Page 112 of We Are All Guilty Here

“Get dressed,” Jude told him. “You can give me a ride. Call Brett to make sure Adam’s at the bar.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Cole crammed the other biscuit into his mouth before disappearing up the stairs.

Jude told Celia, “He’s a good kid.”

“Don’t tell him I said this, but he’s perfect.” Celia sat back down at the table. Clasped together her hands. “Jonah bought the Hang Out from your uncle Penley with the money he got from Emmy after the divorce.”

Jude felt a wave of nausea at the mention of the sleazy dive. Her brain summoned the layout from memory. Sticky floors, loud video games, pool tables in the back, toilets to the left of the small stage and dance floor. She used to sneak out with Henry. The drinks were strong, and nobody cared if you were underage, especially when your father was the sheriff and your uncle owned the place.

“Hey,” Celia said. “Everything okay?”

Jude nodded. “It’s hard to believe Penley sold the bar. He loved that place.”

“He loves Emmy more, and trust me, any one of us would’ve donated a kidney to get Jonah to leave Emmy alone.” Celia gave a stiff shrug of her shoulders. “You both have similar tastes. Jonah’s a failed musician.”

Jude didn’t laugh. “So was Charles Manson.”

Celia didn’t laugh, either. “Are you sure you want to see Adam again?”

“No.” Jude didn’t press her on the subject of Emmy and Jonah. She opened her purse, started laying out her make-up. Lipstick, eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara. She propped up her compact against the salt and pepper shakers. “Are the matches still by the stove?”

Celia reached over to open the drawer, found a lighter and tossed it onto the table. “What are you up to?”

“I need Adam to think I turned out exactly how he thought I would.” Jude liberally powdered her face, trying to ignore the way it brought out the creases around her mouth and eyes. “Tell me about him.”

“Worthless cocksucker. Sold pot to children. Stole money fromhis parents. His mother’s eyesight is gone. Walton had to mortgage the house to try to keep him off death row.” Celia’s face looked grim. “You know about the podcast?”

“Misguided Angel.” Jude clicked the lighter and held the eyeliner pencil over the flame so the wax would melt. “What a crock of shit. That Jack Whitlock clearly had a hard-on for Emmy. Made her seem like a tragic, overly emotional Keystone Kop.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Again, Celia didn’t share the details. “How are you going to get that eyeliner right without reading glasses? There’s no way you’re not as blind as I am.”

“Shut up and help me.” Jude handed over the pencil, looked up at the ceiling. “What do you think, Ceals? Was it Adam? Did Gerald get it wrong?”

“Let me concentrate.” Celia went silent as she traced the melted pencil under Jude’s eyes. They could’ve been back in high school. The only thing missing was a David Bowie record playing on the stereo. “After you left, Adam got worse. Raising hell all over the place. In and out of jail. He still sold weed, but he did odd jobs on the side, lived with his parents most of the time.”

“Gerald didn’t know Millie hired a con to work on her property?”

“Millie didn’t know. She found Adam’s number on the bulletin board at the senior center. Paid him cash, didn’t ask questions.” Celia shrugged. “Not that it matters. Millie wasn’t talking to Gerald when the girls went missing.”

Jude had been well-versed in the generation-spanning family feuds. “What a surprise.”

“Well, I wasn’t talking to Myrna, so I can’t say anything,” Celia admitted. “I was rawdogging menopause. Bless Tommy’s heart for sticking it out.”

Jude’s ex hadn’t been as resilient. “They should call it fuckapause, because you run out of all the fucks you can give.”

Celia’s quick laugh hadn’t changed since they were sneaking sips of MD 20/20 behind the Chilly Treat. “You’re the FBI expert, Dr. Archer. What do you think? Is Adam guilty?”

“I think I need to be careful about opening up a can of worms.” Jude studied her reflection. The eyeliner was too sharp.She used her thumb to smudge it, judging the effect in the small mirror. Then she put on more eyeshadow than she’d used in the last forty years. “Christ, I can’t believe I used to do this every day.”

“I bet there’s a safety pin in here somewhere.” Celia leaned over to look in the drawer again. She passed Jude a sewing kit. “I wish you’d known the better versions of Myrna and Gerald. Tommy says they changed because of Emmy, but I think they had to get over losing Henry.”

“They needed me gone so they could let go.” Jude tried to keep the bitterness at bay. “You were here for those six days when they couldn’t find his body. The way Myrna tore into me. Gerald wouldn’t even look me in the face. I was only sixteen years old. I lost my brother, too.”

“Everything you’re saying is true,” Celia said. “They were terrible people. Terrible parents. How they treated you was unforgivable. It wasn’t your fault Henry went into the river that night. It could’ve just as easily been you. Myrna and Gerald practically chased you out of town themselves.”

Jude twisted open the tube of mascara. “And once I was gone, they turned into different people.”

“So did you.”

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