And I’d thrown myself at him.
I choked out a laugh. “He’s Stahl’s son?”
“Looks that way,” Big Jim said. “I take it you didn’t know, then.”
“Of course I didn’t fucking know,” I snapped. Big Jim gave me a nod, not the least bit bothered by this outburst. I stared at the paper, willing it to transform. How could I have missed it? How could I not have known?
Of course Alan Stahl, Jr., would change his name. If he ever wanted to get out of the shadow of his father, if he wanted to be anything but a serial killer’s son, he had to. I’d done it. Why hadn’t I assumed he would as well?
Ethan had lied to me from the start. When I’d told him about the letter, he’d worked so hard to calm me down. And it was all bullshit. He’d sent the letter. He’d known that I was lying all along. I’d confessed it to him. Trusted him, the way I’d never trusted anyone.
He was good at getting people to talk to him. Stahl had been good at that, too. He’d talked women right to their deaths.
Cass looked at me with pity. Big Jim’s face was as blank as ever. I looked away, shame and embarrassment sliding sickly through me, more pernicious than anger. I should have known. I was a fool.
I thought of the way he’d hinted that I shouldn’t trust Cass. Like he was trying to create a wedge between us.
It wasn’t just that I’d trusted him. I’d thought …
But it didn’t matter, did it? Whatever I felt, it was for a man who didn’t exist.
“I’ll let you two talk in private,” Big Jim said. As he passed, he clapped me on the shoulder once. It was the only time I could recall him ever touching me, and it took all I had not to slide out from under his hand, my skin crawling. I didn’t want anyone touching me. Not ever again.
The door closed behind Jim. Cass rubbed my arm in a way I’m sure was meant to be comforting. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish that it wasn’t true. I wish that I didn’t have to tell you.”
“Why was your dad looking into him at all?” I asked. I felt like I was going to vomit, but I forced myself to focus on Cass’s face. She always knew what to do. She was always the one in control, and I needed that now.
“I asked him to. I wanted to look out for you,” Cass said.
“He lied. The whole time, he— God, Cass, I told him things.”
“You told him about Persephone—Jessi Walker, right?” Cass asked. I nodded. “I really wish you hadn’t done that. What else did you tell him?”
“Everything,” I said. I was an idiot. I’d known he had to be hiding something. He’d all but told me not to trust him. “I told him I lied at the trial.”
She looked at me aghast. “You told a serial killer’s son that you lied to put his father in prison.”
“I’m not sure he was a serial killer,” I said, which didn’t make it better.
Ethan had been sure, though. Unless that was another lie.
“He must have come to talk to me—but I wasn’t even here. No, he came to talk to you. And Liv. She said she’d talk to him.”
“I didn’t know that,” Cass said, head tilted, frowning. “Do you know what she told him?”
“Nothing, I think,” I said. “But what if he confronted her? She wasn’t going to tell him anything until we all agreed, but if he pushed, if he got angry…” I couldn’t imagine Ethan with a gun in his hands, rage on his face. I couldn’t imagine him lying to me like this, either. I had no idea who he really was. What he was really capable of.
Cass’s face was pale. “Do you really think he might have killed Olivia?” she asked, voice hushed.
“I don’t know. I need to go. I need to— I can’t—”
“You should stay. Wait until you’re feeling steadier,” Cass said.
“No, I have to—all my stuff is at the motel room. I have to go get it. I have to…” Shit. I couldn’t think past the motel room door. He’d be there. Waiting. What was I going to do? What was I going to say?
“Here.” Cass pressed a key into my hand. I frowned at it, uncomprehending. “You’re staying with me. As long as you need to. And you’re not going to that motel room alone. Go wait at my place. We’ll take care of this.”
“We should tell Bishop,” I said. “Shouldn’t we?”
“We need a plan. We need to be smart about this,” Cass said. “Go to my place. Don’t call anyone, don’t answer the door. I have to stick around for another hour or so, but then I’ll come right there, and we’ll figure out exactly what we need to do, okay?”
“Okay,” I said. Cass would figure it out. She always did. I folded my hand over the key, letting it bite into my palm. My mind was reeling. Ethan was Alan Stahl, Jr. He came here because he knew I’d lied before even I did. He’d been angry. He blamed us. He’d come to town. Olivia had agreed to talk to him, and he’d hurt her, and—
What? Why stick around?
To keep an eye on things. To make sure no one else suspected him. To fuck with the person who’d fucked up his life.
“Are you okay to drive?” Cass was asking.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” I lied. I took a steadying breath. “It’s just a shock. I’d better go.”
“Not to the motel,” she said firmly.
“I’ll go to your house,” I agreed. I couldn’t think past that, but I could get that far. I folded the page from the file into thirds, then in half, with overly precise movements. I tucked it into my skirt pocket slowly, as if by taking my time I might wait out the pain. Sneak past while it wasn’t looking.
Cass got me out the back door. I barely registered getting into my car, starting the engine. I was parked in Cass’s driveway before my brain caught up with my body, and when I stepped into her empty house I just stood there, uncertain.
I’d never been in Cass’s house alone. It had an antiseptic quality to it. Even the decorations seemed utilitarian, there to create a certain image. Cass had decided who she wanted to be and constructed her life around it. The single mom, successful business owner. She’d clawed her way to normalcy. I could understand why she hadn’t wanted Liv to disrupt it.
If we hadn’t shut her down, would any of this have happened?
I drifted up the stairs to the bedroom and sat on the end of the bed, feeling ridiculous in my black dress.
I should have known. I only ever went for terrible men. There was always going to be rot at the core of what I had with Ethan. I just hadn’t known it would be this.
Ethan didn’t seem like a violent guy. But his father had had everyone fooled, too.
I wiped my eyes to clear my vision and took a deep breath that didn’t seem to fill my lungs. Across from me, the closet door was open. On the highest shelf in the back was a wide wooden box, Celtic knotwork carved along the rim.
She’d kept it all these years. Of course she had. All of us had kept our trinkets. Our pieces of the past. I stood and walked slowly to the shelf. There was a footstool in the corner of the closet, and I maneuvered it under the box and stepped up.