Page 73 of Toxic Salvation
“I’m serious. He was just the messenger.”
He drops his arms to his sides and turns his full attention on me. The milk case hums behind us, and somewhere in the distance, a baby is crying. Normal grocery store sounds for a very abnormal conversation.
“Tell me what’s going on, Vesper.”
“Here?” I glance around at the other shoppers pretending not to eavesdrop. “In the frozen foods aisle?”
“We could move over to the meat section, but I’m not a fan of the smell.”
“We’re in a grocery store, Waylen. This is not an appropriate place to have this conversation.”
“I don’t see why not. We need groceries and we need to talk.” He shrugs like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world. “No sense putting off either one.”
“Very practical.”
“I’m nothing if not sensible.” His mouth quirks up at one corner. “And you’re stalling.”
He’s right. I am. But how do you tell someone that everything they believed about the man who raised them was a lie? How do you explain that the father who taught you to ride a bike and helped with homework was also a murderer?
I take a breath that feels too thin. “You remember the Keres?”
The half-smile drops clean off his face. “I saw that name in Dad’s office once. On one of his files.”
“It’s an organ trafficking ring.” The words come out in a rush, like ripping off a bandage. “Dad was their lead surgeon for several years. He basically stole organs from his patients and sold them to the highest bidder.”
Waylen goes completely still. His lips turn white, and for a second, I think he might actually pass out right here between the frozen peas and the ice cream.
“Well, fuck me,” he says finally.
“I’m sorry. There might have been a better way to tell you?—”
“That our father was stealing organs from his patients for profit?” Waylen runs both hands through his hair, messing it up completely. “I’m not sure there’s a good way to deliver that particular piece of news. Fuck.”
“I know it’s a lot to process?—”
“Would it make sense if I said this was shocking but not surprising?”
My mouth falls open. “Seriously?”
“I was older than you, V. I noticed things you didn’t. Plus, I didn’t worship the guy the way you did.” He’s not being cruel, just honest. “I saw his flaws as well as his best qualities. He was never the saint you thought he was. He never belonged on that pedestal you put him on.”
“I don’t understand. What did you notice?”
“Little things. Late-night phone calls that he never seemed happy about. A locked drawer in his home office that he was insanely protective of.” Waylen rests against the freezer case, suddenly looking exhausted. “I was looking for a pen one day—Dad always had extras in his desk. So I went into his office to grab one. He caught me in there and went absolutely ballistic. Accused me of invading his privacy and the privacy of his patients. He apologized later for overreacting, but it always struck me as weird. It felt like he had something to hide.”
“Mom knew, too.”
Waylen looks down at his shoes. “She was never going to stop him, Vesper. She worshipped him just like you did. Maybe even more.”
“I wouldn’t have if I’d known what he was doing.” The defense comes out automatically, but even as I say it, I’m not sure it’s true. “I could never condone what he did.”
“No, but you’re his daughter. Mom was his wife. It’s different when you love someone.”
“Is it, though?”
“You tell me. After everything you’ve been through with Kovan, do you still love him?”
The question finds its mark exactly where he intended it to. I stare at my brother, trying to find an answer that will absolve me of the comparison he’s making. Unfortunately, he’s got me dead to rights.
