Chapter 5
The red car belonged to no one in my family.
That was the first useful fact.
The second came from Cecily.
She returned upstairs and brought down twelve sheets of paper from Merrick's room.
Crayon drawings.
Most looked exactly like drawings made by a three-year-old.
Circles.
Roads.
A black car.
A smaller red one.
One picture showed the red car beside the black.
Another showed the black car below a long gray line.
A road.
A cliff.
Agatha looked at them and laughed.
“You're building a murder theory from crayons.”
I looked at her.
“You recognized the car.”
“No.”
“Julian did.”
She looked toward her son.
His jaw tightened.
I placed one drawing in front of him.
“What was it?”
“Nothing.”
“Whose car?”
“I don't know.”
“You said it shouldn't have been there.”
“I misspoke.”
Agatha sighed dramatically.
“Conrad, your son can't walk and now you're asking him to solve old family business with finger paints.”
Cecily stepped toward her.
“Don't.”
Agatha smiled.
“Oh, are you going to protect him from words again?”
“No.”
Cecily's voice shook.
“I'm protecting him from you.”
Agatha laughed.
“You couldn't protect Elena.”
Cecily froze.
So did I.
Agatha had done it again.
One sentence too much.
I turned.
“What does Cecily have to do with Elena's death?”
Agatha's smile disappeared.
Cecily stared at her.
“What do you mean?”
Julian stood.
“Mom.”
Agatha looked at him.
I followed that look.
Another secret shared between them.
Not Cecily.
“What happened before Elena left?”
Cecily answered slowly.
“She argued with Agatha.”
Agatha's face hardened.
I looked at Cecily.
“You saw it?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because your aunt told me it was about Merrick's care.”
Agatha rolled her eyes.
“It was.”
Cecily shook her head.
“No.”
Her memory was rearranging itself.
I could see it happening.
“Elena told you she knew what Julian had done.”
Julian's hand tightened.
Cecily continued.
“You told her she had no idea what men like Conrad had to do to keep a family alive.”
I looked at Agatha.
“What had Julian done?”
Nothing.
I turned to Cecily.
“Do you remember anything else?”
She nodded slowly.
“Elena said something about Northgate.”
That name mattered.
A rival crew.
Not large enough to challenge us openly.
Large enough to make trouble if someone inside helped them.
I looked at Julian.
He stopped pretending.
Not completely.
Enough.
“You were dealing with Northgate.”
He smiled coldly.
“Everyone deals with everyone.”
“Without me?”
Silence.
“What did you give them?”
“Nothing.”
Agatha interrupted.
“He kept peace.”
Of course.
There was the justification.
“He prevented bloodshed.”
I laughed once.
“By betraying me.”
“By doing what you were too young to understand.”
Agatha stood.
“You were twenty-seven when your father died. Everyone looked at you and saw a handsome boy in an expensive suit.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“Julian did what needed to be done.”
“Which was?”
“Making arrangements.”
“With my enemy.”
“With men who could have become enemies.”
“Without telling me.”
“Because you would have refused.”
Exactly.
Agatha didn't believe she had betrayed me.
She believed my authority had inconvenienced her.
“What did Elena discover?”
Agatha said nothing.
I looked at Julian.
He finally answered.
“She found one of my meetings.”
“Where?”
“Blackwood.”
My breathing slowed.
The road where she died.
“What happened?”
“She confronted me.”
“In her car?”
“Yes.”
“Merrick was there.”
Julian looked away.
I stood.
“And the red car?”
Silence.
I repeated it.
“The red car.”
Agatha sat back down.
For the first time, she looked tired.
Not guilty.
Cornered.
Julian spoke.
“It belonged to Northgate.”
Cecily covered her mouth.
I felt something cold settle through me.
“Was it following Elena?”
Julian didn't answer.
“Did it force her off the road?”
Agatha snapped:
“She should have minded her own business.”
The words echoed.
Not denial.
Not grief.
Blame.
My aunt looked directly at me.
“Elena had a child in the car. She knew the danger. She chose to threaten men anyway.”
I couldn't feel my hands.
“You're blaming my wife for being killed.”
“She was warned.”
Cecily whispered, “Oh my God.”
Agatha's face hardened.
“If Elena had listened, none of this would have happened.”
There it was.
The truth beneath eighteen months of lies.
Not all of it.
But enough.
I looked at Julian.
“Did you order that car to follow her?”
He didn't answer.
Agatha did.
“No.”
I turned.
She stared back.
“Then who did?”
For the first time, both mother and son became silent at exactly the same moment.
And I understood.
Julian had betrayed me.
May you like
Agatha had helped hide it.
But neither of them had been the person giving the final order.
