Page 74 of Serial Burn

“What?” Jesslyn gaped. She hadn’t realized what “troubled childhood” had meant for her father.

Carol nodded. “That’s what I’m saying. Your father had his issues, but he wasn’t a horrible, evil man or anything—although, I have to admit I thought so at the time. But, over the past twenty years, I’ve come to realize he was simply a flawed man. A hurting man who overcame a lot and had more to overcome. A man in need of forgiveness and redemption like every other soul on this planet.” She closed her eyes a moment, then offered a wry smile to Jesslyn. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to finally admit that. Anyway, the youth center was his dream and your mother supported it. They were going to build the building from the ground up and even had the blueprints drawn up.” She clasped her hands to her chest. “I’ll show them to you and maybe you can incorporate some of their ideas for the different areas in your plan.”

Jesslyn’s knees were weak and she wondered how much more she could take. But she couldn’t help herself. She pressed on, wanting every little detail. And now that Carol had started the telling, she didn’t appear to be in any hurry to stop. In fact, she seemed almostrelieved to unload. “I’d love to see them,” Jesslyn said. “Who was the woman? Or was there more than one?”

“I think in the beginning there were a few, but then your father seemed to settle down with your mother and they were happy again for a while. He stopped giving her jewelry and she was thrilled with that.” She shook her head. “Imagine being happy your husband doesn’t bring you jewelry.”

“Right. So, every time he had an affair, he’d bring her something from that store and she knew why. A psychiatrist would have a field day with that one.”

“I know. It didn’t make sense. But then they’d have an argument or a disagreement and he’d disappear into whatever mental place he went to deal with that. And he’d give her more jewelry, and of course, she knew.”

“That there was someone else.”

“Yes. The last time, I think it was someone who may have been in the neighborhood.”

Jesslyn frowned. “Why do you think that?”

“Your mom said your dad would leave at night. Like after he thought she was asleep, he’d get up and walk out the door. Never took the car, so wherever he went was within walking distance.” Carol fell silent for a moment. “Linda brought you girls over one night, you know. I pointed out the fact that your father was walking wherever he was going and obviously meeting someone. I asked her if she was going to continue letting him do that to her. She said no, she wasn’t. Said she was going home to confront him and tell him it was the last time. That if he didn’t stop and get back into counseling with her, she was walking away.”

“And was she going to?”

“I think so. I don’t think she meant it to be a permanent thing, just until he got it together. She told me she hated to leave, that she couldn’t walk away for good, but she couldn’t let him believe she wouldn’t. He broke down and begged her forgiveness, bought her another piece of jewelry that went in the safe deposit box, andthen went back to counseling, begging her not to give up on him. And she didn’t. But ...”

“But what?”

“So, she went home, they talked, and all was well. Until the night of the fire. They had an argument. She’d intercepted a phone call from one of the women he’d had an affair with. He promised her he’d cut off all contact, reminded her that he’d changed his phone number and everything. Your mom knew this but was still hurt. Terrified all of their progress was going to come crashing down on her. Your dad swore he’d made it clear that everything was over, but that the woman just wouldn’t stop contacting him, begging him to come back to her. Your mom was furious. More so than I’d ever seen her. She didn’t know what to believe. That’s why she brought your sisters over that night. She was planning to stay, but then your dad called and begged her to come home. So she went. She called me and said everything was fine, that all was well, that she believed him.” Her aunt sighed. “And she sounded happy again.”

Jesslyn rubbed her eyes. Her head hurt. If only her mom and sisters hadn’t gone home. She bit her lip and pushed the thought aside.

Focus on something else.

She turned the poodle over and gasped. “It’s there,” she said. “The mark.” She looked up at her aunt. “You’re right. He bought this at the store involved in our investigation.” She checked the other pieces, examining each one and silently marveling at their beauty—and still blown away that the logo indicated it came from the same store as the pieces from the fire. Finally, she sat back. “So, what do we do with them?” Jesslyn asked.

Carol reached over and gave her hand a short squeeze. “They belong to you. I’ve just been their guardian. I’ll let you decide that.”

“Okay.” She’d have to think about that one.

Carol frowned. “You’re not upset with me for not giving them to you sooner? When you turned eighteen? I just didn’t know how to explain them, and you didn’t need the money they would have brought.”

On Jesslyn’s eighteenth birthday, she’d inherited her parents’ estate. It had been enough money to ensure she never had to work a day in her life if she chose not to. But she wanted to work. Had been desperate to excel in school, learn her craft, and graduate.

So she could have a job that would enable her to catch a killer. She reached for her aunt’s hand. “I’m not upset with you.”

WITH HIS HIP TWINGINGPROTESTS,Nathan stood outside the vault while Jesslyn and her aunt conducted whatever business they had going on in there. Kenzie and Cole hovered near the windows, watching for anything that might indicate they were followed.

As of now, there was no sign of Kenny. The officers who’d followed him reported he’d returned to campus just as he said he was going to do and joined his friend group in the student center.

With Kenny taken care of, Nathan should feel a lot more at ease than he did, but he couldn’t help asking himself,If not Kenny, then who?

He had no idea.

They were getting a few curious looks from the bank’s patrons, but Nathan simply shot them a reassuring smile and kept his gaze on the activity in the parking lot.

Again, no one concerning. Customers entered and left. A few he knew and exchanged pleasantries with, but no one that sent his “bad guy” alert chiming.

But if not Kenny, then who?

They’d checked his financials, and no deposits or withdrawals had garnered attention. No red flags. So why had the kid felt the need to run? A knee-jerk reaction to having police approach him? Possibly. But Kenny’s unwillingness to talk, his whole evasive attitude, said he knew more. Knew something.

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