Page 34 of Into These Eyes
“Love you, too.”
She hangs up and I sit there staring at the phone, my whole body shaking. God, I need her. I should have told her to come home. She needs to know the truth, needs to know about all the lies we’ve been told. But I refuse to let our father’s actions throw a spanner in the career she’s working towards. I won’t allow him to hurt her any more than he already has.
Hitching in a sob, I clamp down on it. I’m fine. I’ll call her in a few days when my mind is in a more cohesive state and nail down her graduation date. That’ll give me a deadline. I’ll let her celebrate her graduation, then I’ll tell her who our father really was.
But there is someone I can tell right now.
Scrolling through my contacts I find Detective Jarrod Reid’s number and dial. He answers after two rings.
“Well, well. Jamie Evans. It’s been a while,” Jarrod says, his tone overly friendly.
I cringe a little, remembering the last time I saw him. Five years ago. I’d already been on one date with him, and was a little hesitant to accept his offer of a second date, but Dad talked me into it. Jarrod took me shooting at his pistol club. I’d surprisingly enjoyed learning how to handle and fire a few different guns. What I didn’t enjoy was the kiss he’d tried to force on me afterward. There was something about the way he seemed to think it was his right to take what he wanted. Not to mention the look in his eyes when I stopped him. That alone made me realise I most certainly did not want a romantic relationship with the man, no matter how attentive he’d been toward us after Mum’s murder.
“Jarrod. How are you?” I ask, though I couldn’t care less.
“Couldn’t be better. And you?”
“Dad died,” I tell him, my voice flat.
“Shit, Jamie. I’m sorry. The cancer?” I have to give it to him, his condolences sound genuine. I’m also surprised he knows about my father’s cancer. Obviously, they’d kept in touch.
As much as I don’t want anything to do with Jarrod anymore, I find myself feeling sorry for him. It’ll come as quite a shock to learn he locked away an innocent man while staying in touch with the actual killer. I suppose he’ll be embarrassed, especially now that he’s worked his way up to Detective Inspector.
“Yes, but there’s something else. Something he told me right before he passed. It’s a bit of a shock, but you need to know.”
He pauses briefly before he says, “Okay.”
“He told me he’s the one who killed my mother.”
Absolute silence.
I wait. I wait way too long. “Jarrod?”
“Yeah, ah … you know that’s not right, Jamie.”
My heart accelerates as my anger rises. “Except it is.”
A long sigh travels into my ear. “It was an open and shut case. You know that. You sat through the whole trial. Maybe your father was confused. He must have been on a lot of medication, so he—”
“No, he wasn’t. I believe him. It makes sense. The man who went to prison for a crime he didn’t commit always maintained his innocence. Remember?” I certainly do. I remember the way Gavin looked at me in the courtroom, how he pleaded his innocence before they dragged him away.
“You saw the evidence, Jamie. Besides, he’s out now. I’m sure he just wants to put it all behind him and get on with his life.”
What the fuck?That’s not what I expected him to say at all. I thought he’d be as stunned as I am. Outraged, even. He had, after all, been completely outsmarted by my father.
“That’s a little dismissive,” I say through clenched teeth. “Gavin Lake may be out of prison, but he’s still a convictedmurderer. He doesn’t deserve to go through the rest of his life slapped with that label.”
“Jamie, seriously, just let it be. You’ll only stir up a hornet’s nest. And for what? It’s over. Let your father’s memory remain untarnished. You don’t want to go creating a problem where there isn’t one. Why dwell on the past? It’s behind everyone now. Keep it there.”
I hang up, every hair on my body standing at attention. Detective Inspector Jarrod Reid just told me exactly who he is. He used to be the man who gave our broken family comfort and reassurances during the worst time of our lives. Now he’s exactly the type of person Gavin spoke of in the caravan today.
Nearly jumping out of my skin when my phone rings in my hand, I stare at the screen. It’s Jarrod. I reject the call, then block his number. Five years ago, I trusted my instincts. I’m glad I did. The man has no integrity. I can’t believe that he’s risen so high within the police department. Shouldn’t a man so invested in the law also be invested in the truth? Instead, he views the truth as an inconvenience.
Shaking with anger, I slide off the barstool and hurry into the kitchen, suddenly remembering the bottle of vodka I hid behind the cleaning products under the sink. I’d bought it the day my father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and hid it from him so he wouldn’t be tempted while undergoing treatment. Although I’ve barely touched it, I feel like making quite a dent in it now.
From the fridge I find a bottle of lemon, lime and bitters, pour a couple of fingers of vodka into a glass and top it off with the fizzy liquid. I manage to swallow the whole lot in one go. Then I pour myself another and take it into the bathroom.
After I undress and step under the shower, I wash the sticky humidity from my skin, wishing I could wash everything else away just as easily. More tears want to come, but I clamp downon them. I’m not a crier. I’ve done enough crying today to last me another sixteen years.
