Page 125 of Hate So Deep

If the police were asking about the camera footage, then maybe they already have evidence of her lies.

Either way, I won’t know unless I check for myself.

Mom insisted we all download the app after the break-in a few years ago when she installed two cameras, one at the front door and the other at the back.

After pulling it up, I search back to that day and watch with my heart in my throat as I stagger from Dirk’s truck and into the house.

Mom’s car is indeed further up the driveway but after a few minutes, the video cuts out and moves on to the next day.

Strangely, the hours before are gone when presumably Buck came home with Aimee.

Did Buck mess with the recordings that night too?

Pressing play on the video for the day after, I watch as it replays my hasty departure to the hospital and return a few hours later.

I look like shit, no surprise but what sends a kernel of awareness down my spine after I fast forward to Mom coming home, is when she enters the house, looking no less put together, and glances at the camera in the corner before her brows furrow.

This leaves me wondering if my own mother destroyed the evidence of Buck’s actions.

If so, with him gone, even now, she can’t give me a fucking clue to save my own damn life.

Wisely, Dirk doesn’t speak when I get in the truck, but I know it's just a matter of time before he asks so I eventually mutter, “She didn’t say shit.”

That about sums it up. No need to get into the particulars.

Despite knowing that Dirk has a healthy dislike for my mother, I’m still not prepared to reveal the depths of her disinterest in me, her only fucking daughter and surviving child.

“What did she say about her car?” he asks and I mentally sigh.

Chewing my lip, I consider how much to reveal before shrugging. Fuck it.

This isn’t my deal. Dirk doesn’t care anyway and as far as he’s concerned, I’m a project to tackle or some shit before he blows this town and never comes back.

Inexplicably, my thoughts turn to Kayla but whether he plans to take her with or dump her ass isn’t my business, even if I’d like to throw it in his face.

Is it that he can’t loveme, or he can’t love anyone?

What a sad, pathetic fucking excuse.

“She told me that I’m eighteen. She told me to figure it out. Oh, and to get a good lawyer,” I mutter.

When silence greets me, I glance at him sideways before he says, “Jesus, your mother is a Grade-A bitch.”

Silently concurring, I go straight to my room when we get home because I can’t face anyone in my present state of mind.

Unfortunately, I have limited time to process shit because next up I have another grueling meeting with my lawyer in which, as I sit across from him, it’s easy to see that he doesn’t believe me.

Asshole.

Either way, it’s clear that the clock is ticking and without any answers to give to the police, I’m sure they’ll be at my door any minute.

What’s worse is that with my dad sitting beside me, I couldn’t bring myself to mention the recording I found because even now, I’m afraid to do something that will further the divide between us.

I need my mom, but she doesn’t need me and there’s fuck all I can do about it.

I’m tired. I’ve been lying to everyone including myself. There’s no way my family wasn’t involved in this crime and hiding evidence while the Holmes family waits for justice for their daughter is cruel.

However, I don’t have the answers and the longer this plays out the more I’m certain I’m going to lose my mind.

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