Page 80 of The Summer that Changed Everything

“Lucy, they insisted so many times even I began to doubt myself,” he admitted.

“And now?” she asked. “Now that you’ve had fifteenyearsto think about it?”

“I was drinking that night. You know that.”

“Can’t you give mesomethingto work with?”

“I hope and pray I didn’t. Just the possibility fills me with self-loathing, and that’s a far worse punishment than being in here.” He gestured at the cinder block walls. “Lucinda was sort of like the mother I never had,” he added, choking up. Then, apparently, he was done with the visit, because he hung up the phone immediately, as if it’d suddenly grown scorching hot in his hand, probably so she wouldn’t hear the emotion in his voice. But it was too late for that. She knew he was on the verge of breaking down.

Banging on the glass, she motioned for him to pick up the phone again and, reluctantly, he did.

“Write me today!” she said. “Tell me everything you remember about that night. Where you were. Who you were with. Why you don’t think it was you. Anything that could help me. Maybe there’s some detail that’ll make all the difference. But for that to happen, I need you to share what you know.”

“It’s not going to do any good,” he insisted. “If the police could ignore the DNA evidence in that drain, and accept Reggie’s bullshit testimony, they’re not suddenly going to reverse all that. They know how ridiculous it’ll make them look.”

They’d rather let him rot in prison regardless of his culpability. Lucy knew he was right. She’d heard how Chief Claxton had responded last night. But she wasn’t about to concede to that bastard. Claxton and others like him had won fifteen years ago; they wouldn’t win now that she was an adult and capable of fighting back. She had Ford. She had Friedman. And she had her own conviction and determination. “I’m finally holding a couple of good cards,” she told him. “Help me improve my hand.”

His mouth formed a stark slash in his face, but then he gave her a single, almost imperceptible nod and hung up.

“How’d it go?” Ford asked as Lucy climbed into the Land Rover.

She stared out the windshield toward the huge white buildings that made up the sprawling compound. “I don’t know. He’s pretty discouraged, doesn’t have a lot of hope. I think he’s afraid to commit to helping me. It’s harder when you try and then fail, you know? The disappointment takes something out of you.”

“So he wasn’t receptive?”

“He was as you’d expect someone to be who’s had such a hard life. And to make everything worse, I’m seeing so many things in a different light.”

He started the vehicle. “Like what?”

“The way my father behaved back then, for one. Why he didn’t continue to proclaim his innocence. Why he gave up fighting.”

“Because he didn’t have much to fight with?” Ford guessed. “We know he had a lousy lawyer.”

“I think there were a couple of forces at play. I think he might have sacrificed himself—for me.”

Although Ford had put the SUV in gear, he left his foot on the brake. “What do you mean by that?”

“Because he couldn’t be sure about the Matteos, felt he might actually have done something terrible to them while he was drinking, he feels he’s probably where he belongs. So he just let it happen. And he didn’t want all the legal stuff to drag on forever. He wanted me to be able to cut loose and leave him behind—like a drowning man who doesn’t want to pull anyone else down with him. He keeps telling me to move on with my life and forget him, be happy.”

Ford had never thought a great deal of her father, for obviousreasons. But this earned the man some respect. “Are you more convinced he’s guilty than you were before—or less?”

She gave him a troubled look. “I’m more convinced now than I’ve ever been.”

“That...”

“He’s innocent.”

Just a few days ago, Ford wouldn’t have believed it. But considering the way Chief Claxton had behaved yesterday, he was beginning to wonder if she was right, if her father had just been a convenient scapegoat.

He took her hand. “Then we’ll figure out a way to prove it.”

23

They were still in bed at the hotel the following morning when Ford’s phone went off. It was after eight, but he ignored it. He was too comfortable snuggled against Lucy’s naked body. He could feel the soft skin of her neck against his lips and the mound of her breast beneath his hand as he slowly woke up. He figured they’d get to the day soon enough—have breakfast, maybe look through a few shops and then start the long drive back to North Hampton Beach.

But he needed more moments like this one, when he was so deeply content he didn’t care if heeverleft the hotel. Yes, he’d had a good life overall. At least, he’d never gone without. But something had been missing for a long time. On top of that, his marriage had been such a constant battle that just being at peace made him incredibly happy.

When whoever it was called right back, however, he thought it might be the investigator with news about CODIS. He’d be shocked if the results could come back that fast, but just in case...

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