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She gasped. “Oh shit. The double homicide.”
“Yeah. I didn’t kill them. They were the closest thing to family –– parents –– I can remember. I’d never hurt them,” he said. “And because of that, I think there’s something big here.”
“So why you?” Her eyes were everywhere but on him. “You’re being framed, Wit. Why you?”
“I-I don’t know. For the life of me, I can’t figure that out. It’s someone who knows me if they were able to connect me to the Skrivers –– like really knows me and that part of my life… It’s so distant from the life I live now, I can’t imagine the why, who, and how. Twenty-five million dollars is a lot of money for two average Joes.”
“So maybe it isn’t about them, and they were just a means to you.”
“Again,” he said, “why? What makes me worth that kinda price tag? And why the murders? If someone knows me well enough to connect me to the Skrivers, then they surely know me well enough to just come and get me where I stand.”
“Right.” She tossed back what was left in her water bottle, and he went to grab her a new one from the wet bar. “There’s got to be a reason, though. Going to that extreme draws a lot of attention. A lot of bounty hunters and private security groups are hunting you right now. Why make such a scene?”
“To out me? Our lives are very private, and we’re untraceable as Keepers.” Wit shook his head, returning to the blanket on the floor. “Maybe a grudge? Hope that an old enemy would see it and come for me once I’m out in the open? Settle a score by letting someone else hunt me and take me down?”
“It’s a good theory, but again, why not just use a gun for hire? Wit, that’s a lot of dramatics and risk otherwise. It’s…messy.”
“It sure is. Whoever it is, they need to have that kinda money to follow through too. I don’t know anyone like that,” he went on.
“The Skrivers are from your childhood, right? Let’s start there.”
He let out a deep sigh. “My life –– mychildhood–– was only remarkable in a dark and menacing way, Aye. I can’t imagine anyone wanting revenge or holding me responsible for the egregious acts that occurred for years.”
“And if you were a child at the time you did…”
Wit held up a hand to stop her. “You don’t understand. I didn’t commit the egregious acts. I was… I was the victim.”
“Oh, Wit.”
“I’m, uh, gonna tell ya, but, uh… it ain’t easy. I’ve spent a lifetime trying to right wrongs and then forget them, but everything I did was by the book. I’m not… like any of them.”
“Who?”
“You’ll never look at me the same after this, Ayelish,” he muttered. “Not the same.”
“I know you. I know your heart. Nothing you tell me will change how I see or feel about you, Wit. Not a damn thing.” Her words were firm, confident, and full of truth.
“I guess we’re ’bout to see.” He held up the decanter and filled both of his tumblers. “I’d pour one shot at a time, but I’m gonna need this. All of it. This is some twisted shit I’m ’bout to tell ya.”
11
“I don’t remembermy mother much.” Wit took a burning gulp, then decided on a second. “She was an addict. My dad was deployed by some branch of the military and never at home. At least that’s the story. For all I know, my daddy was Mama’s dealer, but war hero sounds better.”
“You never met him?” she asked.
“I met a lot of men, and I searched their eyes for paternity when I got close enough, but… I was a kid. They all looked like a daddy to me until they didn’t,” he went on. “These are not the kind of men you want raising flies, much less children. The boyfriends came and went, and then I realized they weren’t boyfriends. There were no future daddy-daughter dances or dad’s day out with the boys with these kind of men. But they did like kids… just not in the right kind of way.”
“Jesus.”
“Oh, Jesus wasn’t there on those days.” Wit chuckled. “Not in the way I needed him when I called out for him. Not even He could stomach the things that went on in our childhood. Or maybe he could, and this was a part of my purpose. I’ll ask when I meet him at the pearly gates someday.”
“Our? You had siblings.”
“A brother and sister. I think I was the oldest because I remember taking care of them,” Wit admitted. “I protected them with all I had, but it was never enough. Especially for my sweet sister. I just wasn’t big enough and usually had a black eye or cut or scrape from trying to protect her from them.”
Wit watched the liquid spin in his glass as his hand swirled the cup in a circular motion. He looked up and in the distance, smiling when the reflection of the fire’s light against the crystal cast rainbows across the space.
The color drained from Ayelish’s face, and she sat silent, unwilling to ask for more. This was delicate, and she was respectful of that.
