What’s done is done. The past is the past. That’s what my mama always says too.
Stop your crying and get over it—that’s another one of her favorite sayings.
So that’s what I did when it came to John, and I’m not going to let anyone fault me for it. He doesn’t know what it’s like. Nobody does. People think they know all kinds of things about everything and everybody, especially around here, even though half of them have never left state lines. Shoot, some of them have never left the county line.
I’ve got to get away from here. That’s the only thing left to do. I already took care of Casey. She might’ve been plotting against me this entire time, and I wasn’t letting her get away with treating us that way. Maybe a little taste of her own medicine will make her think twice next time. Richard took care of all of it for me like a gem. At least he finally did something useful. I’m sick of paying him for nothing.
It’s time to leave. Everything’s crumbling, and it’s just like Detective Layne always says about lies—once you find one, you’re bound to find others. It’s okay. That’s what I’ve been telling myself all day. I can start over again. Won’t be the first time. I’ll pack a few of our favorite things and leave everything else behind. A totally fresh start. We could use a new beginning. None of the baggage from this place.
I’m not going to let that man or any of his other little cronies rain terror down on me and my family. That’s not going to happen. Not after I’ve worked so hard to pick up the pieces and carry on. How dare he threaten me like that? He has no idea how hard it’s been.
Richard can help us. He’s been part of my family long enough to help somebody disappear. And I don’t care how he feels about it. He’ll do anything if I pay him enough money. Most lawyers will.
But what about Mason? What do I do about him?
THEN
Bite this. She said. But I don’t want to bite.
I want to burn.
You’re hurting me.
I don’t care.
Focus.
This task. At hand. Always another one.
Please let me rest.
But no rest for the weary. Even though I am.
Weary.
She calls it lazy.
Ugly. Fat. Lazy. Pig.
She could do this.
Look at her.
I don’t want to.
I’m a stranger to what I see.
Slightly outside.
There’s no beginning. No end.
Somebody. Please.
Help.
Me.
TWENTY-SEVEN
CASEY WALKER
Dad’s name flashes on my screen, and I turn down the podcast I’ve been listening to on my drive home from Tupelo. I needed a distraction after my meeting with Savannah, but it hasn’t done much. All I’ve done is replay everything she said about Genevieve. The shock about her having something to do with John’s death hasn’t worn off. I switch over to my Bluetooth and answer his call.
“Hi, Dad! I’m only about twenty miles outside of Tupelo, so I’ve still got a long way to go before I’m home. How are things?” Harper had a rough morning. She woke up cranky and irritable. Nothing went right after that, and she completely derailed when she couldn’t find her favorite tennis shoes right as we were leaving and she had to wear a different pair. She carried on the entire drive to school.
“Honey, can you pull over so that we can talk?” He sounds just like he did when he called to tell me about Mom’s cancer.
“Oh my God, what’s wrong? What’s wrong with Harper? What happened? Is she okay? Dad, what’s going on?”
“Casey, honey, pull over. Harper’s okay. She’s fine. Just please pull over.” He speaks to me in a calm, soothing voice, but it does nothing to stop my racing heart or the panic tearing at my chest.
I’m not waiting for the next exit. I flip on my hazards and pull over to the shoulder, moving all the way over to the edge of the gravel so I won’t get hit by any cars racing down the interstate. “Okay, I’m on the side of the road. Tell me what’s going on. What happened to Harper?” I already know it’s her. He wouldn’t be acting like this otherwise.
“I got a call from the school about an hour ago, and they want me to meet them down at the hospital with Harper and the school nurse. She—”
“What happened? Did she fall? How bad is she hurt?” It wouldn’t be the first time she tumbled on the playground or broke a bone there. I’m always telling the recess aides that they need to keep a better eye on her. She doesn’t need one-to-one care in the classroom, but she probably needs it there. She’ll climb anything. She doesn’t care how tall it is or how dangerous. Her lack of fear and her insensitivity to pain are a terrible combination.
“It’s not that.” He takes a deep breath. Lets it out slowly. “I want you to brace yourself, because you’re not going to like what I’m about to say, okay?”
“Dad, what is it? Just tell me!” I don’t mean to yell, but I can’t help it. I can’t stand how he’s stalling.
“I hate being the one who has to tell you this, so don’t shoot the messenger, but according to the social worker, someone witnessed an altercation between you and Harper in the Walmart parking lot that alarmed them enough to come forward and say something about it. According to the report they filed with family services, Harper was screaming for help and for you to let go of her.” His voice loses steam as he talks and grows even slower, like he has to force the words out because he doesn’t want to say them, but he has no choice. “They said you twisted her arm and she kept screaming that you were hurting her, but you refused to let go.”
A cold stone settles in the pit of my stomach. My mouth instantly dry. I’ve only had one incident in the Walmart parking lot like that.
She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
Except I just spent three hours listening to her own daughter explain that she thought she killed her father, so I’m pretty sure she did. Just like I’m sure she’ll hurt anyone who stands in the way of her plans or slights her in any real or imagined way.
“How’s Harper?” I shove those thoughts down. They’ll only make me furious, and I need to think straight.
“I haven’t been able to talk to her yet, but Kelly was there, and we spoke on the phone a few minutes ago. She went with her from the school and hasn’t left her side so that Harper will feel comfortable, which is really sweet of her to do. It sounds like she pitched it to her like they were going on a weird, unexpected trip to the doctor’s office.” He can’t help but laugh. Harper loves the doctor’s office. She’s obsessed with muscles and tissues. We’re hoping she goes to medical school, and she seems pretty on board with it, too, so she was probably giddy at the idea of going to the doctor’s office with her assistant teacher, Kelly.
Relief floods my body for Kelly. She’s been the assistant teacher in Harper’s classrooms for two years, and she knows her as well as we do. She has this amazing way of talking to her and easing her anxiety that nobody else does. They speak in weird math formulas that I don’t understand at all, but it works for them. She’s probably doing a better job with her down at Memorial than I would be.