When She Wasn't Looking by Helenkay Dimon Page A

inside without taking off their shoes.” She shook the remainder of the night out of her head and forced her mind to join her body back in today’s world. “Weird, right?”
    “Human. You remember him with a teenager’s eye. That colors everything.”
    “I thought he’d called in all the police to scare me for staying out in violation of his orders.”
    Four dead.
    “But when I didn’t see my dad on the porch, I knew what the voice on the speaker meant.” She forced the words up her throat. “Deb, Susie, Mom and Dad. All gone while I was kissing my boyfriend and giggling about how I was drinking a beer behind my dad’s back.”
    She swallowed, unable to say anything. Closed her mind so the memories couldn’t sneak back in.
    Jonas flipped his hand over and let it lay palm up. “How old were you?”
    With her finger she traced his from base to tip, each one turn after turn. Long and lean, strong and surprisingly soft. When she placed her hand in his, the warmth of his skin closed around her.
    “Seventeen. One month from graduation.”
    When her eyes met his again she expected to see pity like she had with every social worker and lawyer, every cop and every teacher at school. While some people whispered behind her back wondering why she’d survived, others drowned her in sympathy. She preferred those bold enough to question why her dad would spare her—when he obviously preferred Susie—over those who wanted her to stay helpless and needy so they could save her and wash away the guilt of not seeing the tragedy before it happened.
    The extended family split, her mother’s relatives clamoring with stories about her dad’s terrible behavior and her mother’s desire to leave him. Her father’s family sainted him. She got pulled and tugged from one end to the other until she walked away.
    A name change and relocation later and she woke up without a past. Or she thought it would work that way.
    “The police determined my father killed my mother in a moment of uncontrollable rage. That financial problems at work had piled up to push an already volatile man to the edge.” She inhaled deep enough to flush her brain with a burst of fresh oxygen. “So he took out his family, thinking we were all home and that he could save us from the horrible life of poverty that lay ahead.”
    Jonas turned her hand over and slid it between both of his. “You lived.”
    “He didn’t know I was gone.”
    Jonas lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss against her skin. “You don’t believe the story.”
    It was about more than a belief. She knew down to those dark places in her soul that the police took a shortcut and got this one wrong. “Dad was imperfect but not a killer.”
    Jonas didn’t debate or try to talk her out of it. “What’s your theory?”
    Her eyes searched his. So many people had asked the question then not listened to her answer. They wanted her to talk so they could analyze her or use her to close a case. Not Jonas. He sat there, his attention focused on her and his hand wrapped around hers, and waited for her to speak.
    She didn’t have to come up with an elaborate scheme. She’d studied every angle. She had the entrances and exits mapped out and the details outlined. After begging the police to listen and offering theories no one would act on, she tucked the knowledge deep inside and vowed to step back into the light only after she had the evidence to end it all.
    But sharing her findings proved easier with Jonas than she ever anticipated. He hit on the truth when he said she needed to tell. It was time and he was the right person.
    “The landscape guy attacked my sister, Mom walked in and she was killed. The man then killed everyone, each as they came home, to hide his tracks.”
    “Do you know anything about the forensics—”
    She dropped Jonas’s hand and started to stand up. “I have it in my folder.”
    “Sit.” The deputy part of him roared back to life.
    “Jonas, I can prove