Leann Sweeney - Pick Your Poison

“I told you in the car last night, but I guess you were already asleep. Kate called you at the Victorian and got no answer.”

“That’s right! The phone rang right before the lights went out,” I said.

“When you didn’t answer, I called the Galveston police,” Kate said.

“And I was at the station waiting out the storm,” said Jeff. “I planned on picking up Steven’s tail after the rain let up, since that cement had me real agitated. When Kate’s call came in, an islander offered his pontoon boat. He already had it gassed up, ready to rescue anyone stranded by the storm. The rest is history.”

But my memories of last night wouldn’t fade into history anytime soon. “Do you have enough evidence to convict?”

Jeff smiled. “More than enough, since he’s confessed. I think it’s safe to give you this.” He removed a CD from his inside sports-coat pocket and slid it across the table.

“Where did you find this?”

“In Steven’s truck,” he answered.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

Jeff stood. “I’m headed back to work, if that wraps this up.” He focused on me. “Rest up, Abby. I’m off tomorrow and we’ve got plans.”

“We do?”

He nodded.

“Okay. Maybe then I can properly thank you for putting up with my behavior.” I turned to Terry and Kate. “And I’m glad the two of you are still speaking to me after all I’ve put you through.” At least there were a few people left in the world I could still count on.

Later that morning, I sat in front of the computer monitor with Kate behind me. Daddy’s version of what had happened in the last thirty years resided in a Word file listed right in the help index—a place I’d failed to search the first time. The title? Adoption. Simple enough.

I printed out the file and we began to read his “Adoption Diary.” Kate looked over my shoulder as we turned the pages. Most of what Daddy had recorded we now knew, but the CD did offer proof that Daddy, Elizabeth, and Willis all believed the adoption had been legal, until Cloris Grayson showed up years later.

His version supported much of what I had already learned, but did tie up one loose end. Feldman had apparently lied and told Daddy that when Cloris showed up looking for us, she only wanted money. He claimed she didn’t want her children back. So Daddy gave Feldman a huge hunk of cash, supposedly to pay Cloris off. Only when Ben arrived three months ago did Daddy learn the truth. Feldman, of course, had kept the cash and silenced Cloris. The final page documented Steven’s blackmail and how much this had angered Daddy.

He wrote, Another problem has surfaced since I started combing creation for this reptile Feldman. Me and that lying, cheating ex-husband of Abby’s are now connected at the hip—as in wallet—but only until I come clean with the girls. Then I’ll cut Steven Bradley loose as quick as a roadrunner on a rattler.

I’m making sure this is in writing because the good Lord might decide all this will happen differently. So Abby and Kate, if you don’t hear this directly from me, I have left this earth without finishing my job as your father and surely stand in hell with my hat in my hand.

That was all.

I put the last page facedown on the desk, and neither Kate nor I spoke for a moment.

I wanted to say I could forgive him. Maybe then this bitterness inside would find a way out. But instead I said, “He should have told us right away.”

“He was afraid,” said Kate.

“But we missed out on knowing our mother, and she ached her whole life for us... died young because of Daddy.”

“But he didn’t know she wanted us. How can we blame him if he didn’t know?”

“Maybe you’ve got a point,” I said, not sounding convinced.

“I know you’re angry, but I’m not sorry I spent a good part of my life with Charlie Rose. I only wish he were here right now,” she said.

I looked back over my shoulder at her and saw tears had welled.

“Because you miss him?” I said, putting my hand over the one of hers resting on the chair back.

“No, so I could forgive him. Then maybe he could rest in peace.”

“No one ever got bit by a dog’s shadow,” I said to Jeff as we headed to Galveston. “But that doesn’t mean I want to visit that house again. Ever. Can’t we just stop at Landry’s and eat crab and shrimp until we pop?”

“Nope. Not yet.” And that was all Jeff said until we pulled up in front of the Victorian.

He started to get out of the car, but I didn’t move. “I see no reason to revisit this crime, literally or figuratively. I’d rather have a realtor assess what the place needs, and hire someone to fix the damage. I want this house out of my life.”

“That’s why I brought you here. Don’t you see that Steven has control, even from his jail cell? This place is worth saving, Abby, and you had plans to make it something special.”

“Every time I come here I’ll remember tumbling from the second floor, sharing space with a wrapped-up corpse in a closet, and—”

“We’re going in.”

He got out of the car and was up on the porch before I could argue further, so I followed.

Crime-scene tape tied to the doorknob fluttered in the breeze.

I unlocked the door and stepped back, still reluctant. Jeff, however, had no qualms, and disappeared inside.

“Come on in here and tell me about this room,” he called from the parlor. “How would you fix it up?”

I trudged in after him, knowing he was right. This was nothing more than an old house. Feldman’s corpse was long gone. And Steven’s betrayal wasn’t written on the wall. Daddy’s deceit wasn’t hiding in the corner, either. Willis’s and Aunt Caroline’s lies weren’t lurking behind a closed door. Those painful reminders were still inside my head, where they would always be. Maybe someday they could be filtered by a more reasonable voice, but for now the pain was as fresh as it needed to be. Running from the truth, avoiding this house because I didn’t want to deal with the pain, wouldn’t change anything.

So after I showed Jeff around downstairs, I said, “Want to see the upstairs mess?”

“Sure,” he said.

His hand rested protectively on my back as we climbed, and his touch felt strong and right. Once on the landing, he pulled back the plastic sheet covering the destroyed bathroom.

Nothing had changed. Nothing except my whole life. “I’m still selling the place,” I said, “but I’m glad you made me come here. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. I’ve been roaming through life without knowing what trail to follow. But I have a good idea the direction I should take now.”

“Am I supposed to guess?”

“You may think this sounds stupid, but I want to help people find their pasts. Adopted people like Kate and me, people who have twists and turns in their childhoods they may know little about.”

“An adoption detective?”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “And I’ve got relatives I know nothing about. My inquiry to the adoption registry came back today, and no one ever registered looking for Kate and me. But we may have a father who’s still alive and one day I plan to find him.”

“Good. Investigating is well suited to your whirling-dervish personality,” he said.

“Whirling dervish?” I replied. “Is that sort of like a tropical storm?”

“You could say that.”

I peered past the plastic covering the door and saw pecan trees in the backyard, their lush green leaves bright against an unclouded azure sky.

“Let’s talk about other things now,” I said. “For instance, how much I like you, Sergeant Kline. I even liked you before you saved my life.” I smiled and outlined his lips with the tip of my finger, then traced the angle of his jaw.