Sweet Water(60)

I put my hand over my mouth. “I heard.”

“He didn’t die right away either. Yaz said people always assumed that he did. That it was easier for them that way, but it wasn’t true. The car had been flipped on its side; Yaz was on the bottom. She said his blood dripped on her face all night long. It might not have been all night, but that’s how she remembered it.”

“I—I can’t imagine.” I close my eyes, and I can see it, but I don’t want to.

“It was bad. The car rolled down an embankment but stopped at the river. A tree branch went through the window and punctured his stomach. She could hear him gasping for air for a good fifteen minutes. She heard him take his last breath.”

I imagine myself in the same predicament with my own father, and my eyes instantly fill with tears.

“Kid was dealing with some really tough stuff. They’d been looking for Cash. She and her father. He’d run away.”

I open my eyes as if a light bulb has just come on, but I don’t know why. Josh glances away.

“Oh, wow. When was this?” I ask, feeling pieces inside me come apart.

“Almost two years ago,” Josh says. “Around Christmas.”

I can’t help but think how fortunate we were two Christmases ago. I received record donations for the Heart-to-Heart Gala. The boys both made honor roll, and Martin had a boon at work, which led him to consider opening the new office he was working on now. William and Mary Alice actually had us over for a special dinner to celebrate all our achievements. William entertained the boys by showing off the brand-new Bentley he’d bought after his old one had suffered rodent infestation while in storage. Something about the ugly contrasts—this little girl half freezing in a car accident with her dying daddy while my kids spent their evening in a showroom full of fancy cars no one even drove—makes me so sick. I’m dizzy.

I swallow hard. “I didn’t know any of that.” No wonder Alisha said Cash had it the worst. He probably had survivor’s guilt.

He nods. “Yazmin had nightmares too. Her therapist encouraged her to focus on school. She did, but she preferred pot to escape the nightmares.”

“That’s awful. About her dad,” I say. “I wish Finn would’ve told me.”

“It seems you didn’t know many things.”

I swallow hard again.

“I help young women at my shelter, Josh. I’ve practically dedicated my life to helping people like Yazmin. If she would’ve told me, I would’ve . . . I would’ve . . .”

“You would’ve . . . what? Not judged her so harshly?”

I look at him sideways. “I never judged her. Them.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. You are who you marry, and you married into a family who take what they want and cover up what they don’t.”

“What’re you talking about? That’s not fair.” He thinks I’m just like Martin, but I’m not. I always correct my husband when he makes remarks that verge on snobby. I didn’t grow up with money, so why would I look down on someone who grew up the same way I did? If I did that, I needed to check myself in the mirror, find that lost reflection.

There’s no use trying to explain this to Josh; he already has his mind made up about me.

“What’s not fair is what happened to Yazmin. She was a good girl, very gifted musician too. Creative.”

I inhale sharply. “I wish I could’ve gotten to know her better. Creative, you said? Did you ever see her writing in a journal?”

Josh’s eyes catch mine, and he looks worried. “Yeah. I think she sometimes wrote music in one. Why?”

“It’s missing now.”

“What do you mean?” Josh asks, and I find it odd that he’s so concerned.

“Her mother believes the cops took it, and now they can’t find it.” I think about Josh’s words regarding the Ellsworths. They probably didn’t want that journal found, so they made it disappear, just like our footprints in the woods. Martin told me as much. They went out there with plastic bags taped around their feet and rakes. They moved around the large rocks and placed them on the dragged tracks, any remnants of footprints other than Yazmin’s mashed beneath them. The lengths they went to were both astonishing and unending.

“If her mother mentioned her journal, find it. If you want to help Yazmin’s family, prevent her brother from being yanked out of school and thrown in jail—find the journal. Cash was into some stuff.”

“Tell me what kind of stuff, because I keep hearing this phrase.”

“I think he moves things. Designer bags. Electronics.”

“So he’s a thief.”

“Yeah, petty crimes, quick-buck scams. The kid isn’t motivated to go to school like Yazmin was.” Josh looks up, and I’m amazed at how much he’s learned about them from teaching guitar.

“Oh boy.” Well, at least this plants a seed of doubt about Finn.

“If Yazmin wrote about him in her journal, the police could be using it to build a case against Cash right now. Or don’t help. Be like your husband and stick your head in the sand and hope it all goes away.”

I take in a deep breath and cover my mouth, the smell of cheap hand soap gagging me. “I don’t know where this is coming from,” I manage. I place one of my hands on his arm because I want him to look at me—see me.