Epic Sins (Epic Fail #1)(69)

I almost crumble in place as his words hit me in the chest. “How?” I ask again, but know I don’t want to hear anything more.

“You should come home,” he says, and I immediately deny his request.

“No! What good will that do? He’s dead. I haven’t seen him since I was seven, and he killed himself before he could see me now.”

“Garrett, you don’t understand. There’s more that we need to tell you,” Bill pleads with me, and I can hear my mother sobbing in the background.

“What more could you possibly say? He’s dead, Bill. He’s been dead to me for years.”

“He killed himself along with two other people. It was a murder-suicide.”

“What?” I ask, barely audible to myself.

“He was in a treatment facility not too far from here when he disappeared. They called your mother the other day to see if she’d heard anything from him. She explained that she hasn’t heard from him in years and had no idea he was even in this facility. They told her she was listed as his only relative and that if she should hear from him, they needed to know immediately. They explained that he was a danger to himself and others.”

I can’t take this all in. It’s too much to comprehend.

“Who did he kill?” I ask.

“A husband and wife in Newtown on Hickory Avenue.”

“How?” I ask in disbelief.

“The police believe he filled their home with gas from their stove and used a lighter. The explosion leveled the house.”

I drop my phone and make a mad dash for the bathroom. I puke up everything in my stomach and more. How could my father do this? Why would he do this?

I curl up in the bathroom stall and try to drown out the noise from the bar. Animated voices joking and flirting. People who have normal lives with normal families. None of them are related to a murderer.

None of them have to look in the mirror and be forever branded with the sins of their father.

“Garrett?” Sam’s voice echoes in my ears and I snap out of my daze. I flinch when she touches my shoulder.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” she asks, and her concern turns to fear.

“Sam…” I say weakly and place my hand over hers. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Garrett. Even though it was difficult, I’ve come to terms with their deaths in the best way that I can. Please don’t look at me like that. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s a look filled with pity.” She pleads with me, and I can’t help but feel worse.

I need to tell her.

“I’m sorry,” I say again.

“Stop,” she says, begging me not to continue. Her eyes are huge with fear.

“My father… died in a similar way. Sam, he’s killed people. He died at 842 Hickory Avenue.” I almost choke on the words that come out of my mouth.

Her eyes widen in disbelief, and she whimpers next to me. She begins rocking in place on the bed and shaking her head violently from side to side. “Stop. Stop talking,” she screams. “This isn’t true. No. No. No. NO!” she yells and starts hyperventilating. Her breathing is erratic and shallow.

I don’t know how to calm her down, and the memories of the days that follow are so vivid and clear.

“June McAllister, reporting live from 842 Hickory Avenue in Newtown. The scene of an apparent murder-suicide. Benjamin and Katherine Weston, unsuspecting parents of a teenaged girl, were overtaken in their own home by John Horton. We’ve since learned that Mrs. Weston was several months pregnant, expecting their second child. Family of Mr. Horton was unavailable for comment, but his former wife Claire Armstrong released a statement through her representative.

“’My heart goes out to the family of Benjamin and Katherine Weston. I can’t erase the pain John has caused all of you, but I can tell you I’m so incredibly sorry for your loss. I don’t ask you to understand his actions but that someday you find it in your hearts the power to forgive him. I’m so sorry.’

“John Horton’s son was also unavailable for comment, and his whereabouts are unknown. John’s former wife, Claire, asks that you respect her family’s privacy at this time and focus on offering prayers for the Weston’s orphaned teenaged daughter.”

“I’m so sorry, Sam.” I pull her shaking body into mine. “I don’t know what else to say. I didn’t know. Oh my God. I didn’t know.”

“Don’t touch me,” she screams as if I’m stabbing her repeatedly. “Get away from me!”

I release her from my grip and she bolts out of the bed.

“Sam?” I say as she pulls on her clothes and runs for the door.

“Sam!” I yell after her as I hear her running down the hall and the stairs. The front door opens and slams shut and tires squeal as she tears down the driveway.

I’m unable to move from the bed. I’m frozen in place with the vision of her family home charred and burned to the ground.

An ash-filled house of death where our families are forever entombed together.





Sam

Present

Villanova, Pennsylvania

Age 24



I HIT SPEED DIAL OVER AND OVER again. It goes to voicemail every single time.

“Aunt Peggy,” I cry into the phone. “Please pick up.”