Chapter 58
CHAPTER 58
H ANNA’S PHONE RANG when she pulled into her driveway. It was Mason.
“Chief, hope it’s not too late. I wanted to let you in on the latest development.”
“It’s not too late. What’s up?”
“Chase is talking. He agreed to an interview, and when I read him excerpts from Marshall’s book, he began to sing like the proverbial canary.”
“Oh, that is good news.”
“He mentioned your dad, said the idea to frame him came from his grandfather, Al Buckley. He paid everyone off to railroad your father. Back in the day, everyone was afraid of Al. They told your dad that if he ever tried to tell the truth, you and your mom would join Gilly at the bottom of a mine shaft. The public defender had a change of heart a couple of years later. Chase claims that he killed Driscoll. I wanted you to know.”
“Thanks. My father told me what he could before he died. I’m glad his last words were verified.”
“There will be more to come. Kind of sick, but Chase doesn’t want Marshall getting credit for what he did.”
The call ended, and Hanna got out of her car and walked to her front door. Sick was right, and it made her so tired. So much evil in the world and so much of it had shaped her life. Her faith had always kept her standing. She believed that her father’s name would eventually be cleared.
There was some closure knowing that Chase and Marcus would both be tried and held accountable for their crimes.
But she grieved for her mother. Paula wasn’t a victim of Joe but of a big lie, of evil secrets buried by evil men.
Hanna opened her front door and bent to pick up the squirming, happy Gizmo. She turned her thoughts to the positives in her life. The best thing to come out of this horrible situation was her rekindled relationship with Jared. He was her first love, a love that had not dimmed over the years. The next best thing to come out of it was the revelation that her father was not the cold-blooded killer she’d grown up believing that he was.
She wished that she’d had the chance to get to know him better. All she had was his Bible and the letters he’d written. She’d put off reading them for too long.
It was time.
Hanna set the dog down and picked up the valise from where she’d stored it the day after Joe died. She poured a cup of tea, sat in her recliner, and pulled out the bundle of letters. He’d numbered them all, and as she removed the rubber band, she pulled out number one.
For a minute, she held the creased and stained letter in her hands and studied the neat block printing. Then she carefully opened the envelope, unfolded the letter from inside, and began to read, slowly getting to know the father who’d truly sacrificed his life to save hers.