Secrets in Death (In Death #45)(60)

“Yeah. He had whiskey. I got his whiskey and the pills I bought, and I took them all with all the whiskey I could drink. Just end it, that’s what I wanted to do. Just make it stop.”

He closed his eyes, breathed out.

“Thirteen years old, and I just wanted to make it all stop. But I wasn’t very smart about it, and took too much at once, sicked it all up again.”

Pausing, he pressed his fingers to his eyes, dropped them. “My parents heard me, realized what I’d tried to do. They got me to the clinic. I can still see my mother’s face, still hear her praying. They made me go to therapy. I didn’t want to at first, and I fought it, but they made me.”

“They had your back, Wyl,” O’Keefe soothed. “They always had your back.”

“Yeah, they did, and it pissed me off back then. But … Dr. Preston. I guess he saved my life, and making me go to him saved my life. He never told them about Big Rod because when I finally got close to breaking down enough to tell him, I made him promise. He said he couldn’t and wouldn’t break my confidence.”

Wylee cleared his throat. “I started to get better. After I said it all, after Dr. Preston listened, after we talked, week after week, I started to get better.

“I don’t know how she—how Mars found out because Dr. Preston wouldn’t have told her. I went to him after she hit on me, and he told me to go to the police.”

“Good advice,” Eve commented.

“Yeah, I knew it, in my head I knew he was right, but I couldn’t do it, just couldn’t. I don’t know how she knew, but she knew enough. She put enough together, even insinuated she could make people think I’d killed Big Rod. End my career, shame my family, destroy the work we’re doing with the foundation. Unless I paid her to keep my secret.”

“How much?”

“It wasn’t consistent, and not that much really. Six or eight thousand a month. Like a business expense. I put it out of my mind.”

“In cash.”

“Always,” he concurred. “She wanted me to deliver it whenever I was in town, but I wouldn’t. Take the money, or don’t—at least I had the balls for that. I’d have it messengered, or Brian would.”

Eve’s attention shifted to O’Keefe. “You knew about the arrangement, and the reason for it?”

“Yeah. Wylee told me about Big Rod when we were teenagers. After Big Rod was dead, after Wylee got better. He finally told me.”

“He never abused you?”

“I wasn’t his type. Not an athletic bone in my body. Skinny, scrawny, brainy. I used to envy all the kids he’d take under his wing. Until I realized I was lucky he barely noticed me. I hated that she used what happened to Wylee for money, but it wasn’t worth killing her. Because you’re wrong,” he said to Wylee. “You’ve always been wrong—and it’s something Dr. Preston couldn’t get you to believe. If it had come out then, since, now? Nobody would be ashamed of you. Nobody would blame you. And a lot of people would do what I do.”

Emotion shook O’Keefe’s voice as he gripped Wylee’s shoulder. “They’d spit on that goddamn plaque with his name on it in the youth center. And that bitch would go into a cell where she belongs. Or belonged. I’m not sorry she’s dead, either, but I’d rather think of her living in a cage. That’s just me.”

“You’re a good friend,” Peabody added.

“I’m going to verify your alibies.” Eve rose. “Do either of you have a vehicle, one you keep here?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a truck I keep garaged. Brian’s got an all-terrain.”

“Let’s go with the truck. Give Detective Peabody the description—make, color, year. We’ll verify the alibis, checking if a vehicle with that general description was involved in an incident in Manhattan during that time frame.”

“Thank you. Thank you for that.” He gave Peabody the information on the truck, held out his hand to Eve. “I guess I should say I hope you find who killed her, but I don’t think I’m going to be sorry if you don’t.”

“You should listen to your friend. She didn’t deserve to die. She deserved to sit in a cell. Humiliated and locked up. You’re entitled to your privacy,” she told Wylee. “A twelve-and thirteen-year-old’s bound to be scared and ashamed and not know what the fuck to do when a trusted adult twists a relationship into the sick and selfish. A grown man who’s a goddamn miracle on the ball field, one with a strong family and solid friends behind him, ought to have the sense to know when to go to the cops.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I guess there’s still some of that kid in there.”

“I hear you.”

As they walked back to the car, Eve glanced at Peabody. “Your take?”

“I could maybe see him losing his temper and punching Mars in the face. I can’t see him plotting, executing, or conspiring to execute cold-blooded murder.”

“Agreed. He caved to her, and he’d have kept on caving because there’s a part of him that’s still ashamed and guilty over what happened to him. So far as we know, at this point, Mars was cagey enough not to demand more than her marks could afford. For Wylee, at least, it was better to pay than risk or fight back.”