Behind Every Lie(53)

“Move on? I can’t just move on. This isn’t some science experiment where the answers are black and white! What happened will never be over for me!”

I had started crying, tears hot and sticky on my face. Dad wrapped his arms around me. I laid my head against his chest, the way I used to when I was a little girl.

“We shouted at each other. We said some horrible things.”

“Maybe it’s fine for robots like you!”

“You’re acting like a weak-willed little child!”

“Mom stormed out of the house and didn’t come back all afternoon. That night I woke up to a scraping sound outside. When I looked out the window, I saw someone was jimmying the lock on the front door. You can’t imagine how scared I was. Mom was still gone, and my phone was downstairs. I know it was totally irrational, but I thought the guy who attacked me had returned. I’d been so scared. I picked up this really heavy vase Mom had and, when the door opened, I smashed it into the burglar’s head.”

Understanding dawned on Dad’s face. “Ah. It was your mom.”

I nodded. “Yeah. There was no burglar. It was all in my head. Mom had forgotten her keys and didn’t want to wake me. One of the neighbors called the cops when they heard me screaming. They arrested me and I spent the night in jail for assault. Mom told the police it was all a misunderstanding, and eventually they decided not to press charges, but I left Seattle after that. That’s why the detective thinks I killed her. Because I’ve assaulted her before.”

Dad rubbed a hand over his balding head. “You didn’t mean to do it, though.”

“No, but they don’t care about that. They just care about what I did before.” I laughed, a dry, bitter sound. “Plus, I can’t remember a single thing about the night she was killed.”

“There’s no way you did it, Eva.”

I shook my head, and Tux hopped off my lap, tossing a disdainful look over his shoulder. “Did you know my real name is Laura, not Eva? Or that Mom wasn’t even my biological mother?”

“Honey, what are you talking about? Your name is Eva.”

I pulled Mom’s letter and the copies of the newspaper clippings I’d taken from the British Library from my purse.

“Mom lied about who we were my whole life.”

Dad read the articles. His face reddened, his breath coming in short little puffs. He stood and strode across the room. He stared out the living room window, a hurt sort of anger radiating off his back.

“She never … I never …”

“I know.” I folded the articles and the letter into small, neat squares and slid them back into the envelope.

“I have to go in to the detective’s office,” I said. “I have to let him question me.”

“No, don’t do that.” Dad shook his head vigorously. “Don’t talk to that detective.”

“I have to, Dad. What if I did it? Maybe I’m dangerous. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

Maybe I’m losing my mind.

Dad knelt in front of me. “I’ve known you since you were four years old. From when you were a rambunctious little girl to when you got your driver’s license to now, this beautiful, kind-hearted, sensitive woman here in front of me. There is nothing wrong with you.” He touched my cheek. “You hear me? Nothing. This is all gonna get sorted out. They’ll find evidence of whatever really happened, and it won’t point at you. But if it will make you feel better to talk to that detective, do it. Just make sure you take a lawyer with you, okay? Promise me.”

I nodded, my heart swelling with love. “Thanks, Dad. Liam organized a lawyer for me back in Langley. Maybe I’ll go back there first and have the lawyer come with me to the detective’s office.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Dad put a hand to his lower back and moved to sit next to me again. “I just can’t see why anybody would kill her. Kat was a good person. Don’t get me wrong, she could be hard to live with. She was … dry. Suspicious. Had that streak in her, you know, like you had to prove you weren’t up to something. I guess now I understand why.”

“I didn’t know Mom was paranoid.”

“Yeah. It was one of the reasons we divorced. She wanted to know where I was, who I was with every second. For a long time I thought she was jealous. I sold car parts for a living! I spent my days on the lot and was home by dinnertime. There was nothing crazy about it. And then, you know the rest.…” He shrugged.

I frowned. “No. I don’t think I do. I only remember your last fight.”

Dad winced. “Jesus, Eva. You remember that?”

“Of course. I was, like, eleven, not a baby. We came home from hiking, and you were in the shower. You shouted at each other and you slipped when you were getting out. You smashed your head against the countertop.”

I remembered the blood seeping between Dad’s fingers, splattering onto the carpet. He packed a bag and left that night.

It wasn’t like I never saw him again. He picked me up from school all the time. But it was never really the same after that. The happy bubble I’d lived in until then had been burst.

He shook his head. “I didn’t slip. She pushed me. Hard.”

“Mom did?” I exclaimed. I couldn’t imagine my stoic, quiet mother lashing out violently. But I guess I was finding out there was a lot I didn’t know about her.