“I know them, Rayna and Hudson Moore, right?” Lacey asked, glancing up from the picture.
“Yeah.” My eyebrows worked their way together. “How do you know them?”
“I think they went to Harvest House when they were young, way before I got there,” she said, tapping her nail on the picture where he stood. “But this Hudson guy came back a few times a month to volunteer on the boys’ side.”
“He did?”
Lacey nodded. “Yeah. We weren’t close or anything, but I knew of him.” She shook her head. “This is so weird. I was just going through some footage of an old basketball tournament. I’m making a video to send to our top donors to encourage them to send their year-end support before the tax year is over. I think he was in one of the videos. He looks really familiar. Damn. What a small world.”
“That’s quite the coincidence,” I said, adding the fact to my notes. Showing that he was an asset to the community would speak to his character if I could wiggle it into my presentation somehow. “Do you think I could get a copy of the footage?”
“Sure. Come by the center tomorrow, and I’ll have a copy ready for you.”
“Thanks, Lacey.”
“Of course.” She handed the picture back over. “He’s a good kid. What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I put the picture back under the paper clip. “He was on his way home from—” I stopped, feeling my eyes go wide. I whipped around in my seat so that I was facing Lacey. “He was on his way home from a basketball game! Where—I mean, when was this tournament? Do you remember the date?”
Lacey blinked a few times, startled by my reaction. “Umm, it was the summer time. I remember that. Three—no, four—years ago. It would have been August—”
“August 19th?”
She searched my eyes. “I don’t know. I can’t remember the actual date. It could have been.”
I dragged in a deep breath. It all fit. “Hudson was on his way home from a basketball game.” I paused and licked my lips. “I don’t know if you know, but Hudson is on the high-functioning end of the autism spectrum. He’s independent and is able to live on his own, but he has episodes where he gets agitated and has trouble getting himself under control.” A familiar stab at my chest tore away my words. I hated the idea of him in prison, knowing that he was likely targeted and made fun of because of his condition. Tears pricked at my eyes, and I blinked them away, trying to banish the worst-case scenario images that tended to take root if I allowed myself to think about it for too long. “Anyway, around that same time, there was a robbery in the area.”
“Of the 7-11 down the street?”
“No, outside, down the alley. A man was attacked and robbed by some guy with a knife, and they took his wallet and watch. After that, he was beat up pretty badly. When the police started canvassing the area, they picked up Hudson, based on his demeanor, basically.”
“And that was enough to get him arrested?”
“No. But when they slipped Hudson into a visual line up, the victim ID’d him. I don’t know why, but that was enough to pick Hudson up and after several hours of interrogation, then he broke down and confessed, so they arrested him. I know it had to have been a dirty cop, just pushing him to confess. Hudson wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Damn,” Lacey said, her eyes squeezed shut.
“He’s a good kid. Like I said, it was the wrong place at the wrong time. He didn’t do this. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.”
“Stories like this just make my blood boil.”
I nodded. “Mine too, but it’s especially painful when he’s been in my life since I was young. His sister, Rayna, is one of my oldest friends. We’ve known each other since first grade.”
Lacey placed a hand over mine as I clutched the folder filled with my notes and research. “Well, I’m glad they have someone like you on their side.”
“Me too. Especially since their parents are broke now trying to get him out,” I added, shaking my head. “They even had to sell their house. It’s totally fucked up.”
“Oh no, that’s too bad.”
“Right? As soon as Hudson went to prison, they put everything they had into getting him out. I think he needs some real defense. Not saying I’m the best, hell, I don’t even have my license yet, but I’m gonna put everything I have into getting him out.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, well, if you have a video that would totally help. I can’t believe they didn’t talk to the center.”
“I remember the story and the police being there, and I know they talked to the boys’ old director, Ed Grant, but he’s passed away now. But we’ll get you the video. Maybe there’ll be something in it that can help. And if there is anything else Harvest House can do, let me know, and I’ll see to it personally.”