Page 81 of Lock Me Inside


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“Would you care to elaborate on that?” Jones asks, and now I see she’s taking notes.

“I guess he first saw Leni during a competition. My mom, she was a coach. Leni was one of the gymnasts on another team. And I don’t know. He was obsessed with her. He started taking random business trips, just out of nowhere, last minute. We found out later he was actually traveling to the places where Leni was competing.”

All I can do is dig my nails into my palms as I absorb this. All that time.

“That was what first clued my mom into what was going on,” Colt mumbles. “He was supposed to be at a conference or something, then she found out there was no such conference going on, so she started digging into his travel arrangements and stuff. And then, I guess she found some of his pictures, something. And when she confronted him with it… we thought he killed her, my brother and me. He told us she was in a coma after he took her to the hospital.”

My mouth is hanging open, and I can’t seem to close it for long before it falls open again. That’s what he was holding over their heads?

“He wouldn’t tell us where she was, but he did send us a picture once when he visited her. She had tubes coming out of her and one of those braces around her neck. She was on a ventilator. And he told us if we didn’t do what he wanted, and if we ever told anybody about the things he did, he would end her care. And we would never know where she was, or when she died, or any of it.”

He hangs his head and whispers, “And if she died, it would be our fault.”

“We are going through your father’s financial records, as well,” Patterson tells us. “And it does look like he had some payments through a shell corporation going to a hospital out of state. In fact, we were going to ask you about that. If you knew why your father would be sending money to a hospital under seemingly anonymous circumstances. We’ll dig deeper into that and let you know what we find.”

“You think you can find my mom?” There’s the tiniest bit of a tremble in his voice, and it goes straight to my heart. All this time, James was using her to manipulate them. He knew how much they loved her, and he used it against them to get what he wanted.

I hope wherever he is now, he’s suffering. Alive or dead, I don’t care. I want him to hurt.

Jones clears her throat and stands in front of the two of us. “The fire marshal’s report will say the explosion and the subsequent fire were set purposely. It was arson. The jets on the stove were all turned on, all the way up, along with the oven. That sort of thing doesn’t happen accidentally.”

“And you know it was my mom in there?” I whisper.

“Yes, one of the bodies identified is that of Mrs. Amanda Alistair. Again, I’m very sorry.” Her brow wrinkles. “And I’m sorry to give you more bad news, but the firefighters recovered three bodies.”

“Three.” Colt sinks back on the sofa and covers his face with his hands.

“Yes, besides your father, it would appear that your brother, Nix, was also inside the house. We’re very sorry to have to break this to you.”

“You’re wrong.” Colt jumps up, shaking his head and waving his hands. “You’re wrong. Somebody made a mistake. Nix wasn’t there. He couldn’t have been. This is all a mistake. It was somebody else.”

“Do you have any idea who else might have been in the house? An employee, maybe? Domestic help?”

There was no such person, at least nobody I ever saw.

“No, but there has to be another explanation. It wasn’t him. It’s not him.”

The two of them exchange a look that’s easy enough to read. “Again, we’re very sorry,” Jones murmurs. “And as my partner said, we will call you as soon as we find anything about the first Mrs. Alistair. Please, take care of yourselves. Take care of each other. And let us know if you can think of anything else that might be worthwhile in the investigation.”

I’m the one who has to show them to the door because Colt is in no condition. Pacing, shaking his head, snarling.

When we’re alone, I turn to him. “Colt, there’s really nobody else it could have been, is there? I’m sorry, I hate to believe it, too.”

“You don’t know. All these fucking years. And this is how it ends? Having to do what he wanted all this time because otherwise, he would have let our mother die. Do you think he wouldn’t have? Do you think that was an idle threat?”

“I don’t think it was an idle threat.”

“So what? He dies in a fucking explosion along with that sick bastard? How does that make sense? How is that fair?” He leans against the nearest wall and slides down until he’s on the floor, folding his arms over his knees and touching his forehead to them. I feel so helpless—useless. I don’t know the right thing to say or if there is any right thing at a time like this.

All I can do is sit down with him. Be close to him and let him know he isn’t alone.

Because, after all, we have to take care of each other. We’re all we have.

CHAPTER41

Ilower my head and look down at the two graves covered in flowers, notes, and even a few stuffed animals.The dirt around it is freshly turned, the headstone meticulously carved and beautifully inscribed.

Amanda L. Peters.

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