“You know, I don’t go sticking my nose in anyone’s manure, but if you’re asking if it feels like a square peg is being forced in a round hole, well…”

“So wait...you don’t think he did it?” That surprise had James reeling. He’d felt so alone in his conviction that Travis was innocent and to find an unlikely ally in his father both shocked him and sparked an ember of hope. Could that hope be fanned into a full-fledged relationship with his father?

“I didn’t say that,” his dad was quick to say. “I said I don’t get involved in stuff like this. I will tell you this however: there’s a seed of truth in every lie. What that seed is, what becomes of it—the lie, the official story—that’s all up to the guy pulling the plow.” He slipped his glasses on his nose and stared out the windshield.

Had his dad tried to fathom the same things James did? That Travis, who had never even contemplated hurting a fly, that in a fit of anger, he’d intentionally let others die? His dad had watched Travis grow up, too. James’s thoughts sobered.

The conversation was over, but not James’s quest. If the cynical and opinionated Glen Moore thought Travis was innocent, then James was going to find out why Travis would willingly take the fall. Why would he do that, Lord? There was no ready or reasonable explanation...unless it was his mother. James could see Travis protecting his mother in such a way.

But then, he could neither see Mrs. Wexler starting the fire or getting away in the time it took for the fire department to arrive. Besides, did Mrs. Wexler still smoke?

Oh, c’mon, James. Mrs. Wexler did not do it.

Who else would Travis protect? The questions screamed through the halls of James’s mind. And with each new question came a new frustration.

But he would get to the bottom of it. He wouldn’t give up until he did.

Do you ever plan on finishing anything?

James snapped his attention to his father sitting beside him in the truck. The echo of the man’s words had been so loud that for a moment, James had thought the man had spoken them again.

His father merely glanced at him and then turned to gaze out the passenger window.

“I’m gonna finish this.”

“Huh?” His father turned back to him.

“Nothing, Dad. It’s nothing.”

~*~

James’s frustration had not dissipated much by the time Travis walked into the visiting room at the Bishop Psychiatric Facility. The guard—or orderly, or whatever they were called—closed the door to the stark room.

Travis gave James a curious smile and started to sit at the table.

James did not return the greeting. He was done tiptoeing around the issues. He was determined to get satisfactory answers whether Travis wanted to give them, or not.

“You didn’t do it, did you Travis?” The words came out a little harsher than James had intended, but maybe that was a good thing. Direct confrontation had always made Travis nervous.