“Why do you think she did it? I mean, a fourteen-year-old kid just deciding to attack another woman on the trip and send her to her death? It’s insane.”
He nodded. “Some people are just insane.”
But his daughter’s question made him tense. He knew from Jessie that the Hart kid had stolen a peek at that journal while on the river trip. He also now knew from Shelley what had been in that journal—a detailed account of Jasmine Gulati sleeping with him on the first night of the trip. Shelley had told him everything after she’d sent Angie Pallorino packing the other day. He’d been rocked to the core that Shelley had known all along exactly what he’d done with Jasmine. And that Shelley had been prepared to bury it all. Mostly he was relieved Claire had not learned about his affair and that Shelley had ripped those pages out and burned them for good.
But there would be a court case years down the road. Eden and Rachel Hart and the others would take the stand. Eden Hart might testify she’d read those now-burned pages. It might have been why she’d pushed Jasmine into the water, because in the journal, Shelley had said, was a detailed account of Jasmine’s affair with the Eden kid’s father. Claire might yet learn the sordid truth.
Would it be so terrible if she did? By the time that case made it to trial, Claire would be even older and on her way. She’d have witnessed for herself what a devoted and good husband he’d been all the years since. She might forgive him.
He smiled at her.
“What?”
“I love you, kiddo.”
She snorted. “What’s with the sudden sentimentality?”
“Just glad it’s all over. That we know what happened.”
She frowned, then said, “Do we? Really?”
He stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, we know what happened with Eden Hart killing Jasmine Gulati, but ... I heard what happened to Uncle Axel.”
“What happened with him?”
“When he was thirteen, Dad.”
Garrison felt blood leave his head. He reached for the sofa, sat down slowly.
“Angie told me he was gang-raped by some schoolkids. Friends of a boy named Porter Bates. Then in retaliation, some guys lured Porter into the woods and jumped him and allegedly drowned him in the quarry.”
He stared at the fire, the crackling flames. This was not over. Far from over. Inhaling deeply, Garrison said, “That’s the story, yes. It was terrible, and we don’t talk about it. Axel ... it helps if no one mentions it. He can pretend it never happened.”
“Never happened?” Claire seated herself in front of her dad. “That a kid was drowned,murdered?”
“He went missing. Nothing was proven.”
She eyed him. “So who were the guys who raped him?”
“Porter’s gang.”
“They were never prosecuted?”
“No one officially reported the rape.”
“Who jumped Porter?”
“I ... I don’t know.”
Disbelief filled her eyes. “In this small town, no idea? He’s your cousin, Dad. He’s BoJo’s brother. You were all in a gang with Wallace and Jessie Carmanagh. You must have some idea who might want to protect Uncle Axel and exact revenge?”
Garrison heard his pulse boom against his eardrums. He felt dizzy. “I don’t. I really don’t know.”
“Right.” She balled and hurled the dishcloth into the kitchen. It fell short near the table. “So many goddamn secrets.” She got up, retrieved the cloth, and disappeared into the kitchen.
“Why did Angie tell you!” he yelled after her. “What’s it to her, anyway?”
