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“There’s some things you don’t know about my dad,” I begin.
“Is this the part where you tell me he’s in the mob? That once we get engaged, I’m in his circle of trust or whatever it’s called?”
I’m not sure if he’s joking or not. Right now, it doesn’t matter. I hope Chris isn’t planning to interrupt the whole time. It’s going to be hard enough to explain what’s going on when I’m so terrified. My head feels like my skull’s broken in two.
“That’s not it,” I say. “Dad is ... Well, you know my dad. He’s got some pretty high-up connections.”
Chris doesn’t say anything. I’m thankful for the chance to move forward. To explain as best I can. I’m dizzy, except I don’t know if that’s because I hit my head or because I’m so terrified.
“He, um, well, he’s involved in a lot of stuff ...” I clear my throat. “And I’ve never told you this, but he has a pretty tragic backstory.”
I wait for Chris to laugh and tell me it sounds like I’m talking about a supervillain or something, but he’s focused on his rowing. I feel a little freer to talk as our family cabin gets smaller in the distance.
“I have a half-sister. Had a half-sister, I should say. From my dad’s first marriage.”
“Okay.”
I take a deep breath. My head is throbbing, but I think the bleeding has slowed down at least. “When she was eighteen, she was found raped and murdered on a hiking trail.”
“Geeze.”
I choose to ignore Chris’s one-word responses.
“So, um, we never really talked about her or anything, but I knew my dad never got over it. He tried really hard to figure out what happened. Hired private investigators and everything. The police eventually said it was a cold case, but Dad didn’t give up. There was DNA evidence. It was ... Dad sent it to a private firm then had a friend run it against the police database.” I swallow, having no idea how Chris is going to react to this next part. “It was your dad.”
The rowing stops, but I don’t look at Chris.
“My dad raped and murdered your sister?”
The sunlight reflects off the water, radiating agony through my retinas, aiming it directly to the back of my skull. I can’t tell from Chris’s expression what he’s feeling. Incredulous? Disgusted? Defensive? Chris knows what his father’s capable of, but having a monster of a father doesn’t erase your sense of family loyalty.
Just look at me if you need a living example.
“They can’t prove anything,” I tell him. “If the police question your dad, he can claim their relationship was consensual and that he had nothing to do with the murder. But they aren’t going to question him. My dad’s friend made sure the DNA evidence they had at the station disappeared.”
“Why? With all his connections, he could ...”
“I know,” I interrupt. “But that’s not the way my dad likes to deal with things.”
Chris sets his jaw and doesn’t respond. Now that I’ve gotten this much of the story out, it’s the perfect time for him to interject. Anything. But he’s silent.
We’re getting close now to the bank. Wincing in pain, I point toward a spot with enough tree and shrub covering we can hide the boat. Hopefully, it will give us enough time to figure out what we’re going to do next. We’re just a few feet away from the shore when he says in a low voice, “You’ve known this about my dad the whole time we were together?”
“No. My brother just told me today, but he said Dad found out a couple months ago.”
“So if he’s known that long, why are we running away like this?”
I don’t know what to say, and for a minute I’m afraid Chris might not believe anything I’m telling him. I’m not sure I can blame him, but I do have to make him understand. Make him realize how serious the situation really is.
“My dad’s ... my dad’s ...” I search for the right words. The right way to explain it. Chris may understand physical fear and terror, but he has no idea what it’s like hiding the kind of secrets I have. My head has started to throb again, and I wonder if I’m still bleeding.
“There are other things he’s done, too,” I whisper, just loud enough for Chris to hear me over the sound of the oars. “He can be really dangerous.”
“Then you should call the police. You should tell them ...”
“He’s got people on the inside.” There’s no way Chris is going to understand. I’ve uncovered bits and pieces about Dad’s illicit activities for years and still only know a fraction of what he’s done.
Of what he’s capable of.
“So now what?” Chris asks, pulling the boat up to the shore and helping me out. I’m dizzy, the world swirling around me as I try to stand. “My dad killed your sister. Your dad’s known about it for months. What does running to the other side of the lake fix?”
“You talked to my dad this morning, didn’t you?” I need to put my thoughts together more coherently. Need to make Chris see what kind of danger we’re in. He pulls the boat onto the shore, and I try to help him heft it behind some overgrown bushes.
“You talked to my dad,” I repeat, leaning against a tree to support my unsteady weight. “And you told him you want to propose to me.”
“Not that it was that successful of a proposal,” Chris mumbles.
“That was for you,” I tell him. “I was trying to get you to leave. Give me time to talk to my dad in private.”
Chris gives me a scowl. “You’re telling me that your father’s in a murderous rage, and your plan was to just sit down and have a little heart to heart with him?”
I bristle at his tone. “He would never hurt me.” I know I sound defensive, but I don’t care. My dad might be involved in all kinds of activities he’s worked hard to keep from the police and his family, but I know with absolute certainty that he would never raise a finger against me.
Not for anything.
Chris stands up. Sweat clings to his brow. “If your dad’s going to come after my dad, then we need to go warn him. We shouldn’t be out here hiding, especially not with your head bleeding like that.”
And then I realize Chris still doesn’t understand. “That’s the thing,” I tell him, ignoring the pain pulsing between my temples. “My dad isn’t after your dad. Not that way. He wants him to suffer the same way he has.”
Chris throws a few branches over the boat for a little extra cover and wipes his brow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“My dad knows what it’s like to have his child brutally attacked and killed, right?”
“Right.”
“Dad never got over what happened to his daughter,” I say, trying hard to keep my voice steady, “And now he wants nothing more than for your dad to know the exact same kind of pain.”