Page 137 of Not a Word

McCabe: Right. I know you might find some small comfort in thinking your father did not kill Leah Kennard, that he did not turn that gun on himself. That it might leave you with a better memory of him. But I’m sorry to have to tell you that I think that’s exactly what he did.

Reece: But why?

McCabe: There are some things we’ll never know. We don’t know what was going on between the two of them, what they might have been talking about. We don’t know anything about your father’s state of mind. The one thing we know for sure is that he didn’t mistake Ms. Kennard for his own wife. I wish I knew more. You and your brother are in a better position than I am to try to guess what he might have been thinking.

Reece: I can’t get my head around my father having a gun in the first place, or keeping it all these years. And all this time, it was there, next to his bed?

McCabe: And yet, here we are.

Diana: It’s hard to accept.

Reece: I don’t think I’ll ever understand it.

McCabe: About your son.

Diana: Gage?

McCabe: Yeah. How’s he managing? Last night, that must have been a horrible experience for him.

Reece: He was already having a hard time dealing with the death of his grandfather.

McCabe: My daughter knows him.

Diana: What? How?

McCabe: From school.

Reece: Teenagers. How do we ever get through these years?

McCabe: As teenagers, or as parents?

Reece: Both.

McCabe: I wish I knew.

Fifty-Two

Reece

When Diana and I were done being interviewed by McCabe, we stopped by Heffernan & Sons, where they were still holding my father. It seemed like a hundred years ago that I’d dropped off his suit at the funeral home, but it had only been yesterday.

I told them my mother would be joining him. When the police had finished the autopsy on her, the body would be sent here. We figured a joint funeral made the most sense, and we set it for a week from now. We promised to come by the next day to sort out all the arrangements. Did we want a private service, or one that was open to the public? We didn’t know which way to go. My parents had a lot of friends in Yorkton Hill, especially my mother, with her friends on the arts council. But given the circumstances, would people even come? Or, equally concerning, would we be looking at a record turnout? And if the latter, did we really want to make small talk with all of them?

I was relieved when McCabe said I was unlikely to be charged in the death of Dalton Crane, but I was still pretty shaken by what had happened. Heffernan’s would have had a lot more business today if I hadn’t done what I did. My brother, Diana, Gage, and me. It seemed clear Crane was intent on killing all of us. Too many of us knew the truth, and the truth was ultimately very damaging for him.

Diana had already suggested I talk to someone. A counselor, psychologist, somebody like that. Maybe I’ll take her up on that. Hell, we probably all need counseling. Maybe Sharnwood helped people with problems other than addiction. We could ask for a group rate.

My immediate concerns were for Diana and Gage, but my heart ached for Holden. A witness to what Mom had done, silenced by a threat of withdrawn love. He’d told our mother in her last moments that he forgave her, and maybe he was telling her the truth. I’m not so sure I would have.

I felt badly for Gage. His faith in his grandfather’s sense of decency had been undermined by McCabe’s conclusion that our initial take on what happened was right. Dad shot Leah Kennard and then himself. Diana was shaken too. She’d come around to Gage’s way of thinking, that my father was not capable of such horrible acts.

When we got back from the funeral home we filled our son in on what the detective had told us. Alicia couldn’t have been the shooter. It made no sense that she’d have had the same gun that had killed Evelyn Corby. She was still in her teens when Corby died. Alicia didn’t know Mom, had never crossed paths with her, had no connection at all with our family.

Bottom line: Grandpa did it.

Gage listened. When we were done, he said nothing and walked out of the room.

The next day was a Monday, and as far as our family was concerned, it was a holiday without celebration. Diana didn’t go to work, and Gage, with our blessing, skipped school. We all needed a few days before we resumed our normal lives, if they would ever really be normal again.