It's One of Us(107)

“Oh, for God’s sake, stop being such a Pollyanna. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Technically, criminally, yes, you did. Morally? You absolutely did.”

Park deflates. “Well, the moral high road has never been my battleground, so you might as well go ahead and turn me in now, brother.”

“And the flowers? On Melanie’s grave? Explain that to me.”

“Flowers? I don’t know anything about that,” Park says with a sigh.

“Really? A florist in Chapel Hill gets an envelope of cash every year, with instructions to put a bouquet of lilies on Melanie Rich’s grave. There are regular withdrawals from your bank account in the same sum every year on the same date.”

“Coincidence.”

“The florist kept the envelopes, you know. The police have them. They’re doing a DNA analysis on the adhesive. Will it match you, I wonder?”

Park shakes his head, though Olivia is shocked by how he pales.

“No. I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill Melanie. I swear it. And I have no idea who is sending her flowers.”

“After what you’ve just admitted to, how am I supposed to believe you?” Perry puts an arm around Olivia, pulls her close to his body. “How are we supposed to believe you?”

“Honestly? Believe me, or don’t. I’ve made my peace with all of this.”

A slow clapping sounds from the corner of the room. The doors to the deck are open to let in the sultry breeze, and a young man emerges from the boardwalk, a gun in his hand.

“Hi, Dad,” Peyton Flynn says. “Good to know I got it honestly.”



47


THE HUSBAND

When a lion circles its prey, it seems almost playful. A big, silly cat, toying with a mouse. A mouse it will later rip apart.

Peyton Flynn might look like roadkill, but he is the hunter. He has the three of them at a major disadvantage, and he knows it.

Park stands.

“Peyton. You’re Peyton, right?”

“Very good. The resemblance is clear, isn’t it?” He’s being ironic; the bandage covers half his face. No one can get a good look at him, but he’s smiling, and Park can’t think straight. This is my son. My son has a gun pointed at me. Don’t shoot, son.

“Hi, Liv.” The gun stays trained on Park, which is good. He can’t let Peyton hurt Olivia.

“My name is Olivia,” she says, voice shaking.

“Never, darling. You’ll always be Liv to me. That’s what he calls you. It suits you. Olivia is such a proper name. And you aren’t a proper kind of woman. Not formal, I mean. You aren’t formal.”

“What do you want?” Park asks. He can sense Perry shifting next to him; he played enough ball with his brother over the years to recognize the muscles tensing. If there was ever a moment for their childhood ability to speak without speaking to one another like they did during games, now is the time.

“Olivia. I hate that we have to get to know each other like this. I’ve been trying to do all the right things for you. I saved you after the accident. I sent flowers. Lilies.”

“I hate lilies,” she says, and Peyton frowns.

“Hmm. That’s odd. I’d think you’d love them.”

Park realizes Peyton has a notebook in his other hand. One of his, from his office.

“Why do you have my notebook, Peyton? Why did you steal things from us? That’s not the right way to get to know people, especially ones you want to be friends with.”

He puts dead eyes on Park. “I’m not five. Stop talking to me like I’m a kid. If you didn’t want me to take things, you should have hidden them better.”

He is talking to Olivia again, and it’s Olivia who pales, Olivia who frowns.

“I know you so well, Liv. I know all the things about you. How sad you were when Perry left. You’re Uncle Perry, right?”

Perry nods slowly. “I am. Please, Peyton, put down the gun, and let’s talk things out man-to-man. Let Olivia go, and your father and I will tell you anything you want to know.”

“Oh, I think it’s too late for that.” He scratches at the bandage with his gun hand, and Park starts to edge to his right.

“Don’t move,” Peyton says absently, the gun trained on Park again.

“Did you tell him everything, Liv? Have you told Dad the whole truth?”

“Park knows everything about me,” she says. “So does Perry.”

She’s being too damn brave. Park wants to tell her to be cowed, to be vulnerable. But that’s not who Olivia is. She is strong. She is a warrior woman. She’s been through hell and stepped out the other side unburned. She will not back down to a bully. Even if the bully is deranged and pointing a gun at her.

“Do they know about the baby? Tsk, tsk. If you hadn’t murdered your baby, maybe you’d have another right now.”

Park sees Perry swallow convulsively. “Peyton, you’re being cruel. If you love Olivia at all, why would you be cruel?”

“Oh, you haven’t told Dad about the abortion? Terrible. You really should have. ‘God’s punishing me.’ That’s what you say. ‘God is punishing me for killing my baby. For killing Perry’s baby.’”

“That’s enough,” Park says, though his eyes have narrowed, and his fists are clenched so tightly his knuckles are turning white. “What do you want?”