extended stay motel room. It was on the outskirts of the city and the cheapest she could find on her budget. It wouldn’t have been her first choice, but those were limited. They had been for a long time. The place was so dated, they hadn’t even upgraded to keypads and cards. She nudged her shoulder into the door and gave one hard push. It always stuck.

She widened the door and flicked on the light. Home sweet…ughhhh! No one’s home should smell like hers. A combination of mildew, stale cigarettes, and vinegar. She’d been living there for three and a half months, lit candles and incense on a daily basis, and bleached the room floor to ceiling. Twice! And still…it stunk.

Imogene kicked the door closed, dropping her pocketbook on the small table and taking off her jacket. She hung it on the hook near the door. It was always a balancing act. It had been knocked out too many times to count when the neighboring room held a rowdy party. That happened often.

She walked across the room to the corner near the bathroom. She glanced down and sighed. While she was grateful for a roof over her head, she would’ve preferred one that didn’t leak. The drops falling into the bucket had become an everyday occurrence. She’d become immune to the constant dripping except during heavy rainfall.

It could be worse.

Couldn’t it?

She sat on the bed, glancing around the room. She’d put some personal touches to make it feel more homey. Well, I tried. She had her work cut out for her in a place that should’ve probably been condemned ten years ago. After relocating, Imogene thought for sure she’d be able to find something decent on her income.

Define decent.

It may have been a more livable space if she didn’t have a corner of the room dedicated to the boxes of files piled high and three rows deep in the small room. She’d put her furniture and most of her things in storage until she could find a permanent place to live. But she’d opted to keep the files with her.

She pushed up from the bed and made her way to the boxes, sliding her hand over the top. Everything about her father’s case. She couldn’t fault Erik for scoffing at the fact she’d kept the files after his death. What was the point, right? Even if she found the smoking gun to prove his innocence, it wouldn’t change anything. Her dad would still be gone. It wasn’t the first time that rational thought had run through her mind. In fact, it was all she’d thought about in the last month. She could easily drop them off at the dump and wipe her hands clean of it. But…I can’t let it go.

Imogene lifted the lid of the box and gasped when she saw the paperwork on top. This was not part of her father’s case. She immediately closed it and looked around the room.

Hello…you’re alone!

Imogene would’ve made the worst criminal. She was far too nervous and guileless to break the law. She was a horrible liar and hadn’t a clue how to hide her guilt. Theft, breach of confidentiality, fraud. Charges like those could land her in prison for years, paying restitution for decades and a criminal record for the rest of her life. Imogene would never.

Except this one time.

She squeezed her eyes shut as the blood raced through her veins, and her skin prickled.

I can’t believe I did it.

Against her better judgement and completely out of character, Imogene had done something illegal. An act that could’ve had dire consequences if she’d been caught. She lifted the top off the box, and picked up the papers, scanning the first sheet. A photocopy of an inmate’s paperwork. Only those who worked in the prison were privy to this information. She’d had access to the file room but not authorization to see those contents. Volunteers were not granted clearance to view personal information.

In other words, she’d stolen the file. Why? Even she didn’t have an answer. Or at least not a good one. Imogene had no intention of using it for nefarious purposes. She’d just wanted to know more about Zane. Obviously, she knew this was not the way to do it. However, in a brief moment of weakness, she just hadn’t cared.

Her eyes skimmed over the long list of previous arrests. They dated back almost two decades. This term hadn’t been his first time in prison. But it had been his longest sentence.