Page 87 of Luck of the Devil
“Being capable doesn’t mean I am.”
The way he said it made me realize this was an internal battle he’d had for some time. Obviously, he’d done some bad shit in his life, but maybe he wanted to be a good person. Maybe he just thought he’d sunk too deep to crawl out of the pit he’d dug himself into.
“Then tell me this,” I countered, “why are you helping me?” When he didn’t answer, I added, “Why help me last night? Why come with me today? Why be so nice to my grandparents?”
“I’m not a total dick,” he said in disgust.
“Maybe you’re not a dick at all.”
He tilted his head toward me and gave me the side-eye. “How many drinks did you have while I was gone?”
I nearly told him I’d had none, then caught myself—he was deflecting. “You said you helped me because you needed me to uncover who took over Simmons’s operation. But you could have hired someone to babysit me. You must have other people at your disposal, like the woman who stitched me up.”
He shifted in his seat, irritation etched on his face. “What is it you want me to say, Harper?”
“You said it before, and you’re right—you and I are a lot alike. If someone gets too close, we go on the offensive.” When he didn’t contradict me, I continued. “It’s this dance we do: I lash out. You lash out. But what if we tried to stop? What if we both accepted that there’s something about the other person that makes us feel safe opening up? Letting the other person see the parts we hide from everyone else?”
I took it as a small victory when he didn’t immediately tell me to go fuck myself.
“I think we have bigger issues to address,” he said matter-of-factly. “Like the fact your mother knew your father was capable of murdering someone but let him keep living at home with her two little girls.”
“I wasn’t a little girl when Andi was kidnapped,” I countered.
“But you were still a minor. And your aunt confronted your mother about your father being potentially dangerous when you were eleven, Harper—yeah, I’m capable of doing math. The way your mother completely dismissed her warning makes me think she already knew something was up with him.” He turned to look at me for a long moment before turning back to the road. “She put you in danger, and for what? To fucking save face? To protect her Queen Bee of Jackson Creek status?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, something inside me crumpling. “She loved Andi. I think she would have done anything to protect her.”
“And yet,” he said, his tone harsh, “when Hannah called your mother after she was kidnapped, she said she didn’t know whether your father was responsible.”
“He wasn’t,” I said. “He had nothing to do with it. We both know John Michael Stevens was the one who kidnapped and murdered my sister.”
“True, but until they caught the bastard, she wasn’t sure.”
He was right and I took a moment to let that sink in. She’d been so insistent we come straight home that day. Had something been brewing outside of my sister’s kidnapping? “Do you know anything about a Richard or a Dale Ambrose?”
“Nope. Ambrose should be easy enough to look into, but Richard? The name’s too common.” He tapped the steering wheel with his thumb. “We can’t overlook that your father was screwing someone back when you and your sister were younger. Which means the woman who came to your mother’s house last week could have been his mistress after all.”
I nodded, because the thought had occurred to me too. “She must not be from the area. Lisa and her friends would have recognized her otherwise.”
He made a face as though considering whether he should say what he was thinking. Finally, he said, “When you asked if I had girlfriends, I told you that I don’t do relationships, but when I’m lookin’ to get laid, I don’t shit in my front yard.” He shot me a look. “If your father had a lick of sense in his head, he wouldn’t either.”
“Yeah,” I said. “While my father has done some stupid shit, in this instance, I think he’d be smart. Especially after getting caught when we were younger.”
He gave a nod. “So if the woman was your father’s mistress, why would she show up at your mother’s house?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Dad already left Mom, so it’s not likely the woman was there to confront her.” I turned in my seat to face him better. “And then there’s the fact that someone dropped her off. I don’t think the woman would show up unannounced and have her ride drive off.”
“True.”
“We can’t forget my mother called that burner phone a few hours before the woman showed up. I think my mother called her and she came.”
He pursed his lips. “You think your mother would call your father’s mistress and invite her to her house for a chat?”
“It wasn’t a chat, though, was it?” I said. “They left minutes later.”
“Does your mother seem like the kind of woman to leave with a suitcase and take her husband’s mistress with her?” he asked pointedly.
“No,” I admitted. “I can’t even imagine that happening. Unless…” I said as a new thought hit me. “Unless the mistress had information about my father too. What if they both knew something, and they were both afraid?”
