“Why do you think it was Ezra?”
“Because he was the most horrible. For my father and Fred, it was mostly about power. And sex, of course. But Ezra . . . he liked to hurt us. And . . . he told Ophelia he was going to do something to me. Something he liked to do to her. And she told him if he did that, she would tell. She would go to the police. He could do what he liked to her, but not to me. And you know what he told me after she died?”
Livia was afraid she did know. But she said nothing.
“He told me, ‘That’s what will happen to you if you ever say anything.’ And then he did the thing to me anyway. I begged him. I was screaming. I told him he was killing me. And he just laughed and did it harder. After that, I don’t even remember. I think I blacked out.”
A moment went by. Then MacKinnon said, “I knew better than to scream, but I couldn’t help it. Whatever made me scream became his favorite thing. So I learned not to. Just to be passive, and wait for it to be over. But really, that only made it worse. It frustrated him, and made him look for new ways to make me scream.”
Livia looked at her. “Why didn’t you ever tell anyone?”
MacKinnon returned her look. “Why didn’t you?”
Livia scrubbed the back of her hand across her wet cheeks. “Because no one would have believed me. I was just a little refugee girl. And your brother was the most revered man in Llewellyn.”
“Well then, you already know why.”
“But all these years . . . don’t you understand? Your brothers . . . they had my sister and me taken all the way from Thailand. And who knows how many other children they’ve raped, traumatized, destroyed, that we’ll never even know about? You could have stopped that. Maybe not when you were a child, but any time after.”
“Don’t you dare judge me. Look at you. What have you ever done to stop it?”
“I did stop it.”
She said it before she could think not to.
There was a long pause. MacKinnon looked at her, understanding slowly dawning in her eyes. Livia thought she was going to ask, and prepared a denial.
But the woman only nodded grimly. “Good,” she said, and her tone was as cold as the frozen grass over Fred Lone’s grave. Then she added in a whisper, “I hope you made him suffer.”
Livia said nothing.
MacKinnon blinked, then straightened. She took a sip of tea, then returned the cup to the saucer. “For what it’s worth, if I could go back, I would have said something. But in college, I was just overwhelmed to finally be free of them all. I didn’t want to do anything that could jeopardize that. And then I met Bill, my future husband. He didn’t know about any of it. And I didn’t want him to know. Didn’t want any connection between what they had done to me and the life I was trying to build. And then we had children, and I couldn’t bear to put them through all that. And Ezra . . . he always told me he would kill me if I ever told. And I believed him. I still believe him. You know what he did when our first child, David, was born?”
Livia looked at her and again said nothing.
“He sent me a baby outfit and a card, congratulating me on the birth of his nephew. And telling me David reminded him of Ophelia. No one else would know what that meant. But I did.”
They were both quiet for a moment. Then MacKinnon said, “Do you see? I hadn’t been in touch with Ezra since leaving Llewellyn. I never told any of them I was getting married. Or taking my husband’s name. Or moving to San Francisco. Or my home address. I did everything I could to keep all that hidden. Ezra was telling me none of my efforts mattered. He was watching. He could get to me. And he could get to my children.”
She took another sip of tea. “So. I am sorry. Truly sorry. For what you and your sister have gone through. And if there’s a way I can . . . redress that, I hope I’ll have that chance. But in the meantime, I hope you’ll at least understand. I’ve had my reasons.”
Livia nodded. “I do understand.”
MacKinnon looked at her, her face carefully set. “Thank you.”
There was a long pause. Then Livia said, “But if you’re serious about redress, I have an idea about how.”
57—NOW
When Livia was done laying it out, MacKinnon was almost there. But she wasn’t quite persuaded.
“Why do you need him to come out here?” she said. “Couldn’t you just march into his office and flash your badge the way you did me? And leave me out of it entirely?”
“I don’t think your brother would tell me what I need to know in his office. He’d be in a familiar, comfortable environment, surrounded by all the trappings of his power. I want to confront him someplace unfamiliar. Where he doesn’t know the terrain. Where he’ll be off balance.”