Chapter 38
He never touched me.
“I need everyone to shut up. If you say a word, I’ll stop.
You can’t get angry, either. You can’t swear you’ll kill him. You can’t punch the wall, because he’s not here. Just me. I know this isn’t my fault, but if you get upset, I’ll feel like apologizing. And apologizing feels worse than cutting up my arms.
I’ll start at the beginning. No, I’ll start at the end.
He never touched me. That’s supposed to make it better. He never touched me like that.
Dad was retired, as long as I remember. He did some work here and there, to maintain his investments, as he called them. But mostly he was home, working on the house, spending time with me. I always felt special. Some kids at school hardly ever saw their dads.
Even when he took trips without me, he called every night, and he always brought back presents. I had a collection of card decks from everywhere he’d been.
He taught me how to play video games. How to make pancakes. How to shoot a gun.
He loved me. I wish he hadn’t, but he did.
Please, shut up, shut up, don’t move. I can hear you thinking.
Fuck, I hate talking about this. I’m a fucking coward. I owe it to all of them to, I don’t know, bear witness. But I don’t want it to be real.
I don’t want you to think about it when you look at me.
Dad wanted to fuck me.
He was obsessed.
But I had no idea. He never touched me like that. That’s the truth. I don’t think he was afraid of getting caught. I think he was just—just practical. If he hurt me for real, the fantasy was over.
He hurt kids who looked like me instead.
Sorry. I’m fine. Don’t move. I just need a second. Fuck. I just need a second. Okay.
I found the footage on his laptop when I was fourteen. I thought the photos were me at first, before I realized what they were. But they were other kids. Too many other kids.
Dad always told me not to trust cops I didn’t know. Maybe a few years earlier, I wouldn’t have said anything. I don’t really remember what I was thinking. Maybe I’d been feeling hunted for years already.
I took the laptop to the Vilton police station. They arrested Dad. There wasn’t a trial. He took a plea bargain, and I was happy about that. He was locked up safe, and I went to a foster family in Arizona.
I was an idiot. I didn’t realize how weird everything was. You all saw the news today. Holden had articles saved in his murder scrapbook.
They only charged Dad with three murders.
I gave them so much evidence. I saw so many photos.
Dad has a lot of friends. The sort of friends who could minimize his charges and keep his DNA out of the system. Bishop ran a familial search on my DNA and found nothing.
Yeah, you bastard, I knew. He texted me about it.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. I’m fine. I’m not fine. I have to do this anyway.
I’ve been trying not to think about this since Holden showed me the articles. Enough people outside the loop saw the evidence that they couldn’t just let him go. The wrong people might start digging. Or Dad just decided a prison vacation made sense. Maybe he wanted to get back into business.
He was retired all my life, but he always thought an old job might come knocking.
He taught me what to do if strangers came to the house.
Or even friends we didn’t expect. I was supposed to grab a gun and hide in the basement.
There was a secret phone I could call for help.
If anyone besides Dad found me downstairs, I was supposed to shoot them.
I knew some of his old employees. There was Smith. He made my fake ID, after I ran away from the foster home. I assume he got cold feet about helping me escape, and that’s why he ordered a hit on me.
There was Uncle Ed—that’s Ed Addersen, sorry. He let me crash at his place. I don’t know if he told Dad I was there. I didn’t let myself think about it. I had trouble caring about things back then.
I’m sure Dad knew either way. He’s hard to hide from.
Are those enough clues, Bishop?
Dad is the Viper. And he’s back.”