Chapter 5 - JOE KNEW MY FATHER WAS ALIVE
I turned toward Joe.
“You knew.”
He did not ask what I meant.
“Yes.”
The word nearly ended our marriage right there.
“You let police think Peter might be dead.”
“I never told police he was dead.”
“You let me live my entire adult life believing this man had nothing to do with me.”
“Yes.”
“While knowing he was alive.”
“Yes.”
I slapped him.
Not hard.
Not dramatically.
But I did.
Joe did not move.
“I deserved that.”
“No.”
My hands shook.
“What you deserve is not the point.”
I drove home alone.
For two days, I did not let Joe inside our bedroom.
He slept in the guest room.
Then Detective Mills called.
The post-disappearance payments had gone to an account under the name Daniel Price.
Peter’s alias.
Joe admitted he met Peter twice after the disappearance.
The first time was six months later.
Peter contacted him directly.
“He wanted more money.”
“From Mom?”
“Yes.”
“Why go through you?”
“Because Margaret refused to speak to him.”
“So you paid him.”
“No.”
Not then.
Mom paid.
Joe delivered cash.
I almost laughed from disbelief.
“You became her courier?”
“I was trying to keep him away from you.”
“Stop saying that like it makes lying noble.”
He nodded.
“You’re right.”
The second meeting occurred six years later.
Peter looked worse.
Older.
Drinking heavily.
He promised to disappear permanently for one final payment.
Mom refused.
Joe paid him from our savings.
I stared at my husband.
“Our money?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand dollars.”
I remembered that year.
We had postponed renovating the kitchen.
Joe told me an investment had gone bad.
Another lie.
“Why?”
“Because you were pregnant.”
I froze.
Our daughter Emily was twenty-six now.
I had been carrying her when Peter resurfaced.
“He threatened Emily?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what?”
“He said if I didn’t pay, he would appear at your baby shower and announce who he was.”
My eyes burned.
“You thought I couldn’t handle the truth?”
“I thought you were seven months pregnant and already on bed rest.”
That stopped me.
My pregnancy had been difficult.
Still.
“You could have told me later.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Joe looked toward the floor.
“Because every year made the lie harder to explain.”
Finally, something completely honest.
Not protection.
Cowardice.
Then Detective Mills called again.
Peter Lawson’s Social Security number had never been used after his disappearance.
But his fingerprints had surfaced in another state twenty-two years ago.
Under another name.
Daniel Price had been arrested for drunk driving in Vermont.
Peter had survived.
Built another identity.
And according to the Vermont record, he had listed an emergency contact.
A daughter.
May you like
Her name was Rebecca Price.
Which meant somewhere in Vermont, I might have a half sister who knew more about my father than I ever had.
