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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.
CHAPTER 41
I lower 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.
Beloved mother.
I refused to have them put Alistair on her gravestone. The marriage was annulled anyway since James was still legally married to someone else. My gaze moves to the grave next to hers.
Nixon C. Alistair
A life taken too soon.
His grave holds even more flowers than my mother’s. Half of our high school is here to say goodbye to one of their favorite alumni. We thought about holding two separate funerals but decided we didn’t want to go through all of this twice.
As the pastor reads a passage from the Bible that vaguely fits my mother’s life as a mother, I glance up into the sniffling crowd. A lot of people who came I only know from the wedding, but most of the attendees I don’t know at all. Piper is the only person here who actually came for me, to support me in any way she could.
My grandma couldn’t make the trip down here. They had a rocky relationship, but her own daughter’s death hit her so hard that she ended up in the hospital.
We had James cremated. The funeral home told us they would send us the ashes in the mail. I hope it gets fucking lost. I didn’t think I could ever hate someone as much as I hated James. Not only did he do unspeakable things to me, but he also terrorized his own children, put their mother in a coma, and now because of him, my mom and Nix are dead.
Losing a parent—your only parent—is as confusing as it is heartbreaking. My brain has still not fully processed that my mom is gone. There have been moments when the pain has been so overwhelming that I couldn’t breathe. Then other times, I simply forget she is gone. Those are the worst. I would reach for my phone, ready to text her, just to be reminded that I won’t ever be able to text her again. We had drifted apart after my accident, but she was still my mom, and there was a time we were actually close. I miss those times more than anything. A part of me always hoped we could find our way back to that relationship. Now we’ll never get a chance to try.
