In that moment, I understand my father better than I ever have before.
"Angeles National Forest. About two miles from the cabin, off the main trail." I give him the coordinates, the same ones I memorized that night when I drove Marcus's body into the wilderness and dug a grave in the frozen ground with my bare hands. "It's shallow. The ground was too hard to go deep."
Nicholas nods slowly, processing the information. "And the car?"
"I left it on a pullout about ten miles from the cabin. Wiped it down, wore gloves the whole time." I pause. "The police found it a few days later."
"Any evidence linking you to the scene?"
"I was careful. I bleached for the cabin floor. I burned the clothes I was wearing."
"The girl knows?"
"Jade." I hear the edge in my own voice and force myself to soften it. "Her name is Jade. And yes, she knows. She was there when it happened."
"Can she be trusted?"
The question makes my body tense. "She's not going to talk, if that's what you're asking."
"That's exactly what I'm asking." Nicholas leans forward, his elbows on his knees, his eyes boring into mine. "You've put this entire family at risk for a woman you've known for a few months. If that. I need to know that she understands the stakes. That she's not going to crack under pressure and bring us all down with her."
"She won't."
"You sound very certain."
"I am."
Nicholas studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sits back, a ghost of something that might be satisfaction crossing his features.
"You love her."
It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "Yes."
"Enough to kill for her."
"Obviously."
"Enough to die for her?"
I don't hesitate. "Yes."
My father is quiet again. Between us there is nothing but the sound of waves and the distant cry of seagulls. When he finally speaks, his voice is different. Softer, somehow. Almost paternal.
"I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, Phoenix. Done things I'm not proud of. Things that would send most men to prison for the rest of their lives." He pauses, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. "But I was always careful. Calculated. I never killed anyone who didn't deserve it, and I never left evidence behind. You understand the difference?”
Breath gets stuck in the back of my throat. I stare at my father, really seeing him for the first time. The silver hair, the expensive suit, the commanding presence I've known my entire life. I thought I knew who Nicholas Crawford was. A businessman. An investor. A man who built an empire through shrewd deals and careful negotiations.
But this man just admitted to killing people.
"What are you talking about?" My voice comes out rougher than I intend. "What do you mean, you never killed anyone who didn't deserve it?”
Nicholas's expression shutters closed. The brief glimpse of vulnerability, of shared confession, disappears behind the mask he wears so well.
"I had a life before your mother. Before you." He straightens his jacket, a gesture I've seen a thousand times, one that signals the conversation is ending whether I want it to or not. "A different life.”
"What kind of life?”
"The kind we're not going to discuss right now." His voice is steel wrapped in silk. "Not when you've got a body buried in the mountains and detectives asking questions.”
