Olivia thinks of Lucas again. The haunted look in his eyes. The cuts and bruises on his face and hands. He disappeared for three days. Dwight hasn’t called her in the same number of days. He never did respond to her texts.
Blaze rests his hand over hers. “What do you need from me?”
She points at the knife block. “Those were a wedding gift to my parents. They came with the house. My dad stored them with a bunch of other junk in the attic. Can you get them out of my sight?”
His face loses color as the meaning of those knives sets in. “On it.” He bags the block and takes it outside.
Olivia sits on the edge of her bed, watching Charlotte sleep. She nurses a tepid cup of coffee. As if sensing her presence, Charlotte stirs. She pushes up her eye mask and lifts her head. She looks around the room and squints at Olivia. “Why am I here?”
“You were upset. I didn’t want you to spend the night alone.”
She flops back on the pillow. “Take me home.”
Olivia looks at her coffee. The cream has curdled on the surface. She needs to stir it. Instead, she asks the question that’s been stirring in her head. “Is Dad dead? Is that why he’s not coming home?” She stops short of asking if Lucas killed him.
To her side, she hears Charlotte’s sharp intake of breath. Olivia looks at her, covers up to her chin. Petite and fragile, curled under a mound of blankets.
Charlotte scrapes her teeth on her bottom lip. She looks at the chandelier above the bed. “Did Lucas tell you?” she asks after a moment.
“Not so much in words.”
A tear rolls across her temple and disappears into her hair. “It was a car accident. The police came by yesterday morning.”
Olivia closes her eyes and lets Charlotte’s words sink in with everything else she’s heard in the last twenty-four hours. Relief washes over her. It wasn’t Lucas’s fault. She then waits for the sadness, and she waits for the rage. Her dad is dead. But the news doesn’t surprise her. She doesn’t react as she expected, crying until her throat hurts. She loved him like no other. But from her perspective, Dwight has been slowly dying all week. The more she learned about him, the more distanced she felt from the man who raised her. She was already pushing him away.
“Mom.” Olivia takes her hand. Charlotte’s fingers are Popsicle cold. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”
“I wanted to, Olivia. I didn’t know how. You were so close to your father. His little girl. But he . . . he . . .” She turns her face into the pillow.
Olivia sets her mug on the bedside table. “Should we tell Mrs. St. John?” She can’t stop thinking about Benton’s widow. If Blaze had been murdered, Olivia wouldn’t rest until the case was solved.
“No! Why would you do that?” Charlotte sits up. She grabs both of Olivia’s hands. “It’s been thirty years. She’s moved away and remarried. Why dredge up bad memories? Do you want to put me in prison?” she asks, horrified.
“For what?”
“They’ll accuse me of obstruction of justice. I lied about being his alibi. He wasn’t with me at the time Benton was murdered.”
Olivia’s hands slip from her mom’s. “But wouldn’t you want justice if one of us was murdered?”
“It’s not the same thing. Your father threatened he’d go to the police and blame me. I was scared,” she cried. “I’ve been frightened of him for so many years.”
“Oh, Mom.” Olivia embraces her, wishing she could absorb her mom’s pain. “We’ll explain that he threatened you.”
Charlotte pulls back. She grips Olivia’s arms. Her nails dig into Olivia’s skin. Her expression is fierce. “I can’t risk it. Do you want me to spend the rest of my life in prison? That’s what will happen. I’d die in there. Justice has been served. Your father is dead. God rest his soul.” She does the sign of the cross. “This secret has to stay with us.”
“But, Mom . . . It’s murder.”
Charlotte squeezes Olivia’s arms. Olivia winces. “Promise me, Olivia. This doesn’t leave the room.”
Olivia drops her chin. It already has. Blaze knows. But she trusts him to keep their family’s secret.
“Olivia,” Charlotte says, insistent.
“Fine. I won’t say a word.”
“We take this to our graves.”
“Jesus. All right,” she says, trying to see this from Charlotte’s angle. She’s right. Olivia doesn’t want to see her mom go to prison. It would break her.
Charlotte gently