AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“When they were tearing down Rockton, someone found letters from Mom to Gene Dalton,” I say. “She wrote them after I was taken.”
Jacob’s head whips my way.
I take the tablet from inside my jacket. “I can tell you what they say, but I think you should see them. I can read them to you, if you’d like.”
There was a time when my brother couldn’t read, and I’d taken that as proof that my parents hadn’t educated us. I know better now. He’s dyslexic, and our mother had taught him to read as best she could, but once she was gone, he refused to do it, enduring years of my “teaching” before admitting to the problem. Nicole has helped him, and he’ll never be as comfortable with a book as I am, but he can manage.
He takes the tablet from me. I lean back on the log and relax, making sure he gets as much time as he needs.
“Huh,” he says when he finishes. “Seems about right.”
I look at him. He’s dry eyed but thoughtful. Casey was shocked and horrified by what she read. I was furious. It’s different for Jacob, I realize, because he’d been there. He’d seen what my parents went through, as much as they tried to hide it from him.
“I wish...” I look out into the forest as my throat closes. “I wish I could have seen them again. Mom never got the chance to set the story straight.”
“But she did.” Jacob taps the screen. “Right here. That must be why Gene saved it. Guilt. Why else would he keep it for so long when it proved what he’d done? He wanted you to know, and he just never had the courage to show you the letters.”
“Maybe.”
“How are you going to handle it?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll figure it out.” I straighten and turn to face him. “On a completely different subject, I have a question for you...”
8
It’s afternoon.I’m talking to Émilie about the package she’s sending. I’m on the deck, standing at the railing, when the door swooshes open behind me, and the scratch of dog nails tells me who’s coming out. I sign off with Émilie and turn to see Casey. She’s holding the letter from Joni Mayfair.
“Did I interrupt your call?” she asks.
“Nope, I was looking for an exit excuse, and you gave me one.” I motion at the letter. “Progress with the not-a-case?”
“I know. I should drop it.”
“Did I say that?” I meet her gaze. “You care what happened. Nothing wrong with that.”
She flushes, and it takes her a moment to remember what she came out for. Then she lifts the letter. “I think I made an unforgivable assumption.”
“Unforgivable to you—andonlyyou—I’m betting.”
She ignores that. “Can you read this and tell me why I presumed Joni Mayfair’s lover was male?”
I take it and read it over. “You mean, tell you why we both presumed it, because we did, along with everyone else who read it. Yeah, there’s nothing here that says it’s a guy.”
“I defaulted to a straight relationship. I’ve done it once before, and apparently, didn’t learn my lesson.”
“Enough with theI, Butler. We both did. Partly by default, which yeah, is wrong. Also wrong if we did that because she mentioned her lover being able to handle themself in the forest and build a cabin. But mostly, to cut us a little slack, it’s because it was thirty years ago and Joni was in a straight relationship—married to a man. But, yeah, we need to ask the Georges if they remember Joni hanging out with any women here... or if any local women suddenly pulled up stakes around the same time. That wouldn’t have been the obvious answer at the time.”
“It also might explain the phone call.”
I frown. “Phone call?”
“The piece of evidence that made the police stop looking. An anonymous caller who described Joni to a tee and said they dropped her off in Kelowna. That caller was—”
“A woman.”
* * *
Casey phones Mrs. Georgeand puts it on speaker phone. She explains our new theory and then braces for the answer. The Georges are older. They live in an area that leans far more conservative than Vancouver. Casey has warned me to be ready for the Georges to say we’re wrong.
