Sins of the Father: Rose Gardner Mystery Novella 9.5

by Denise Grover Swank

  Why was she here? I’d heard that Mason was taking a job in Little Rock. Was she here to blame me for that?

  The sins of the father.

  But I knew better. I knew her heart. I knew the worry and concern I’d find in her eyes when I looked into her face—which was exactly why I couldn’t do it. I didn’t deserve anything but censure from her, from anyone. I’d always suspected my father was up to no good, but I’d turned the other way. How many lives had he destroyed? How many times had he hurt this truly good woman, even if it was inadvertent?

  “Joe.” That one simple word—my name—held so much more compassion and love than my mother had ever given me.

  But I still refused to look at Maeve. Gesturing toward my mother, I continued the introduction. “Maeve Devereux, this is Elizabeth Simmons, known as Betsy to her friends, but really, who are your friends when you’re a great white shark swimming in shark-infested waters?”

  “Joseph,” my mother said in harsh rebuke.

  I ignored her too. “She stood by while my father did terrible things. She claims innocence, but she had to know. If she knows every little piece of dirt on all her friends, then how could she not know the truth about her own husband?” I gestured wildly with my arms to demonstrate, spilling my drink on my hand. “Oops. You better get the maid, Mother. I think I spilled on your wool rug. Clean it up before it stains. How would that look?” I turned to look at her, my hatred growing. “God forbid there should be any sign of imperfection in this house. Especially in regards to your children. You’ve always been far more concerned about what people thought of me and Kate than our actual welfare.”

  “How can you say that?” she asked incredulously. “You’re my children!”

  I leaned closer, my hand tightening so hard around my glass it was a wonder it didn’t shatter. “How many times have you been to see Kate since her arrest?” But then, I hadn’t been to see her either. Not since she’d been moved to Little Rock.

  Her eyes widened in surprise.

  “How many times, Mom?”

  She lifted her chin and gave me a look of defiance. “Your sister made her choice.”

  I shook my head. “No. You and Dad made it for her. Did he rape her too?”

  My mother gasped, the blood draining from her face.

  “Because I’ve thought about it. Only moments before my father shot Hilary, I found out that he’d raped her. She spent so much time here as a kid that she had to be like a daughter to him. So if he raped her, then why not Kate?”

  “Joseph! Enough!”

  I lifted the hand holding my drink, pointing to my temple with my index finger. “That would explain why Kate’s as messed up as Hilary was.” I released a derisive chuckle. “Not that we Simmons children need any more reason to be messed up.”

  Maeve took a step toward me. “Joe. Can we go somewhere to talk? Maybe get a cup of coffee?”

  I pointed back to Maeve, still glaring at my mother. “Kate was going to kill her son, and who knows, maybe Hilary planned to do the same. Dad created a little army to sow his seeds of destruction.”

  “Joseph!” my mother shouted. “That’s enough!”

  “No. It’s not nearly enough.” I may have been the one to shoot and kill my father, but my intervention had come too late. The guilt of that hung around me like a noose, and I had a feeling it always would.

  Realizing I was lost in a drunken stupor, my mother turned her anger on our guest. “You are not welcome here! Get out!”

  Maeve held her ground. “And as I mentioned previously, Mrs. Simmons, I’m not here to see you. I’m here to see your son.” I finally summoned the nerve to look at her. Her eyes were on me, and she looked like she wanted to pull me into a hug and take me far away. “Joe, please.”

  “I don’t deserve your pity, Maeve. Give it to the people who deserve it.”

  “You can’t stay here, Joe. This place is like poison to your soul. Come back with me.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t come back. Nobody wants me in Henryetta.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “That’s not true. You have so many friends and people who care about you.”

  “No. Not anymore.”

  “Rose cares about you. She’s worried.”

  “Why?” I asked in disbelief. “How can she care about what happens to me after everything my father put her through? After everything Hilary and my sister did? After I arrested her and downplayed the danger she was in, all due to my father?”

  “You are not responsible for the deeds of your father, Hilary, or even your sister.”

  “She was right to choose Mason over me. He’s a righteous man. He had an amazing woman raise him, so how could he not be? Me?” My voice broke. “I’m nothing.”

  “Joseph!” my mother shouted. “Stop this right now. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

  For a moment, Maeve looked like she was about to tell my mother off, but then she shook it off and took another step toward me. “Joe. You are a good man. A man with a good heart. You found your own way to that goodness, despite your upbringing.”

  I shook my head and, my voice breaking, said, “No. Rose did that.”

  “No.” Maeve’s tone brooked no argument. “She may have helped you discover another part of yourself, but it was there all along. When you and Savannah were together, you were good to her.”

  When we were together. Not after.

  “Savannah.” A new wave of guilt and anguish washed over me. I’d only known for a few weeks that my father had been behind her murder, intended to be a punishment to make me pay for straying from Hilary and the future he had planned for me. Every time I let myself think about it, it was just as painful as the first time I’d found out.

  Maeve moved in front of me and clasped my face between her hands, giving me a smile full of love and acceptance. “You’re a good person, Joe Simmons. You are not your father.”

  “No, you’re not,” my mother said in disgust. “But I wish to God you were. He wouldn’t fall apart like this! You need to grow a backbone, Joseph. You need to be strong. It’s up to you to carry on the family name. The family legacy.”

  “The family legacy? My father killed my family legacy. Twice!” I pulled away from Maeve and started to laugh, the uncontrollable laughter of a man who has lost everything. “You want me to be even more of a monster?” I asked in disbelief once I’d settled down enough to speak. “You want me to rape young girls and order murders and destroy people’s lives?”

  My mother looked like she would have strangled me if she could have gotten away with it. “Your father knew what he wanted. He had a purpose and a plan. He wasn’t perfect, and he had his vices, but look at what he secured for our family—for you! You’ve got to pull yourself together and salvage what’s left of it!”

  I took a step back in horror. “I’m not taking over anything.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d told her that there was a good chance we were going to lose it all, but she refused to listen.

  Mom’s face reddened with anger. “It’s your birthright.”

  “Fuck my birthright.”

  “Joseph!”

  I wasn’t sure if she was more upset over my pronouncement or my language. But Maeve stood to the side, watching it all. I had to make her go away, because looking at her was only a reminder of the man I’d pretended to be in Fenton County.

  I turned to Maeve, filled with self-contempt. “You think I’m a good person, but I’m not. Not even close. I killed my father. I shot him twice. I wanted to be sure he was good and dead. I couldn’t risk him surviving the first shot so he could destroy more lives.”

  Maeve looked close to tears. “I’m sure that was hard.”

  I shook my head. “No. It wasn’t. Pulling that trigger wasn’t hard at all. It felt good. Like I was cleansing the world of a demon.” I stared into her confused face. “I have absolutely no remorse. Not one shred. If anything, I wish I’d shot and killed him a year ago. Before he got his claws
in Savannah.”

  “Joe, you didn’t know.”

  “No. But I should have. I should have seen him for the monster he truly was.” I paused and pointed to my chest. “And now I’m a monster too, because how could I kill a man, my own father, and feel nothing but relief?”

  Maeve reached for me, but I took several steps backward, stumbling on the edge of the rug. “Go home, Maeve. Forget about me.”

  Her shoulders squared. “I will never forget about you. Do you hear me? I will never forget about you.”

  But her words faded as I went into my father’s office and shut the door.

  Surrounded by the echoes of a thousand evil deeds.

  3

  Joe

  The FBI arrived at my parents’ front door on a cold and rainy day in late April.

  And like a man waiting for his stroll to the gallows, I’d been expecting them.

  I knew the seizure of my parents’ property was a matter of when—not if—but I was still waiting to find out if charges would be filed against me as well. I’d been handling my father’s business affairs after his death, but the campaign he’d waged the previous fall to get me elected state senator was riddled with questionable dealings. Over the years, my father had bribed and threatened a lot of people on my behalf, and I had a feeling that was going to bite me in the ass too.

  After everything he’d done in my name, I deserved whatever happened to me.

  When the lead investigator showed up at the door with a warrant, he took me to my father’s office and shut the door. “Have a seat, Joe.”

  I stood in front of my father’s massive desk and faced him, squaring my shoulders as I prepared for what he was about to tell me. “I’d rather stand.”

  He nodded, understanding filling his eyes. “I know it’s an understatement to say I’m here under less than ideal circumstances, but there’s some good news in all of this.”

  I gave him a blank stare.

  “After examining all the evidence and taking into account how cooperative you’ve been during the investigation, we’ve decided not to press charges. We’re convinced you had no knowledge of his illegal activities. While I doubt you’ll ever be able to run for a political office again, you’ve been cleared of any wrongdoing. You’re free to return to your chief deputy sheriff position.”

  I ran my hand over my head. “If they want me back.”

  “I know they put you on administrative leave while you were under investigation, but they’ve never given me or my agents any indication that you wouldn’t be welcomed back. In fact, the sheriff called last week to check on the progress of your case. I’m pretty sure he’s eager to get you back to work.” He paused. “But there’s bad news too,” he continued. “In addition to your father’s house, we’ve seized the other assets, including the bank accounts.”

  I nodded. That was no surprise either. I expected to feel pain or anxiety, but all I felt was a numbing relief. This was almost over.

  The FBI agent continued, “You’ll be followed by the stench of your father’s actions for the rest of your life, but thankfully you’ve built a career in law enforcement that sets you apart from him. I suspect you’ll be fine, especially if you decide to stay in Fenton County.”

  But did I want to go back to the sheriff’s department? Did I want to go back to Fenton County at all? After everything my father, my sister, and Hilary had put Rose through, how could I face her? After ignoring Neely Kate for over two months, how could I face her?

  But my father’s money was gone. The house was gone. The only place I had to live was my condo in Little Rock and my rental house in Fenton County. I could try to return to the state police, but I’d burned bridges there too.

  “Thanks for your honesty and cooperation, Joe,” the investigator said. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through all this.”

  “It’s not exactly like I’m an innocent. I was a detective with the state police. I was a damned deputy sheriff. I should have seen all of this. I should have stopped him.”

  Compassion washed over his face. “We choose to see the best in our parents. It’s hard to think they’re capable of such atrocities.”

  That wasn’t entirely true. While I had never suspected my father capable of murder—in fact, I’d insisted to Mason that he wasn’t, which had put Mason’s life in greater danger—I had always known my father wasn’t a good person. So why had I chosen to ignore all the signs? Because I’d found it inconceivable to see my father in that light, or because doing so would have meant turning my world on end?

  I wasn’t so sure it was the former.

  Despite the FBI’s claim that I wasn’t complicit in my father’s actions, I knew many people had suffered because I’d turned a blind eye.

  “I wish you the best, Joe.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said as I walked out of the office. My mother was in the foyer, irate and yelling at the agents streaming in through the front door.

  “You can’t just come into my home!” she shouted. “I have rights!”

  “Actually, Mom,” I said in a calm voice as I walked up to her, “they can.”

  She turned to me in panic and grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “Joseph! Do something!”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “You have to stop them!”

  “They have warrants. The judges Dad bribed are gone. This, Mother, is what justice looks like.”

  Her face paled and I could see that the gravity of the situation was finally sinking in. This wasn’t something we could bribe our way out of. No publicist could fix this.

  “What are they going to do?” she asked in a meek voice.

  “They are taking your house. Your furniture. All your possessions. They have also seized your money. You have nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

  For the past two months, I’d warned her, yet she’d found the possibility preposterous. We were Simmonses, for God’s sake. We were untouchable. But the Simmons reign was over.

  A second wave of protest rose up. “You have to do something. Call our attorney.”

  “Mom. I told you last week that your attorney was arrested, and our new one says we’re at the mercy of the government. It’s over.”

  “But we have to do something,” she repeated in panic.

  “The only thing to do is leave.”

  She swallowed, her face turning gray. “Where will I go?”

  I snorted. “I’d tell you to go stay with friends, but you don’t exactly have any real friends, do you? I suppose that’s a Simmons trait. We’re too damned selfish to have real friends.” But the desperation on her face softened my reaction. She truly had no idea what to do. “Go stay with your parents.”

  Horror filled her eyes. Her parents had done well for themselves, but nowhere close to the Simmons level of wealth, and my mother had never made an effort to hide her embarrassment about her parents and her upbringing. “What if they won’t take me in?”

  I released a bitter laugh. “Honestly, Mom. I really don’t give a damn.”

  I left her in the foyer and found the poor frightened maid in the kitchen. She was wringing her hands, looking lost and uncertain, as an agent carried my father’s computer out the back door.

  “Mr. Simmons, they’re taking things away.”

  “Mae, it’s okay. They have a warrant.”

  She nodded, but she wrapped her arms across her chest as she watched another agent walk out the door.

  “I’m sorry,” I said gently, “but the government is seizing my parents’ property, which unfortunately means that your services are no longer needed. My parents’ money is gone, but I’ll pay for the hours you’ve worked as well as a severance package. And I’ll be happy to give you any references you need to find another job.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Simmons.”

  “Joe,” I said, my chest tightening.

  The reality of what was actually happening finally hit me full force, and I struggled to catch my breath
. I knew I should feel relief or some sense of justice. My father—the man who had been so sure he was untouchable—was losing everything. But he wasn’t here to face the pain and humiliation. Just like always, other people were picking up the pieces for him. “Mae, I need to leave the house for a short while, but I’ll be back in less than an hour if you need help carrying your things to your car.”

  She shook her head in earnestness. “No need to do that, Mr. Joe. I’m more than capable of taking care of the few things I have here.”

  “I suggest you get packing right away. I’ll tell the lead agent that your things aren’t part of my father’s estate.”

  I turned around to find the agent, but Mae called after me, “What will you do? Where will you go?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I left the house and found my car in the driveway. It had been excluded from the seizure because I’d bought it with my own money. Once I left the house, I drove on autopilot, not consciously deciding on a destination. Then I parked and walked the rest of the way, still acting on reflex.

  That’s how I found myself in the cemetery standing in front of Hilary’s grave.

  I could count on one hand the number of times I’d purposely come here, but I’d come countless times without planning to. My feelings for Hilary were complicated and messy, but my feelings for our baby were clear. I loved him.

  The autopsy report told me I’d had a son.

  When I reached Hilary’s tombstone, I knelt in front of it, running my fingertips along the etchings. Her parents had spared no expense and had created a three-foot-tall monument with her name, birthdate, date of death, and the following epitaph: Blessed daughter, loyal friend, loving mother

  I was sure the loyal friend line was a jab at me, although perhaps that was my own narcissism at work. There was no denying Hilary had been loyal to me, even if her devotion had warped her. Or more accurately, my father’s abuse had warped her. When I visited her grave, I liked to think of her as the girl I grew up with. The happy, sweet girl who had won my heart, even if I had been too stupid to realize it. My father’s yoke had chafed back then, and I’d rebelled. I couldn’t help wondering how things would have turned out if I’d followed my heart instead. Would I have saved her from my father’s abuse? With the advantage of hindsight, I knew when he’d started his molestation. How had I been too stupid, too self-centered to see it at the time?