The copper ID bracelet lay on the floor next to a pair of shiny black shoes, the jewelry sloughed off like a snake’s skin so my father could resume human form.
I reached for it, convinced it would be hot to the touch.
“I knew you saw me.”
I spun around. Dad stood in the doorway, his face flat. He was staring at the wicked bracelet I held.
“It was only a few times,” he said, voice thick. “Jerome would stockpile leftovers. Marijuana and some harder stuff, odds and ends from arrests. When he had enough, he’d host parties. It was a way for us to let off steam. I swear to God I only went to a few. Only a few.”
The bracelet slithered out of my hand and fell to the carpet with a thump.
“Sometimes, they’d catch girls—young women—with weed, or pills, and they’d send them out to Father Adolph’s summer camp. But if there wasn’t a camp coming up, they’d invite them to the party in exchange for keeping it off their record. They didn’t have to do anything, just show up. Be a pretty face.”
A deep crimson rage exploded inside me. “Maureen was my friend.”
“I know, baby,” he said, stepping forward, his mouth tight. I wondered if this was what he was like in court. Distant. Controlled. In charge. Lying with so much confidence you started to believe it was the truth. “She didn’t do anything she didn’t want to do, Heather. I swear on my life. There was no violence, no threats, ever.”
He swiveled suddenly and smashed his fist against the wall, but the outburst felt false. More of his court performance. “Jesus! I’m so disgusted with myself that I let this happen.”
“Did you kill her?”
“No,” he said, turning back to me, relief squeezing his eyes. He’d done bad things, but not that bad, his face said. “I had no hand in that. Jerome either, or the deputy who was with us that night. All evidence really does point to suicide. You’ll have to trust me.” He smiled, his expression an impressive balance of remorse and confidence. “We’re done with the parties now, too. That was a terrible mistake. Jerome’s cleaned out his basement.”
Out of habit, I considered believing him. He seemed to sense an opening and drew himself taller, full-on employing his district attorney voice and demeanor. “I’m still your father, Heather. I’m not perfect, but I’m one of the good guys.”
A good guy. A nice guy. That’s what Ant had called himself. “What about Brenda? And Beth?”
His face went grim. “At first, we thought Elizabeth McCain was out hitchhiking somewhere, that she’d turn up any day. But now that Brenda’s been murdered, we think Ed kidnapped Elizabeth and killed Brenda. Elizabeth might still be alive. Find him, and we find her.”
I cocked my head. “If you thought that, why’d you run Ed out of town in the first place?”
Dad’s eyes eeled away.
A kaleidoscope of words and images swirled and snapped, then came into crisp focus: they hadn’t ever run Ed out of town. That had been one more lie he’d told me to get me off the scent. They’d been willing to write off Beth as a runaway rather than risk drawing too much attention to Maureen and potentially to their parties.
Now that Brenda was dead, they couldn’t look away any longer.
That’s when I understood the raw truth of it: the men in charge were looking out for themselves.
We were on our own, the girls of Pantown.
CHAPTER 47
I woke up desperate to escape our house. The thought of sitting at home, remembering over and over that Maureen and Brenda would never call me again, never show up at my door? That felt terrifying, like something dark creeping from beneath my bed and grabbing me by the ankles.
I found Junie in her room, still in bed, and told her I was bringing her to Claude’s or Libby’s and she better get dressed. She threw a hissy fit. She swore she’d remain inside and wouldn’t answer the door for anyone, pleaded to be allowed to hang out in her own home for a whole day. I could hardly listen. I was thinking about Dad.
Last night, to end our conversation, he’d vowed he was committed to working around the clock to find Elizabeth.
He could have told me water was wet and I wouldn’t have believed him.
I was left to understand we were making a fresh start, though, that in his own way, he’d apologized for molesting Maureen and other girls, and now we’d pretend none of it had ever happened.
Because that’s what we did in Pantown.
At least, it was what we used to do.