My chin dropped. “You trusted her? She was sleeping with other men for money. How could you trust her? I’ll never trust anything I knew about her.”
“That’s why I hid it from you, Nikki. Because she was an amazing person and a wonderful mother, and the thought of you not trusting her memory kills me,” he said. “It was hard to accept, but eventually I did. Hollis was going to come after me for the fire. I was prepared for it, but he ended up going after her instead. She agreed to go back to Hollywood Dreams, and back to him, to keep him from hurting me. I didn’t know until after all was said and done. I’d been waiting for him. I’d been keeping those letters as some sort of evidence in case something happened to me. And while I was waiting, he was using your mother.”
“But even after you knew about Peyton, you let her go back.”
“I tried to stop her. She told me she didn’t have a choice. She said if she didn’t go back to him, he would do everything he could to ruin us. It was supposed to be temporary. We were going to figure out a way to get her out. I confronted Hollis, and he threatened to have us all killed. Even you. We were trapped by him.”
I pulled my hand out of his grasp and ran it through my hair, which felt tangled and greasy from the ocean wind, the dusty closet, the fear. “God, Dad, and you didn’t think maybe to just call the police? Mom would have gotten a slap on the wrist for her part.”
His eyes were fiery with hatred. “And Bill Hollis would have gotten even less.” He stood, paced to the other side of the room. His back was to me. “The man had so many police officers and politicians in his pocket, he could never be touched for anything. I found that out the hard way after she died.” He spun so he was facing me again. I could see how tired he was. Not just like he’d gotten a bad night’s sleep, but like he’d gotten a bad life’s sleep. “I was the only suspect. Why? Because Hollis knew his wife was behind your mother’s murder, and he told the police to convict me or no one. They didn’t have anything on me. We were going to have a date night that night. I left to buy flowers, and when I came back . . .” He turned up his palms helplessly.
That explained why Dad had never trusted the police. Why he never pursued solving Mom’s murder. Why he didn’t want me to become a cop. The police he’d dealt with were bought and paid for.
“So you didn’t say anything to anyone about the baby, because you were afraid of what he might do.”
“Yes. She was afraid that if Bill Hollis found out, he would do something to the baby. Or to her friend. Or both. I never put it together that the kid he was always with in the papers was that kid. I assumed all three of those kids were Vanessa’s. I think your mother assumed the same. Her friend stopped writing after a while. She told your mother it was too dangerous. What we didn’t know was that Hollis had taken the kids and threatened to kill her if she talked.”
I thought about poor Brandi, who’d only ever wanted to help. If Hollis had been telling the truth about her, she’d been burned up in a fire. Dad was right—Bill Hollis was ruthless and powerful. Nobody could stand up to that.
“And after she was gone, I couldn’t bear to go public with the letters. I couldn’t bear the world knowing about her being a part of that world. It wasn’t who she was.” He came back to me, sank back into the chair, rubbed the back of my good arm. “I don’t know how you found out, Nikki. Your mother and I never wanted you to be involved.”
“How could I not be?” I asked, my voice a whisper. “I was involved the day Peyton was born. And I was really involved the day Peter Fairchild killed Mom.”
There was surprise on Dad’s face. “Peter . . . ? You found out who did it? Are you sure?”
I held up my arm. “How do you think I got this?”
Dad let out an incredulous huff of air, shaking his head. “It wasn’t even Hollis himself.”
“It wasn’t Bill Hollis at all,” I corrected him. “Vanessa was the one who wanted her gone.”
“All this time . . . ,” he whispered.
There was silence in the room, and in that silence I was struck with the strange loyalty of it all. Mom went back to Hollywood Dreams to protect Dad from Bill Hollis’s wrath. Dad kept Mom’s secret to protect her from Bill Hollis’s wrath. In the end, their story was one of true love—even when true love was excruciatingly painful. Even when it was deadly.
But there was more to it than that. Brandi took Peyton to protect her from Bill Hollis’s wrath. Dru paid off Rigo to protect him from Bill Hollis’s wrath. Everyone worked so hard to protect themselves from Bill Hollis. And in the end, it had all been Vanessa. The one with the real power.
That was what it had all been about, really. Power. Bill’s power over my parents. Vanessa’s power over Peter. Luna’s power over Peyton. Even Peyton was playing a power game with her family when she died. And ultimately, it was lack of power that destroyed my family. Not just our lack of power, but Peter Fairchild’s as well. My mother lost her life because he had lost his beloved Vanessa.
But where everyone was wrong was in thinking Bill Hollis would always win. In the end, he didn’t. His control, his money-hunger, was his undoing. It was the undoing of all of them. Vanessa finally had her man and lost him to two kids who belonged to my mother and Brandi. Luna finally had her stardom and was in a morgue. Bill Hollis finally had his chance to take me down, and he failed.
Was I acting out of power, too? Was that what all this was—this dogged pursuit of answers?
No. No way. I was dragged into this mess. I was made to care about Peyton. I was grieving Dru. I was avenging my mother. But never was I looking for power.
I was looking for closure.
Hell, if I was being completely honest, I was looking for love. Sloppy, annoying, terrifying, magenta love. Because no matter how many times I told myself I didn’t need it, I did. Everyone did.
“I never meant to lie to you, Nikki,” Dad said. I could see tears in his eyes, behind his glasses. “I was trying to protect you. And to protect your mother’s memory. I wanted you to remember only the good things about her.”
“That is all I can remember,” I said. “Constructing this new version of her has been awful. Because the mom in my memories was kind and gentle and loving and so beautiful.”
“And that was exactly who she was. Just like you.”
I let out a snort. “Okay.”
“No, I’m serious. You look just like her. It’s like living with a ghost sometimes.”
I stared at him. How many times had I had the same exact thought about living with him?
The curtain fluttered as someone rooted around for the split. Then it parted, and Chris Martinez stuck his head through.
“Oh. Sorry. I’ll come back,” he said, ducking back out.
“No,” I called. “You can come in.”
There was a pause, and then his whole body appeared through the curtain. Wary. Awkward.
“I want you two to meet,” I said. I turned to Dad. “No more secrets.” I took a breath. This felt so weird. “Dad, this is Detective Chris Martinez. Chris, this is my dad, Milo Kill.”
Chris stuck out his hand. My dad looked at it, and then at me. “Detective?”
“The one who killed Bill Hollis, actually.” I took another breath, then let it out. “The one who inspired me to go into the academy.”
This time they both raised their eyebrows at me. I stared them down, daring them to say something. Neither did. Smart men.
Dad shook Chris’s hand. “I take it you’re who she’s been spending so much time with?”
Chris nodded.
“Well, I guess I should thank you for keeping an eye on her. Nikki’s always needed a little extra . . . supervision.”
Chris barked out a laugh. “You’re telling me!”
“Shut up,” I said, putting venom behind it, but not really feeling it. I sounded more pouty than intimidating.
“I’ll go get the car,” Dad said, and before anyone could argue, he was through the curtain, his chuckle following him down the corridor. Chris and I were alone.
“I thought you died,” I said angrily. He didn’t respond. “On TV? Drug bust turns deadly? What the hell happened?”