Page 18 of Fourth Point Of Contact

“Harper thinks he is.”

I nodded. “I’m still not following.”

“I never…She knows I didn’t have the best relationship with my old man, but she doesn’t know the half of it.”

“The half being?”

He sighed, running a hand over his face. “I really fucking need a drink for this.”

I got up and strode over to the fridge, grabbing a beer for him. When I returned, he looked even more worked up than before. “Shoot.”

He took the beer, nodding in appreciation. “When I was eighteen, I walked in on my father stabbing my mother to death.”

My eyebrows rose in surprise, but I waited for him to continue.

“I grabbed the first thing I could find and bashed his skull in. Blood was all over the place, and I fled. I’d already joined the military and I was supposed to head to boot. I knew if the police showed up, my military career was over, and any chance I had of getting away was over.”

“Sounds like he deserved it.”

He nodded, fiddling with the label on his beer. “I never told Harper any of that. Not…I didn’t want her to be scared of me.”

“And that’s why you freaked out when you found out she was pregnant.”

“Not because of the fact that I hadn’t told her, but that I would become like him. I should have fucking told her a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you? You know she loves you. Hell, that woman would walk through fire for you.”

He let out a humorless laugh, resting his head back on the couch again. “She would, but…what the fuck does that say about me?”

I really didn’t fucking know, and I wasn’t sure I was the man to give him advice. I had my own fucked up shit to deal with. Well, I’d never actually dealt with any of it. I’d let it slide, covering my hatred with humor and good times.

“So, what’s the problem? What’s bringing all this shit up again?”

“He called me. I haven’t spoken to the man since the police showed up at his house to find my mom dead. An intruder broke in and stabbed her. That’s what he told the police. He said they’d bashed his head in while he was trying to protect my mother. And they fucking believed him.”

“Wait, if the police showed up, why didn’t you just tell them what really happened?”

“Because the old man said he would tell them who really fucking bashed his head in if I said anything.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I was a kid. I was about to leave and escape my life, and I could see it all going up in smoke. They’d take away my career. They’d throw me in a cell. I just wanted to escape.”

“What about your mom?” I asked before I could think about censoring my words. “Didn’t she deserve justice?”

“Maybe,” he said quietly. “But she gave just as good as she got. She egged him on until he attacked her. It was their thing.”

A truly fucked up childhood. He’d survived by the skin of his teeth, escaping to the only place where he could get lost and blend in. Maybe he was right to let it go. I wasn’t one to judge.

“He threatened me right there on the fucking steps of my childhood home,” he continued, staring off into space. “Said if I told the police what really happened, I’d lose everything. He’d make sure of it. And I didn’t know what to do, so I went along with his story. And the minute the police left, I fled and never looked back.” His eyes met mine. “But he’s still out there. Married to some new family and living life as if he’s the victim. He has a wife and kid, you know. And they don’t have a fucking clue they’re living with a murderer.”

I ran my fingers through my hair, blowing out a breath as I took that in. “Man, whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it.”

He nodded, but his eyes weren’t focused. “Let them continue to live with a man who killed his first wife. What if he does something to them?”

“He hasn’t yet, right?”

“I don’t know. For all I know, he abuses them too. What if she can’t get away? What if I let this go and then he fucking kills her, too? What about that kid?”

“Edu—”

“If they die, that’s on me.”

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