No Coming Back (22 page)

Kim’s diamond-bit eyes drill into me, but her dad is staring at her, face squirming.

“What’s this, Walt? Don’t tell me you didn’t know? I thought you guys shared everything?”

“Stop,” Kim breathes.

I don’t. “According to Owen, your daughter here attended all the parties. She was Jenna’s tag partner. That’s right, Walt. She and Jenna were a two-girl team. In fact, I hear Kim organized most of those parties. Even introduced a little S&M to spice things up.”

“I said stop.”

“Walt, she had sex with all of them: Lyle Cody, Ben
Varney
, Chuck Hendry, plus my uncle. God forgive him. Everyone except you, of course, because that just wouldn’t have been right.
According
to Owen, you knew about the parties but chose to turn a blind eye. They were your friends, but you didn’t want to know. He said it was the only aspect of the club you didn’t agree with. Said you never knew Kim was involved and prostituting herself to your
closest
friends.”

“Please. Stop.”

“I’m betting you don’t know about her exploits today, either. About how she was in the back of the bait shop when I spoke with Ben, advising him to keep his mouth shut if I came asking. About how she blew his head off with his own shotgun after I left, just to make sure. About how she paid Ruby a visit while I was being detained at the police station, and shot her veins full of air to stop her identifying Kim as the other girl.”

Walt’s mouth is open, like he’s in the middle of a scream, but nothing’s coming out.

“I have to hand it to you, Walt, your daughter’s a smart cookie. She had me and everyone else believing Jenna’s killer was a member of Six Pack.”

Kim’s eyes are hard slits, cheeks florid, lips peeled back in a silent snarl.

“But that’s not the case, is it, Kim? You killed Ben and Ruby to keep your involvement in the sex parties a secret. You were the other girl that night, the night Ruby snuck up to the window and saw Jenna with those men. Luckily for you, you were all wearing masks at the time, otherwise your secret would have been out a long time ago.”

“Stop. Right now.”

“Plus, you didn’t want me finding out about your sordid
sexploits
, because that would have ruined any chances of you and me being together on a permanent basis. And that’s what you’ve wanted all along, isn’t it, Kim? I bet you were overjoyed when you heard I was coming back to Harper. Suddenly you had a chance to start a brand new life, with me, take up where things left off a lifetime ago. And yet, how could I be with you when you’ve been with my uncle? It’s disgusting, right? Unthinkable. It makes me sick just knowing it.”

Kim’s hand moves to her hip and comes back up with her gun in it, aimed at my stomach. “I said stop!”

My next words are aimed at her dad, but my eyes remain locked on hers. “I didn’t see it at the time, back when we were seventeen. I was young and blinded by what I thought was true love for Jenna. But Kim wanted to be more than friends, even then. Neither of us were anything to look at. No one was interested in us apart from us. Kim made a point of our spending every waking moment together. We grew close, real close. We were like lovers without the intimacy. I never knew then, but I know now that she wanted our friendship to go the next step.”

“Jake! Stop!” Tears are leaking from the corners of Kim’s eyes.

“Then Jenna came on the scene and Kim was insanely jealous. Again, she hid it from me and I never even guessed. She wanted me for her own and couldn’t live with the idea of Jenna imposing
herself
on us the way she did, splitting us apart like that. How dare she come along and do such a thing, right? Especially when the two of them were a team elsewhere, during their Six Pack orgies.”

The gun shakes in Kim’s hand. More tears roll. Her finger curls around the trigger.

“When I started spending more time with Jenna than with her, it was the final straw. I don’t know exactly how it happened. One thing that being locked up twenty-three hours a day has given me is a good imagination. I imagine Kim lured Jenna somewhere quiet, secluded, that night she disappeared. Maybe she told her it was something to do with Six Pack. I know she told you she was with me, Walt. At first I thought that was to give me an alibi. But it was to give her one. I imagine she told Jenna what her plans were for her and me, about how she wanted exclusivity, and for her to back off. I can imagine Jenna not being too fond of the idea, especially given the fact she was doing my uncle a favor by dating me. I imagine one thing led to another. Things got out of hand. There was a fight. And then—”

“STOP!”

Thunder booms inside Krauss’s kitchen. Lightning flashes and strikes me in the gut, through the flesh just under my ribs, and into the wall behind. At first there is no pain, just a disconnected sensation of spreading warmth. I look down to my side, at the blood starting to spread on my shirt. Then, through disbelieving eyes, I gaze up at Kim, to see my shock reflected in her face.

Behind her, the slightest wisp of vapor rises from the muzzle of her dad’s hunting rifle.

“You’ve said more than enough, Olson,” he growls. “One more word from you and the next one’s through the heart. Mercy kill.”

I smile. “Chief Krauss protecting his daughter, just like always. Willing to kill for her. It’s sweet. Now that’s the kind of father I’m talking about.” I press a hand against the leaking hole in my side. “One last thing, Walt—did you cover things up? Is that why you and Meeks were so keen to pin her death on me? Did you know Kim killed Jenna? Not to protect her secret but to keep me for 
herself
?”

Walt Krauss raises the rifle and aims it at my chest. “One more goddamn word,” he breathes.

I snatch up my phone and slide to my feet. “It’s been fun catching up.” The world spins. I grab at the countertop to steady myself. Kim drops her gun and reaches out. But I push her hands aside, push past her, aiming for the hallway and outside.

“Please, Jake!” she calls as I stagger toward the front door. “Let me explain? Please! Come back!”

But there’s no coming back, not from this, for either of us.

I hear her try to rush after me, but her dad grapples with her, holding her back.

I grab my coat and someone else’s scarf and burst through the door, out into the starlit night.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

E
very window blazes with light in the Grossinger mansion, illuminating the snow-covered grounds and the frozen fountain sitting in the middle of the lollipop driveway. No need to get worked up over a huge electricity bill when you’re the richest man in Harper.

I climb out of the Bronco, stiffly, one hand pressing my coat against the bloody patch under my ribs. Walt’s bullet is a through-and-through. It’s torn a nasty hole in my side, but I don’t think it’s struck a major organ. I’ve lost some blood, but I’ve packed the wound with the scarf, and think I have it covered. I stab a bloodied thumb against the doorbell, hold it there, annoyingly, while it rin
gs out.

Thirty seconds later, half the double-door opens to reveal the man himself, Harper’s homegrown marvel: Lars Grossinger.

He looks me up and down with twinkly blue eyes. “So, the prodigal son returns. And looking worse for wear. Are you okay, son? I got to say you don’t look it. Do you need me to call you a doctor?”

“It won’t be necessary. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” He waves me inside. “Be my guest.”

The entrance hall is as big as the house on Prescott. Polished wooden floors, sweeping staircases, and palatial chandeliers.

I follow him into a study. The dimly lit room is warm and wood-paneled, heated by a real log fire crackling away in a stone hearth. Walls crammed with books and souvenirs from foreign expeditions. Artistic black-and-white photographs of Harper, its townsfolk, rural living, all taken by Erin Olson, my mother.

He waves me toward a leather chair. “Please, Jake, sit down. Take the load off your feet. You look like you’ve done five rounds with Mike Tyson.”

“I’ll stand, thanks.”

“Okay. Have it your way. Can I get you a drink? Something stiff to warm you up?”

“No, thanks.”

He sits down behind a big wooden desk, props his elbows on the leather inlay. “So, Jake, it’s three o’clock in the morning. Good thing I’m pretty much a total insomniac these days. I take it you’ve got something for me, and that something is so marvelous it can’t wait until Monday.”

“It’ll put your beloved
Harper Horn
back on the map.”

“I’m listening.”

I get out my phone. “On here are several taped conversations:
on
e fro
m Ruby about Jenna being sexually involved with Six Pack
; o
ne from my uncle, revealing how Six Pack held regular sex parties with teenage girls; and one from Kim and her dad, about her killing Jenna out of jealousy. For the record, I believe she also killed Ben and Ruby
to keep her secret safe.” I slide it across his desk. “You’ll find my own confession on there, too, including the killings up at the lake.”

Both of his bushy eyebrows hike themselves up his brow. “More murders?”

Cherry-picking my words, I recount the night’s events, culminating in the fire at Krauss Outfitters.

“So there’s your blessed story, Lars. It’s bigger than you expected. Play it right and it’ll be statewide within a day and nationwide by the end of the week.”

He picks up the phone as though it’s a bar of gold. “Son, I’ll be honest, I’m at a loss for words. And that’s something you don’t hear from me every day of the week. Jake, you’ve done me proud. Great job. I knew you’d come through. I had every faith you would.” He pulls open a drawer in his desk, drops the phone inside, then brings out a small metal lockbox. “Here, let me double your retainer. N
o, triple it.”

I hold up a halting hand. “Lars, I don’t want your thirty pieces of silver.”

He opens the box. “Don’t be a martyr, son. You’ve earned this and more.”

“Give it to your favorite charity.” I backpedal toward the door, shaking my head as I go. “I don’t want your blood money.”

He rises to his feet and throws me a questioning frown. “What’s going on here? I don’t expect you to work for nothing. If your story holds up, then this is going to be huge. Explosive. We’re in this together, son. Whichever way you slice it, you and me, we’re a
winning
team.”

I stop and stare at him from under a heavy brow. “Jesus, Lars. Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Tell you what, son?” His expression is cast-iron, no give.

He knows exactly what I’m referring to, knows I’d ask this question, eventually, once I was back home and snooping. He’s had over thirty years to perfect his reaction, to prepare for this line of enquiry.

“You mean about me and your mother?”

“No, Lars. About you being my biological father.”

He raises his hands. “Ah. You got me there.”

“That’s why my father hated me from the moment I was born. He found out my mother was sleeping with you and knew I wasn’t his. That’s why I look nothing like the rest of the Olson bloodline. I look like you, don’t I? That’s why you hired me a hotshot
lawyer
and tried getting me out of those murder charges. Not because you owed it to my mother’s memory, but because you knew I was yo
ur son.”

His mouth tilts to one side, threatening to let his bone china expression slide off and smash on the floor. “You think you have me dead to rights. But the truth is there was never any confirmation, Jake. Your mother was confident I was your father, but we never got around to a paternity test.” He sees my glower darken and adds, “What do you want me to say?”

“That you’re sorry.”

“For what? For loving your mother and for fathering you? I won’t apologize for either.”

“No, Lars, for failing to stand up and be counted when I needed you the most. You knew I had issues. You knew what my father was like. You knew my childhood was damaging. You could have stepped in at any point and changed it.”

“Except for the fact your mother didn’t want me to.”

“Bullshit!”

“It’s the truth, son.”

I snicker. “Here we go again. Same old crazy. Lars and the truth, pitted against the world.”

He shakes his head. “It wasn’t like that. Your mother wanted to do things in her own time, her way, and I respected her decision. She was a woman of honor, integrity. She meant the world to me. I was devastated when she disappeared.”

But not nearly as much as me.

“Didn’t you ever wonder what happened to her?”

He sighs. “Son, contrary to popular opinion, I’m not a complete monster. Sure, I can be dogmatic at times. But that’s a requirement of my job. Your mother’s disappearance hit me hard. It haunted me every damn minute of every damn day, for years. I spent weeks looking for her. Calling in every favor I was owed. I even had everyone in her life investigated, but nothing turned up. Not one thing. It was as though she just vanished into thin air.”

“Then I showed you that photo on my phone, of the skeleton up at Hangman Falls, and you knew, didn’t you? No
wonder
you looked like you’d seen a ghost. You knew it was her. And yet you didn’t say anything. Not one word. You just let me go on thinking it was Jenna.”

“I wanted to be sure.”

“No, Lars. You’re a coward. You hide behind the
Horn
and use heavy-handed tactics to get your way. Hiring someone like Tolstoy to do your dirty work proves you’re spineless. The real reason you didn’t intervene when I was a kid is because it would have interfered in your little megalomaniacal plan for Harper domination. I was dead weight. A hindrance. The last headline you wanted anyone to read was the news you had a bastard child.”

My words are fierce, but Lars doesn’t cower from them.

Instead, he shakes his head, “I know how it looks, son. But it wasn’t like that. Behind the scenes, I did my best for you.”

“You did nothing for me. All your money and connections didn’t get me off that murder rap. I went away for eighteen years—
for a crime I didn’t commit
—while you went about your business printing lies and selling them. You probably never thought about me again.”

“Son . . .”

“Don’t call me that!” The wound in my side flares with pain. I wince and catch my breath. “I’m not your son. You have no right thinking I am. You want to know the truth, Lars—seeing as how you’re so precious about defending it?”

“I’m all ears.”

“My father might have abused me and treated me like vermin, but at least he was
there,
which is more than can be said for you. Do you get that? You abandoned me, Lars, just like my mother did. So print your prized story. Watch it go viral. Make a name for yourself outside of Harper. I hope it’s all worth it.”

Before he can respond, I turn on my heel and leave.

Even with his cane, he has time to come rushing after me, to call me back, to plead with me to believe his version of the truth one final time, to promise to make amends for his role in my wasted life. But I don’t hear another word from him. Nothing. And I climb back inside my father’s Bronco, knowing that biology doesn’t buy loyalty.

Wheels spew out slush as I gun the truck down the driveway. I have one last thing to do before I can rest, and the thorn-filled darkness within me is almost at the surface.