“I was starting to think I might not ever see you again,” Zach finally admitted quietly. A grim smile curved his lips. “I thought maybe my brother had...”
Troy waited for the rest of the sentence and glanced at Julie as she also waited. Her sharp eyes watched every move Zach made.
Zach shook his head and met Troy’s gaze. “I should’ve done more to keep you here, but at the time, I didn’t...I didn’t know how to do it.” He turned the book over in his hands and stared at it. “Your dad and I were never that close. He wasn’t the easiest man to get along with, but when he married your mom...” Zach paused and considered something, “...when he married your mom, he seemed happy. At least for a little while.”
A very little while, Troy wanted to say, but kept his mouth shut.
“I knew something snapped when she died, but I didn’t think he’d leave and never come back.” Zach closed his eyes and sighed before he leveled his gaze on Troy. “He hit you and your mother, didn’t he?”
The question shocked Troy, not only because of the directness, but because his uncle hadn’t been too inclined to step in and help over twenty-five years ago, but now he seemed all about diving into the family can of worms. Nevertheless, Troy nodded, his gaze steady as questions popped up in his head. His mother had protected him and taken the brunt of his father’s anger, but when she died, he’d become the new punching bag.
“Can you tell me what happened the night your mom died?” Zach asked.
Troy glanced at Julie, at her furrowed brows. He hadn’t told her the rest of the story, the part where he’d clammed up and not spoken to anybody for months after her death. A handful of adults and school specialists had tried to get him to talk and he hadn’t uttered a word. They’d decided that the trauma of losing his mother had shocked him silent when actually he’d been terrified that if he said one word, it would all come out and his father would make him disappear too.
An owl hooted outside and Troy took a deep breath. He told Zach the same story he’d just told Julie, and his stomach never failed to flip as he relived the moment of seeing his mother at the bottom of the stairs, her neck broken, her body lifeless. His world had practically ended in that moment. At least it had for the next nine years.
“When did you start talking again?” Zach asked.
Julie’s eyes widened as if a small puzzle piece had clicked into place.
“A few months later,” Troy admitted. When he’d been in a new city, and his father had grown tired of the silent treatment and beat it out of him with more than his hand. Troy had started talking again, but only enough to avoid his father’s belt.
Julie’s fingers crept into his palm and she squeezed. Her support, the gesture, filled him with a huge sense of peace. He looked at their linked hands, then at her, and in that moment his feelings for her hit him square in the chest. His love for her wasn’t some fantasy born out of her stardom. His love for her stemmed from her heart, her passion and her ability to care for others. She was a strong, independent woman who knew what she wanted and went after it without hesitation. She was a real woman with a strong work ethic and solid priorities.
Zach shook his head, ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Troy. Sorry I didn’t get more involved. Sorry I let your dad take you away from here. From your home. I was in my own world back then.”
“Aunt Celia had died just a couple weeks before Mom, right?” Troy asked.
Nodding, Zach met his gaze. “Yeah. I think that’s what started the whole string of events.”
String of events? Those kinds of words made a private investigator take notice. “What string of events?” Troy asked.
Zach looked at the diary in his hands and clenched his jaw. He seemed to have a hard time figuring out what he wanted to say.
Questions popped up in quick succession. What did his uncle really want to talk about? What did the diary in his hands have to do with anything? What had him so nervous?
Zach finally looked him in the eye. “I found this when we were cleaning out my parents’