the house. If Nixon truly hated this woman that much, there was a good reason.
“It was the guitar strap,” she said softly.
“I’m sorry?” Now she had my attention.
“It said Zoe’s,” she replied. “All you have to do is google Nixon’s name with Zoe and Berkshire Management comes up. You’re his manager?”
This just reached a whole other level of creepy.
“Not exactly.”
“We ran a property search, and you came up in title with an LLC,” she explained. “So, we flew out immediately, just hoping you might listen.”
“I think you’d better go now.” I took Nixon’s wrist and tugged. I wanted answers, and I wanted them now. But I wanted those answers from him.
I tugged at Nixon’s wrist again, and this time, he came.
“I know you hate him, Nixon, but it was an accident!” she begged, moving forward.
“An accident? Like the time I accidentally hit myself in the face with the edge of the table?” Nixon sidestepped, putting himself between us again.
Holy shit. My heart stopped.
“Nix—”
“Or how about that time I accidentally broke my wrist falling off my bike? Or wait, shit, that was the nonexistent tree house, right? Isn’t that what you told the doctor?”
“He was drunk,” she said softly. “He’s been sober for—”
“He was sober when he blackened my eye at eleven, and again at twelve, and—”
“Enough!” she shrieked.
The nightmares. I sidestepped enough to see them both, bracing my hand on the rigid muscles of the small of his back.
“What happened to Kaylee—”
“You don’t get to say her name!” Nixon roared, and I flinched.
“It was an accident,” she repeated. “He’s waited ten years—”
“What do you want me to do, Cheryl? Want me to go visit him? Absolve him of his sins? Because that’s not going to happen. And it’s not like Washington State has a parole board, so at least I know he’ll do the time.”
“We actually managed to get a hearing with the Clemency and Pardons Board,” Richard said slowly. “It’s very rare, and it’s why we’re here.”
Nixon’s head snapped back like he’d been slapped, and silence filled the entryway for a handful of heartbeats.
“Nixon, please,” Cheryl begged. “He’s so sorry. You should talk to him. He’s changed. And if you would just speak at the hearing—”
“You have to be fucking kidding me. It will be a cold day in hell before you get me to speak for that son of a bitch. I hope he dies in there. And if you ever come near Zoe again, I’ll dedicate my life to ruining yours. Do you understand me? The only reason I haven’t is because I thought you were weak, not cruel, and we both paid the price for it. His price isn’t paid yet.” Nixon swept me behind his back, retreating into our house and slamming the door.
My heart galloped.
“If they’re still there in five minutes, call the sheriff.” Nixon threw the deadbolt and strode off, headed toward the living room.
“Nixon!” his stepmother screamed.
I glanced between the door and Nixon’s retreating back. Only one path guaranteed answers. Problem was, I didn’t want them from strangers—I wanted Nixon to tell me. Wanted him to let me in.
Steadying my heart with a deep breath, I followed Nixon into the living room where I found him pacing in front of the windows, tapping a message out on his phone.
“Let me guess, you want know what that was about.” He didn’t even look my direction as he finished and tucked the phone into his pocket.
“Of course, I do.” I wrapped my arms around my middle. “Why did you lie to me?”
He stilled, turning to look at me with the flattest eyes I’d ever seen. “I never lied to you. Not once.”
“You told me your father was dead.”
“No, I told your parents my father died. You read it in a magazine or in the troves of whatever file you keep on me with my damned SAT scores. For all intents and purposes, he’s dead to me. I never lied to you.” He dropped his hands, then walked past me, headed for the stairs.
“Where are you going?” I followed him.
“We’re leaving,” he announced, flinging the bedroom door open.
“Why is your father in jail?” I asked from the doorway.
Nixon paused, then shook his head as he yanked a bag from the top of the closet and threw it onto the bed. “This discussion is over. Get packed.”
I felt his words like a direct blow to my heart. “You can’t just ignore what happened down there.”
He scoffed. “No, you can’t just ignore it.” The sound of drawers