But hewasn’tguilty. He hadn’t been in town on the early morning that Marina Santana had been killed—but as a kid he’d been confused and overwhelmed by the guilt and hadn’trealized that fact. The video evidence had appeared damning.
Of course it did.
His father had executive produced it.
No, it wasn’t until after he got out of prison that he comprehended the shocking truth: He was innocent.
That video tape had been doctored. The one that had “mysteriously” been leaked to channel five news. With Milt slumped unconscious over the wheel of the Jag, before being pulled out of the car by his seemingly distraught father. The one he’d watched all those years ago, over and over, sick to his stomach, that cemented his belief that yes, hewasresponsible for killing someone’s mother....
In truth, it had been recorded days after Marina Santana’s death.
The footage had been edited to remove the timestamp, and a new timestamp, marking it as the morning of the hit-and-run, had been added.
Milt had found the original video, with its pre-edited, accurate timestamp on his father’s computer.
He’d also found—in his top dresser drawer—the ticket stub to the Lady Gaga concert he’d attended in Las Vegas the very same night that Marina had died. He’d gotten a ride with some college friend of a girl he’d liked—the three of them made the trek to see the show. But it soon became painfully obvious that Betsy was into her older friend—leaving Milt to just barely survive another shitty night in an endless stretch of shitty nights.
He’d ended up not driving back to LA with them—third wheel and all. And after a night spent staggering up and down the glittering strip, he’d caught a bus home the next morning.
If only he’d been able to see the future, he would’ve saved that bus ticket instead.
Could he have made it home after the concert, in time to kill Marina Santana?
Yes. It was doable. For sure.
But that night Milt had done his getting-shitfaced in Vegas.
And maybe, if he hadn’t been intentionally confused by his father about the date of the hit-and-run, Betsy and what’s-his-name could’ve provided at leasthalfof an alibi.
But that didn’t happen.
Because his father—so concerned in what was truly an Oscar-worthy performance—had advised him to take the plea deal.
For a crime that the old man himself had committed.
Milt had tried to tell Frank Santana this after getting slapped. “My father framed me,” he told Marina’s still distraught father through lips that were split and bleeding. “I was in Las Vegas when your daughter died!” Christ, his father had full-on set him up—gotten him blind drunk, stuck him in the car, and hit record on those security cameras. “He doctored that video—I have proof!”
Frank didn’t believe him. He stood there, just shaking his head, disgust on his face.
“Please,” Milt begged. “Hekilled her—not me. I’ll give you all the evidence you need to file a civil case against him.” He didn’t dare go to the police with the files that he’d found. He was certain that someone on the LAPD had helped his father that night. And he knew for sure that his old man’s smarmy lawyer, Harper, had been in on it. Going to the police could well end up with him dead, too. “With a civil case, we can get the truth out—and you can sue him. You can takeeverything?—”
“No,” Frank Santana said flatly. “We’re done with this. All the money in the world won’t bring my daughter back.I’m not dragging my family through any more of your screwed up bullshit. You come back to my house—ever—you go near my granddaughter—ever...” He lowered his voice and leaned in. “I will fucking end you.”
“Mick, will you zip me up?”
Mick looked up to see Emily coming out onto the balcony. She’d pulled her hair away from her neck, gathering it in front of her as she turned and gave him her back.
The pull was tiny, but he got her zipped on his first try, kissing her on the nape of her neck.
She turned to smile at him with those gorgeous, dancing brown eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Milt had stayed away from Frank Santana’s granddaughter for years and years and years.
But he’d fallen head over heels in love with her that very first time they’d met.
And, try as he might, after that unexpected incident with the watermelon in the Gelsen’s, after she’d insisted on buying him a coffee to make up for nearly splattering him, and then made it clear she was interested in more and more and then more...
