The You I've Never Known(90)



But her brother claims she was not on the medication the autopsy revealed, and that at the time of her death she was living happily with a man and his little girl, both of whom disappeared on the day she died, along with her deceased husband’s car. It was later discovered abandoned.

“No. He wouldn’t.” But now

bits and pieces of his story surface: . . . tetched in the head.

. . . tried to off herself.

. . . why I decided it was time to leave.

“He needed a way to protect me.”

That part slips out audibly.

I can’t speak to motive, Casey, and maybe he didn’t go that far.

There’s no way to prove it at this point. But it’s a very real possibility. Leona’s brother is convinced that it’s true.





It Can’t Be True


Can it?

I know my dad.

Really?

He’s not a killer.

Is he?

He’s a liar.

Totally.

A gaslighter.

Definitely.

A narcissist.

Exceptionally.

A sociopath?

Probably.

But a murderer?

Please

don’t

let

him

be.





My World


Just tipped, tilted

so hard on its axis

every rule of nature

has just been called

into question.

“I . . . uh . . .” I take a gulp of water.

“He left, you know.”

I suspected he would.

“Said he was afraid

you’d call the cops.

Did you call them?”

I wasn’t going to. My main goal has always been to reconnect with you. If you only knew . . . She fights the lump that has formed in her throat. When I finally found you, revenge wasn’t so important. I might’ve let it go. But when I learned about Leona, I had to alert the police.

“But why? Like you said, after all this time, it would be hard to prove.”

Some things you can close your eyes to. Others demand serious consequences, or the perpetrator is likely to repeat them. I’ve been in the news business for a while and I can tell you that from what I’ve seen, very few killers and rapists act only once.

Besides, on the most intrinsic level, Leona deserves justice.

Justice.

Right.

“Don’t you think

you deserve justice?”

She sighs heavily. Casey, I wanted justice for years.

Wanted to see Jason locked up for what he did to you and me for as long as the law would allow. That hunger for payback has dissipated.

But I really wouldn’t want him to hurt anyone else.

It’s my moral duty to do what I can to see that doesn’t happen.





As Pissed As I Am


At Dad, it’s hard to reconcile this information with how I’ve always pictured him. But I only saw what I wanted to, or what he let me see. And if I came too close, he knew exactly how to manipulate me,

pull the blinders down over my eyes. I hate that I’ve been so naive. I despise what he’s done.

To her, yes.

But mostly to me.

I can’t blame Maya for

notifying the authorities.

“Did Monica tell you what

he did the night he left?”

You mean running you off the road? Yes, and truthfully, it’s also one reason I chose to report him. I was afraid if I didn’t he might come back and hurt you worse than he did.

The implication is clear:

finish me off.

As much as I want to say that’s impossible, I really can’t. Last Saturday night pops into view like a video.

Dad rode my bumper.

Passed. Too close. Swerved in front of me. I can see

his profile clearly. I thought then that he didn’t look at me, but when I jerked my car

sideways, barely missing

him, his head turned toward me and for one instant

before my head hit

the steering wheel,

I caught his expression.

Satisfied.

He smiled satisfaction.

“Do you think they’ll catch him? What happens if they do?”

I don’t know. At the very least he’d face a court-martial.

I don’t believe there’s a statute of limitations on desertion.

But Jason seems to be an expert on lying low. And without you in tow, he’ll be damn hard to catch.





God, I Want to Be Angry


With her.

Not him.

But why?

I think it’s me

who’s crazy.

Obviously my brain needs rewiring.

Or, at the very least, reprogramming.

Are you okay?

Her hand sneaks

across the table, meets mine, and

I don’t pull away.

It’s the first time I’ve touched my mom in fifteen years.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Except tears

stream down

my face, and not

because of Dad.

I lift my eyes

level with hers.

They’re the color of mine and shiny with tears, too.

“So, what now?”

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