The Mirror and the Mask (30 page)

“I thought we had a deal.”

“It's no good.”

“Why? I gave you my word. You come up with the money and I leave town and don't come back.”

“But the question is, what's your word worth?”

“More than yours.” She regretted it the second she'd said it. She was fighting for her life; she couldn't risk being snotty. “I'm sorry.”

“No, you're right. From your perspective, my word isn't worth much.”

“Did I ask for too much money?”

“Not really.”

“Then what?”

“It's pretty simple. I don't trust you. If you do go to the cops, my life is over. You're the one who came to town making threats. You put yourself in this position, not me.”

“You owe me, Johnny. Think about what you did to me. What you did to my mother.”

“I had nothing to do with your mother's death. If you don't want to believe that, fine.” He got up, moved back to the sink, and leaned
against it. “How can I talk to you when you don't believe a word I say?”

“Try the truth.”

“I told you the truth.”

He was never going to let her out of here alive. To hell with caution. “Then why do I feel like there's a huge piece missing?
Why?
” she shouted at him.

“I loved your mom. She was the one true love of my life.”

“Yeah, right. You wrote her from prison, worked your way into her life. She was just a diversion and then a place to stay after you got out.”

He set the shogun back on the counter. “Oh, hell, I might as well tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“Blame your mom if you want to know why we never told you.”

Annie's stomach tightened.

“She couldn't stand for you to think she'd lied to you. But this is way overdue. I married your mom for the first time when you were three years old. I'm not sure it was a legal marriage, which was why we got married again after I got out of the hole. I was using a false name back then. Kenny Andrews. Ring any bells?”

Annie sucked in a sharp breath. “You—”

“Yeah, that was me.” He laughed at her shock.

“But . . . you don't look anything like him.”

“Jesus, Annie. When I left you were five years old. What do you really remember about me?”

“That you were . . . gentle.”

That made him laugh even harder.

“You're my father?”

“Nah. Can't pin that one on me. See, I'd never been around a kid before. Dogs and cats, but never a little kid. It was all kind of surreal. The thing is, your mom made sure there weren't any really clear
pictures of me around after I went to prison. She told me that. And besides, I was pretty skinny back then, had a beard and long hair. When I got out of the joint, I looked different. Heavier. My hair had even turned a little darker. Your mom held her breath when I came to the apartment that first day. She thought you might recognize me.”

Her gaze roamed the kitchen. “This is insane. You're making it up just to hurt me.”

“Think that if you want, but I'm Kenny.”

In less time than it took to make a pot of coffee, her safe, happy childhood had been blown to bits. “But . . . I thought you were my real father. I called you Daddy. You
told
me you were my dad.”

“Yeah, I may have. Your mom didn't seem to mind. See, I had a drug problem back then. Mandy only married me after she was sure I was clean. But I started using and dealing so we'd have a little extra money. I worked on charter fishing boats for a time in Rehoboth Beach, remember that? Never made much of a living. When I was arrested, your mom was so furious that she told me she'd never speak to me again, that I was out of her life forever. That's why she lied to you—said I was dead. It was easier than telling a little kid the real story. But then, through a friend of a friend, I found out where she was living. Started writing to her. She didn't write back at first, but after a while I did hear from her. As the years went by, we started writing more regular. Then talking on the phone. We were both still in love. When I got out, I came back.”

The best part of her life was dissolving as surely as if he'd thrown acid on it. And yet, even though the truth was ugly, it was also astonishing. She couldn't look away. “I don't get it,” she said. “You called yourself my father then, but when you got out of prison, you made a big deal out of not being my father. You wanted to be my friend.”

“Yeah, well. It kind of hurt, you know, when I had to leave you and your mom. At first I liked all the daddy stuff. When I'd get home from work, you'd run to the door and jump into my arms. But I was never
any good at it. And after spending eight years inside, the emotion wasn't there anymore. You can't make something out of nothing.”

“So all this crap about being my friend. You never felt anything for me?”

“Hell, we had a great time together. Remember the dope we used to smoke out by Milford Lake?”

“Wild and crazy, Johnny. Positioning yourself as my friend got you off the hook. You didn't have to worry about the example you set—or rules. I'm sure Sunny loves the same thing about you that I did. But it's empty, Johnny.
You're
empty.”

“I have had it with you,” he said, slamming his fist against the counter.

“I've had it with you, too. Admit you murdered my mother. If you're going to send me to my grave, give me that much.”

He acted as if he'd been slapped. “Don't push me, little girl.”

“Tell me!” She didn't care how much it hurt.

“You want every dirty little detail? Fine. Your mom knew about all the guys you were doing.”

“
Doing?
You make it sound like it was my choice.”

“It was. Hell, Annie, I didn't tie you up, force you to spread your legs. You had to be having some fun, or why keep coming back for more?”

She couldn't believe he was that cruel—or stupid.

He wiped a hand slowly across his mouth. “Your mom pitched a fit when she found out. Threatened to leave and take you with her. But I had two trump cards: her love for me and meth. You probably don't remember the way it was, but shortly after she figured out what was going on, she virtually chased you out. In a funny way, it proved to me how much she really did love me. She chose me over you.”

She was beginning to see it now. “You're wrong.”

“I'm
not
wrong.”

“She hated you for what you made me do.”

“Oh, boo hoo. Okay, so maybe I did go a little too far with the favors I asked. I suppose you didn't always have such a great time. But you were young. I knew you'd get over it. But your mom, I had to take care of her. She wasn't dealing so well. Maybe it was the meth, or maybe it was something else. I never knew.”

“No,” said Annie, looking up, feeling a shiver of clarity. “It wasn't like that.”

“It was. For once in your goddamn life, accept what I tell you.”

“My mother would never choose you over me. If you think that, you didn't know her at all. Sure, she chased me out. But she did it for
me
, to separate us, not because she loved you, and not because of the meth. She was trying to protect me, Johnny. The only way she could. She blamed herself for letting you manipulate me, right there in front of her, in her own home. She probably never forgave herself for that. That's why she kept taking those drugs you offered her. To dull the pain. And maybe, in the end, it was a way to punish herself for letting the love she felt for you blind her to the kind of man you really are.”

“I was there. It wasn't like that. You were just a kid. You don't remember it right.”

Nothing he said or did could ever shake the sense that she'd finally hit bedrock. If her life ended the next second, she'd die knowing she'd gotten what she'd come for. She had her mom back.

He picked up the shotgun, pointed it at her. “You're so full of your own righteousness. You think I'm a terrible human being. Well, I'm not. I've made mistakes, sure, but . . . look at all the good I've done. I give back to the world. What have you ever given anyone except pussy?”

This time, the words didn't hurt. “You're a loser, Johnny. You murdered my mother and you murdered Susan.”

“You only hear what you want to hear.”

“What did you do to Sunny?”

“Sunny? Jesus. Nothing.”

Standing up, she said, “I don't believe you.”

“I did nothing but love her. It was different with her than with you. She's nice. Sometimes she's even sweet. I like that in a woman. You were always so stubborn and so damn pushy. How could anybody love that?” He raised the shotgun, pointed it at her stomach. “It would be so easy to pull the trigger.”

“Do it. We both know that's how it's going to end.”

His eyes drifted toward the front windows.

Annie turned to look. Out on the ice, Claud had just come out of one of the fishing shacks. She stared at the tiny houses, a sense of dread creeping toward her from the icy depths of the lake.

 

 

 

J
ane ran down the graveled path to Susan Bowman's grave. The sun had burned away the fog, revealing a perfect February day. With temperatures in the high forties and no threat of freezing hands and feet, it was as good a day as any to visit a graveyard. “Remember, you need to take the lead,” she called back to Cordelia, who puffed to keep up.

“Worry not, Janey,” she said, edging closer.

They rounded a curve. Up ahead, Sunny, dressed in her motorcycle jacket and jeans, was leaning against a gravestone. “Take it slow, okay?” Jane whispered. “We don't want to spook her.”

Jane couldn't hear Sunny but could see her lips move. She looked deep in thought, so deep that she didn't notice their approach until it was too late.

“Sunny?” called Cordelia. “What were you thinking? You gave us such a fright. Where
were
you?”

Jane grimaced. It wasn't what she had in mind at all.

Sunny turned to stare. “Who—”

Cordelia lifted her plaid hunter's cap to reveal her black and red tresses.

“Cordelia?”

She drew the hat wide and bowed. “The very same.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. Oh, hey, where are my manners? Sunny, this is Jane. Jane, say hello to Sunny.”

“Hello, Sunny.”

“Splendid,” continued Cordelia. “Now that we're all pals . . . Girl, where have you
been
?”

“How did you know I was here?”

“Telepathy,” said Cordelia, tapping her forehead.

“Sunny,” said Jane. She moved a few steps back to give Sunny more space. “Will you listen to us for a few seconds? It's important. Last week, a woman—her name is Annie—asked me if I could help find her stepfather. Cordelia was actually the one who located him. Annie knew the man as John Archer. You know him as Jack Bowman.”

“Curt's girlfriend Annie?”

“That's right.”

She looked from face to face, settling at last on Cordelia. “Is that true?”

“Yup, afraid so.”

“Jack wouldn't lie to me,” she said indignantly. “He'd never even been married before he and my mom hooked up.”

“He's not who you think he is,” said Jane. She could tell by the determined look in Sunny's eyes that convincing her wasn't going to be easy. “Jack spent time in prison for selling drugs. He was married to Annie's mother for several years. Annie lived with him from the time she was thirteen until she ran away from home when she turned eighteen.”

“It all happened once upon a time in a galaxy far, far away,” said Cordelia. “In this case, Traverse City, Michigan.”

Jane continued, “Jack stole several hundred thousand dollars from his partner—a man named Steve Glennoris—and started a new life here in the Twin Cities. It's possible that he had something to do with Annie's mother's death, although the jury's still out on that one.”

“You're both full of it,” said Sunny, almost laughing. “Jack's nothing like that. I don't know what your point is—”

“Why did you leave the way you did?” asked Jane. “Jack and your brother have been frantic. You wouldn't do that to them unless you had a good reason.”

“Jack wasn't frantic. He knew where I was.”

Jane's eyes widened.

“And where was that?” asked Cordelia.

“At Augie Scriven's place.”

“Augie? As in Augie from the theater's costume department?”

“Yeah. He's my boyfriend. We met last summer when I was working at the theater. It's kind of a secret. Nobody knows but me and Augie—and Jack.”

“That still doesn't tell us why you disappeared,” said Jane.

She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket, tapped one out, but didn't light it. “I couldn't face talking to the police.”