Page 55 of This is Why We Lied

“You said you haven’t been here in over a decade. How do you know they lurk around?”

“I spotted them colluding near the woodpile when I drove up to the house this morning. Faces close together, shooting furtive looks. They saw my car and Chuck scampered off like a startled squirrel, while Christopher ducked down as if the tall grass could make him invisible. Something was definitely up.” She sniffed again. “Then, after the family meeting, I saw both of them back in that same spot with their heads together again.”

Will would need to add the woodpile to his list of areas to search. “Are they in a relationship?”

“You mean are they like the two exhibitionists in cottage five?” She gave a vacant laugh. “Christopher should be so lucky. He’s had terrible luck with women. His high school girlfriend got pregnant by another boy. Then that awful business happened with Gabbie.”

“Who’s Gabbie?”

“Just another girl he lost. It was a long time ago. He never really dated after that. At least not that I know about. Then again, it’s not like I’ve been kept in the loop.”

Will felt a drop of water hit his head. The rain was coming, but he stood there in the open waiting for her to speak.

She said, “Listen, Dave is probably your best bet. They all had a reason to want her dead, but Dave used to beat the hell out of Mercy. Broken bones. Bruises. No one ever said or did anything to stop it. Except for me, and a lot of good that did. You can’t change people by telling them they’re wrong. They have to come to it themselves. And I guess—I guess this means she never will.”

Will saw her throat work. Fresh tears welled into her eyes. He asked, “What about you? Did you have a reason to want Mercy dead?”

“Are you asking for a motive?” She let out a heavy sigh. “I was glad Mercy finally had her life on track. I even offered to help her block the sale of the lodge, but Mercy’s proud. Was proud. Jesus, she was so young. I don’t even know what to say to Jon. He never had a father, and now to lose his mother like this …”

Will tested her honesty. “What are those people inside the house going to tell me when I ask them whether or not you have a motive?”

“Oh, they’ll definitely throw me under the bus.” Delilah shoved the folded tissue back into her pocket. “They’ll say that I wanted revenge because Mercy stole Jon away from me. I raised him from the day he was born until he was three, nearly four, years old. Mercy sued to get permanent custody restored in January 2011. This was a year after the car accident.”

Will guessed, “That’s how she got the scar on her face?”

Delilah nodded. “I gather it put the fear of God into her. Made her re-examine her life, decide to grow up a bit. I was dubious. Heroin is a hell of a monkey to have on your back. Her sobriety felt tenuous to me. The custody battle was akin to a street fight. Dragged on for half a year. We tore each other apart. I was heartbroken when she won. Told her on the courthouse steps that I hoped she died. She cut me entirely out of Jon’s life. I wrote letters, tried to call. Bitty stopped me at every turn, but I’m sure Mercy knew she was doing it. So, that’s my motive. If you believe it took me thirteen years to snap.”

“Where was Dave in all this?”

“Mercy was with him. Then she wasn’t. Then she was. Then she was in the hospital, and it was over. Then she was out of the hospital, and it was back on.” Delilah rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Dave never attended any supervised visitations. Too drunk or stoned, I assumed. Or terrified of me. Which he should’ve been. If that was Dave lying dead at the lake right now, you’d rightly put me at the top of your list.”

“What’s going to happen to Jon now?”

“I have no idea. He doesn’t really know me anymore. I think it’s probably best he stays with Cecil and Bitty. They’re the lesser of the evils. He’s lost his mother. He’ll lose his father if there’s any justice. Jon needs things to stay as familiar as possible. Maybe one day I can have a relationship with him, but that’s what I want. Right now is about what Jon needs.”

Will wondered if that was her real answer or the one that she thought made her look good. “Where were you tonight between ten and midnight?”

She arched an eyebrow, but answered, “I read in my room until around nine-thirty or ten. No alibi. I was asleep in bed when the bell started to clang. You get to my age, moisture is a stranger. I’ve got a bladder like a steel trap.”

Will heard a car. The sheriff had finally arrived. The brown car pulled into the parking pad just as Sydney and Max were rolling their suitcases toward the Mercedes. If they noticed the sheriff, they didn’t react. They were too busy getting the hell out of here. Will thought it said a lot about the couple that they hadn’t offered to give anyone else a ride back into town.

Delilah let out a disgusted groan when the sheriff got out of the car. They both watched him reach back to grab a large umbrella.

Delilah mumbled, “Never fear, Biscuits is here.”

“Biscuits?”

“Nickname.” She looked up at Will. “Agent whatever-your-name-is, I don’t know you from Adam’s housecat, but I wouldn’t trust that man as far as I can throw him. And I’m pretty damn good at throwing things.”

Will felt more rain drops hit the top of his head as he watched the sheriff walk across the compound. The man was probably five-eight, and slightly pudgy underneath his brown sheriff’s uniform. The fit wasn’t flattering to anyone, but the sheriff looked particularly uncomfortable in the tight pants and stiff collar. He was also in no hurry. He stopped to open his umbrella when the rain started to come down in earnest. Will picked up his folded shirt and jogged up the stairs. He dropped it in a rocking chair. He waited with Delilah under the cover of the porch.

The sheriff slowly climbed the stairs, then stood at the top looking out at the compound while he shook out his umbrella. He leaned it against the house by the front door. He looked up at Will.

“Sheriff.” Will had to shout over the shush of rain on the metal roof. “I’m Will Trent with the GBI.”

“Douglas Hartshorne.” Instead of asking Will for the rundown, he scowled at Delilah. “You show up after thirteen years on the night Mercy gets stabbed to death. What about that?”

Will didn’t let Delilah answer. “How do you know she was stabbed?”