Page 53 of No More Words

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.”