Daddy always seemed so devoted, so loyal. Up until this moment, if I’d been forced to pick which parent would eventually cheat on the other, I would’ve chosen Mama without hesitation. It’s hard to accept the idea that this situation has flipped on me completely.
Mr. Masters walks around the desk, pulling a chair up next to mine and holding my now frigid hand in both of his. “But unfortunately, men who cheat aren’t an unheard of breed, and most men who’ve cheated don’t suddenly become murderers. This fact ties him to one victim, but as far as they could find, he didn’t know the others. There was no evidence left on the victims and no way to irrefutably tie him to being at any of the crime scenes.”
“But he had no alibi…” I whisper in response.
“True.” Mr. Masters grinds his teeth together. “And they used that to their fullest advantage.”
A new thought occurs to me and I can’t decide whether to be protective of Mama or angry at her. “I assume Mama knows the truth?”
Mr. Masters gives me a troubled look. “You know your mother, Miss Riley. She’s tough to read. She never talked about it. She deliberately avoided the trial whenever she knew they were going to discuss it. I even saw her bring a book out if she was there and it unexpectedly came up.”
“Wait. What do you mean?” I shake my head in confusion. “She has to know, right? Even if she pretends she doesn’t, she has to know the truth.”
He shrugs. “Somewhere inside she must, but denial is a powerful beast when used by the right master. And God knows your mama has become proficient at looking the other way over the years.”
I’m silent in response. There is nothing to say. This conversation with Mr. Masters has confirmed my fear that both of my parents are complete strangers to me now—possibly unstable and dangerous ones at that.
“What have you heard about this newest murder?” Jordan speaks up from beside me. When I glance over at him, the clear worry in his eyes tells me that now I’m the one whose skin is extremely pale.
“I’d imagine, while this case is ongoing, your father would have much more information on it than I do,” Mr. Masters responds with a sharp edge. “But since I’m assuming that he isn’t sharing that information with you, I will tell you that I heard from an insider about a breakthrough today.”
I whip my head up. “Breakthrough?”
“With the original victims, there was a detail deliberately kept out of all media coverage. And it wasn’t mentioned much at the trial because it didn’t help the state’s case. There were souvenirs taken from each victim.” The voice that has comforted me for much of my life suddenly sounds sinister with those words.
I shudder, asking reluctantly, “Souvenirs?”
“Yes, a trophy of sorts. But nothing too terrifying, my dear.” Mr. Masters pats the back of my hand. “It was always a piece of jewelry. With Hillary it was a necklace, with Sarah Casey a ring, and with Maren Jameson it was a watch.”
“Oh,” I say. This is news to me. I’m certain I’ve never heard this detail.
“I brought it up during trial because it was a big flaw in the state’s case that they were never able to find the trophies.” Mr. Masters speaks louder and I can hear the puzzle and intrigue in this case drawing him in like a moth to the flame. “If David was the murderer, how come they never found them? The state presented witnesses who claimed he seemed nervous and skittish the last couple of days before Vega showed up with his warrant. They said that he knew they were closing in, and he got rid of the trophies.”
I see Jordan nodding slowly out of the corner of my eye and send him a withering glare.
“What?” he asks, but his expression looks guilty, and he mutters after I turn away, “It does make a certain amount of sense…”
I ignore him, waiting for Mr. Masters to go on. “He’s right. It was a worthy argument—until now.”
My eyes widen, and Mr. Masters answers my unspoken question before I even have a chance to ask it. “The newest victim also had a souvenir taken, a pair of diamond earrings.”
I suck in a quick breath. “And since they never revealed that information to the public…”
“It’s not likely to be a copycat,” Jordan whispers softly. This has been a lot of information to process and my mind is still whirling from it, but I feel a distinctly different sensation from earlier today rising in my chest.
I feel hope.
Mr. Masters pats my shoulder before climbing to his feet. Walking around his desk, he slips Daddy’s file into his briefcase. He hooks his index finger under the suit coat and lifts it off of his chair, draping it across the expensive leather case.
Turning to face us, he places both hands palms down on the desk with a soft thump. “This is what’s going to happen. I’ll answer all of your questions, Riley. Any question you have, anytime. And I’ll keep you in the loop on anything new I uncover in my research to prepare for any further appeals on your daddy’s case.”