Page 14

“It’s both our names. But that doesn’t even matter.”

“How is he?” she asked.

Answering her fully felt like a betrayal. I knew my dad didn’t want a lot of people to know about his declining mental state.

“He’s managing,” I said. “He has good days and bad days. Right now, there are far more good.”

“He’s not managing. You’re managing him. Oh, Mercedes. I spent years doing that. He made me promise after promise. I don’t have to tell you how that went. How often did he miss your school plays or your dance recitals? Or your birthdays, for that matter.”

“I can’t live in the past, and neither should you. This is different. Holding on to grievances like that will only steal your own peace, Mom. You’re living the life you want now, so am I. I’m not saying it’s what I’ll want forever.”

“He will bleed you emotionally dry. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Mom,” I said, sitting up. I dusted sand off my legs. “We’re losing him, okay? Little by little. He can’t ever be in a courtroom again. Do you understand what that means?”

“That’s his cross to bear, not yours.”

“He’s my father,” I whispered.

“Mercedes, think. That’s all I’m asking of you. Really think. Are you doing this for yourself or for him? He’s good at this. Making you think you want what he wants. He’s always had that lost puppy quality. He makes you want to save him. All you end up doing is losing yourself. Before you know it, you don’t know where you begin and he ends.”

“I’m not you,” I said. She blanched. “I know how to set boundaries with him. You’re right. He was absent a lot when I was a kid. I didn’t understand it. Maybe I still don’t. What I do know is this is it. There is no five years from now or ten years from now with him. I want to get to know my dad now. As an adult. It’s important. And I like Helene. I love it, actually. So for this specific time in my life, this is where I want to be. Okay? Can you understand that? Can you support me?”

She wiped away a tear. I didn’t know whether it was for me or for what I’d told her about Dad. She could rant and rail all she wanted. But I knew Tom Gale was still the love of her life. I suffered no delusions that they would ever get back together. In truth, I wouldn’t want that for her. She thrived without him. He knew it too. I just hoped that someday she could find a way to forgive him. Soon enough, it would be far too late.

Chapter

Seven

Former Detective Dan Holland was now “Captain Dan.” He owned a charter fishing boat and ran it out of the Clearwater Beach Marina. According to his website, he was booked solid through early fall. But at Sheriff Henderson’s urging, the captain agreed to give me an hour of his time. He invited me into his two-bedroom bungalow overlooking the pier where he could keep his eye on the thirty-two-foot Grady-White, Sea Change.

He greeted me with a friendly smile and kind eyes. His was a weather-beaten, tanned face. He shook my hand and showed me into his living room. The walls were filled with trophy fish mounts except for one tiny space in the corner where his commemorative gold retirement badge sat in a shadow box collecting dust.

“So how is old Gale Force these days?” he asked, after we made the standard introductions. Gale Force was the nickname my father earned from his Navy buddies six decades ago. It stuck.

“He’s good. Crusty. Ornery. But good.”

Holland laughed. “Sounds about right. Make sure you tell him I said hi. I’m surprised he didn’t insist on coming out here with you.”

“He doesn’t like leaving Helene very much anymore,” I said. It was true enough.

Holland asked for updates on a few more Helene staples, like Miriam Greenbaum, the town paper’s former photojournalist.

“Did Sheriff Henderson explain why I’m here?” I asked.

Holland’s expression went flat. It wasn’t exactly a frown, but I knew the captain had left the conversation. I was dealing with the detective now.

“He said you want to know about Derrek Sidney.”

“Partly, yes,” I said. “I’m working with one of the victims’ families. After all this time, they want closure and have questions ... blanks they’d like to fill in about what really happened that night.”

It was a disingenuous answer. But like with Sheriff Mac, I wanted to protect Geneva’s privacy.

Holland seemed satisfied with my answer, but remained pensive. I knew how this might go. He didn’t trust me. My family name and Mac’s sway would only go so far.

“I was close with most of the families. I’m surprised they didn’t reach out themselves. I don’t go back to that very much,” Holland said. “It doesn’t do me any good.”

“I can imagine. The sheriff wasn’t able to tell me very much about the investigation. About the evidence against Sidney in particular.”