“—caught ‘im in the men’s room,” Bev yelled back, “snorting coke! He got fired two weeks ago, Tracemore, and I’m just findin’ out. He’s been leaving the house, dressed in a suit and tie and goin’ God knows where!”
I remembered the day at Rascal’s. Icky had looked like he’d just come from the office. “You back with Spyder?”
Icky considered me for a moment, then settled his mocking eyes on Shannon, as if noticing her for the first time. “I thought you had better taste, Ms. Bradford.”
I lurched forward, but Shannon tugged me back. “Don’t,” she said.
Icky winked at me. “Better listen to her.”
Bev shook her head, her expression grim.
“Answer the question,” I said, my voice just above a whisper. “Are you working for Spyder again?”
Amusement lit Icky’s eyes. “Why would you think that?”
“This house.” I nodded at Icky’s wrist. “That Rolex. And the piece of shit car you picked me up in—just to throw me off.”
“Jealous?” Icky said with a malevolent smirk.
“Of you? Uh-uh.” I folded my arms and leaned against the wall. Shannon stood next to me. “I just wanna know how a data entry clerk and a…a—”
“Cosmetologist,” Bev told me.
I rolled my eyes. “Right. A fingernail painter. Where’d the money come from, Beverly?”
Bev sent me a searing look. “Y’all need to go.”
“I knew your let bygones be bygones was a load of horseshit,” Icky hissed. “You got nerve coming here all sanctimonious. I inherited some money from my uncle. Not that it’s any business of yours.”
“What uncle?” I asked. “You grew up in an orphanage.”
Icky’s sullen eyes narrowed. “Jeez. You are such a clueless dick! What do you think is paying for Cole’s stay in that nuthouse?” He beat his chest. “My money! That’s what. But do I get a thank-you? No. All you ever do is—”
“Trust me, when I’m able, I’ll take care of my brother,” I spat. “The last thing he needs is to be tangled up in your—”
“But that’s just it. You can’t take care of him now, can you, Mr. Parolee?” Icky tossed a hand and scowled. “Why am I even trying to justify myself to a murdering lowlife like you anyway?”
I glared at him for a long while, then said, “You talk too much.”
“The truth hurts,” Icky goaded. “Killing is easy for you Dawsons.” To his wife, he said, “Isn’t it, sweetie pie?” Soon as my brows arched, Icky said, “Did you know your sister—”
“Patrick!” Bev’s eyes bulged out of her face. “Don’t!”
Icky laughed and upended the bottle. “Why not? What’s there to be ashamed of? All you did was murder my child.”
Shannon gasped.
I swung a curious look at my sister.
“Tell them!” Icky yelled. “Or I will!”
Beverly’s eyes spilled over with tears. She shrank away, dragged a chair from the kitchen table and sank into it. Leaning both elbows on the surface, she pressed her forehead to her palm.
A full minute passed before she uttered a word. “It was a while back,” Bev finally said. “Patrick was still in Gainstown and we were always fightin’. I wasn’t sure we had a future and I didn’t think I could raise a child alone. So I aborted it. That’s why he slapped me, Tracemore. That’s why!”
Shannon stood beside Beverly and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Why didn’t you ask your family for help?”
Bev wiped her nose with a ball of tissue she’d pulled from her bra. “Mama didn’t approve of Patrick.”
Icky knocked back a swig. “The witch hated me.”
“Damn it, shut up,” Bev snapped over her shoulder. One of her curlers drooped above her eye and she flung it back with an impatient flick of her hand. “I’d already given a baby up for adoption when I was 13. I didn’t want to, but Daddy made me.” She sniffed. “What I did this time…I know it was selfish, but I couldn’t bear not knowing what—I just couldn’t bear it again!”
“Eddie Gray’s bastard,” Icky put in. “Yeah, that’s right, Ms. Bradford. That greasy ball of fat knocked her up when they were teens, then tried to say it wasn’t his. Even called her a whore. Trace beat the crap out of him a few years later, and they’ve been at odds ever since.” He guzzled the whiskey. “Know what yanks my chain about this whole thing? That she gave his baby away—let it live—but she killed mine.”
Icky’s angry eyes cut to me. “You’re all one twisted family of killers, but I don’t just blame Bev, I blame you too. You’re the one who put doubts in her mind. You and your mother poisoned her against me. You both got what you deserved.”
“Trace?” Shannon came back to me. “We should leave.”
I glowered at Icky. “We got what we deserved, huh?”
“You’ll never guess it in a million years,” Icky taunted.
“Patrick, if you care for me, you’ll stop this,” Bev cried.
Icky laughed at her. “Shut up.”
I grabbed Shannon’s hand. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Hey, Butcher Boy!” Icky called after me. Pride rang in his voice. “Still wondering who wrote that parole letter?”
I was halfway across the kitchen when I jerked to a stop. Bile seared my throat like an eruption from hell. I rounded, my anxious gaze skipping to Bev for confirmation, but she just shook her head and dissolved into tears.
Shannon wheeled around. Her face was ghost pale.
“That’s right,” Icky said with a hard laugh. “I did it, and I’d do it again in a mother fucking heartbeat.”
“You wrote that filth?” Shannon asked, eyes round.
Felt like Icky had plunged an ice pick into my chest. “After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?”
“Oh, you mean Nyle Weathers?”
Blood raced to my head and my vision blurred.
Shannon gazed up at me. “What is he talking about?”
“Big, bad Butcher Boy,” Icky taunted. “I don’t owe you a damn thing. My baby’s dead because you clouded Bev’s mind with lies. Making her doubt me!”
Mad as hell, I stood ramrod stiff, arms at my sides, clenching and unclenching my fists while Icky kept the rant going.
“And here’s the best part,” Icky continued. “They scraped Bev’s womb so clean she’s barren now! She thinks it’s God’s judgment, but I blame you.” He took a swallow of booze then pointed the empty glass at Shannon. “I got the letter idea after I saw her ad. When I told her about my felony, she volunteered to help me with my resume. Once I got to her office, stealing the stamper was easy. It was just sitting on a desk begging me to take it. Grabbed the stationery the second time I—”
“Trace, no!”
I barely heard Shannon’s cry and Bev’s screams. The roaring in my ears all but drowned them out. I snatched Icky off the stool and punched him so hard he went crashing into the wall. A fancy digital wall clock smashed to the floor. Its guts raced across the floor like roaches.
“Mama killed herself ‘cause of you!” I stalked to where Icky sat slumped in a corner, gasping and bleeding. Shannon yanked at my arm, but I kept going.
Before I could finish Icky off, Bev threw herself between us. “Get out!” She fell to her knees and clutched Icky to her breast. “Get outta my house ‘for I call the law! Get out!”
Shannon tugged me from behind. “Come on. Please!”
I blinked as her voice slowly registered. The red haze faded like mist, but the pain lingered. I narrowed my eyes on my sister and when I finally spoke moments later, my throat was raw. “All this time. You knew, and you didn’t say a damn thing. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Bev cleaved to Icky, her gaze fused to the floor.
Shannon stepped around me. Her face was red. “Why Patrick? What did I do to warrant this? I only tried to help.”