CHAPTER NINETEEN
Avery sat hunched over the wheel of her car, still in the prison parking lot, destroyed, a mess, a husk, tears streaming down her face. Horrible sobs broke free from her throat. At one point, she jerked up and screamed and slammed the wheel.
Words.
Every time she heard one of his words, she cried harder.
Molester. Alcoholic. Murderer.
“No, no, no.”
She banged her head to get the images out: her father in the woods, g*n in hand. The body behind him. Varicose veins. Gray hair. That green dress.
“Get out, get, out, get out,” Avery begged.
She’d almost forgotten until then. So many years had been spent trying to forget the past, to get out of Ohio and wipe away her terrible history. In only a few words, Howard Randall had brought it all back.
You’re just like them, sh
