Page 134 of Undone

He’d made terrible decisions, choices that changed the course of so many lives, including mine. But I refused to believe he was a monster.

Not like John.

Not the man that taught me to ride a bike, secretly supported my career when my mother hadn’t, and helped heal my first broken heart when I was only thirteen, thinking it was the end of the world.

And that was the hardest part to understand.

I wanted to scream at him for what he’d done, for letting this spiral out of control.

But another part of me, the part that always saw him as my protector, couldn’t quite let go of the fact that he hadn’t done it out of malice.

He was afraid. Afraid of losing everything he had built, afraid of the scrutiny that would come with being tied to a murder.

I only hoped that in his mind, he thought he was containing the damage, holding it at bay, but even with that, it didn’t make it right.

As I continued down the corridor, I tried to remind myself that this—this moment—was the closure I needed, even if it brought on more questions.

FIFTY

Noah - December

HURT - JOHNNY CASH

I foundhim in the waiting area just outside the visitation room, slumped in one of the hard plastic chairs. His face was drawn and pale, as if he’d been waiting for me, maybe even bracing himself for this moment.

He looked older than I remembered, more worn down, like the weight of the world had finally caught up with him. His hands were trembling slightly, his fingers flexing nervously as he stood when I approached. The look in his eyes was full of guilt and something deeper, something broken.

“Dad,” I said, quieter than I’d intended.

He winced, like the sound of my voice physically hurt him. The space between us felt vast, each of us waiting for the other to break it open. But I didn’t know how to start. How to ask the questions I needed answers to.

He ran a hand through his thinning hair, his gaze never quite meeting mine, as if he were searching for the right words in the cracks of the floor. “Noah, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I should’ve told you. I should’ve told you everything.” He knew John would tell me everything. And he let him.

I stared at him, waiting for him to continue, to make sense of the mess that John left behind. But there was nothing. No easy explanations, no comforting lies. Only the harsh reality of the truth John had finally dragged into the light.

“How could you have kept all of this from me?” The words came out before I could stop them, harsh and raw. Tears stung my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall.

His shoulders sagged, a deep sigh escaping him. “When John came to me years ago… I didn’t know what to do. He was a kid, Noah. A kid I thought had made a horrible mistake. I thought I could help him. Guide him. I thought I could make him better.” For a moment, I saw the man I had once trusted so completely. “I never imagined… I never thought he would become what he did.”

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. “So, you covered it up. You let him get away with murder because you thought you could fix him?” The question came out as a whisper, but the sting of it hit me like a slap.

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I didn’t think it was right. I knew it wasn’t, but at the time… John said it was a mistake, and I thought I was protecting you, protecting our family. I didn’t cover anything up. I just… didn’t report him. I thought if I kept him close, got him on the right path with my company, maybe he would be fine.” He paused, his gaze moving down to the floor. “I was wrong. I see that now. I failed you.”

I couldn’t process it fast enough. My mind reeled, thoughts swirling like smoke. “And you let him… close to me? You let him be part of our lives after all of that? How could you?”

He flinched, the guilt in his eyes seeming to nearly suffocate him. “I didn’t know what he would become. He swore it was an accident. I believed him, Noah. I thought he was… I’m sorry. I thought he wanted help. But when he came to me about his mother’s death… when I found out about the others…” His words broke off, and I could see the pain of that realization etched across his face.

I shook my head in disbelief, anger starting to claw its way up my throat. “And you still didn’t go to the police?”

“No,” he said, his voice raw. “When I knew—when I really understood what he had done—I went to the police. I’ve been working with the FBI, Noah. For months. Trying to help them track him down, find him before he killed anyone else. But I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell anyone. Not until now. It was part of the investigation.”

I stopped breathing for a moment, his confession hitting me like a ton of bricks. “You went to the police? After everything? After all this time?”

“Yes.” He nodded, tears starting to well in his eyes. “The moment I knew, I couldn’t… I couldn’t let him keep going. I had to stop him. I didn’t care what happened to me. I knew what I had done was wrong, letting him go free all these years. But I didn’t know how else to fix it. I was willing to face whatever came, just to get him behind bars.”

“But you’re still here. Why aren’t you in jail too?”

“Statute of limitations…” He swallowed. “It’s three years for misprision of felony—failure to report a crime. I didn’t hide evidence, I didn’t lie, didn’t cover up a body. It’s been too long, Noah. They can’t prosecute me for what happened. When I realized what John had become, I tried to turn myself in. I was ready to face whatever came to stop him. But now, there’s nothing to be done. So, I offered to help the FBI track him down in any way I could.”

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