Chapter 10
“I found the letter three weeks ago.”
“That doesn’t explain the thirteen years before that.”
“No.”
He didn’t defend himself.
“It doesn’t.”
The honesty made the disappointment sharper.
I walked several steps away from them, the envelope still clasped in my hand.
The city stretched below me, bright and indifferent.
Somewhere down there, people were beginning the first morning of a new year with resolutions, champagne, and the comfortable assumption that the past remained where they had left it.
I had spent my entire life believing my father had chosen to leave.
Now I was learning that the last person to see him had been Dominic.
And that Dominic had lied.
“Did my father leave the house alive?”
I asked.
Dominic hesitated.
The hesitation frightened me more than the answer would have.
“I don’t know.”
“You saw him in the study.”
“Yes.”
“You heard the door close.”
“Yes.”
“You saw his car.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t know?”
“I saw him standing.
I heard him arguing.
After that, I saw the front door open and close.
I didn’t see who walked through it.”
“You just said you assumed it was him.”
“I was seventeen, Naomi.
I believed what my father told me because I had no reason to believe anything else.”
“You had eyes.”
“And fear.”
He stepped toward me, stopping a respectful distance away.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
“I’m not asking you to trust me.”
“Also good.”
“But I am telling you that I have spent years trying to find out what happened.”
I looked at him.
“How?”
“Quietly.”
“That sounds like something a man says when he wants to avoid explaining.”
“I looked through old records.
I spoke to people who worked for my father.
I tried to find out why your mother stopped coming to the house, where she went, and whether your father had been seen afterward.”
“And?”
“I found almost nothing.”
“Almost?”
Dominic glanced at Vanessa.
She nodded reluctantly.
“What did you find?”
I asked.
“A payment.”
“To my father?”
“No.
To your mother.”
“From your father?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The day after your father disappeared.”
My fingers tightened around the letter.
“How much?”
“Five thousand dollars.”
My stomach turned.
“That was a lot of money.”
“In 2013, yes.”
“My mother never had five thousand dollars.”
“I know.”
“Did she take it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You just said there was a payment.”
“There was a withdrawal from one of my father’s accounts.