Page 159 of This is Why We Lied

Will said, “We’ll play it by ear. We want Dave to put on a show. He might want an audience.”

Sara looked up at Will. “What if I can’t get Jon to leave?”

“Then he’ll hear what he hears.”

Sara took a deep breath. That was a hard reality to swallow. She nodded. “Okay.”

Faith warned, “Keep an eye on Bitty. Remember what I said about her acting like Dave’s psycho ex. She might be unpredictable.”

That part Sara was ready for. Nothing that happened in this place could surprise her anymore. “Let’s get this over with.”

Kevin opened the door.

Sara walked into the dining room first. The scene was familiar. Two tables, only one of them set for dinner. Supper had already been served. Dessert plates were scraped clean. Wine glasses were half-empty. Instead of being grouped together, the couples had spread out, each of them in different camps. Frank and Monica were with Drew and Keisha. Gordon and Paul were seated with Delilah. Cecil’s chair was at the head of the table. Bitty was on his left with Dave beside her. Jon was on Cecil’s right, directly across from his grandmother.

Sara felt all eyes on her as she sat down beside Jon. Being so close to his father had sapped the young man’s courage. His hands were gripped together in his lap. There were sweat marks on his shirt. His head was bowed, but even Sara could feel the white-hot hate that he was directing across the table at Dave.

“Jon.” Sara touched his arm. “Can I talk to you outside?”

“Hell no,” Dave said. “You people’ve already deprived me of enough time with my boy.”

Bitty said, “That’s the damn truth. I want all of y’all out of here as soon as the road is open.”

“Quiet,” Cecil said. He was gripping his fork in his right hand. He stabbed a piece of cake. He chewed noisily in the silence.

Jon kept his head down. His anguish was as palpable as his anger. Sara wanted to wrap her arms around him and whisk him away, but she couldn’t interfere with the investigation. Will and Faith had already taken up their positions. Kevin was blocking the entrance. Faith stood at the opposite end of the table. Will had put himself close to Dave, which also gave him proximity to the kitchen door. They had formed a perfect triangle.

“So?” Cecil barked. “What’s this about?”

Bitty asked, “Where is my son?”

Faith said, “Christopher’s been arrested for producing, distributing and selling illegal alcohol.”

There was a short period of silence that was broken by Dave’s laughter.

“Damn,” he said. “Way to go, Fishtopher.”

“Hear, hear.” Paul raised a glass. “To Fishtopher.”

Monica tried to join the toast, but Frank held down her hand. Sara looked at Bitty. The woman’s attention was squarely on Dave.

His demeanor had changed. He knew this was not a friendly conversation. He rapped his fingers on the table as he looked first at Kevin, then Faith, then finally, he turned his head to look up at Will. “Hey, Trashcan. How’s your hand?”

Will said, “Better than your balls.”

Jon snickered.

“Jon.” Sara kept her voice low when she suggested, “Why don’t we leave?”

Dave said, “Keep your ass in that chair, boy.”

Jon had frozen at the sharp order. Bitty made a tutting sound. Sara looked at the silverware settings. Two types of forks, a knife, a spoon. Any one of them could be turned into a weapon. She knew that Will had made the same calculations. His gaze had stayed not on Dave’s face, but on his hands. Sara looked at Bitty’s hands, too. They were folded on the table.

“So?” Dave said. “Whattaya got, Trashcan?”

Faith answered, “The coroner called. She found some evidence during Mercy’s autopsy.”

Bitty huffed, “Is this an appropriate venue to discuss such matters?”