Page 51 of Watch Me Burn

Lisa eventually dismissed them to go play with their Legos in the house. As she turned to go inside, she glanced back abruptly. “Oh wait, were you two here for something? Are you two parents at Scotch Elementary? I’ll be bringing my casserole in the evening.”

I took a deep breath. Seeing Lisa was a mom made me hesitant to bring up the grim events of fifteen years ago.

But Anna prodded ahead of me. “Lisa. It’s . . . me. Anna. Anna Hudson. We went to Longlane High together.”

Lisa’s smile drooped. Literally like someone had slapped her.

“This . . .” Anna said, stepping forward, “is Ethan Wayne.”

I smiled at Lisa, but her wariness only grew.

“Anna . . . as in the daughter of . . .” Lisa trailed off, dropping her gaze to the floor. “Sorry, but I have errands to run for my kids.”

“Please, Lisa,” I countered. “It will only take a minute. I promise.”

Her eyes settled on me, and she looked at me long and deep. “I’m sorry for what happened to you.” She shuffled her feet cautiously. “But I wasn’t that close to anybody, especially not teachers. If you’re here to collect condolences or plan some memorial crap, there are better people to ask.”

Oh—oh . . . no John Hudson love here, for sure.

“We’re not here to ask for you to add another message to his obituary,” Anna said. Cautiously. “I know you’re probably guarded about certain things because I’m his daughter. But we’re here because we are trying to clear Ethan’s name.”

“Well, I didn’t kill him!” Lisa countered swiftly. “I was out of town that week and have plenty of proof of that.”

Anna and I exchanged glances. Why did we never even consider it could have been her?

Because we don’t even know yet if John really was a pervert.

“We don’t think that,” I said. “But it wasn’t me either, but I sat for it for fifteen years. My life is ruined. Burnt to ashes. All I’m asking for is a little help, Lisa. Was John Hudson involved with the wrong crowd? We know you went to Florida with him. My question would be . . .” I lowered my voice, turned it soft and compassionate. “Why?”

“What my father did clearly doesn’t align with what he told everybody. I have one of his journals and it’s full of trips that make no sense,” Anna added. “Is there someplace that we can sit down and talk?” She gently placed a hand on Lisa’s shoulder. “Please. For Ethan.”

Eyeing me sharply, Lisa stood silent for a few moments. I almost thought she was going to snap and storm back into her house. Thankfully, she caved in with a sigh.

“Follow me to the yard.”

Lisa waved Anna and me to a weathered wooden fence that was latched shut. She opened it and led us up to a rusty table with old chairs. “Sorry, money is tight,” she explained.

“Amen to that,” Anna agreed. We sat down.

“You said you got his journal?” Lisa asked Anna. Her eyes were watching the evidence in Anna’s hand like a hawk. “Did he write anything, uhm, personal in them?”

Anna shook her head. “I’ve got your yearbook, too.” She plopped Lisa’s junior yearbook down on the table and flipped to the page with her basketball group photo. “You were talented and passionate about the sport. I think I remember my brother telling me that. The perfect combination for any coach, which would explain why my dad recruited you for his team in twelfth grade.”

Lisa twirled her thumbs. “He was keeping me back for ‘classes’ long before then.” I noticed she placed some sort of sarcasm at the mention of John’s after-school guidance sessions.

Before Anna could press further on the basketball team, I asked, “What do you mean?”

Lisa regarded me as if I was blabbering fantasies. “Ha, he called them guidance sessions. But they were hell. Nothing but hell.” Lowering her voice, she whimpered, “What I was forced into was hell.”

Her eyes filled with tears as her lower lip began to tremble. “Years of therapy and I still cry when I talk about it.”

Anna knit her eyebrows. Placing a hand on Lisa’s, she whispered, “I’m not my dad. Or any other man. I have only known the hardworking and loving man who came home with a smile every day. But if there was a different side that he didn’t show us, I need to know. Ethan needs to know so he can get justice.”

Tears began to spill out of Lisa’s eyes. She seemed so hardened when we first approached the property, but something of this conversation struck a vulnerability in her. My stomach twisted with dread—whatever happened between her and Anna’s father, I could tell it was far from sun and roses.

“He took advantage of me,” she spluttered through tears. “At first, it was just weird things I’d brush off. Him making me bend down to pick up a fallen ball or commenting on how my boobs had grown since I’d last come to his sessions and that I needed to ‘cover them up’ if I didn’t want to send boys ‘the wrong message.’”

I scowled. “That’s fucking disgusting. And no one saw or said anything?”

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