Chapter 38
Dylan
“Happy birthday to you,” we all sang together, voices overlapping and out of tune.
“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Grandma, happy birthday to youuuuuuuuuuu!”
Claps and cheers filled the dining room as we stood crowded around my grandma’s wheelchair.
“On three,” someone said.
“One. Two. Three,” we all said at once and blew out the candles for her. Applause followed. Louder this time.
You could tell Grandma was happy. Not by words or movements but by the slight lift of her left hand. And by the way one side of her mouth pulled upward into an uneven smile while the other stayed still. Frozen. Caught where the stroke had left it.
Amanda carefully sliced the cake. She barely looked like herself anymore.
The overdone lip fillers. The facelift my dad insisted on right after Markus was born.
Even the way she dressed sexy now didn’t belong to her.
And all of it was for my dad. He demanded it from her, constantly dangling the threat of cheating or leaving for a younger woman.
I pushed Grandma closer to the table.
“Grandma, I drew this for you—it’s us!” Elizabeth said, holding up a drawing that looked exactly like something a five-year-old would make. She wore a pink dress that already had a chocolate stain on it, although it was brand-new. Her blond hair was pulled into an uneven braid.
“Blink twice if you like it!” she said, rocking on her heels.
Grandma blinked twice. Fast. Deliberate. Her eyes stayed on Elizabeth the whole time.
“Yay! I’ll add a unicorn!” Elizabeth thundered down the hallway into her room.
Markus, my little brother, barely three now, clung to Lila like peanut butter to jelly.
His arms were wrapped tight around her as he demanded cake.
Lila didn’t hesitate. She scooped some onto a plate and handed it to him.
She wore an oversized sweater, sleeves pushed up, hair pulled back in a lazy bun.
She was close to graduating high school and wanted to take a year off before college to travel in Europe.
Just like my grandma’s dream before she had my mom.
And maybe my mom’s too, before she had me.
Lila would live that dream for both of them.
Ethan was sitting at the table as well, cake half gone, crumbs on his shirt. His hoodie hung loose on his shoulders. His eyes glued to the screen, and one hand scrolled through his phone while he chewed. Detached and checked out. Like most boys entering their teenage years.
Dad lowered himself into the chair next to Lila. He was wearing a jersey.
“Can you put down that phone and have a conversation with us like a normal human being?” he complained to Ethan.
Ethan rolled his eyes and set his phone down with a little too much force. The thud echoed on the tabletop. He stared straight ahead, jaw tight.
I sat next to my grandma. “I have something for you,” I said and pulled a small gift from my pocket.
“We’re doing gifts later,” my dad said.
“Gift or cake first?” I asked her, ignoring him. Her eyes locked onto the box, and she blinked twice.
“All right, gift first,” I said and began unwrapping it. Inside was a gold wristband. Simple. Light. A small locket hung from it. I opened it carefully and turned it toward her so she could see my mom’s picture inside. Young. Smiling. Alive.
“I hope you like it,” I said as I slipped it around her stiff wrist. Her fingers curled slightly. The half smile deepened. A tear broke free and rolled down her cheek. That told me everything.
“That’s beautiful,” Amanda said softly, looking over my shoulder.
“Really great idea, and good call on giving the gift first,” my dad said, overly friendly.
He always was when he talked to me. He applauded everything I did or said.
Kissing my ass twenty-four seven. Not because he wanted to repair our relationship but because of the guilt he carried over his own shitty behavior toward my mom and us.
Lila and Ethan had been too young back then to understand what he’d done, but I remembered.
And had no intention of forgiving him anytime soon.
“Were you able to get me my steroid cream for my rash?” Lila asked me with a mouthful of cake.
“What rash?” my dad asked.
“Nothing,” she said, shrugging it off. “Just the same eczema that won’t go away.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s in the car. I’d better grab it now before I forget. Can somebody feed the cake to Grandma?”
“I’ll do it!” Elizabeth shouted, already thundering back into the room.
It was the cutest thing, seeing how much she loved my grandma—who wasn’t actually her grandma. But we never explained it like that. Grandma was Grandma.
I stood and stepped back to make room for Elizabeth. “Remember,” I said.
“Slow and small bites,” Elizabeth finished the sentence for me, serious and focused. I smiled and ran my hand over her golden-haired head.
“That’s right. Slow and small bites.”
I watched as Elizabeth lifted the fork and fed my grandma the first bite. She did really well. So I turned and headed for my car.
The cream was on my driver’s seat. I’d called it in and picked it up two days ago.
I grabbed the paper bag and was about to walk back when something made me stop.
A black SUV.
It was parked just off to the side on our quiet, private road, right in front of the metal gate leading up to the house.
What the fuck?
My gaze flicked back to the house. Then to the SUV. Should I call the cops?
But before I fully realized what I was doing, I was already getting into my car. I closed the door and roared the engine to life. I drove slowly down the driveway, pretending like everything was normal. Like we’d run out of milk and I’d been sent to grab some.
The automatic gate opened.
But the SUV didn’t move an inch.
It just sat there, engine running. A low hum in the quiet.
Shit. Now what?
Was it Myers? Had he finally come for us?
911 flashed through my mind again. But by the time the police would show up, he’d be gone. Should I get a knife, maybe? What if the car disappeared before I even made it back inside? I needed at least to get the plate number.
I turned onto the road where the SUV was parked and slowed. My hand shook as I pulled my phone from my pocket. I started to record a video of the plate, when the window of the SUV began to roll down.
Goddammit.
Was I about to get shot through the window? Better me than my family still inside the house. My jaw locked.
When nothing happened, as the seconds felt like minutes, I eased my car closer, inch by inch, and pulled up right next to the SUV.
One foot stayed planted on the gas, ready to slam it and race off if I had to.
I was also ready to throw myself sideways if bullets started flying.
At least I’d see the driver’s face. At least I’d know what Myers looked like.
But the second I rolled up beside him and saw who sat behind the wheel, my foot slammed the brake instead of the gas.
“No need to call 911, kid,” Detective Nolan said calmly. “I’m already here.”
He looked older than I remembered. Mid-thirties now. He had the kind of face that had seen too much and stopped pretending otherwise. His short dark hair had some gray in it. He had deep lines around his mouth. And his eyes still had that certain sparkle to them. A seasoned cop through and through.
I turned the video off and leaned toward the window. “What are you doing here?”
“Follow me” was all he said. Then he drove off.
I followed him and turned onto a narrow gravel road leading into a stretch of woods not far from my dad’s house. The trees closed in on both sides. It looked like a place where hikers found bodies. Even knowing he was a cop, the whole thing felt wrong. Spooky.
He stopped suddenly and got out of his car.
I parked behind him, unlocked my door, and shifted into Park. My heart beat loudly in my ears as Nolan slid into the passenger seat of my car. His suit pants looked expensive but worn. A leather belt held his badge and gun. The door shut with a solid thump.
“Look at you, kid,” he said, glancing over as he settled back. “Dr. Dylan Alderwyn, huh? Sure your grandma is proud as hell.”
“She is,” I said.
Silence followed. The small talk was done, and I felt like something ugly was coming.
“You’re probably wondering what the hell I’m doing here,” Nolan said. “I’ll skip the crap and get right to it.”
His gaze locked onto mine.
“They found John Myers.”
I straightened. A cold wave rushed through my chest, sharp and sudden, like ice poured straight into my veins.
“What? Where?”
“We don’t know for sure.”
My head snapped back. “What do you mean you don’t know for sure? Didn’t you arrest him?”
Nolan’s mouth tightened. He didn’t look happy. Didn’t look like this was the victory we all had hoped for.
“I need to clarify something,” he said. “When I said we found him, it wasn’t us. Not the police.”
This didn’t make any sense. “What do you mean? Who found him?”
He sighed. “Thomas Harlow.”
My stomach dropped. “The AG who went after my mom to hurt my grandma?”
Nolan nodded. Slow. Somber. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “That prick.”
“But … I thought he stepped down after my mom settled with the State.”
The power of our million-dollar lawyer, Robert Goldberg, flashed through my mind. The way doors suddenly opened when he walked into a room. The system was so fucked, rotten to the core, but that time, for once, it had worked in our favor.