The Match (Wilde, #2)(50)

“You don’t think those feelings are real?”

“Do you have them, Wilde? Talk about displacement, anger, confusion. You were abandoned in the worst way as a child.”

“We aren’t talking about me.”

“Aren’t we? Look, I don’t know if Peter’s feelings were real or not. I don’t know if he looked back after the fact and felt displacement—he always seemed pretty well-adjusted—or if he somehow on some kind of cellular DNA level always knew that something was off. It doesn’t matter. It hit Peter hard, all the years of lies and deceit. So he put his name in a bunch of DNA sites. He wanted to find out the truth about his birth family.”

“Do you know what he learned?”

“No. He never told me.”

“Did Peter tell Kelly he knew?”

“No.”

“Or Silas?”

“No.”

“Wait. How old was Silas when your parents adopted Peter?”

“Not yet three.”

“So…” Wilde wasn’t sure where he was going with this. “Did Silas know Peter was adopted?”

Vicky shook her head slowly. “We never told him.”

“When you say ‘never’—”

“Still. To this day. It was Peter’s secret to tell. He made me promise not to tell anyone.”

“Not even his own brother?”

“Their relationship is complicated. Do you have any siblings? Wait, sorry, dumb thing to say, I’m sorry. Silas was two grades ahead of Peter, but Silas was still in his shadow. Peter was more popular, the better athlete, all that. Silas was jealous and maybe even bitter, and then what with the show and all that fame Peter got? That made it worse.”

Wilde thought about that, but nothing came to mind. He switched tracks. “Does the name Henry McAndrews mean anything to you?”

“No.” Vicky tilted her head. “Is that Peter’s biological father?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Then who is he?”

“DogLufegnev.”

Her eyes widened. “You located that maniac? How?”

“That’s not important.”

“Can he be arrested? I mean, I know the laws on cyberstalking and bullying aren’t strict enough, but if there’s evidence he targeted—”

“Henry McAndrews is dead. He was murdered.”

Vicky’s hand fluttered to her mouth. “Oh my God.”

“The police will be on this now.”

“On what?”

He gave it a second. She saw it. “Wait. Are you saying that Peter might be a suspect?”

Wilde said nothing.

“Of course, he would be,” Vicky said, answering her own question. “But he didn’t do it. You have to know that.”

Wilde was thinking of all the things Peter Bennett was dealing with when he vanished. The huge rise to stardom, the discovery that he was adopted, the harsh revelations from his sister-in-law on that podcast, the merciless cancellation in the #metoo era, the destruction of his marriage, his fame, his career, his life really. How untethered Wilde’s cousin must have felt. How desperate, so desperate that he reached out as PB to WW, and WW didn’t even care enough to respond.

“What did your parents do for a living?”

“Dad was a custodial manager. After we moved, he worked at Penn State managing the Pollock Housing Area. Mom worked part-time in the admissions department.”

Wilde made a mental note of that. He would get Rola to look into their time at Penn State, but what would he hope to find? The bigger clue might be in tracing down Peter Bennett’s birth certificate and papers. Even if the adoption was private, there should be some records of his birth parents.

Except the Bennetts chose to move.

Suddenly. Without any kind of warning. They leave their children with a sitter, the father comes home, he drags them to some remote spot where no one knows them, they now have a new baby boy.

Something was way off.

“You said your dad is dead and your mom is, I think your words were ‘in and out.’”

“Dementia. Probably Alzheimer’s.”

“I think it may be worth talking to her.”

Vicky shook her head. “What good would that do, Wilde?”

“We want answers.”

“You want answers. I get that. But whatever happened all those years ago, however my family ended up with Peter, I mean, what good will it do to dredge that all up now? She’s an old woman. Fragile. In a bad mental state. She would get so agitated whenever I asked about Peter’s birth that I stopped.”

Wilde saw no point in pushing this right now. Rola would be able to find out where the mother was staying. They could decide what to do then.

“Wilde?”

He looked at her.

“I don’t know how to say this, but for me and my family, I think this is over.”

“How do you mean?”

“You said Peter is a suspect in this McAndrews murder.”

“He will be, I think, yes.”

“So think about it. Peter has been destroyed in so many ways. He lost everything. Let’s say what we both think is possible. Let’s say he found this McAndrews and somehow ended up involved in the man’s death. Accident. Self-defense. Or even, though I can’t believe it, murder. That would be the last straw for any man, wouldn’t it? That would be when a man would run away and find a cliff or waterfall and…”