CHAPTER SIX
I asked Detective Harris whether my father had been questioned.
“He has.”
“What did he say?”
“That he doesn’t remember much.”
“Of course.”
The detective watched me.
“You believe he did it?”
“I don’t know what I believe anymore.”
He nodded.
“That’s probably wise.”
Before he left, he gave me his card.
“Don’t confront him.”
“Why?”
“Because if someone deliberately caused that crash, we don’t know what they’ll do if they realize you’re investigating.”
After he left, I stared at the card.
For the first time in my life, I was afraid of my father.
Not because he was loud.
Not because he was cruel.
Because I suddenly realized how little I actually knew about him.
That afternoon, Olivia came to my room.
She stood at the door for several seconds.
“Can I come in?”
I looked away.
“You’re already here.”
She sat beside me.
“I’ve been trying to tell Dad something.”
“What?”
“That I know.”
“Know what?”
“That he took the money.”
I turned toward her.
“You knew?”
She nodded.
“I found the bank statements months ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Dad threatened me.”
“With what?”
“He said if I told you, he’d make sure you lost everything.”
I laughed bitterly.
“I already lost everything.”
Olivia began crying.
“I was scared.”
“So was I.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
She looked at me.
“I thought Dad was going to kill you.”
The room became completely silent.
I stared at her.
“What did you just say?”
She covered her mouth.
Then she whispered:
“Grace… Dad knew you were leaving.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“He knew about Boston.”
“Yes.”
“And the money?”
“Yes.”
“And he knew I was going to expose him?”
Olivia nodded.
I remembered the accident.
The smell.
Dad’s hands.
His anger.
His words.
Grace is not important.
Suddenly, the pieces began fitting together.
The accident wasn’t supposed to kill both of us.
It was supposed to remove me.
