Proof, by Ann-Louise Truschel

“I didn’t do him, Sheriff. Jody were my friend,” said Jake, a chaw in his cheek. Somebody planted his pocket watch in my room.”

“I put it there, Jake.”

Jake spat. "What!?”

“When you and Jody robbed and killed old Mrs. Jenkins last year, you murdered the woman who raised an orphan kid nobody wanted. Me.”

“Nobody seen us."

“But you left something behind, Jake.”

“What’s that?”

“Your spit. I knew it was you, but I couldn’t prove it.”

“So you fingered me for killin’ Jody instead."

“That’s right.”

"But who killed Jody?"

“I did, Jake. See you in hell.”