Page 29 of I’ll Be Watching You

Now the fire was back in Mom’s eyes, and that was better than the fear.

“You promised the truth,” I said firmly.

Mom took a deep breath. “Your father did not kill Devin. I don’t think any of you really believed that he did, but . . . well, he confessed.”

She looked at her hands, and I narrowed my eyes. Was she trying to come up with another lie? But before I could challenge her, she continued. “As you already know, Devin called Cooper to meet him at the VA medical center the night he died. What you don’t know is why. He wanted to show Cooper something involving a clinical trial, something that Devin was very upset about. I don’t know any of those details. When Cooper arrived, not even an hour after talking to Devin, he was dead. Cooper saw no one except the guard at the night entrance. He called the police, gave his statement, and he thought that was it. He told the police that Devin had called him to meet, and that was supported by phone records.

“Two days after Devin was shot to death, your father found a gun in his car. Then a phone rang, a phone that didn’t belong to your dad, that had been placed in his glove box with the gun. The caller—a male voice he did not recognize—told him that the gun he now possessed had been used to kill Devin, and that he was to go straight to the police and plead guilty to the murder. He could say anything he wanted about why, as long as the police believed him. When Cooper said no, he was sent a link. The link . . . oh, God.” She closed her eyes.

We all waited silently, staring at Mom. Finally, she said, “The link went to a website of photos. They were of everyone Cooper loves. Me. Uncle Rafe. The five of you. My parents. Our grandson.”

I shot a glance toward Jack. I was as shocked by this confession as anyone, but Austin? My nephew had been threatened? He’d been seven and a half at the time. Jack sat rigid, his face a hard mask.

Mom continued. “There were photos of your houses, your vehicles, Margo’s old office. Rafe entering the rectory, my parents at church, Rita and I having lunch.” Her voice cracked.

“I need the link,” Luisa said calmly. “I can trace them.”

Mom shook her head. “Cooper found me, showed me the photos, but when we tried to download them, they disappeared. The man called again, said if Cooper wasn’t at the police station by nine that evening, one of you would be dead by ten. So he confessed.”

The story was so incredible, so unbelievable, I didn’t want to believe it. But I did. Every word. Because it explained why Dad would confess to a murder he didn’t commit.

To protect his family.

Guilt slammed at me again, but I pushed it back.

My investigations, my questions, had opened up this hornet’s nest.

Except Liz Swanson would still be dead.

Unless someone killed her because she planned to talk to me.

I didn’t know, and that bothered me. I needed to know if whoever killed Liz knew she had called me Monday night.

“Why would someone do that to Dad?” Jack asked. “Why make him a scapegoat?”

“I don’t know,” Ava said. “Maybe because he was the one who found Devin dead? Maybe they thought he knew more about why Devin had been killed? Cooper didn’t want to tell me too much, but truth be told, he didn’t know specifics. Not anything he could point to. The only thing Cooper told me was a week before Devin was killed, Devin believed that he had uncovered falsified data in a drug trial that some of his patients participated in. It was a drug that was supposed to help manage PTSD. Cooper never saw the data, Devin had asked him if I had a recommendation for a lawyer he could talk to. I gave him a name, but later learned that Devin never contacted him. The night Devin called, he told Cooper over the phone that one of his patients using the drug had died and he believed the records had been altered to remove patients from the trial when they showed adverse effects.”

I made a note because I didn’t want to forget to follow up. If a patient died shortly before Devin was murdered, I might be able to find out who it was. Maybe that patient had told family or friends what they were experiencing. But that alone wouldn’t prove anything.

“Why didn’t Dad tell the police about the drug trial that night? About why Devin called him?” Jack asked. “When he was first questioned?”

“He mentioned that was the reason Devin had called him, but didn’t give details because the police said a detective would talk to him later. Before anyone did, he received the threat.” Mom looked around the table, then settled her eyes on mine, just a beat too long.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” I said.

“You were so determined to dig and we were terrified you would be killed.”

I thought about what Dad said yesterday at the prison. His cryptic comments about my birth now made more sense.

“If we know there is a threat,” I said, “we can protect ourselves. All of us.”

“Not always.”

“What did you do, Mom?” I asked.

“I never thought you’d find anything because whoever killed Devin covered up the drug trial. I talked to Devin’s assistant—”

I sat up abruptly. “Georgia? Georgia Rollins?”