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“And?” I cross my trembling arms over my chest, needing to know the truth. “What happened? Tell me everything. Off the record, of course.” I indicate with my hand, ushering him to continue.
“You need to know now?”
“Yes!I need to know now!”
“What the hell!” He tosses out a frustrated hand, shaking his head. “When the cops and Reacher showed up, I was passed out on the ground. The kid I was fighting was losing, and he was used to winning. He found a pipe on the floor and used it on me to gain the upper hand. He beat me good. Reacher picked me up, put me in his car, and took me to the hospital. I had a few cracked ribs and a punctured lung. I was out of it for a few days, but Reacher was in my room whenever I opened my eyes. He sat in a chair, reading, sleeping, and watching TV. He never left.” He pauses. “He didn’t leave until I was fully conscious and stable. Then he came back at the same time every day to visit me.”
I blink a few times, still trying to understand what he’s explaining. Could this be true? Is Reacher my uncle? Did Lix have a different kind of relationship than I imagined with my uncle? He must’ve meant something to my uncle if he had given Lix that cross necklace.Did I have it all wrong?
“Go on.” I wave. “The necklace.”
“When the hospital discharged me, he picked me up to bring me to the group home. He said some shit about apples. That’s why we called him Reacher. He was always reciting verses from the Bible like a preacher or giving some crazy advice. So he was part reaper and part preacher. Anyway, he gave me this necklace.” He touches it with his fingers. “It was the only thing anyone had given me in years. So I kept it.”
Blown away by the atomic bomb he just imploded in my head, I walk over to my phone, open my photo album, and click on a picture.
With a shaky hand, I hold it up to him. “Is this Reacher?”
He leans down and looks at it. His eyes meet mine and then go back to the pic. “Yes.” He stands. “That’s Reacher.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Who is he to you?”
I lift my chin. “He’s my uncle.”
His shoulders drop, and his eyes soften. “The uncle who was like a father to you?”
“Yes.” I nod, tears welling in my eyes.
“That’s what this is about? That’s what you want from me? Why you’ve been trying to get close to me?”
“I want the truth. You were there when he was killed.”
He takes a step back, shaking his head. “I wasn’t there.”
“Yes. You were! There were five of you, but your face!” I shove him in the chest. “Your face was bruised.” I push him again. His body barely budges. “You were there. I saw the report! Your name was on it! I saw the pictures of you!”
“Chosen.” He grabs my arms, halting my next hit. “I. Wasn’t. There.”
“You’re lying! Tell me what happened. I need to know the truth.”
He grabs my phone, types a number into it, and hands it back to me. “Call that number. Maybe you’ll find the answers you’re looking for. Unfortunately, I don’t have them.” He shoves it into my chest and walks out the door.
Chapter 19
I walk into the office. Brett looks up at me from where he is sitting at the desk.
“Hey, we all set with that primer?”
“Yeah.” I drop my tools on the table. “It’s all ready for paint on Monday.”
“Good.” He nods. “About this afternoon—”
“I’m going to see Mom.” I cut him short, understanding he wants to go in my place. But fuck, it’s been six months since I’ve seen her. So I’m not missing this visit when I’ve waited so long. And not after doing all those AA meetings. Not to mention, it’s my turn.
He lounges back in the chair and peers up at me. “You’ll have to talk to her about Lucy Deetman.”
“I will.”
“You sure?” His eyebrow rises. “I can go if you want me to deal with it.”
“I can handle it.”
