The knife was in my hand. The life was draining out of Dennis’s eyes.
“You know you’ll pay for this,” he hissed. Even as death stood by waiting to escort him to judgment, your father tried to terrorize me. “Those insurance policies weren’t just for the girl. You know how bad this will look.”
I didn’t know how bad it would look. How could I? How could I have guessed that just like he made preparations so that my death would look like a suicide, he also made contingencies so that I’d be the primary suspect if he ended up dead?
Which is exactly what happened.
It wasn’t just the new insurance policies, although those certainly didn’t help my case.
There were the forged love letters from some anonymous boyfriend. The police found them stashed away behind the liquor cabinet. They immediatel
