“How’s that?”
“Because of custody. Who gives a shit about the marriage? Wives come and go. It’s your son that matters. Kevin.”
“What are you saying, Pop? Surely you have enough power to get me a clean divorce and guaranteed custody.”
“There’s a wrinkle in this situation.”
Paul’s bowels were churning down low. He tried not to let his father see how upset he’d become. “I’m listening.”
“You know I like Jet,” Max said. “I’ve protected her from the club’s retaliation for years. When she got Dave Cowart sent to jail, then went after Dr. Lacey’s license, I kept the club from hitting back at her. And they didn’t appreciate that, I can tell you.”
“Dad, for God’s sake—”
“I talked to your mother about this before she passed.”
Paul blanched. “You didn’t.”
“Had to, son. Sally saw a lot, and I wondered if she’d suspected anything. Turns out she did. She’d been worried about Jet leaving for a long time. She’d even talked to her about it, like women do. What she found out, I can hardly bear to tell you. But you have to know. Because who knows what they might be planning now? Look what they did to me. They’re desperate now. They’ve got to be worried I’m going to tell you everything.”
“Are you telling me this has something to do with Mom killing herself?”
Max gave a somber nod. “No doubt about it. Your mother was already depressed about her illness. I didn’t know she was sick, but I knew Sally. She dreaded any affliction like that. But this affair with Marshall . . . she worried it would drive you to suicide. She didn’t know you like I do, Paul. I know you’re going to do what’s necessary, after we talk. This is why I had to tell the cops that bullshit story about Margaret Sullivan. I didn’t dare tell them what really pushed your mother to the edge.”
“Mama thought I’d kill myself over Jet having an affair?”
“No, no, hell no. Listen, son. You’ve got to steel yourself for this. It’s the hardest thing you’ll ever have to face in your life.”
Paul had no idea what could push his father into this kind of mood. “I’m ready. What is it?”
“Kevin isn’t your son. Not biologically.”
A flash of heat crossed Paul’s face.
“Did you hear me?” his father asked.
“That’s bullshit.”
“Not according to your wife.”
“What are you saying?”
“Jet told Sally that she slept with Marshall back in 2005. When his Afghanistan book came out. He stopped in Jackson on his book tour. Marshall’s wife had just had their kid. She wasn’t on tour with him. Jet went to his hotel. Six weeks later she realized she was pregnant. Your mother told me you and Jet had been trying for a long time to have a kid, with no luck. Well, she popped Marshall during that stop in Jackson, and that was it. He planted one in her. That’s Kevin, as much as I hate to admit it.”
Paul got up off the chair, then fought to keep his balance. “I don’t want to hear any more.”
“I know you don’t. But you have to. Because you have to be smart from now on.”
Paul hated the way his father talked to him. Smart from now on . . . like he’d been stupid all his life up to now. Paul folded his arms across his chest to keep from punching something. “That lick to your head scrambled your brains, Pop. Kevin looks like me. Like us. Like our side of the family. Everybody says that.”
Max nodded. “We see what we want to see. And other people tell us what they think we want to hear.”
“Are you saying other people know about this? Or suspect it?”
“No. Just that seeing a resemblance is subjective. Next time you look at Kevin, you’re going to see Marshall in his face. So get ready for it.”
“Bullshit!”
Max sighed, then gingerly rubbed the bandage on his head. “I know this is tough. But you have to face it squarely. Can you swear to me you’ve never had a funny feeling about Kevin? A distance? A feeling that maybe he wasn’t quite yours?”
Paul closed his eyes. He couldn’t let those thoughts in. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to hold himself upright.
“Listen to me, Paul, like you’ve never listened in your life. Jet’s a lawyer, and she’s been thinking about this for a long time. Marshall’s no dummy, either. They’ve got a plan, I guarantee it. She wants to divorce you, go back to Washington with Marshall, and marry him. And she means to take Kevin with her.”
“You’re lying.”
“She told me herself last night, right before she hit me with that goddamn hammer. What she didn’t tell me, Marshall did.”
“When? Last night?”
“Yes, but I went to see him the other night, too. I showed him the video. Tried to scare him away from her.”
Paul could barely contain his fury, but at the root of it was shame. How could all this be happening without him even suspecting it? “Why didn’t you tell me, Pop? Why did you waste all this time?”
His father looked at him with more empathy than Paul could ever remember seeing in his face. “I never wanted you to have to know this, son. I wanted to handle it for you. Protect you. You don’t deserve what they’ve done to you. It would be tough for any man to handle. And you haven’t had the easiest time these past years.”
Paul felt his balance going. “So what the hell were you doing out on that hill last night?”
“I asked them both to meet me out there. I didn’t want anybody seeing us together. I told them they were crazy and had to end it. I told them that if they kept on, things would end badly for them, but Kevin would go through hell, too. Marshall wouldn’t listen. He and I got into it. I was getting the best of him, but Jet went to my truck and got my hammer. She would have killed me if Marshall hadn’t stopped her. But they sure didn’t mind leaving me out there to die of exposure.”
“I’m going to take Kevin from her,” Paul heard himself say. “She’s never going to see him again.”
“I know that’s your first instinct—”
“First instinct! What else would I do?”
“Think, that’s what. Kevin’s very existence is proof that Jet committed adultery. But follow that string out a little. Say you get a DNA test proving Kevin was fathered by Marshall. The endpoint of that may be divorce, but not divorce with you getting custody. Because the god-awful truth is that Kevin is Marshall’s son. You ain’t gonna wind up with him. He’ll be lost to us forever if you go that route.”
“Surely not in Bienville,” Paul argued. “What good is all the power your damn club has if it can’t get a judge to give me custody of Kevin?”
“Ordinarily, I’d agree. But this paternity problem can’t be got around. Blood outweighs everything else. Now, there’s ways around it, of course. But they’re not legal.”
“Like?”
Paul saw a familiar light in his father’s eyes. “Plant a pound of cocaine in Marshall’s house. I’ve already broken in there once, just to take a look.”