Chapter 5 - The Car With The Door Open
The house filled with movement.
Not sirens.
Not a dramatic raid.
Questions.
Phone calls.
Holloway sent another officer outside.
Rachel stayed with Ethan.
Gary kept insisting Lucas was staging something.
Mom looked increasingly sick.
I stood beside the kitchen sink staring at the belt on the floor.
Lucas's car had been found on a side street.
Unlocked.
Driver's door slightly open.
Phone inside.
No Lucas.
“Could he have walked here?” I asked.
Holloway nodded.
“Possible.”
“Then where is he?”
“We're checking.”
Gary laughed under his breath.
Holloway turned.
“You have something?”
“I know him.”
“You haven't seen him in fourteen years.”
“I know what he does.”
“What?”
“He creates chaos and watches people blame me.”
Mom whispered:
“Gary.”
“No.”
He pointed toward the front of the house.
“He got into Ethan's school. Hid who he was. Fed him stories. Now he leaves a car outside my house?”
I looked at Ethan.
“He told you stories?”
My brother shook his head.
“What stories did Lucas tell you about Gary?”
“None.”
“None?”
“He said if I wanted to know about him, I had to ask him myself.”
That surprised Holloway too.
Gary said:
“Convenient.”
Ethan's face tightened.
I stepped between them again.
“Stop talking to him like he's on trial.”
Gary stared at me.
“You're enjoying this.”
“What?”
“You've wanted me gone since you were a teenager.”
I laughed.
“Don't flatter yourself.”
“You left this family.”
There it was.
The sentence he'd used for six years.
Every missed Christmas.
Every birthday call I made instead of visiting.
Brooke doesn't care about family.
I looked at Mom.
She had let that version stand.
“I left you.”
Gary shook his head.
“You left Ethan.”
That one hit.
I felt it.
He saw.
So he pressed.
“You came around when it suited you. Birthday presents. Ice cream. Big-sister weekends.”
“Gary.”
Mom's voice was weak.
He ignored her.
“You ever ask who helped him with homework every night?”
I hated him.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Who took him to the doctor?”
“I did.”
“Who taught him to ride a bike?”
“I did.”
“You want applause for being a parent?”
“No.”
His face tightened.
“I want you to stop pretending fifteen bad minutes erase eight years.”
The awful part was that he had earned some of those years.
I had seen him at school concerts.
Soccer games.
I had seen Ethan run to him once with a Father's Day card.
Violence does not always arrive wearing the same face.
That is what makes children confused.
Holloway interrupted.
“Brooke.”
I looked at him.
He gestured toward the hallway.
We stepped away.
He lowered his voice.
“Do not let him turn this into a debate over whether he has ever been good to Ethan.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I looked through the doorway.
Ethan was watching Gary.
Not with pure terror.
With grief.
That was worse.
Holloway continued:
“Children can love adults who hurt them.”
“I know.”
“You can too.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“Your old statement.”
My chest tightened.
Not now.
He saw it.
“Later.”
An officer came through the front door.
“We found him.”
Everybody looked up.
My heart jumped.
“Where?”
“Backyard of the church on Maple.”
Alive.
Sitting on a bench.
Blood on one hand from a cut.
Nothing severe.
No attack.
No kidnapping.
He had walked away from his car because he saw a police vehicle turn onto Gary's street and panicked.
That was strange enough.
Holloway frowned.
“Why would Lucas panic at police?”
Gary answered:
“Because he has something to hide.”
Mom went white again.
Holloway noticed.
“So do you.”
Gary turned on her.
“Marianne.”
She stood.
“No.”
It was barely audible.
Gary stared.
She continued.
“Don't do that.”
“Do what?”
“Use Lucas.”
I had never heard Mom speak to him like that.
Not once.
Gary's face changed.
Mom looked at Holloway.
“Lucas didn't withdraw his old report because it was false.”
The kitchen went silent.
Holloway stared at her.
“I know what he told us.”
“He lied.”
My stomach tightened.
Gary stepped toward Mom.
She backed away.
“Marianne.”
She looked at me.
May you like
Tears ran down her face.
“I made him.”
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