Chapter Forty-Five Your Choice
Forty-five
Your Choice
I stare at JP in shock, because what he’s saying is unfathomable to me.
He hurries to explain. “I knew, but not right away. When I shone the flashlight into the well that day, I thought she was dead. She looked so still. Her body was twisted in this horrible way. I thought she was gone. I was certain. So I closed the lid. I got Everett away, and I tried to protect him. I reported her missing, and for two days, I left her body there.”
I clutch the edge of the counter, my knuckles white. “But when you went back?”
His face grows pale. “When I lifted the lid, she was in a different position, and then I heard her moan. She was still alive. After all that time. I have no idea how it was even possible, but she’d been down there, alive, for two days.”
“Oh my God.”
“She was enraged. She thought I did it on purpose. That I sealed her in there to punish her, or to stop her from leaving us. She wouldn’t stop screaming at me,” JP mutters.
“Shouting that she’d go to the police and tell them I left her down there to die.
Shouting that she’d take the kids away from me. ”
He shakes his head, almost like he’s arguing with himself.
“I tried to tell her it was a mistake. I told her I’d thought she was dead.
But she didn’t believe me. She kept screaming that I’d done it deliberately, that she’d see me rot in prison.
” JP sucks in a breath. “And…I got angry too. Furious, even. She was unfaithful to me, you know that? She slept with your uncle.”
“I know.”
“She wanted a divorce. She’d already destroyed our family and now she was going to ruin me, take the kids from me—kids she didn’t even want to raise herself.”
“So you poured the cement.” The words taste bitter on my tongue.
“She kept screaming at me,” he repeats, his breathing coming out ragged. “Demanding I climb down and help her out. But I…I couldn’t bear the thought of losing everything because of her. I just snapped. I started pouring the cement.”
Although I’m appalled by every word he’s uttered so far, I can’t stop myself from asking, “Did she keep screaming?”
“At first, yes. But after a few minutes…she stopped.”
Silence stretches between us. I’m desperately trying to reconcile the man I thought I knew with the horror of what he’s describing.
He buried his wife alive.
And then he let his own son think he was responsible for her death.
Anger whips through me. I slam my fist against the counter, making him wince. “You let Everett blame himself for her death, JP. Do you realize that? Do you even fucking care what you did to your son?”
His voice catches as he stammers on. “I-I thought…it was the best way to protect him. I told him it wasn’t his fault, that it was an accident.”
Disgust rolls through me. “And you thought that was enough? You really believed a seven-year-old wouldn’t blame himself, just because you told him not to?”
JP’s face crumples. “I didn’t want him to carry that weight. I thought I could bear it for him. He’s my son. I’d do anything to keep him safe.”
“But he wasn’t safe, was he?” I snap. “He’s been carrying that trauma for a decade, thinking he’s the reason his mother is gone, believing he pushed her into a well and killed her.”
“No. I told him he hadn’t done anything wrong. I tried so hard to make sure he didn’t suffer—”
“But he did!” My voice rises, echoing through the small shelter. Several dogs start barking in the kennels, snapping into protection mode. I’d like to think they’d be protecting me from JP, but the truth is, these animals worship him. He’s incredible with them. He’s patient. Gentle.
Yet the same man that all the dogs adore had buried his wife alive.
“Both of your kids suffered, JP. You left them both with a lie that ate away at them, piece by piece. And for what? Because you were too scared to face the consequences?”
“I love them more than anything,” he insists. “I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted them to suffer.”
I watch him, a painful knot forming in my chest. “You made that choice, and they’re the ones who’ve paid for it all these years.”
He falls silent, trapped in his own misery, the weight of the truth seeming to crush him.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. This isn’t why I came. I’m not here to turn him in. I’m not even here to judge him, although I do. I judge him hard, especially after hearing his story.
But I don’t want this decision on my hands, because I honestly doesn’t know what will be better for Everett—accepting that his mother’s death was an accident and moving past it, or losing his father too if it comes out that JP buried Leah alive.
I’m sure a good lawyer could argue it was a crime of passion or insanity, but that doesn’t change the fact that Everett will have lost both parents.
So I slide the bag of fingernails across the counter toward JP. “I don’t know what you’re going to do with these,” I tell him. “That’s your choice. But I’m done here.”
His gaze settles on the bag, and he flinches as he realizes the decision he now faces. “Ryan…” He sounds broken. “I didn’t want to lose my kids. I was only trying to hold my family together.”
I’m no longer able to meet his eyes. “Maybe. But whatever you thought you were doing, you’ve hurt them in ways you can’t even begin to fix. And now you have to live with that.”
Without another word, I march to the door. The air in the shelter feels suffocating. I can’t stay here another second.
As I reach the threshold, I hear him whisper, “I’m so sorry.”
I don’t look back. I push open the door and walk out, letting the sunlight hit my face, breathing in the cool, fresh air and leaving JP and his dark secrets behind.