She starts to close his door and stops. “That man in the picture, you sure you’ve seen him before?” she asks with trepidation, hoping she’s wrong. That he’s wrong, and he’s mistaking Dwight for someone else. Josh nods. “He’s my dad, your grandfather.”
A tear rolls down his face. “I know.”
Olivia feels a sting in her eyes. It hurts to breathe, like she’s cracked a rib. “When did you meet him?”
“Before.” He touches the spot on his hat that covers his scar.
Before his head injury.
Olivia glances away. Oh. God. She takes a breath. “Did he push you?” She needs his confirmation.
He nods, then shakes his head.
“You aren’t sure?” She frowns, and a beat later, he shrugs.
“Didn’t see.”
She cocks her head. Didn’t see what?
“You didn’t see who pushed you, but you think it was your grandfather?”
He shrugs.
Jittery, she drums her fingers on the window edge. He isn’t positive. It’s still possible he’s confused Dwight with someone else.
She could call her dad and ask why he’s in San Diego. Does it have anything to do with Lily? Does he know where she is? Is she missing because of him?
Is she running from him?
Did he hurt Josh?
Disbelief wedges between her doubts and what she witnessed inside like a book on a stacked shelf. She can’t think of anything that would motivate Dwight to pursue Lily after fourteen years. Unless Lily knows something about him that just came to light, but what would that be?
Benton St. John comes to mind.
No, she won’t believe that either.
One phone call and she could get the answers. But would Dwight tell her the truth?
It’s Ethan. Your Ethan. He’s the father.
Maybe Dwight’s the one who lied.
No, no, no. Not possible. He wouldn’t have done that to her. He knew how devastating a lie that would be, how much it would hurt her.
Olivia shuts the door and rounds the back of the car. She roots around the bottom of her purse for her Marlboros and lighter. It takes three attempts to light the cigarette, her hands shake that badly. She looks back at the house, tempted to return and ask Charlotte what she knows about Dwight and Lily. But her mom’s too worked up about the damage Josh did. They’d just talk in circles. And Josh is upset and wants to leave.
Taking a long drag on the cigarette, she shakes her head. Josh has to be wrong. Charlotte must be exaggerating. Olivia’s dad isn’t a violent man.
But he was a suspect in an unsolved murder case, she reasons, her mind taking a U-turn back to Benton. A person of interest in a drowning that was eventually ruled an accident. What if there’s more to those cases than what she read?
Charlotte would know.
Olivia starts walking back to the house and hesitates midstride. She needs to talk this out first. Amber will help her make sense before she worries herself to death that her beloved daddy is a murderer who might have attacked his grandson. The thought sickens her.
“Stop.” Just fucking stop.
Her mind is taking her down rabbit holes.
Juggling her phone and cigarette, she brings up her call history. When she sees Blaze’s name in the queue, he unwittingly flashes to mind and ash singes her finger. She fumbles the phone. It drops in the grass.
“Hello? Hello? Liv, you there?”
She hears Blaze’s voice among the grass blades. Her finger must have brushed his name in her attempt to grab the phone before it flew from her grasp. Her impulse is to kiss her phone. Blaze would listen; then he’d tell her that her line of thinking is flawed. Dwight’s had his share of hardships. His reputation has received its dents. But he’s a good man.
“Liv, I know you’re there. I can hear you breathing.”
She presses the phone to her ear. “Sorry. Called you on accident.”
“Wait. Don’t hang up. Something’s wrong.” He must have caught the mania in her voice.
She closes her eyes, counts to five. Breathes. “Nothing’s wrong.” She tempers her voice, hoping she sounds normal.
“I can tell it’s not nothing. What’s going on? Talk to me, Liv,” he asks, and she almost caves when Josh throws open his door.
“Go now.”
“We are,” she tells him, then says to Blaze, “I have to go.”
She ends the call and dials Lucas, leaving a message when he doesn’t pick up. “Call me. It’s urgent. And check on Mom when you get home. Josh shattered the front window. She needs it fixed.” She looks back at the house and the window to Dwight’s home office. “Do me a favor. Ask Mom about Lily. I think she and Dad know where she’s been living.”
Ending the call, she stares at the window. Lily’s address could be there, in a file or on his computer. She has to delete the video surveillance of Josh anyway. She also wants to find Dwight’s photos. If Olivia can find Lily’s address, Officer Curbelo can call in a well-neighbor check. Better yet, she can drive there herself. Someone has to know where Lily went.
Olivia drops the cigarette butt, snuffing it with her heel, and settles into her car. Josh keeps his face averted, chin propped on his hand, his backpack on the floor between his legs. Her gaze drops to the pack. “You like graphic novels?” she asks, thinking of the Hellblazer book in the center pocket.
He looks at her peculiarly, pulling on his bottom lip, and a vise tightens around her ribs. Such a Lily gesture.
“Will you draw me your story? Show me what happened to you and your mom? How you got here? Draw any place you think your mom could have gone, like a friend’s house, or places you traveled to. Make it like a graphic novel if you want.” That way, she might understand the pictures without him having to explain. “She’s out there, Josh. We’re going to find her.”
His hand drops in his lap. “Okay.”
She starts the car and swipes the tear that found its way over her cheekbone. Her family has its share of dysfunction, but damn. This is ridiculous.
“Sorry,” he says, pointing at the house.
“Don’t be. This isn’t your fault. None of this is.” But she intends to find out whose fault it is. This time, she won’t jump to conclusions, something she’s prone to do. As was Dwight.
CHAPTER 19
Summer of ’00
Four weeks into their sixth summer at the lake, thirteen-year-old Olivia, Blaze, Lucas, Tyler, and Lily, who was already eight, walked into Decker’s Market. The artificially chilled air blasting through the store, a tidal wave of cold relief, spilled out the entrance, mixing with the hot, dry mountain air. The door slid closed behind them and they sighed in unison, their bathing suits stiff from dried lake water and skin sticky with thick layers of water-resistant sunscreen. The market was always a welcome relief after walking the half mile in flip-flops on a hot asphalt road under the early afternoon sun. But fifteen minutes of discomfort was worth the treat at the end.
“Lily, come with me,” Olivia said. Lucas was up to no good. He was in a mood, bumping shoulders with Tyler. He knocked Tyler into a bread display. A few loaves dropped to the floor. Lucas laughed and kept on walking. Tyler haphazardly put the bread back and ran after Lucas.