The Truth We Bury: A Novel

“Stop.” Shea held up her palms at Dru. “There isn’t going to be a wedding. I’ve given up on that, but I am not giving up on AJ. He. Didn’t. Do. This. None of it. I don’t know who did, but it wasn’t him.”

“All right, fine,” Dru said. She went to the table in the breakfast nook and picked up the tea glasses. Kate helped her carry them to the sink. Shea loaded them into the dishwasher. She walked Kate to the back door.

“You sure you don’t want to spend the night?” Shea asked. “You’re off tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, and I would,” she said, “but I promised Erik I’d meet him at Bella Vista in the morning at six thirty. He wants to get a hike in before work.” Kate glanced over at Dru. “’Bye, Mama Dru,” she said.

Dru smiled. “See you later, Katie gator.”

In the predawn hours while walking, sleepless, through the house, keeping a vigil, Dru couldn’t get Kate’s secrecy about the texts she’d shared with Becca out of her mind. Why, if they meant nothing, hadn’t she mentioned them to Shea, at least? Dru knew Kate; she knew when Kate was afraid, and she would bet money the girl was afraid now. But of what or whom?





11


Lily was almost back to the ranch when her phone chimed again. This time she saw Paul’s name in the ID window, and instantly her heart was in overdrive. How much could it stand? How many more times could this happen, she wondered, before it would simply pound out of her chest?

He was breathless when she answered and didn’t bother with a greeting. “Have the local cops gotten in touch with you?”

Thinking he was talking about the breakin, Lily said, “No. They talked to Dad—”

“Is he gone?”

“Who? Dad?” Lily fumbled for sense.

“No, damn it. AJ. Look, some guy down there at one of the private airfields called Bushnell and said he saw AJ talking to a pilot who flies for an oil-field service company out of Lubbock.”

“Here in the Hill Country? When?”

“Less than an hour ago.”

“Which airfield?”

“I don’t know. Bushnell said something about a lake.”

“There are dozens of lakes and private airstrips all over the Hill Country.” Lily thought for a moment. “It wasn’t Monarch Lake, was it? That’s the lake nearest the ranch. But there’s no airfield there.”

“Guy’s name—wait a sec, I wrote it down here somewhere.”

Lily heard the rustle of papers being pushed around. She imagined Paul at his desk. It was huge. Topped with a mattress, she could nap on it.

“Evers. Wylie Evers is his name. You recognize it?”

“He’s a neighbor. His ranch, the Triple Oak, shares a boundary with the xL. Was Hershey the name of the lake? That’s close to the Triple Oak on the far north side.”

“That’s it,” Paul said. “Lake Hershey is the location of the airfield.”

“Is Wylie sure it was AJ?”

“Not absolutely, according to Bushnell, but—”

“Did he actually see AJ get on the plane?”

“No. Where would he get that kind of money? I told Bushnell, my son works as a chef, no way could he—”

“Paul?” Lily’s voice rose, tight, shrill. She couldn’t help it. “There was a breakin here this afternoon. Someone got into the safe and took Dad’s cash, five thousand dollars, and Mama’s jewelry.”

“Where were you? Where was Jeb?”

“Dad was out looking for AJ. I was at the grocery store. I’m on my way back now.” The lie came quickly, sounding hollow, tasting of shame. “Dad called the police, the Wyatt police,” she said when Paul didn’t respond.

After several moments, she realized he was giving her an opportunity to see it, the ugly inevitability of the truth that seemed to be taking shape—that their son was the thief, and worse, he was guilty of murder. Not a victim but a perpetrator, a fugitive, a wanted man.



“Dad?” Lily called, entering the back door, setting her purse and keys on the island.

“Office,” he answered.

He was sitting at his desk, writing, and he looked up when she appeared. “They want an inventory,” he said.

Lily sat down. “The police? Of everything that’s missing,” she surmised.

He nodded.

“I don’t think I can remember all the jewelry. Your mom had a wad of it.”

“Because you kept buying it for her.”

“She loved it,” he said. “Remember how she used to say nothing went better with denim and western boots than diamonds? She was partial to turquoise, too.”

“I remember a ring with turquoise, big and shaped like a triangle.”

“I bought that for her, our tenth wedding anniversary. She’d seen some work by that Navajo artist—”

“Lee Yazzie.” Lily supplied the name. Her mom had loved his work.

“Yeah. I had him make a bracelet for her, too. A cuff, your mother called it.”

“What did the police say?”

“They think AJ was hanging around, waiting for the house to be empty.”

Although it was what she had expected to hear, Lily felt her air go as if she’d been punched.

“I had to tell them AJ knew about the safe, knew the combination.”

Lily held her dad’s gaze. “Do you think it was him?”

He tossed down his pen. Maybe.

The word—the doubt was there in his eyes. It would tear him up if AJ had done this. How could he? The question rang through Lily’s mind, heated, angry. How could AJ put them in this position of having to speculate, wonder—was he capable? Could he have hurt that girl? Lily thought if it was true, if she had to face the fact, it would crush her. It would crush them all.

“I can’t stomach it,” he said, echoing Lily’s thinking. “The cash, yeah. He’s on the run, scared. He needs money to get away. But his grandma’s jewelry? What’s he going to do with it? It’s not as if he can sell it, or even pawn it without the cops finding out. If he knew a fence—but AJ’s not—he’s never run with—”

“It’s not even that, Dad.” Lily’s pulse ticked in her ears. “If he’s taken the money and jewelry, if he’s on the run, it means—it means he—” She stopped, unable to finish.

Her dad stared at her, and when his eyes reddened, she realized he was seeing her through the glaze of tears. It astonished her. In her entire life she hadn’t ever seen her father cry, not even when her mother died. Winona had said that he did cry then, just not in front of Lily.

She went to him, wrapping his shoulders in her embrace from behind, setting her cheek against his, which was damp now. He closed his hands over her forearms, and they held on to each other.

“I love that boy either way,” he said in a rough voice.

“Yes,” Lily said. “I do, too.”

“We’ll find him, find a way to help him—forgive him if he did all these terrible things.”

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