Chapter 22 #3
“Sure thing.” She turned off the camera and set it aside.
He leaned back in his seat. “Tell me more about Trevor. You said he’d been with the farm the longest. How long, do you think?”
“Must’ve been nearly eight years he was with us, on and off. He was there before my mom died and left when I was twelve. I remember that ’cause I was in the eighth grade.”
“Wait, Trevor worked on the farm before your mother died? He actually knew her?”
“Yeah, he would’ve. There were rumors my dad might adopt him, but it never happened, then when I was twelve, he was just gone.”
“Okay.” Seth rested his elbows on the table and leaned in. “What else can you tell me about the farm, when the boys were there? Did you ever witness your father asking them to do anything they might not want to do?”
“Not that I personally saw, but…” Claire chewed on the inside of her cheek.
These questions were getting more and more incriminating for her dad.
“The thing is, I’ve aways been sorta kept in the dark when it comes to the details of the farmwork.
My sister too. We were raised to never ask questions. ’Cause we’re girls, I guess.”
Seth gave her a measured look; she didn’t know what it meant. It ticked him off, maybe. “You felt you were treated differently because of your gender?”
He didn’t know the half of it. “Yes. I can’t speak for my sister, but yes. The boys would have meetings with my dad, and my sister and I were strictly forbidden from asking questions or getting involved in any way. My dad said it was men’s business. It was like that my whole life.”
“But to be clear, you don’t know what those meetings were about?”
“I have suspicions, but I can’t say for sure.”
Seth jotted something down. “And what are the suspicions?”
Claire swallowed hard, trying to focus on the color of his eyes—dark, endless blue—and not the reality of what she was doing right now. Digging her own grave, possibly. “Something illegal. Drugs, maybe. But I never actually saw anything like that.”
“You never saw any paraphernalia? No needles, dime bags, anything like that?”
“Never at the farm,” she said weakly. When somebody walked past their table, she jolted, looking to her left, but it was just an elderly lady walking to the bathrooms. She tried to keep herself together.
“But Dillon’s had a dime bag before—you already know that.
Sometimes he goes on these midnight drives with my dad and my brother-in-law.
There’s this barn on the farm that’s always sealed shut with a lock, so I’ve never been in it.
Plus, these seedy bikers come to the bar sometimes. It’s sketchy.”
“Of course,” Seth said. “If it’s not something illegal, why all the secrecy, right?”
“Exactly…”
He scribbled something down. “And what about when your mother was alive? Did you ever witness any violence or heated disagreements between your parents?”
“A disagreement, maybe… but not violence…”
Claire realized, rather abruptly, that she knew nothing about how things actually were between her parents. She didn’t know if her dad was abusive or controlling to her mom the way he had been with his daughters.
“Claire,” Seth said, “yesterday, I asked you if you think it’s possible your mother’s death wasn’t an accident, and you said maybe. Can you tell me more about that?”
The room was suddenly much colder, and gooseflesh rose on her arms. Claire looked outside the window and catalogued the few cars in the parking lot. Don’t freak out again, you idiot, she chastised herself. But she didn’t want to tell this to a recording—she just wanted to tell him.
“I—I need a break.”
Seth didn’t hesitate to pause the recording. Once it was off, his posture relaxed.
“You okay?”
“I am, but…” She took a breath. “Have you ever been scared of somebody before? Like even when you’re alone, you feel like they’re watching you. ’Cause every time you’ve tried to defy them, they’ve found out somehow and punished you for it.”
His eyes didn’t leave her face. “I guess I haven’t. Not the way you’re describing.”
It felt so strange, so surreal, to talk about it out loud; this thing that lived inside her, embedded so deep it had become her secret DNA.
“Is that how your father makes you feel?” Seth asked.
Weakly, Claire nodded. “He can be cruel.”
“Has he ever hurt you?” His voice was calm, but she didn’t miss the flare of anger that passed over him.
“Not in the traditional sense.”
“What does that mean?”
She clammed up again. She could tell him everything right now—God knew she wanted to—but she hadn’t told anyone about the cage since Mrs. Bell, and it was too much. She’d already made one accusation without evidence, and now she was about to make another. Three would be pushing it.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Seth said. “I just want you to know that I’m on your side. Whatever it is, I’ll believe you.”
With the way the light pooled in, brightened up his eyes, he looked so honest, it made her heart hurt. Maybe this was foolish of her, but it was her only shot.
She forced herself to straighten up. “Turn the recording back on.”