never forgotten the last words he spoke to me.”
“What did he say?”
“It was over two decades ago, so I was very young. Fourteen years old. But the words are chiseled into my brain. After he was pronounced guilty of second degree murder in the beating death of my brother, and they led him out of the courtroom in shackles, they walked him right past where I was sitting. He turned to me and said, ‘Someday, you’ll be sorry you testified. You have no idea how sorry.’ His tone was sinister, a sick, breathy whisper. It was the most threatening thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“I can’t believe he said that to his daughter. What an evil bastard.”
Street paused and sat silent for a time.
I didn’t speak. As painful as her thoughts were, it might be better for her to work through them than to have them interrupted.
Eventually, she said, “I didn’t tell you when I made the video statement because I couldn’t bear to bring those memories into my current life any more than absolutely necessary. You are my safe zone. I’m not a naturally bubbly, happy person, and my time with you has always been the happiest that I’ve ever experienced. I didn’t want to jeopardize that. I know you’re okay with such talk. But not me. Now, I’ve finally brought it up. So I’ve transformed a wonderful evening into a topic of misery. I’m so sorry.”
Street’s voice was thick, trying not to cry.
“I’m the one who’s sorry for you. What kind of father would be so sick as to want bad things for his daughter?” I said.
“That might be the real issue.”
“What do you mean?” I said.
“I suspect I’m not really his daughter.”
“Your mother…” I dropped the statement.
“I was born into a lovely situation,” Street said, her voice thick with sarcasm. “My brother might not have been his biological kid, either. The moment I first had the thought a few years ago, it explained several things about my childhood. My mother wasn’t mean like him, but she was devious and untrustworthy and more than a little promiscuous. Tom Casey probably relished hearing about her death from the overdose.”
I squeezed her knee again.
“What’s next?” I asked.
“A few weeks ago, I got a letter from my aunt May. She said that the parole board had the hearing as planned. She was at the hearing. She said that when my video statement was played, the hearing room was very focused and quiet. When it came time for her statement, she told the parole board that my father was a twisted man who had played the prison guards like pawns in a chess game and was now playing the parole board. She said his good behavior in prison was just an act so he could get out and seek retribution.”
“What did they decide?”
“We don’t know, yet. They take eight to twelve weeks to decide. It’s been eleven weeks. They will be making their decision any day. I can’t sleep, I’m so worried they’ll let him out.”
“What do you think will happen if they let him out?”
Street didn’t hesitate. “I think he will come for us.”
“Who is us?”
“The people he thinks put him inside.”
“Including you,” I said.
Street nodded. “Aunt May. The prosecutor at his trial. Me.”
“But even if you’re not his biological child, you’re still the closest thing he has to a child. I would think that might keep him from a premeditated action against you.”
“As a scientist, I know that in the animal world, infanticide is common. Males of many species will kill offspring that are not theirs. If that offspring helped put him in jail for decades, that’s only going to make matters worse.”
“He’ll be aware that if he left the state of Missouri and came to Lake Tahoe, that would no doubt violate the terms of his parole. Won’t that temper his actions?”
“I don’t think he cares. I think he only wants to punish those of us who testified against him.”
“Even if it means they put him back inside,” I
“What did he say?”
“It was over two decades ago, so I was very young. Fourteen years old. But the words are chiseled into my brain. After he was pronounced guilty of second degree murder in the beating death of my brother, and they led him out of the courtroom in shackles, they walked him right past where I was sitting. He turned to me and said, ‘Someday, you’ll be sorry you testified. You have no idea how sorry.’ His tone was sinister, a sick, breathy whisper. It was the most threatening thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“I can’t believe he said that to his daughter. What an evil bastard.”
Street paused and sat silent for a time.
I didn’t speak. As painful as her thoughts were, it might be better for her to work through them than to have them interrupted.
Eventually, she said, “I didn’t tell you when I made the video statement because I couldn’t bear to bring those memories into my current life any more than absolutely necessary. You are my safe zone. I’m not a naturally bubbly, happy person, and my time with you has always been the happiest that I’ve ever experienced. I didn’t want to jeopardize that. I know you’re okay with such talk. But not me. Now, I’ve finally brought it up. So I’ve transformed a wonderful evening into a topic of misery. I’m so sorry.”
Street’s voice was thick, trying not to cry.
“I’m the one who’s sorry for you. What kind of father would be so sick as to want bad things for his daughter?” I said.
“That might be the real issue.”
“What do you mean?” I said.
“I suspect I’m not really his daughter.”
“Your mother…” I dropped the statement.
“I was born into a lovely situation,” Street said, her voice thick with sarcasm. “My brother might not have been his biological kid, either. The moment I first had the thought a few years ago, it explained several things about my childhood. My mother wasn’t mean like him, but she was devious and untrustworthy and more than a little promiscuous. Tom Casey probably relished hearing about her death from the overdose.”
I squeezed her knee again.
“What’s next?” I asked.
“A few weeks ago, I got a letter from my aunt May. She said that the parole board had the hearing as planned. She was at the hearing. She said that when my video statement was played, the hearing room was very focused and quiet. When it came time for her statement, she told the parole board that my father was a twisted man who had played the prison guards like pawns in a chess game and was now playing the parole board. She said his good behavior in prison was just an act so he could get out and seek retribution.”
“What did they decide?”
“We don’t know, yet. They take eight to twelve weeks to decide. It’s been eleven weeks. They will be making their decision any day. I can’t sleep, I’m so worried they’ll let him out.”
“What do you think will happen if they let him out?”
Street didn’t hesitate. “I think he will come for us.”
“Who is us?”
“The people he thinks put him inside.”
“Including you,” I said.
Street nodded. “Aunt May. The prosecutor at his trial. Me.”
“But even if you’re not his biological child, you’re still the closest thing he has to a child. I would think that might keep him from a premeditated action against you.”
“As a scientist, I know that in the animal world, infanticide is common. Males of many species will kill offspring that are not theirs. If that offspring helped put him in jail for decades, that’s only going to make matters worse.”
“He’ll be aware that if he left the state of Missouri and came to Lake Tahoe, that would no doubt violate the terms of his parole. Won’t that temper his actions?”
“I don’t think he cares. I think he only wants to punish those of us who testified against him.”
“Even if it means they put him back inside,” I
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