Page 8 of Mine to Save

“I want to find out what happened.”

“It’s all over the news.” Her mother leaned over, lifted her glass of wine off the coffee table, and took a big swig. “I’m not sure there’s much else to find out.”

“They can’t just say that he’s guilty and be done with it,” Trinity said.

“Of course, not.” Ben sat next to her and took her hand. “I don’t know much about police procedure, but I’m sure they need to gather proof and collect evidence before they can close the case.”

She pointed at the television. “That federal agent, Jenna Robash, has pretty much called my father a serial killer. She ended her press conference with something to the effect of:The citizens of South Florida can sleep easy now that we’ve caught the Adultery Killer.I’d say that means they are washing their hands of this.”

“I don’t want to believe this, but maybe something happened to your father. He’s been living on the streets for so long,” her mom said. “Maybe he’s been doing drugs and lost his mind.”

Trinity sucked in a deep breath and then let it out slowly, counting to ten. Sure, she could understand why anyone, including her mother—no,especiallyher mother—would say something like that, but it didn’t mean it was true. Far from it. “Dad never took drugs.”

“We don’t know him at all anymore.” Ben squeezed her hand. “I don’t want to believe he would do something so terrible. The few times I spoke to him while he was in prison and during his probation, all I saw was a broken man who lived with a ton of remorse. But that kind of guilt can change a person. Both prison and being homeless can harden a man.”

Deep down, Trinity knew that Ben was right. And what did she know anyway? She didn’t know a single thing about him, so she couldn’t make even the tiniest judgment—neither good nor bad. “I don’t mean to bring this up, Mom, but I wish you had told me the truth.”

“What truth? Because if I had told you that your biological father was in prison, I would have had to tell you why and that wasn’t something I was prepared to tell my daughter.”

Trinity held up her hand. “Keeping that from me destroyed any chance I had of having any kind of relationship with him.”

“Your mother didn’t want you to have one. And, to be honest, neither did I,” Ben said. “At least not while you were a child. As an adult, you were free to make that choice. But not at sixteen.”

This wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. But at least they’d stopped yelling. Trinity could understand why Ben and her mom had done it. If she were honest with herself, if she’d had a kid, she might have done the exact same thing.

“Just because your dad was remorseful for what he did doesn’t change the fact that he killed Paul—right in front of your mother, with you sleeping in the room next door.”

Trinity wanted to add that her mother and Paul had been doing something they shouldn’t have been doing while she was sleeping in the room next door, but she refrained. There was no point in hurting her mother by bringing that tidbit up. What was done was done. However, there was one thing she would never let go. “You should have let me see him,” she said. “It could have been supervised. But he was my father, and by taking any contact with him away from me, you changed how I saw him.”

“We did what we thought was best for you at the time.” Ben would never change his stance, and why would he? It was his truth. And her mother’s.

“I know,” Trinity said. “And knowing who I was back then, I might not have wanted to see him, but I can’t help but wonder if all this would have played out differently if we’d all made different choices.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but your father killed a man.” Her mother’s expression turned hard. “Yes. I know. I was cheating, and I don’t make excuses for my behavior. But that doesn’t give anyone permission to murder another person.” Her mother swiped a finger across her cheek.

Trinity’s cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen.

“Lighthouse Cove Police Department?” she said softly. She tapped the green button. “Hello?”

“Is this Trinity Hughes?”

She took her tea and stood, heading to the den. “Yes. Who is this, please?”

“My name is Lieutenant Emmett Kirby with the Lighthouse Cove Police Department.”

“I saw you on the news. You were with my father when they shot him.” She swallowed the bitter taste that had bubbled up to her throat. “Why did they shoot him? Was he threatening people?”

“Ma’am. I’d like to speak with you if possible. In person, if that’s okay with you. I can be in Pensacola tomorrow afternoon.”

“No. I’ll come to you.”

“It’s not necessary for you to make the trip. Besides, I’m sure the FBI and the state police will be calling. This is their case. To be honest, I’m asking to speak with you unofficially.”

“Why?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you’re not trying to close a bunch of murder cases and make a name for yourself, or tracking down other leads because maybe my father didn’t kill all those men, then why do you want to talk with me?” Hell, why did anyone want to have a conversation with her? She knew nothing about her father.

“I spoke with your dad before he died. He gave me an envelope, which is now with the FBI, but he wanted you to have it. I took pictures of the contents and thought maybe you’d want to see them. Perhaps it could shed some light on some of the things he said to me.”

“Wait. I’m confused. If the feds have the envelope, and my dad wanted me to have it, why aren’t they banging on my door?”

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