“I know it sounds like I’m blaming you, but I’m not. Most of the fault lies with the sheriff’s department.”
“The sheriff’s department? You’re accusing Sheriff Enquist? He’s a good man and did everything to get justice for your mom. He took care of us during the trial. He always checked on us. After Eddie went to jail and my father died, Sheriff Enquist helped us secure custody of you. If he hadn’t done that, you would’ve gone into foster care and been raised by strangers.”
She blinked. “I didn’t know that.”
I nodded and continued. “Sheriff Enquist and his wife are the ones who gave you that big dollhouse for Christmas. Do you remember it?”
Her expression told me she did remember. Of course, she remembered. The dollhouse was her favorite toy for years, even after she’d outgrown it.
A look of fierce determination flashed in Brandy’s eyes. “Sheriff Enquist may have been kind, but once his department narrowed in on my father, the search for other suspects was abandoned. They never followed up on any other leads. They just pointed their finger at him and said guilty.”
My entire body sagged under the weight of her words. I wasn’t angry anymore, just incredibly sad and exhausted. “Oh, honey. I know you want to believe he’s innocent, but he’s not. I know for a fact he’s exactly where he needs to be—in prison, paying for the crime he committed.”
“But Dottie said—”
“Dottie,” spitting that woman’s name, I put up a hand to stop Brandy from speaking. “The only way Dottie could be right is if I’m wrong, and I know I’m not wrong. Your father was and is a very dangerous man. You have no idea what he’s capable of. You have no idea what he did that night. What he said. What he—”
My body shook uncontrollably. I was going to be sick.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Ruthie, I know I’ve upset you, but the man on these videos wasn’t capable of murder. I know you don’t want to hear that. I know—”
I shook my head. “No, you don’t know anything. You don’t know what happened that night. Not everything.”
“Then tell me.”
Needing Brandy to understand, I pushed past the bile burning my throat.
Then I told her.
I told her the secret I’d vowed to take to my grave.