Whatever that is, I’m not sure I want to know. We’ve already been through so much, and it’s time to put the past behind us.
I catch my ride, and time starts moving slowly. Traffic. A huge accident, and I’m stuck on the freeway only ten miles from the exit to our house. “How long do you think this will take?” I ask the driver, a nice older woman who keeps her eyes on the road and not me. A blessing.
“No idea. You might want to call ahead and let your party know you’ll be late.”
That’s not such a bad idea. I dial Kyle, and he answers after two rings.
“Where you at, Huff?”
“I’m not far, but there’s an accident. Could be a while.”
“Really? But we’re all waiting for you so I can announce the big news.”
“Nothing I can do. But what big news?”
“Hold on. Let me go outside.” There’s a pause, and I hear our front door creak. “Okay. I guess I can put you out of your misery. We won.”
We won? “What does that mean exactly?”
“The named parties caved at the last minute and made us an offer,” he says.
“Offer? Like what? To place themselves in prison?”
“No, Huff. They’re never going to do time unless a witness steps forward. This is the second-best outcome.”
I can tell his voice has switched to salesman mode. It’s what he used on the campaign trail. “Which is?”
“They offered us a deal at the last minute, before the jury came in. It’s thirty million dollars.”
I can hardly find the words to express my disbelief. “They’re giving our family thirty million?”
“Yep. The only condition is that the records have to be sealed, but it’s a solid win, Huff. We sign off on Monday morning after our lawyers make a final review of the settlement.”
My hand goes weak. I try not to vomit. “What was that last part again?”
“Sign off on Monday. But that’s merely a technicality. It’s over, and we—”
“No. I meant the part about the records being sealed,” I say.
“It’s a common practice when you settle out of court.”
“Whoa. Whoa. So they don’t have to admit to the world what Manda and her friends did? How’s that justice for our sister?”
“Neither party can discuss the terms of the deal publicly. But this is a win, Huff. They thought they’d get away with covering up Joy’s murder. They’ll be paying the rest of their lives.”
My blood boils with rage. The only thing worse than Kyle thinking this is a win is that my sister’s murderers don’t have to take responsibility publicly. “You’re wrong, Kyle. They won. Money is nothing to people who’ll lie, cheat, and steal to get more of it. You should’ve held out for the jury.” At least then, we would have had a chance to show the world that we aren’t the only ones who think these monsters are guilty.
“Huff, you don’t get it. Money is the only thing these people understand.”
“Fuck the money, Kyle. And fuck you. Tell Mom and Dad I love them and they’re idiots if they accept this offer. Justice means justice. Not a paycheck for Joy’s life.”
“You’re not coming?”
I answer his question by ending the call. I go to my phone and start searching nearby hotels. No, not for me.
I know Manda and her family moved away some time ago, but if they were in town this morning to negotiate with our lawyers, there’s a chance they’re still here.
I look at a photo of the nicest hotel near town. It’s on a golf course. Five-star restaurant and spa. And I know exactly where I would stay if I were human trash with money to burn.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Just before eight, I have the driver drop me in front of the restaurant at the golf club because it’s the best place to watch who’s coming and going while looking inconspicuous. For all anyone knows, I’m waiting for friends or family to join me. The only problem is that I’m getting looks from everyone who walks by.
I forgot about the part where people constantly check me out.
I’m sure you’re thinking right now, “How can this guy doubt he’s changed?” It’s like I mentioned before; I have the Ronno syndrome. Swagger. That’s what’s changed. How’d I get it? That’s the part I’m unsure of, but something in that water unlocked that part of my brain.
I take a seat on a bench just outside the front door. Off in the distance I hear sprinklers clicking away, watering the greens. The cool evening air smells like fresh fertilizer and mulch. Every few minutes, a nice car pulls up, and people pour out so the valet can take it away. None of them are Manda, unfortunately.
I busy myself on my phone, looking for news about Joy’s trial. Hard to believe there’s nothing. It’s like the world’s forgotten about her. It pisses me off.