Tean nodded.“I think— I don’t know what to think, I guess.Shewasangry at Brennon; that much came through clearly.But the rest of it is confusing.”
“To say the least.Why go to her mother’s?”
“Because she and Ammon fought.”
“Tean, that’s not a thing.Not anormalthing, anyway.She’d just found out her son had been abused for months by a man their family trusted.And that same night, she leaves the house—leaves her son?Maybe if she’d taken the kids with her, but I can’t wrap my head around leaving her child after something like that.”
Nodding slowly, Tean said, “You think she was setting up an alibi?”
“Why not?She can probably count on her mom to say that she was with her the whole time.Maybe she wanted Ammon to take the fall for this.Maybe that was part of the plan too.”
“The problem is I don’t think she could have killed him.You don’t know her, Hannah.That’s just not Lucy.”
“If it’s not her,” Hannah asked, “who was it?”
Tean shook his head.
“Could it have been Ammon?”
Tean fiddled with a pen on his desk before blowing out a breath.“Objectively?Yes.”
“He’s capable.”
Tean nodded.
“And crazy enough,” Hannah said.
“He’s…he does what he thinks is necessary.And he doesn’t always care who it hurts.It took me a while to see that about him.”Tean gave the pen a flick that sent it rolling across the desk.“But Jem’s the one who doesn’t think it was Ammon.And if Jem is willing to believe that, then I think I have to believe it too.”
Hannah glanced away for a moment, her hand rising to adjust the collar of her shirt, and for a moment, in profile, something like pain winged its way across her face.When she spoke, though, her voice was even.“What about Daniel?”
“Daniel?”
The question was disbelief, but as soon as it was out of Tean’s mouth, he could see it: the victim who was finally pushed too far.Then he thought of the photo Lucy had produced for the search the night before.The boy had tousled hair that wasn’t quite Ammon’s blond, full lips, a jawline still soft with baby fat.He was starting to broaden across the shoulders, but he still had that adolescent wiriness, a body he hadn’t grown into yet.He was a beautiful man-child; Tean felt a flicker of guilt at the thought, as though he’d done something wrong, but the statement was objective.Daniel had two attractive parents, and it was clear he’d inherited a striking blend of their best features.In the photo, taken two months before, he’d offered a close-lipped smile, but happiness had radiated off him.Two months ago, when he’d been Brennon’s victim.
“I don’t know,” Tean said.
“It’s not likely,” Hannah said.“I know that.Groomers and abusers tend to pick victims who are already isolated, people they can isolate further, to make sure nobody learns what’s going on.”
And Daniel fit that profile.
Although, did he?
It depended on whether Daniel had been telling Lucy the truth.Had he been going to friends’ houses?Had he been going to church activities?Had he joined a basketball team?Those behaviors werenotconsistent with a victim being slowly and systematically cut off from his support system.Lucy might doubt herself now, in the middle of a crisis, but Tean knew that both she and Ammon were active, involved parents.It seemed unbelievable that Daniel, at fifteen years old, could have so successfully and thoroughly lied about his whereabouts for months.
Hannah’s words broke through his thoughts.“I know you said you have to be physically strong.Do you think he could have done it?”
“Maybe.I’m more worried about why.”
“Brennon was abusing him.”
“Right, I know.But—” But he didn’t want his dad to find the phone.He fought back.What had Lucy said?Like he went crazy.“I don’t know.Why not let the police handle it?I mean, he wouldn’t even talk to them.”
“Because he wanted to kill him himself,” Hannah said.
Tean nodded again, but he was even less sure of this theory.Victims often carried immense rage directed at their abusers—understandably and justifiably so.But that rage was rarely pure and uncomplicated, and also rarely manifested in violence or resistance.
When Hannah spoke again, Tean realized he’d lost track of time, and he wasn’t sure how long had passed.“I’m sorry.”