My father’s ruddy cheeks paled. “What?”
Technically, I didn’t talk to the shop owner. But Wraith did. He tracked the guy down to a house out in Yonkers, and after some convincing—nothingtoofrightening, but enough—the owner spilled the real story, which Wraith relayed to me during my drive to Scarsdale.
“Sofia never came into the store,” I told my father grimly. “He’d never seen her in person. He only knew who she was because you gave him her photo. And her name. And you offered him a cut of the money if he saidshesold the jewelry.”
My father just gaped at me as I continued, “You framedher. You set her up and called the cops on her. You had Sofia sent to jail. An innocent, seventeen-year-old girl. A girl I’d been dating for two years.”
“I didn’t,” he sputtered. “The owner, he’s lying.”
“You’re lying!”I roared. “You lied about the pawn shop owner. I bet if I talk to our old housekeeper, I’ll find out you forced her to lie about Sofia, too.” More coldly, I added, “Here’s how it’s going to work. You’re going to tell me everything. How. Why. All the details. And if you don’t, I’ll just find out myself. But if I have to search for the truth myself—and you know I’ll find it—I’ll make damn sure you go down for it.”
Was it a credible threat? After eighteen years, I’m not sure what sort of repercussions there would be. And if there were, could I actually send my father to jail, no matter how angry I was?
I’m not sure. But the threat was enough. And he told me everything.
He told me how he’d planted the jewelry in Sofia’s backpack. How he paid the housekeeper, the pawn shop owner, andthe two girls at school to implicate Sofia. He admitted that he’dvisited her in the detention center, offering to drop the charges in exchange for her leaving.
“It was better for you,” he insisted. “She was nothing. Just some poor?—”
“She wasn’t nothing!” I shouted. “She was my girlfriend. She was smart. Sweet. I loved her. And you ruined her life! You lied to me!”
Never in my life have I wanted to strike my father. Not until then.
The final thing I wanted to know before I left waswhy. Was it just to get Sofia out of my life? Or was there another reason?
“The company wasn’t doing well,” my father finally admitted. “I’d made a few bad investments. And home security, it was getting more high tech. Computerized. I needed more money for upgrades.”
“So you sold the jewelry to get money for the company?” I asked. “Why say it was stolen, then?”
He glanced at the closed office door and replied in a low tone, “Because I didn’t want your mother to know. If she knew the company was struggling, she would have worried. Then she would have asked her parents for money to help. They already thought I wasn’t good enough for her. So my solution killed two birds with one stone. I’d get the money for the company without having to tell her, and Sofia would be out of your life for good.”
I still can’t get past the irony of what he said.
My father was worried my mother’s uptight,came over on the Mayflowerparents didn’t think he was good enough for her. But then he turned around and made the same assumptions about Sofia.
As I stormed out of the house, my father trailed after me, casting out pleas I refused to respond to. “Don’t tell your mother,” he said. “Leave things well enough alone. What’s done is done.”
But it’s not done, is it?
Even eighteen years later, the hurt is still there.
And knowing the truth… Shit. I can’t stop beating myself up over it.
Why didn’t I look into Sofia’s case sooner? Why didn’t I track her down after her mom told me to leave? Why didn’t I?—
A honk from behind me jerks my attention back to the road. Belatedly, I realize that in my attempt to slow down, my speed is now below forty.
Shit. I need to get my head together before I really end up causing an accident.
Thankfully, my turnoff is coming up on the right, so I signal to change lanes and veer right onto Riverside Drive. It’s less than a ten-minute drive from here, probably closer to five given the traffic, so I force my focus onto the road for the remainder of my trip.
But once I’m in the elevator, headed up from the basement parking garage, my thoughts jump right back to where they were minutes earlier.
How could my father do that to her?
Why didn’t I do more?
Will she ever forgive me?
