“When he was a little boy. Norman’s brother,” Evelyn said softly.
“Quiet now, Evelyn,” Norm hissed at his wife, leaning toward her. “You don’t know that.”
She turned her head to him, still talking softly, finding her way, uncertain of her footing and downright scared, she whispered, “I know it.”
“You don’t.”
“Denny told me.”
Norm threw out a dismissive hand. “I think it’s clear by his behavior that Denny tellin’ you anything can be taken with a grain of salt.”
Still soft, Evelyn said, “Not then, not then, Norman.”
“Ehv.”
“He was five,” she whispered and Colt closed his eyes.
“Jesus, sick, fuck, Christ,” Sean muttered and Colt opened his eyes.
Evelyn looked back at Sully, squared her shoulders and sucked in oxygen through her nose, counting on it giving her strength. “Far as I reckon, it’d been happenin’ since he was a baby.”
“No, now it’s Jesus, sick, fuck, Christ,” Mike remarked.
“Evelyn, you be quiet, you hear?” Norman warned.
She didn’t take her eyes off Sully when she replied, “Been bein’ quiet a long time.”
“No use dredgin’ this up,” Norm told her.
For some reason those words were Norm’s mistake. Evelyn’s body visibly locked but her eyes sliced to her husband.
“No use dredgin’ it up.” Her voice was still soft but it held an angry hiss. “No use takin’ him to see a psychologist when he had those dreams, would draw those pictures. No use havin’ him talk to someone when he killed our dog,” Evelyn returned, building her backbone with every word.
“Holy fuck,” Merry muttered.
“Classic case. Christ,” Mike noted.
Norm looked at Sully and declared, “Denny didn’t kill our dog.” “So, Sparky fell on a hatchet?” Evelyn asked, unpracticed sarcasm in her tone but still, it worked.
“Evelyn, I hardly think –” Norm started but Evelyn interrupted him.
She looked back to Sully and said on a rush, “Norm’s brother liked babysitting. He did it for us a lot. A lot. Kept tellin’ us to go to movies, out to dinner, have a break from our boy. Felix had no wife, no girlfriends, no interest, never did, but he liked babies, he liked little boys, he liked them a lot. Used to go to the park just to watch them. I’d take Denny on the weekend, he’d always be there to come with me. I thought it strange, thought he was a bit peculiar, but it was more than a bit peculiar.”
“Denny told you he touched him?” Sully asked.
“Told me, yes, told me how too,” Evelyn answered.
“Dennis couldn’t know –” Norm started but stopped when Evelyn looked at him again.
“If he didn’t know, if you didn’t know, why’d you send Felix away?”
“He got a position out of state,” Norm reminded her.
“You arranged for him to get a position out of state.”
Norm dismissed his wife and looked at Sully. “This is ridiculous. Felix died of leukemia five years ago. He can’t even speak for himself.
“And thank goodness. Thank goodness. Thank goodness for that,” Evelyn said. It had built up for years and she’d been holding it back, or Norm had been crushing it down, but now she let it go. There was a force of feeling behind her words so strong it was a wonder her husband didn’t go back on a foot. Hell, she’d been holding this back so long, it was actually a wonder she herself didn’t implode.
“That’s my brother you’re talkin’ about, Ehv.”
“That’s the man who drove our boy into madness, Norm.”
Sully cut in. “You know how he links to Feb and Colt?”
“Yes,” Evelyn said.
“Absolutely not,” Norm said at the same time.
Evelyn turned to him. “We do,” then she looked back to Sully, “or, I do.”
Norm was losing it, his face getting read, his eyes already blistering hot, if she didn’t find alternate accommodation that night, she’d catch it.
“Evelyn,” he bit off.
She ignored him and kept looking at Sully, taking a deep breath, she said, “Sometimes he’d talk to me. Not much, sometimes. I wanted him to talk to someone else…” her head twitched in her husband’s direction, it wasn’t much but her accusation was clear, “but we couldn’t do that so I thought it would be good if Denny would talk to me.”
“So he told you about Feb and Colt,” Sully prompted.
“Once, each,” she nodded and went on, “February stood up for him, something at school,” her eyes slid to the side, taking in her husband a moment then they went back to Sully, “not long after, Alec Colton beat up his father and went to live with the Owenses.”
“He say why this meant somethin’ to him?” Sully asked.
“No, but I reckon in February’s case, no one stood up for him, not in his whole life, and he had some demons he was battlin’, he didn’t need the likes of Devon Shepherd’s uppity daughter makin’ his life a livin’ hell at school.”
“Colt?” Sully pressed.
“Hero worship, I guess. I suspect, beatin’ up his Dad like that and endin’ up with the Owenses, Alec Colton did somethin’ Denny wanted to do. Then, of course, there was the fact that Alec had Feb.”
“I don’t believe this,” Norm muttered.
“You were hard on him,” Evelyn told Norm.
“I’m his father!” Norm’s voice was rising.
“You were too hard on him,” Evelyn shot back.
“He was a difficult boy to raise,” Norm returned.
“Yes, he was and there was a reason for that, wasn’t there, Norm? A reason you ignored.”
“He needed a firm hand.”
“He needed understanding and professional help.”
“Right,” Norm blew out that one word dismissively.
“Right,” she whispered back and then threw out her hand to indicate the room. “Look where you are. Can you still stand there and say, yet again, Denny didn’t need professional help?”
“She’s got a point there,” Mike muttered.
“Will this help you?” Evelyn asked, now looking at Sully.
“Yes, Mrs. Lowe, it’ll help a great deal,” Sully answered.