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“Not enough to ID him,” he said, using the same defense he had all those years ago, that he’d only caught a glimpse of the intruder in the dark, a masked figure whom he struggled with but couldn’t identify, a fierce attacker who had somehow gotten hold of the sword and left no fingerprints on the weapon, probably because the assailant was wearing gloves at the time.
“And the cops, they didn’t even look at Silas Dean. Dad screwed him over, or at least he swore it. And they fought. I saw them, earlier in the day, screaming at each other.”
So had Kara. Dean had been a short spark plug of a man, bald aside from a ring of jet-black hair and thick horn-rimmed glasses covering his eyes. Kara had seen her father, a good six inches taller than Dean, ushering him out the front door. “Leave it alone, Silas. It’s done.”
“And it’s cost us thousands.Methousands.”
“Ancient history.”
“You’re a fucker, McIntyre. You knew this was how it was going to go down and you’ll live to regret it. I’ll make sure of it,” Silas had said.
“He . . . he left.” The court had heard Silas’s threats, but his alibi had been tight and he’d sworn he’d driven home and cooled off.
“Yeah, right, I know,” Jonas said with a huff of disgust. “But he could’ve come back to the house! And who would be the wiser? His fingerprints were already there.” Jonas was working himself up even further, years of pent-up anger spewing out. “And who’s to say it was a guy. What about Marlie?”
“What?” Now he was grasping at straws.
“Why the hell did she run, huh? Did you ever ask yourself that?”
“No, that’s not possible,” Kara said, one eye on the road, one on the mirror where she saw his darkened silhouette. “Marlie would never—”
“You don’t know that! She was vindictive, Kara, and she didn’t like me, and she was pissed that Zelda and Dad didn’t approve of Chad. Dad even paid Chad to break up with her. Did you know that? I bet not!”
“No.” Was that possible, or was Jonas just spitting out half-baked theories he’d concocted while spending year after year behind bars?
“And let’s not forget Natalie.” He was seething now, fury emanating from the darkened back seat as the snow-crusted landscape passed by in a blur and the tires hummed over the icy pavement.
“Your mother,” she said, disbelieving. “You think your own mother . . . ?”
“Why not?”
“For one thing she had an alibi.”
“But she could’ve hired someone. And she loathed the fact that Zelda had sneaked around behind her back and carried on a hot affair with Dad. You know, it was exactly what she’d done to Dad’s first wife, so to have the tables turned? To have Dad cheating onher, she never forgave him and even had a short, hot affair with Walter Robinson, did you know that? The two exes consoling each other. God, what a shit show.”
Everything he said was meant to shock and it did. She had pieced together much of the story about that tragic night over the years, read the books and articles, seen the made-for-TV episode on a true crime program. Of course she didn’t know all of the truth, no one did, but still, she didn’t buy into Jonas’s twisted, malicious theories.
“Nothing became of the affair, though. It was just a way to get back at Dad for getting involved with Zelda,” he said. “So it died a quick death.”
That didn’t sound right.
“But you think your own mother could have set up the murders and let you take the fall? Go to prison?” That was nuts.
“You know how she is. It’s all about Natalie. The sun and moon and stars revolved around her. She doesn’t give a shit about anyone else. Including me.” His laugh was ugly.
“But you’re her son.”
“She gave up on me years before. At the divorce. That’s how I ended up living with Dad. Didn’t you think that was weird I wasn’t with my mom?” he said with such venom Kara’s skin crawled. “It was her choice.”
“She defended you,” Kara said, remembering seeing footage of Natalie in tears that her son was being arrested.
“All for show.”
She remembered Walter Robinson being interviewed by a television crew, how he’d denounced Jonas, claimed Jonas had killed his only son, Donner, and was the reason his daughter went missing. “He’s a bad seed,” Walter, a tall, broad-shouldered man, had claimed. Clean shaven, he hadn’t flinched, but stood soldier-straight as he’d stared straight into the camera’s lens. “He knows what went down and he’s not saying. Just to save his own miserable, cowardly hide.” Then his eyes had narrowed and he’d addressed Jonas directly, as if Jonas could hear him. “What happened, you murdering bastard? What the hell happened, and where is my daughter?”
Kara thought of Merritt lying in his own blood. Deep in her heart, she didn’t believe Jonas hadn’t killed him, she really didn’t know what he was capable of, did she? Winding him up, bringing all the anger that had simmered for twenty years to a boil seemed dangerous. She needed to take it down a notch, so she changed the subject and asked, “What’s at the truck stop?”
“I told you: a ride.”