It's One of Us(75)
Yes, he is cooperating with the police.
Yes, he is now aware that he has twenty-eight biological children.
No, he didn’t know about these children.
Yes, of course he wants to meet them. It will be the greatest joy of his life.
He doesn’t look at Olivia when he says this, knowing it must be a stake to her heart. Her free fist clenches in her lap.
Finding Beverly’s killer is paramount, and all he’s currently focused on.
Please, if you’re seeing this, as your father—though I know I don’t deserve that title—please come forward. We will figure this out.
And when Pearl brings up Melanie Rich, he answers the way he wished he had all those years ago.
A tragedy. An absolute tragedy. My heart goes out to her family. No one should lose a child.
The reporter is eating it up. This is gold. He knows it, she knows it. Scoop, with a capital S.
And then it all goes sideways.
“I think we all feel your pain and understand. I so appreciate your honesty. Just one more thing before we wrap up. Is it true you were on the scene of another death, in Florida? A teenage girl drowned during your college spring break, isn’t that right?”
Olivia tenses beside him, pulls her hand away in reflex. Unprepared, Park, heart pounding, sputters. “How did you find out about that?”
He hears how badly it sounds as he says it, and Pearl, smelling meat on the grill, doesn’t let up.
“And according to police records, when you were ten, a neighborhood girl went missing. Annie Cottrell. Her parents told St. Louis police they’d seen her playing with you and your brother an hour earlier. She was never found, isn’t that right?”
Lucía strides into the den, stepping in front of the camera. “We’re done here. You’ve gone outside the scope of this interview. Thank you for your time, Erica. Because you didn’t follow the rules of our agreement, we rescind our permission to have this shown on the news.”
Erica doesn’t look incensed, only prettily confused. “Lucía, we’ve been live this whole time on the app. I told you we would be.”
Park feels the blood drain from his face. “We’re live?”
Erica Pearl’s smile is nearly Cheshire. “Of course. Still rolling,” she adds sweetly.
Olivia steps in. She is steel, and she is Valkyrie furious; Park can’t remember seeing her this angry since they were teenagers. “Then we need to discuss one more thing. A stranger has been breaking into our house. We have footage from our security cameras. A white male, wearing a dark hoodie. He has a key to our home and knows our security codes. Personal items are missing. We have been violated by these intrusions, we have been shocked by the news this week, and we will not stand idly by and have any sort of accusations, oblique or otherwise, cast our way. For you to pretend to be taping an interview yet broadcast it is not only disingenuous, you’re taking advantage of a horrible moment for our family, for our friends, and for the women of Nashville, who are all terrified right now that they might be next. I hope you’re satisfied. Now cut your camera. We’re done.”
A bell cannot be unrung.
Cameras off at last, Lucía and Erica go at it hammer and tongs, but the interview is already out there. They are screwed. Park is screwed.
It doesn’t matter if he isn’t involved in the murders or disappearances. It doesn’t matter that Olivia dealt Erica Pearl a deathblow live. Public opinion has already judged him. Their phones have been ringing off the hook, and when he hears Erica Pearl say the word Dateline, he retreats to his trashed office, nauseated.
What has he done?
His office is a perfect replica of his brain at this moment—a convoluted mess.
Olivia ruined as much as she could find.
He retrieves the pieces of the laptop and sets them gingerly on the desk.
Replaces the slit cushion where he hid the demise of his life.
Pulls the bottle of Scotch from the side table drawer and pours a healthy slug into a glass. Shoves the rest of the mess around with his foot so he can sit without crunching anything else.
Brandon Cross. His tiny son. It won’t matter to Olivia that he only met the boy once. He hadn’t lied when he told Olivia that Fiona Cross wasn’t looking for a father for her child, but an easy paycheck.
He could have given her some money, but he knew where that train was headed, and balked. He talked to Lindsey about a “theoretical situation for a novel” in which the scenario played out, and she said it was “a disaster in the making. The perfect fodder for a plot. Can you imagine how messy that would be? You could have the guy swoop in and rescue the kid, or you could have him blackmailed into submission. Legally, though, as a donor, the guy is protected by the agreement he signed with the company. If he declined support or contact, the mother is breaking the contract she agreed to, and he would not be culpable.”
He’s always known this could happen. And like a damn fool, he hasn’t told Olivia about the possibility. Even after the Fiona Cross catastrophe, when it was an awkward but manageable situation, he hid this from her. Was he afraid to lose her? Yes. Or was he trying to push her away? Avoidance? Guilt? Shame?
His darling Olivia, who—understandably—has now put up an impenetrable wall between them. Just when he needs her the most, she is slipping away.
It was Perry the sainted white knight who had taken Olivia upstairs after the interview fell apart, practically carried her, and seeing them together cuts Park’s soul. It always has. Knowing they slept together, carried on their little revenge affair—it was an affair, Olivia was his girlfriend, damn it—until Perry left for school and Olivia spent the next few months grieving, not speaking to anyone, about killed him. He’d been overjoyed when their brief fling was over. Yes, he’d dated other girls, yes, he’d pretended not to care, but inside, he seethed with resentment. He stopped speaking to Perry—his twin, his closest friend—and bided his time until he made contact with Olivia again, hoping she would come around, and sure enough, she had. Maybe she felt sorry for him in the aftermath of Melanie’s death, maybe she missed him, maybe she even loved him like he loved her, completely and forever, but their lives had started over that day, and he had no regrets, none at all.