Page 75 of Trapper Road

“Go on.”

“We didn’t find anything that indicates he was planning a school shooting.”

Even though I knew this would be the case, I’m still flooded with relief. “Of course not.”

“But we did find some things that are concerning that you should know about. He seems to be obsessed with his father — with Melvin.”

“What?” I gasp the word.

“He has folders — several of them — filled with information about Melvin. And not just the easily accessible information, though he has that too. He has things that were never released to the public. Police files, evidence photos, the unredacted trial transcript. He has accounts from the victims’ families, from officers who viewed the crime scenes. He even has scans from what appears to be a journal written in Melvin’s handwriting.”

My mind spins, and I have trouble drawing a full breath. This is the last thing I would have expected from Connor. I thought he’d made peace with who his father was. I thought he’d let him go, buried him in the past.

But apparently not. Apparently, he’s been obsessed with his father for a while.

“How did he even find any of that?” I ask.

“We’re tracking what we can. Looks like a lot of it came from the dark web.” He hesitates. “It’s not just Melvin, there’s information on other serial killers as well. Pirated books about their lives, their crimes, psychological profiles.”

“Oh God,” I groan.

“There’s more.” I recognize the tone in his voice. It’s the one they use when they’re about to give you horrible news. I close my eyes and brace myself.

“There was a folder full of information on various weaponry. Guns mostly. Specs on ghost guns, ammunition, accessories, tactics.”

It’s like being punched in the solar plexus. Everything inside me goes white. “He wasn’t involved in the shooting, Mike. He wasn’t. I know my son.”

“I know you don’t want to believe it, Gwen, but it doesn’t look good. And you and I both know that what really happened doesn’t matter — what matters is the story that gets told about what happened.”

He’s right. Look at all of the people who blame me for Melvin’s murders — who think I was involved, that I helped him. I was tried as an accomplice and acquitted, and that still isn’t enough to convince some people of my innocence.

To some people I’ll always be Melvin’s Little Helper.

At the familiar moniker I gasp, a piece of the puzzle falling into place. “Melvin’s Little Helper— it wasn’t Kevin posting… ” I don’t finish the statement, I can’t.

“It was Connor. We were able to confirm with the information we found in his cloud account.”

I shake my head, stunned. How have I become so disconnected from my son? How did I not see any of this? Why didn’t he tell me?

Which leads to a larger, more difficult question: what else have I missed?

Mike continues, “This evidence may not be enough to convict Connor in the courts, but if it gets out it would be enough to convict him in the eyes of the public. And if Kevin goes to trial, this information will become public; there’s no way around that.”

A trial. Fuck. I can’t imagine putting Connor what I went through — being charged with a crime he didn’t commit. Facing the accusing stares of the victims and their families. Never being able to escape the legacy of that accusation.

I can’t let it happen. I won’t.

“I want to see the evidence, Mike.”

“It’s all in his cloud account. Since he’s a minor, technically you’re allowed access to it.”

“Not just the evidence on Connor, I want to see it all. Everything you have on Kevin as well.”

He hesitates. “Gwen, you know that would be a massive breach of protocol. Doing that could get me fired.”

“Mike, you and I have had our differences, especially when it comes to Melvin Royal. But Connor is Sam’s son too. I know Connor didn’t do this. I know he wasn’t involved in this shooting. Let me look through the evidence — I might find something you missed.”

He still hesitates.

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