Tom glared at Scott, who wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I know about the trips out of town. The nights you told me you were going into Lancaster to the skating rink were bullshit stories. You and your friends went into Philly and Harrisburg and assaulted homeless people.”
Scott looked at him again and this time the evidence was clear in his eyes. Guilty as charged. “No! That’s not what happened! I swear!”
“I noticed the bruising on your knuckles one morning,” Tom continued. “I never brought it up, though. I should have asked you what happened, and if you would have told me you’d gotten into a fight I would have asked you why you didn’t have any other marks or bruises. You don’t go through any fight without getting a little banged up. Trust me, I know. I was in plenty when I was your age.”
“I wasn’t fighting with anybody!”
“No, you were only beating the crap out of somebody who couldn’t fight back. That’s how your knuckles got bruised and torn up. Isn’t that right?”
Scott averted his gaze. “No. That’s not it.”
“I did a quick check on the internet before you came home. If I hadn’t been so busy I would’ve noticed what’s going on, so I blame myself for letting this happen. You can’t bullshit me anymore, Scott. I know what you’ve been doing.” He lowered his tone, trying to be the buddy, the best friend to his son, something his father had never been to him, something he told himself he’d always do for his own boy but never did because he was always so goddamned busy. “I saw news items on John’s disappearance. I know you went to Susan’s party the night he disappeared. I also know you guys were at odds with each other.”
“That’s not true!”
“I also read about the wilding incidents in Philly and Harrisburg. I was especially interested in the few cases that reported white teenagers driving a dark SUV being seen speeding away from each crime.” Tom leveled his gaze at his son. “You drive a dark SUV, Scott. I’m surprised the cops didn’t come poking around earlier.”
“Coincidence.”
“It’s not a coincidence that a man named Neal Ashford, who was reported missing in Philly three weeks ago, was wearing a white coat, blue jeans, and dark tennis shoes. One of the corpses in the guesthouse is wearing a white coat. The article also said Neal’s black. So is the corpse in the guesthouse.”
This time Scott didn’t say anything. He sat stoically, arms crossed, not looking at Tom.
“I didn’t want to believe it, but I can’t help but see the pattern,” Tom continued. “The times you were kicked out of school in fourth and fifth grades for picking on other kids, and not just picking on them either, downright torturing them — ”
“That’s not true!” Scott began, his voice raised.
“And then there’s the Gaines incident. We couldn’t protect you from the fallout of that, Scott. We tried, but we just couldn’t. The school board and the police had you dead to rights and it took our resources to keep you in school and get the administrators off your back. We couldn’t deal with the fallout of what might have happened if we hadn’t threatened to sue. We wanted to protect you, too. I wanted to get you into counseling but your mother, she had different ideas.”
“I don’t need counseling!” Scott banged his fists on the glass table.
Tom faced his son. Inside he wanted to shout back at him but he reined it in. He couldn’t lose control now. He’d learned to harness his anger a long time ago. “I can’t help but see the pattern. It needs to stop and I’m going to help you.”
Now Scott did meet his gaze. This time, the younger Bradfield didn’t turn away.
“How?” Scott asked. Tom thought he caught a slight tinge of pleading in that question. That was all he needed to know that he’d broken through, had gotten his son to see the severity of the situation.
“The first thing we have to do is get rid of the bodies.”
Now Scott visibly relaxed. He seemed to slump in his chair, as if a great weight had been taken off of him. He was nodding. “Okay, yeah…definitely. Get rid of them.”
“You don’t have to tell me why you did any of this,” Tom said, choosing his words carefully. “That isn’t the issue now. The issue now is to dispose of those bodies and make that guesthouse look immaculate.”
Scott let out a big sigh. He leaned over the table, clasping his hands in front of him. “You think the police will come back today?”
“They might. We need to take care of this as quickly as possible. Before your mother gets home.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost ten.”
Scott nodded. Carol was usually gone until four or five on Saturday afternoons. If the police didn’t return, they could take care of this little problem with no trouble.
“I’ve already called Dave and Steve,” Scott said. “They’re on their way. They should be here any time now.”
“Good.” Scott understood the severity of the situation and had no doubt taken the appropriate measures before Tom confronted him with it.
“Fuckin’ Tim Gaines,” Scott muttered.
“What about him?”
“If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Tom said nothing. He liked to think he would have put two and two together eventually and confronted Scott about the dead men in the guesthouse, but the potential trouble Gaines posed did present a problem. It was obvious he’d talked to the police while in custody, otherwise Tom wouldn’t be having this conversation with Scott now. “We can’t get distracted by other things,” Tom said.
“I’m not distracted. I’m just pissed off.”
Tom thought back to that long ago night when he’d been pissed off and killed that hippie couple. He remembered the rage that had coursed through him, made him do something he never thought he’d do, something he’d been trying to cover up and keep buried ever since. It was because of his attempt at keeping that murder a secret which led to his keeping tabs on Zuck’s Woods, which led him to buy neighboring property when it came up for sale shortly after he graduated from college. He’d had to borrow money out the ass to do it, but Harry Eckman and Victor Beck had gone in on the deal with him and things had been fine. They’d formed a corporation, the three of them, then leased some of the land out, reinvested the profits into other businesses, and within fifteen years time Tom saw himself as CEO of D’Anno and Harris Financial, a private equity firm. It was through his business clout that he managed to get on the board for Lancaster County Development, and thanks to his influence, he’d kept most other developers from trying to turn that land into subdivisions. It was only recently that he’d been able to buy Zuck’s Woods in a very quiet, very private deal with the state gaming commission. He’d done everything he could to keep his sin buried. Likewise, Harry and Victor, his old high school friends, had done their part and kept their crime a secret.
“The detectives didn’t say anything about this,” Tom continued, “…but while I was on the news websites, I noticed that something is going on in another neighborhood that borders Zuck’s Woods. The Elm Grove development.”
Scott got that surprised look again. “What’s going on?”
“Missing people. A bunch of them. They’re talking about conducting a search in Zuck’s Woods.”
“Really?” Tom couldn’t tell if Scott was nervous; he was certainly acting like he was.