The man certainly had the motivation. What father wouldn’t? But after spending years in prison, would he have the means—the technological expertise—to find out the truth?
He doubted it. Digging the pen into the notepad, he crossed out the name. Next was Candace. A bright, driven woman, she would have the means and opportunity to discover the truth if she knew where to look. But did she have the motivation?
He drew in a question mark next to her name and studied the final suspect. Something clicked into place—a corner piece of the puzzle. From there, his mind built outward, filling in the gaps. Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner?
He crossed out Candace’s name and drew circles around the third name, over and over until it was blotted out with ink. His hands tingled, lusting for their next kill, but his rational mind kept the craving at bay. He would have to be careful, like he was with his first. It would have to look like an accident, or maybe suicide.
Tossing the pen aside, he stood and began pacing the room. He needed a plan, and he had no time to waste. Accidental death was the simplest, but it could look suspicious under these circumstances. It would have to be suicide. But how?
He stopped mid-stride and closed his eyes, allowing his thoughts to coalesce into a plan. Yes, that could work.
On his cluttered desk, the phone vibrated. He snatched it up and tapped a button to light up the screen. It was a message from Evelyn: I need to talk to you.
He tapped out a quick response, trying to sound casual. Sure. What’s up? After tucking his phone into his pocket, he tore out the top notebook page, then the second. He had written the words with such force that their imprints seemed to permeate everything beneath them. Letting out an exasperated grunt, he rolled the entire notebook up and ran to the kitchen to retrieve a box of matches. He rushed outside and held the notebook to the flame.
His grim face flickered orange and red in the firelight. As he watched the flames consume the evidence of his murderous intentions, his phone began to ring. It was Evelyn.
Tossing the flaming notebook aside, he answered the call.
18
Evelyn tugged her shoelaces tight and knotted them.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Candace asked. She nodded at the empty bottles of wine on her coffee table. “I don’t know if you should be driving right now.”
“I’m not waiting until the morning. I need to hear him admit it. Besides, I’m not driving, Alek is. He should be here in a few minutes.”
Candace raised an eyebrow. “You’re dragging him all the way down here in the middle of the night for this? I could have gone with you, you know.”
Evelyn stood and placed a hand on the wall to steady herself. “I’m glad you have my back, but if I’m right, then Donny is more dangerous than we ever knew. No offense, but you’re not exactly a heavyweight.”
Candace grinned and raised her wine glass. “None taken.”
“Besides, you’re more drunk than I am.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. But I bet I could still kick his ass.”
Evelyn walked over and put a hand on Candace’s shoulder. “I appreciate the offer. And thank you for listening to my sob story.” She backed away and grasped the doorknob. “Crack open another bottle while I’m gone. I’m probably going to need it when I get back.”
She had barely reached the street when a pair of headlights appeared, and a silver Buick came to a stop in front of her. Alek hopped out, circled the nose of the vehicle, and opened her door for her.
When he returned to the driver’s seat, he sniffed the air and frowned. “Have you been drinking?”
Evelyn’s cheeks turned rosy. “A few glasses of wine. It’s been a rough night.”
He nodded sympathetically. “Can you tell me about it?”
She exhaled and leaned against the headrest. “It’s Donny.”
“Donny? What did he do now?”
“It’s nothing recent. It has to do with the night…” She let her words trail off. “With the worst night of my life.”
Alek let go of the steering wheel and took her hand. “I see. Do you…want to talk about it?”
Evelyn imagined her father rotting in prison all those years, paying the penalty for a crime of passion that was brought on by a carefully crafted lie. It made her sick. But she trusted Alek completely, and it was time to share her burden. Knowing time was short, she quickly recounted her story, glossing over some of the gory details to avoid flashing back and losing touch with reality.
Sweat was rolling down her face by the time she finished, and she let her head sink against the headrest.
At some point, Alek’s mouth had dropped open in disbelief. He closed it, swallowed, and said, “Are you saying Donny lied to your father to get him to attack Jeb?”
She nodded.
His features darkened, and he put the car in gear. He didn’t speak again until they arrived at Donny’s house—a cottage at the end of a lonely road with a rusty truck parked out front. Killing the engine, he stared straight ahead and murmured, “I’ve never heard of anything so awful. Whatever happens up there, I won’t hold it against you.”
She assumed he meant physical violence. In the hours since she had learned of Donny’s treachery, she thought about hurting him more than once. But she decided he deserved worse than a beating. She wanted him to confess and suffer through prison as her father did.
As they walked along the gravel driveway, Evelyn thought the cottage looked sinister in the moonlight. She had always felt welcome in the squat house, but now it radiated a threatening aura…like the inside of a scorpion’s nest.
The living room window glowed a pale blue, flickering occasionally—Donny was on his computer. Evelyn reached the door and knocked hard enough to turn her knuckles pink.
A light came on in the small entryway and the door swung open. Donny wore a hopeful expression that was tinged with concern. “Thanks for meeting with me. Please, come in.”
She crossed her arms and clenched her jaw. “I’d rather do this outside.”
He studied her for a moment, then wilted with disappointment. “This is about the car, right? Look, I shouldn’t have written the note like that. I’m not trying to pressure you into anything, I promise. The car is yours, no strings attached. But there’s something more important I need to show you.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled away. Behind her, there was the sound of crunching gravel.
Donny glanced past her left shoulder, and his eyes widened. “What’s he doing here?”
“He’s here to protect me from the psycho I thought was my friend.”
“Psycho? Grow up, Evelyn. It’s my money, and I can spend it however I want.” He pointed a finger at Alek. “But that guy is dangerous.” Lowering his voice, he added, “I know you told me not to snoop, but I did. And I’ve found some convincing evidence—”
“Are you kidding me?” Evelyn shouted. She grabbed the top of her head with both hands. “You’re doing it again!”
“You don’t have to freak out. I’m just trying to protect you.”
“Protect me? Is that what you were doing when you lied to my parents about Jeb?”
Her words knocked him into an instant stupor. He swayed on his feet, and his face turned ghostly pale. He struggled to breathe and held onto the door frame for support.
Evelyn jabbed a finger against his sternum. “Jeb never owned a laptop. And if he had molested one of our classmates, I would have been the first person to hear about it.”