Killman Creek (Stillhouse Lake #2)(65)

The question hangs in the air for a long few seconds, and then Kezia says, “I don’t want to. It does seem really damn convenient that this video was out there and somehow nobody got it to the cops before her trial. Why’d they hold it back?”

“People do,” Prester say. “Answer’s always the same. Money or power. Somebody was hoping for a payday, if it’s genuine. If it isn’t, it’s about power. And that all depends on who benefits.”

I think about that. What did that mean? Who could possibly benefit from something that horrible? What good did it do?

I don’t work it out until Javier says, “Having this hanging out there puts Gwen on the defensive. It makes people look for her, and she has to stop looking for her ex to watch her own back.”

Dad. It benefits Dad. My head hurts. It doesn’t make sense, but it does, too. I just can’t believe anyone would do something like that deliberately.

“Benefits Absalom, too,” Kezia says. “Right?”

“It does, since she must be on their trail, too,” Prester agrees. “Not saying it can’t be real, but like you said, Kez. Seems too easy. And you have to ask yourself: Who the hell was creeping around in the bushes filming this in the first place? Seeing them carrying an unconscious girl in, and not calling the police? If that landed on my desk, I’d have to first ask where it came from, and why.”

I’m starting to feel a little sick now. He’s making it sound like some story out of a movie. But it isn’t. Not at all. He’s making it sound like she’s innocent.

She can’t be. Because I made her go away.

“I already walked Connor through how he found it,” Kezia says. “I can show you. Apparently, he’s been on a message board that talks about his dad’s crimes. There was a link. It’s been taken down now, but that’s where he got the video.”

“You really buy her story about it being faked?” Javier says. “It looks so real.”

“You gone to the movies lately? People with PCs and a decent skill set can make impossible things look damn real nowadays. It takes forensic analysis to work out what’s real and what isn’t. I think this hit everybody in an emotional place, not a logical one.”

“So you don’t believe it,” Kezia says.

“I’m saying that I’ll keep an open mind until the tech geeks tell me different, one way or the other.” Prester drinks some more coffee and cuts his gaze toward me and Connor. “You sure this is the best place for these kids?”

“No,” Javier says. “But I’m sure it’s better than being dragged out there on some road trip looking for trouble. If Gwen finds it, last thing any of us wants is them in the cross fire.”

Prester nods in agreement. “Appreciate you bringing me in on this. I’ll keep it quiet.” He turns to Kezia. “Far as I’m concerned, you can be out in the field most of the time. If the field means you’re here looking out for them, that’s all good, too. We get something to investigate, I’ll call you. Otherwise, you stay close. I don’t want anybody else coming after them. Might look bad on my record.”

He takes his cup to the sink and rinses it, and then he shakes hands with Javier and Kezia before he goes. He never talks directly to us.

When the door closes behind the detective, Kezia and Javier look at each other for a few long seconds, and then Kezia comes to sit down in the armchair, across from the two of us. “You guys okay?” she asks.

I want to laugh. Seriously. We are not okay. How could we be okay? I’m shaking all over.

“I’m fine,” I say. She doesn’t know me well enough to know that when I tuck my chin in and let my hair droop over my face, I’m lying. “What do you want us to say? She let us down. She let us all down. She ought to be in jail with Dad.”

Kezia doesn’t like doing this. She, like Javier, is good at protecting people, but not so much at comforting. But she tries. “I thought maybe you can tell me how you’re feeling about everything.”

I roll my eyes. “Mad. Pissed off. Disappointed. What else do you want me to say? It’s done already! She’s gone!”

Even I can hear how my voice gets raw at the end of that, and I shut up, fold my arms over my chest, and slump back in the couch. My entire body screams, Don’t talk to me, and Kezia accepts that. “Okay. Connor?”

“She shouldn’t have lied to us about what she did with Dad,” he says.

“I know that, but are you sad? Or are you mad?”

She’s trying too hard, and I think she probably is as pissed at Mom as we are. We’re not a favor she and Javier are doing gladly anymore. We’re a responsibility. I’ll bet they’re both thinking the same thing: How did we get into this? And how do we get out of it?

I’ll bet we’re all thinking it, but me and Connor, we’re not going to say it. We’re our mother’s children. We don’t want to talk about our feelings. When Mom dragged us to our counseling sessions after she got out of jail, I think I broke a record for the number of hours without talking in talk therapy.

If I want to blab about it, if, I don’t want to do it here. And not with Connor listening. I have to be strong for him.

Connor’s shrugged in response to Kezia’s question, and she gives us a sad little smile like she knows. She doesn’t. “Okay, but you know you can come to either one of us, right? Anytime. About anything. This is a hard day, and we want to be here for you.”