“He said that in his letter. But it doesn’t matter. All of it is too late. Anyway, I know it’s hard for people to understand.”
Jocelyn said, “Not for some. My dad was a psychopath. My sister was gang-raped when she was fifteen. My dad brushed it under the carpet. He paid people off to keep quiet about it. He blackmailed the families of the boys who did it, and he had no remorse. I was seventeen, just like you were when Sydney Adams was murdered and your dad disappeared from your life.”
Bianca’s eyes were wide as saucers. “Holy shit,” she blurted.
“Yeah. It destroyed my family. I didn’t even go to my dad’s funeral. Look, I’m not trying to play who has the shittier dad here. I know it’s too late for you and your dad. I’m just saying you should remember that your dad—he was trying to do a good thing.”
A tear slid down Bianca’s cheek. “Thank you,” she said.
Jocelyn held up the car keys. “What are these for?”
Bianca wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “He left you his car.”
“The one that he lost?”
Bianca laughed. “The very same.”
Jocelyn saw the woman out and locked the office door. Anita and Trent came into the reception area and stood in silence while Jocelyn opened her letter from Knox and read it. It was short and sweet.
Jocelyn,
If you’re reading this, it means I died before you solved Sydney’s case. That’s okay because I know you’ll close the case, so I want to say thank you for fulfilling a dying drunk’s last wish. Maybe I didn’t deserve it but Sydney Adams did. You did a good thing.
-Augustus Knox
P.S. If you can find my car, you can have it. Thanks for all the rides.
Chapter 55
December 23, 2014
Jocelyn’s tiny row house had never smelled so good, been so clean, or so packed with people. She rarely had parties. Her house was too small to entertain more than two or three people at a time, but this year Olivia had asked for a tree-decorating party, and after closing the Sydney Adams case in such dramatic fashion, Jocelyn could think of nothing more enticing than having all the people she loved under her roof to celebrate the coming holiday. Caleb had helped her pick out a real tree this year instead of the pre-lit, artificial one she usually put up. They had put the lights on a few days earlier, under Olivia’s close supervision, of course. Jocelyn could do without vacuuming the needles every day, but the crisp pine smell was refreshing. Later, after everyone arrived, they’d decorate it together. Caleb had promised Olivia that she could put the star on the top.
Inez and Raquel had shown up bearing gifts and Santa hats for everyone. Anita had brought her children along with a bin of cookie-decorating items. The girls had a blast with the cookie dough—cutting shapes from it and dumping copious amounts of sprinkles atop them. Anita had a pretty efficient system in place, rotating trays from decorating table to the oven and back to the table with a short cooling period in between. Judging by the number of cookies they’d already baked, Jocelyn would be sending everyone home with a Tupperware container filled with them. She propped open her front door to get some cold air into the house. Baking cookies had seemed like a great idea until they had to turn on the oven.
On the porch, Anita’s fifteen-year-old son, Terrence, stood chatting with Caleb’s son Brian, who was nineteen and a sophomore at Temple University. They looked up when she opened the door and smiled at her. She had finally met Brian a few days earlier. He was tall and thin like his father, but he must have taken after his mother because, other than his dark, soulful brown eyes, he didn’t much resemble Caleb. He did, however, have Caleb’s easy charm and biting sense of humor. Olivia took to him instantly.
Jocelyn gave the boys a little wave and went back inside, taking a seat next to Olivia at the dining room table. Olivia turned to Jocelyn, cookie batter clumped in her brown locks, and red and green sprinkles cascading down the front of her shirt. She grinned, and Jocelyn leaned in to kiss her nose. “Where’s Uncle Kevin?” Olivia asked.
“On his way.”
“Is he bringing Kim?”
“Of course.”
“Where’s Aunt Camille?”
Jocelyn smiled. “She’ll be here in about an hour. Her flight was delayed. Are you almost done with cookies? I need to get dinner started.”
Caleb appeared behind her, sliding a warm palm across the nape of her neck. “You didn’t hear?” he asked. “We’re having cookies for dinner.”
Across the table, Pia and Raquel giggled convulsively at a joke that Jocelyn wasn’t privy to. “Yeah,” Pia said. “We’re having cookies with a side of cookies.”
“And cookies on top,” Raquel piped in.
Olivia tipped her head back and laughed loudly. Then she said, “Then we’ll have cookies for dessert.”
“With cookie crumbs on top,” Pia said.
Caleb sat down next to Jocelyn, a mischievous smile on his face. He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a near whisper, immediately gaining the girls’ undivided attention. Their little sprinkle-covered hands hung suspended in mid-air, their faces bright and rapt, smiles frozen in place as they listened. “Are you girls sure you want cookies for dinner?”
“Yes,” they cried in unison.
“With cookies on the side?”
“And on top!” Olivia shouted.
“Okay, okay,” Caleb said. “But the real question is: do you want cookies with that?”
“Yes!” the girls hollered before dissolving into laughter, their little bodies going loose with hysteria.
Jocelyn saw Anita standing in the kitchen doorway. Anita rolled her eyes but smiled nevertheless. “Cookies it is,” Anita said.
Caleb slid a hand across Jocelyn’s shoulders and pulled her in closer. She caught a dizzying whiff of his cologne and was glad to be sitting down. He still made her knees weak. “So,” he went on, addressing the girls. “What do you think of mashed cookies with cookie gravy?”
Before they could answer, Kevin’s voice boomed from the front door. “Cookies? Who’s making cookies?”
Olivia climbed down from her chair and ran over to him, leaping into his arms, recapping the entire cookie conversation, stuttering at times in her frantic effort to tell him as fast as she possibly could. Kim stood beside Kevin. Between them sat two huge garbage bags.
“You guys,” Jocelyn joked. “I said bring a dish, not your trash.”
Kim rolled her eyes, motioning toward the bags. “I told him what you said about not going crazy with gifts, but he cannot be stopped.”
“You brought presents?” Olivia said, head tilted toward the bags like a pointing dog.
“Of course I did,” Kevin said. “It’s Christmas! Now go get Raquel and Pia. Uncle Kevin Claus brought something for all you kids, even the sulky teenage boys outside.”
Cookies forgotten, the girls herded into the living room and gathered around Kim as she distributed the gifts. Brian and Terrence slipped quietly into the room and sat on the couch. The other adults made a loose semi-circle around the edge of the room, watching the girls open their gifts—every one of them extravagant. Kevin always spent ridiculous amounts of money on the kids for birthdays and holidays. He had no children of his own and loved being an honorary uncle.