Chapter Nineteen: Lucy

CHAPTER NINETEENLUCY

The mood in the house this evening can only be described as hostile flailing.

I can tell the exact moment when Mom starts listening to episode four, because she’s suddenly calling everyone in town. I can only make out a few words as I creep past her bedroom door and down the stairs, wincing at every creak—“irresponsible” and “outrageous”—but the constant chatter never ends.

“I don’t know!” Mom’s voice is really loud now. “He was so nice when I spoke to him, and now he’s acting like Don and I know everything. I did an entire interview with him months ago, told him anything he wanted to know, and he hasn’t aired a word of it!”

I grab my purse from the counter and slip out the door. I need to be elsewhere just in case she realizes who’s really to blame for all of this (me).

Dad is strolling up the front walk, sweat wilting the collar of his white shirt, and I almost run smack into him.

“You’re in a hurry.” He looks … amused, which is unexpected, given Mom’s mood. Even if he’s not listening to the podcast, there’s no way she didn’t immediately text him upon starting today’s episode.

“Sorry.” I step around him and say, “I’m going to Grandma’s,” even though I hadn’t actually decided on that. But it was what I always did, as a kid. Run away before the screaming gets too loud to ignore.

“Lucy.”

I stop and look back at him.

“If you’ve remembered something, and you want to talk to someone, you can still talk to me.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I’m not sure what I expected, but that wasn’t it.

“I…” He sighs and slides his hands into his pockets. He looks sad, which is an emotion I haven’t seen in him in a long time. I’ve forgotten what he looks like when he’s not just a little bit scared. “Maybe I didn’t handle things right. I don’t know. But I meant what I said back then. It’s okay.”

“It’s okay.” I could still see Dad, five years ago, tears in his eyes as he gripped my shoulders. “If you remember something, you only tell me, okay? Whatever it is, it’s okay. I promise. But you can only tell me. Understand?”

I remembered looking at him, at the hard set of his mouth, at the wild desperation in his eyes, and realizing that he thought I killed Savvy. He was sure I killed Savvy, actually.

I guess five years hasn’t restored his faith in me. And who can blame him, honestly?

“Do you ever imagine bashing your parents’ brains in? I thought about that a time or two. That’s normal, right?”

“You’ll be my first call for sure,” I say, and turn to walk to my car.