The Truth We Bury: A Novel

by Barbara Taylor Sissel

  Lily stood up, abruptly enough to set the swing on a crooked path. “There’s something you should know, Paul.” Maybe he’d heard it by now.

  “What?”

  “Becca was pregnant.”

  Silence. Shocked and disbelieving. Lily had lost her power of speech, too, when Dru told her. “Paul?”

  “Who says?”

  Lily went through it, repeating what she’d heard from Dru, who’d heard it from Becca’s mother, who’d heard it from the coroner. “They’ll do a DNA test to determine paternity, of course, but it might be weeks before they get a result.”

  More silence.

  Lily said his name again. “Paul?”

  “I don’t know what to say, what the hell to think or believe anymore. What if he just wanted to get rid of the problem—”

  “No!” Lily wasn’t having it, Paul’s doubt. She had no room for it, no antidote of faith held in reserve to counteract it. “We don’t know anything at this point,” she told him. “We have to wait for the DNA.”

  “The cops are hoping they get something useful off his phone and computer.”

  What they found could as easily damn AJ as clear him. It scared her. She wanted an advocate, someone to represent them, shield them. She wanted Edward. He was the logical choice. But even the memory of him, of his touch, burned her.

  Paul said, “I’m not sure I’ll be home when you get back. I’ve got to get some work done.”

  “I’m not coming back, Paul, so don’t worry about it,” Lily said, and she explained about her dad’s collapse. “I want to get him in to see a doctor if I can talk him into it.”

  She was glad when Paul didn’t argue. “I should go,” she said. “I’ve left Erik with Dad, and he probably needs to get back to work.”

  “The cops seem to think Erik is covering for AJ. You get any sense of that?” Paul asked.

  “No,” Lily said. “He’s as clueless and worried sick as we are.”

  Erik had made sandwiches while she was talking to Paul, ham and swiss on rye. He was setting the plates on the table when Lily returned to the kitchen. She poured glasses of iced tea, brought them to the table and sat down.

  “I don’t need all this fussing,” her dad said.

  “Becca was pregnant,” Lily said.

  “The hell?” Her dad stared at her.

  “No way.” Erik sat back, wide-eyed, stunned. “It was AJ’s?”

  Lily went through it again, all that Dru had told her.

  “You realize that makes it a double homicide,” her dad said.

  She set down the sandwich half she’d picked up. She hadn’t thought of that. What kind of monster would murder the woman who was carrying his child? Scott Peterson. His name surfaced in Lily’s mind. Thanks to the extreme media focus following his arrest and trial for the murder of his wife and unborn child, even all these years later, she could recall his face, the eerie look of bland unconcern he’d turned to the cameras. Casey Anthony had had the same empty-eyed look after being charged with murdering her small daughter. They were psychopaths, according to the experts. Narcissists. While they could be quite charming, dangerously so, they had no real capacity to feel—anything. Compassion. Remorse. Real love. Not even true anger. And the numbers of such people—the ones who lacked humanity—were growing. Reaching epidemic proportions. If you believed the experts, one in twenty-five children born today was a socio- or psychopath. Was it true? Or merely media hype?

  Hadn’t Casey Anthony’s mother turned her in?

  Would she turn AJ in if she knew—knew, irrevocably—he was a murderer? Lily’s heart faltered.

  “Does Shea know?”

  She looked at Erik. “Dru said she was planning to tell her.”

  “It’ll kill her.” Erik took his plate to the sink.

  “I’ve seen how he looks at her.”

  Lily met her dad’s glance. His color had improved; he seemed steadier since he’d eaten, and his hands were no longer shaking.

  “AJ adores that girl,” he said. “He wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.” Her dad wiped his mouth with his napkin. “The DNA—whoever it belongs to, the father of that baby—that’s your killer, and it’s not AJ.”

  Erik came back to the table, standing behind his chair, leaning on the top rail.

  Her dad looked up at him. “He say anything to you about taking up with Becca again?”

  Erik shook his head. “But, you know, he’s different since he got back.”

  “Different how?” Lily’s dad was testy.

  “He’s closed up, moody. If I ask too many questions, he chews my head off. It’s like he’s wound too tight.”

  “Dru thinks he’s had a breakdown.”

  The men looked at Lily.

  “I get the impression she doesn’t like him,” her dad said.

  “She doesn’t,” Lily said. “If she could, she’d stop him from marrying Shea.” Lily turned to Erik. “You know Dru. Has she ever talked about AJ to you?”

  “She knows better.”

  Lily tucked her napkin beside her plate. “I don’t think she’s aware AJ was arrested before. If she’s thinking badly of him now, wait until she finds out about that.”

  “That was a long time ago,” Erik said. “The guy got a medal since then for his service in the war. He’s a hero.”

  “I don’t think she cares about his military service.”

  “She’s an idiot,” Lily’s dad muttered.

  “I don’t think so.” Lily shrugged when her dad shot her a look. It had cost Dru, telling Lily about her experience with her ex-husband. As much as Lily might want to believe otherwise, Dru hadn’t confided in her out of meanness, or a wish to cause more anguish. Although Lily was more afraid for AJ after hearing about Dru’s ordeal with her ex-husband. When she’d described how he’d looked and acted, his empty eyes, his lack of recognition of Dru or his surroundings—it was too eerily similar to the way AJ had looked in the restaurant. And now Erik was saying AJ was different since he’d come home from Afghanistan—Lily didn’t want to, but she knew what he meant. It raised the fine hairs on her head.

  She knew AJ was struggling. She knew, too, how quickly you could lose yourself. How in a matter of seconds, you could act in ways—horrible ways—you’d never imagined. Lily found her dad’s glance. Did he not remember how it had been with her in the wake of her mother’s death, the sudden eruptions of temper, the chaos of her emotions? Could her state of mind have been what put her on the back of Jesse’s motorcycle that long-ago night?

  Her dad went to lie down, and Lily walked Erik to his car. “I’m worried about Dad.”

  “Yeah, that was scary, when he went down. Big, tough man like that. I never thought—” He looked off. “Guys like Jeb Axel—they’re invincible. Superheroes, you know?”

  Lily said it was true.

  “He’s pissed at me, but I’m not too happy with him right now, either.”

  “He’s just disappointed, Erik. It’s been hard on him, selling off the herd, shutting down the xL. I understand why you didn’t want to come on as foreman,” she said, although she didn’t. “You need to be your own man, do your own thing. But I think Dad was kind of counting on one of you—AJ or you—”

  “But he never offered the foreman job to AJ, did he?”

  The question caught Lily off guard, and she was trying to sort it out—had her dad asked AJ?—when Erik, tipping back his head, groaned.

  And apologized. “God! What is wrong with me? You’re worried sick—we all are—and I’m bitching about nothing.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “It’s all right.”

  “I’m going to see if I can get time off. I’ll come back. We’ll search every square inch of this ranch, all of Madrone County—all of fucking Texas if that’s what it takes. Sorry . . .”

  “Don’t jeopardize your job, Erik.”

  “AJ is my best friend; he’s my brother. You’re like a second mom to me. You guys are like family.”

  “We are
family, Erik. You know that.”

  “Yeah.” Erik looked off. “I just wish AJ had talked to me.”

  “Me, too,” Lily said.

  “I know he didn’t do this. I know it.” Erik brought his gaze to Lily’s.

  “No,” she agreed.

  “I keep thinking he’s going to show up, you know? He’ll be at my apartment; he’ll call me—”

  Lily’s throat closed at the hitch in Erik’s voice. “Tell me,” she said, quickly scooting them past the emotion, “how is Kate? You’re engaged, I heard.”

  “Yeah, she finally said yes, last week.”

  “Have you set a date for the wedding?”

  “Not yet. I can’t even get the girl to go ring shopping. But it’ll be soon. Real soon. AJ’s going to be my best man, just like I’m his.”

  “It’s wonderful.”

  “I think I might be the happiest man on the planet.” He sobered. “You know, I didn’t mean—”

  “You have every right to be happy.” Lily touched his arm. “Don’t let this ruin it, okay? Try not to.”

  “When we get AJ back, get this mess straightened out, we’ll have the biggest damn celebration Madrone County ever saw. We’ll roast a half dozen pigs—”

  Lily laughed. “Have leis flown in from Hawaii.”

  “Wear hula skirts.” Erik got into the Lexus.

  “Have you told your mom about AJ?” Lily asked when he powered down the window.

  “Not yet.”

  “I can’t believe she didn’t call and let me know about her mother’s death, that she was going down for the funeral.”

  “Well, she wasn’t going to go, but then Jeb got on her. He knew she’d feel terrible if she didn’t.”

  “Have you talked to her?”

  “Once. Cell service down there can be pretty bad. I don’t want to tell her over the phone, anyway. It’s hard enough on her, being there, and I know she’s set on getting everything wrapped up so she doesn’t have to go back.”

  “She is coming back? Here, I mean, to the xL?” Lily was suddenly seized with the fear that she wouldn’t.

  “Sunday or Monday,” Erik answered.

  Lily nodded. She couldn’t trust her voice; her relief made her want to cry.

  “She’s going to be pissed at me for keeping her in the dark.” Erik looked through the windshield, thinking about it. “Not just about AJ, but Jeb, too. If Mom knew he collapsed, she’d be on the next flight.”

  “It’s all right, though. I’d stay even if she were here.”

  Erik nodded and keyed the ignition. “I’ll be back,” he said. “Call me if you need anything.”

  Lily checked on her father when she returned to the house and found him sleeping soundly on the sofa in his office. A lightweight throw was folded over the back, and she covered him with it. He looked defenseless, not at all like the tough guy Erik had described. She laid her hand softly on the ledge of his brow, his lean, furrowed cheek. She smoothed his silvery-white hair that floated from his head like dandelion fluff. He could be hard; he had a temper. She knew that, but she also knew his heart could be as soft as melted marshmallow.

  Leaving him, she went upstairs to shower and wash her hair. He was still napping when she came back down. She wandered into the kitchen, thinking she could saddle Butternut and ride out again, maybe head east, check on Winona’s house. But it was likely Erik had already done that. Lily leaned on the counter. It was fruitless searching on her own, anyway, when she had no solid direction to go. Grabbing her cell phone, she went outside, onto the front porch, and sat in the swing. The afternoon air was thick and sultry, more like midsummer than spring, and it hung as heavy as the passing time. She was up, pacing, within seconds.

  She’d seen news stories about families who had a loved one missing. They all said the same thing, that the waiting and the not knowing were hell. They described jumping every time the phone rang, at every knock on the door. They spoke of their feelings of helplessness and dread. Lily had never imagined she would be one of them.

  Taking her phone from her pocket, she scrolled through her directory, and when she found the number she hadn’t intended to hunt for, she tapped it on the screen.

  He picked up on the second ring. “Edward Dana,” he said.

  Her knees weakened at the sound of his voice, and returning to the swing, she perched on its edge.

  “It’s me,” she said.

  8

  Shea claimed she wasn’t hungry after they left the xL, but Dru stopped at Crickets, the café on the square in Wyatt, anyway, and bought a chicken salad sandwich. Getting back in the car, she handed the sack to Shea. “I only got one,” she said. “We can share it.”

  “Fine,” Shea said.

  Ha! Dru thought.

  Nothing was fine, but Shea had informed her mother on leaving the xL that she wasn’t going to participate in “a bunch of speculation” about AJ and why his laptop and phone had been found at the bus station. It isn’t speculation. Dru had clenched her teeth to keep from saying it. It was an irrefutable fact from which only one conclusion could be drawn—that AJ had been at the bus station, and now he was gone, on the run. Dru wheeled into the flow of traffic.

  Becca was pregnant! The words bit at her mind like flies. Why couldn’t she say them and have done with it? But neither she nor Shea spoke. Even after they were parked in back of the house and Dru had turned off the ignition, they sat in silence, staring straight ahead. The windshield framed a view of the deck that was furnished with two wicker chaise longues, a vintage iron table, and three iron chairs, all different styles. Dru hadn’t found a fourth chair with the right character. She looked at Shea.

  “What?” The syllable was wary. Shea was poised to run defense, an end game around whatever Dru said.

  “I’ve got to tell you something,” Dru began.

  Musical notes chimed from inside Shea’s purse, and she fumbled inside it for her phone.

  Dru’s heart began to pound. It was becoming routine every time a phone rang.

  “Dad?” Shea said. Opening the car door, she stepped out, glancing at Dru, shrugging slightly.

  Dru watched her walk onto the deck, settle on the edge of a chaise longue. Picking up the lunch sack, she went into the house. She wondered if Rob had heard what was going on, if that was what had prompted his call. But it was doubtful. The Houston media had a surfeit of its own crime stories to cover.

  She had divided the sandwich and set the halves on each of two plates when Shea came inside.

  “Want a glass of iced tea?” Dru asked. “It’s raspberry.”

  “Did you talk to Dad?”

  “Not in several days. Why?”

  “Because he’s just like you. He thinks AJ killed Becca, and he’s a fugitive now.”

  “He said that? I didn’t think he would have—”

  “This is like the first thing in years I’ve ever heard you and Dad agree on. Go figure.”

  Dru brought the plates to the table, then fetched the glasses of tea. “Come and eat,” she said.

  “Becca was pregnant,” Shea said, sitting down.

  Dru stared at her.

  “Dad was at a sports bar at lunch. It was on the noon news. You know it, though, don’t you? Becca’s mom told you.”

  “Oh, honey.” Dru sat across from Shea. “I should have told you. I just couldn’t—”

  “It’s not AJ’s.”

  “Well, the DNA—”

  “I don’t need DNA to tell me the baby wasn’t AJ’s. Just the same as I don’t need hard evidence to know he isn’t a killer. He’s in trouble, Mom. Either that, or he’s—” Shea broke off, crossing her arms tightly over her midsection.

  Dead.

  The word resonated, seeming more horrible for being unspoken.

  “Does his mom know—about the pregnancy, I mean?” Shea asked.

  “I told her,” Dru admitted. She thought how alike in their denial Shea and Lily sounded.

  “Becca’s mom—What did she s
ay? She doesn’t think it’s AJ’s, does she?”

  Shea locked Dru’s gaze, leaving her nowhere to go, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it, that Joy believed AJ and Becca had been a couple again, that they had linked up behind Shea’s back.

  “It isn’t true,” Shea said, but her faith was shaken. Dru could see the wall crumbling in her eyes, and it broke her heart.

  “Dad said if AJ contacts me, I should get him to turn himself in. He said it may be hard right now for AJ to know the right thing to do. He said AJ’s mind is probably in a million pieces.”

  “Well,” Dru said, “of all people, I think your dad would know.”

  “Because he got diagnosed with PTSD, too.” Shea made it sound like a prison sentence.

  “They do have that in common. It’s why I’ve been concerned. I don’t want you threatened the way I was—”

  “AJ’s situation is nothing like Dad’s, Mom. Dad wasn’t a trained soldier. He never even owned a gun until after he was attacked.”

  “So because AJ was trained in combat, because he handled weapons, he’s better equipped, mentally and emotionally, to cope with the violence he was subjected to? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Shea doodled a line on the table with the tip of her finger. “I might as well tell you before Dad does.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “AJ was arrested before—for being an accessory to murder.”

  “What? When?”

  “It was before he joined the marines. He was at a party, and some guys got into a fight. One of them, someone AJ knew, who he thought was a friend, had a gun. A couple of people were shot.”

  “By AJ?” Dru felt light-headed.

  “No, by his friend. AJ tried to stop the guy, but he got arrested anyway, even though he didn’t know that the ‘friend’”—Shea tweaked air quotes—“had brought a gun to the party.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but it sounds to me as if AJ must have known.”

  “Call the police, Mom. Ask them. The charges against AJ were dropped because there wasn’t any evidence against him.”

  Dru pushed her plate away. She didn’t know what to say. AJ was dangerous, that was all. He’d been dangerous even before his military service. The violence he harbored wasn’t an aberration. It was part of his nature.