“Yes, Mom, I did.She didn’t want to file a report, but I believed her.I warned Billy not to bother her again.”
“What’s this got to do with his death?”
“I’m getting to that,” he said.“A few weeks later, dispatch received a call about a disturbance at Billy’s residence.I went to the scene, and I found him.”He took a deep breath, because the memories were grim.“It was clear that a scuffle had occurred.”
Wynona frowned.The police report hadn’t mentioned a scuffle.
“We talked to a friend of Billy’s, who admitted to being involved.”
“Which friend?”
“Gabe Luna,” Wade said with reluctance.
“Gabe shot Billy?”
“Let me finish,” Wade said gently.“Gabe and Billy were partying with two girls.Gabe caught Billy drugging their drinks.Gabe told the girls to leave, and they did.Then Billy pulled a gun on Gabe.They grappled over the weapon.It went off.”
Wynona didn’t gasp, or cry, or make a protest.She rose to her feet and walked to the liquor cabinet like an automaton.
“Forensic analysis confirmed that Billy fired several rounds, including the one that ended his life.It was an accident, but it wasn’t an innocent mistake.Billy was trying to shoot Gabe and accidentally shot himself.”
Wynona unscrewed the bottle cap with a shaking hand.
“Dad wanted to arrest Gabe,” Wade said.“I wouldn’t let him.Gabe had acted in self-defense, and he didn’t deserve the blame.We reached an agreement with Gabe to keep things quiet, and we falsified the report.”
Wynona poured a vodka and downed it, neat.She searched for a way to dismiss the awful truth he’d presented.“This is all just conjecture.You weren’t there when it happened.You don’t know what Gabe did.”
“It’s not conjecture.I was at the scene.I saw the evidence.”
“Maybe it was staged.”
Wade dragged a hand down his face.“The pills he used to drug the girls were yours.Valium, from Mexico.”
Her wall of denial crumbled.“No,” she said, her lips trembling.“He wouldn’t have.”
“He did.”
Wynona tried to pour another drink, but her hands were shaking too much.Vodka spilled across the counter.Wade stood up and took the bottle away.She flinched, as if afraid he might strike her.It reminded him of Meredith’s reaction yesterday when he’d grabbed her arm.Wade recognized the signs for what they were, and his stomach clenched with sadness.He hated Billy, and his father, and Tripp Gilley.He hated men who abused women.He hated the pervasiveness of it, and its far-reaching, lifelong effects.
Wynona stared at the bottle he’d confiscated.Then her expression changed from denial to anger.He could tell that she believed everything he’d told her.Her beloved son had stolen pills from her medicine cabinet to commit date rape.He’d come to a bad end, of his own design.
“You’re glad he’s gone.”
Wade had expected a personal attack, so he said nothing.
“You always hated him.He told me you were trying to ruin his life.You wanted to catch him doing something wrong.”
He set the bottle on the counter quietly.There were wet leaves and loose flower petals in the sink, along with the dirty cake plates.Remnants of his attempt to make peace.
“Maybe you shot him, and your father covered that up!”
Wade turned to look at her.“I didn’t shoot him, but I’m not sorry he’s dead.”
“Of course you’re not sorry,” she screeched, her face crumpling.“You don’t care.He was an embarrassment to you, a mess to clean up.You cried at Mike’s funeral, but not at Billy’s.You never loved him.”
Although he hadn’t cried at either funeral, Wade had mourned Mike sincerely.Billy was another matter, but he refused to take more than his share of the blame for their estrangement.“I’m a product of my environment, just like he was.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
