I’ve done it. It’s not a secret anymore.
“Willow, I think you need to tell us everything. Starting the night you met Ralph and work your way to today,” Detective Samuels said. He placed a small recorder on the table next to my cup of water. “I’m going to record it so we have all the details when we fill out our report. Okay?”
“Um. Okay. I’m not really sure where to start.” I tried to push a lock of hair out of my face. My hand shook so badly that I had to try twice.
“Okay, let’s start with the night your dad was in the car accident,” Detective Renard suggested. His voice was gentle and soothing, and I relaxed a bit.
I shook my head. “Jack was my stepdad. But he raised me for as long as I can remember, so I thought of him as my dad. Everyone thought he was my real dad. I never told them he wasn’t. My mom didn’t either.”
“Where’s you biological father?” Detective Renard leaned his hip against the counter lining one wall of my room.
I looked down and picked at the bedspread. My voice was soft. Barely a whisper. “I don’t know who my real dad is. Neither does my mother. She used to be a… well,” I cleared my throat, “she did a lot of things to survive when she was young.”
“Okay. That’s okay. What happened that night to Jack Moore?”
I looked at the gray screen of the television hanging on the wall across the room and started talking. As I talked, I saw the images on the television as though my life were a movie. The characters floated across the screen in brilliant color, acting out my words as I said them.
And then I was there. I wasn’t just watching anymore.
I was living it again…
Three years earlier…
“Let me drive, Jack. You’ve had too much to drink.” My mom reached for the keys.
Jack slapped my mom across the face. A perfect red handprint colored her cheek. “I’m fine. Keep your damn hands to yourself.”
My stepdad slapped my mom around, especially when he’d drink. And he was jealous. She couldn’t talk to any man or he’d accuse her of having an affair. He’d have to know where she was, who she was with, what she’d be doing, and when she’d be home, every time she left the house. And he’d check to make sure she wasn’t lying. He was possessive and abusive.
But he never hit me. He was a great dad. Loving and attentive. He played catch with me in the yard when I decided I wanted to try out for the softball team. And when I wanted to play chess in the fourth grade, he bought a book and we learned how to play together. He was awesome. I knew he loved me, and I loved him. But he was different with my mom. I never knew why.
We were at a barbeque at Jack’s friend’s house. He’d been drinking. He shouldn’t have driven, but he wouldn’t let my mom drive. The car swerved down the road, crossing over the middle line before he’d jerk into our lane again.
The road we were on was curvy. It twisted its way through expensive properties and undeveloped woods. It was a dangerous road on a good day.
My mom held on to the stabilization handle. “Jack, slow down. There’re too many tight curves.”
“I know how to drive, Janine. Just shut the hell up.”
“Willow, sweetheart, are you buckled in good?” my mom asked looking into the backseat.
I nodded, but my mom reached back and pulled the belt tighter anyway. It was really tight against me. It almost hurt. But I was scared, so I didn’t say anything.
We came to a sharp curve, and my mom told Jack to slow down. He braked and jerked the wheel. But it was too late. The tires screeched against the pavement. Jack swore and turned the wheel just as we hit a tree. The airbags blew, and it smelled like a gun went off.
My mom sat up and looked around. She seemed dazed, but it was only a few seconds before she tried to get out of the car. She pushed on her door, but it was crumpled and wouldn’t open.
“Willow?” She reached for me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m good.” My voice shook and tears ran down my face.
“Can you open your door?”
I unbuckled and tried my door. It opened with a loud groan.
“Good, good.” My mom climbed over the seat into the back with me. “Get out of the car.”
I hesitated. “What about Jack—?”
“He’s unconscious. I have to get you out first. Go. Go!” She pushed me, and I stumbled out of the car. She followed behind me.
I saw an orange light and smelled an odd odor. Looking over my shoulder, I saw the fire as my mom pulled me from the car.
I pushed at my mom, trying to get away from her. “We have to get Jack!”
She turned and looked at the car, holding both my arms so I couldn’t move. We just stood and watched the fire.
And I heard him. I heard him yelling. He wasn’t unconscious. He screamed for us to help him. His voice shook. He was scared
“Janine, help me. My buckle is stuck. Janine!” Jack screamed.
He shouted for help, and she just watched. She just stood there. The fire grew. And still, she didn’t help. She stood there, listening to his screams, him pleading for his life.
The fire hit the gas tank, and the explosion vibrated the ground where we stood. I screamed, but Jack was quiet. All I could hear was the fire.
My mom let go of my arms and wiped her hands down her thighs. “Well, that bastard won’t hit me again, will he?”
I took a sip of my water and wiped my mouth on the back of my hand. “We thought we were alone. There weren’t any other cars on the road. So my mom and I sat on the side of the road to wait for the police. We knew OnStar would contact the local authorities when the airbags deployed. We just had to wait.”
“That’s quite a mess you have there,” he said behind us.
My mom jumped up and let out a small scream. “Who are you? And where did you come from?” she asked.
“I came from there.” He jerked his thumb toward the house behind him. Then a slow smile spread across his face. “And, as for who I am, I just became your worst nightmare.”
“Wh…what are you talking about?” My mom pulled me to her.
“My name’s Ralph, and I saw you stand here and watch your husband, boyfriend, father, or whoever he was burn to death in that explosion. I was coming to help, but I couldn’t get here in time.”
“You don’t know what you saw,” my mom said through clenched teeth.
“Oh, yes I do. I could hear him yell out to you all the way at the house… Janine.”
My mom’s face paled when she realized Ralph knew her name. The only way he could was if he’d heard Jack yelling it. I started to shiver. I wasn’t sure what was going on. I think I may have been in shock, I don’t know. But I didn’t like the man. He had an abrasive presence. Malevolent.