Page 42 of The Hand that Frays

Ada Hatt.

Lyla shakes in my hold, shifting as I hear her hand grip the folder tighter.

I snake an arm around her center so she doesn’t get any bright ideas, holding her to me as I whisper, “Hold.”

They don’t know that we’re here. This could be the golden opportunity we’ve been looking for to glean information about what the fuck is going on in this household.

“She’s your mother. I watched you come out of her.”

Carl’s words send a sickening shiver up my spine. It’s all I can do to steel myself against the answering quake in my muscles.

They beg to be free of the feeling, but I can’t move.

I’ll alert Lyla to my distress, which will only worsen hers.

“And did you know then?” Ada asks her father, her voice dipped in something lecherous.

Carl laughs, and it’s full of loathing. “Did I know then that I’d be madly in love with my daughter and sneaking around my own house to sink my cock in her body? No, Ada. I don’t think I did.”

“You say it like you’re disgusted by me. Like you’re disgusted by us.”

“It’s only nature. To be disgusted by what you’re doing against the social norm?”

This is disturbing, and part of me is realizing that Lyla was fucking right on the money with her gut feeling that something else was going on here.

We’re killers, her and me. Yet, the things we’re listening to Ada and Carl say have us both inching back toward the back of the closet as if we can disappear through its wall.

“Society doesn’t know what they’re missing,” Ada says.

“It’s not like I had a fucking choice, either,” Carl all but whispers.

I barely catch it.

Lyla stiffens against me before leaning her ear against the door.

The fucking minx.

“Oh, you’re going to go on about that again, are you?” Ada spits back.

“No. I’m sorry. It was a low blow. I’m just… a lot is going on lately, Ada. Can you blame me for feeling as I do? Your mother getting out of lock-up was unforeseen, and now our life has been flipped on its head.”

A shuffle of movement has me reaching for Lyla, only to fling her behind me if this closet opens.

She keeps her ear firmly pressed to the door, however.

“Well, you can blame Jack for that, can’t you? If the little shit wouldn’t have recanted his testimony and then Cecily with her refusal to recertify her statement. What did you think was going to happen?”

“I know, love. But I can’t protect you if the truth ever comes out. If she ever talks…” Carl’s words are cut off, and I can see why.

I’m thankful for Lyla’s ear pressed against the door.

Through the edge of the door, I watch as Ada stepsinto Carl, looking up at him with her hands on his chest like like two lovers would embrace one another. His demeanor changes, and I wonder if Ada realizes he doesn’t want her touching him.

Even so, he leans down and presses his lips to his daughter’s.

Ada takes the contact deeper, and Carl gets stiffer.

When Ada breaks the kiss, there’s a nauseating feeling floating through the room, and everyone, including my Lyla, might be unable to suss it out. But I know exactly what it is.

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