She scraped back her chair. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.’
‘Don’t you want to hear about it?’
‘Not really.’
Novak’s flinty-grey eyes regarded her with speculation. ‘You don’t seem the type to fall for such a take-charge kinda guy.’
Jodie paused, and flung him a wry look. ‘Most people found him charming.’
‘I’ve been digging for three years, and his charm escapes me. Thought you’d be too smart for all that baloney.’
Jodie gave a rueful shrug, recalling how Ethan had been when they’d first met: clever, affectionate, impossible to dislike. He’d always worked so hard, always looked so tired from trying to do his best by his clients. But six months into the marriage, he’d already been devising small tyrannies: objecting to the time she spent with Nancy; belittling her painting; challenging her need to escape the suffocating house. Over the years, he’d flung many allegations at her, accusing her of affairs, often claiming that Abby wasn’t his daughter. Jodie had railed at him.
‘You want me to arrange a paternity test, Ethan? Is that what you want? I’ll do it, I’ll prove it to you!’
He’d smiled, looked smug. He’d always known his accusations weren’t true. He and Abby were so alike, all he had to do was look at her to see that she was his.
But Novak was right. Looking back, her radar should’ve flagged it at the start, should’ve warned that something was out of whack. In truth, her defences had been down. She’d been searching for her father at the time, desperate to find him and to finally know that maybe she looked like someone. Then suddenly she’d found out he’d been dead for twenty-three years.
He’d died in an accident at the age of nineteen. She’d talked to a few of the people who’d known him, come away with an impression of a quiet young man, kindhearted, well-liked. The discovery had left an aching emptiness, and Ethan had been there to fill it.
Jodie gave the journalist a level look.
‘People make mistakes, Mr Novak.’ She eyed his wrinkled clothes and uncombed hair, willing to bet he’d spent the night in his car. ‘I’m sure you’ve made your share.’
He dropped his gaze, seeming to take in his own appearance for the first time. He shifted uncomfortably, then flung her a challenging look.
‘So how come you stayed with him so long?’
Jodie debated whether to answer, then relented to make up for her pointed glance at his clothes. ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but I’d never had a home, and I badly wanted to give my daughter a stable one. Is that so hard to understand?’
He looked at his hands, clenched them together. ‘No. No, it isn’t.’
He went silent for a moment. Briefly, she wondered if she’d hit a nerve. He didn’t exactly look like a guy with a stable home life. She dismissed the thought and got to her feet.
‘Look, I’m sorry you were misled about the visit, but I really have nothing more to say to you.’
He gave a humourless laugh and shook his head. ‘I should’ve known.’
‘Known what?’
‘You were just the same in court, all polite and aloof. Like a brick wall.’
Jodie raised her eyebrows. He charged on.
‘You don’t make it easy for people to help you, do you? God knows, your lawyer did his best for you, but what could he do with all that remote, ice-queen bullshit?’
Jodie blinked. It wasn’t the first time her self-protective shell had been mistaken for coldness. But she’d learned things the hard way: better by far to appear distant than afraid.
Novak was glaring at her, and she wondered just what he had at stake that had got him so riled up. He leaned forward, and when he spoke again his voice was low.
‘You said in court that Ethan was a monster.’
Jodie felt her posture stiffen. Novak went on.
‘You said he was evil, twisted.’
‘I won’t talk about this, I told you.’
‘A family annihilator, isn’t that what your defence attorney called him? A father who kills his own child?’
Jodie flinched. Her hearing seemed to tune in and out, Ethan’s voice washed in on the ebb and flow.
‘The water wasn’t cold, she didn’t wake up.’
Her gut churned.
‘Your attorney brought up other family annihilator cases,’ Novak said. ‘Other fathers, cold-bloodedly murdering their own children. Devoted family men, losing control.’
‘Stop it—’
‘Happens more often than people think, right? Several cases a month, your attorney said. All those monsters. Just like Ethan.’
Jodie managed a whisper. ‘I can’t do this, I told you—’
‘Only no one believed you, did they? No one believed he was a monster.’ Novak’s eyes were latched on to hers. ‘Well, I may be the only person who does.’
Jodie turned to go. Novak jerked to his feet.
‘Wait!’
She shook her head, moved away.
‘Listen to me Jodie, you need to hear this.’ Novak’s voice grew urgent, louder. ‘Ethan is still alive.’
Jodie froze. Then slowly, she turned around.
Novak was on his feet, his chair kicked back. Beneath the rumpled shirt, his frame was stocky, the bedraggled hair and stubble giving him a wild, mountain-man look. She shook her head.
‘You’re crazy.’
‘Didn’t you ever wonder about the bullets?’
She shook her head again and turned away. His voice rose over the racket in the room.
‘They said four shots had been fired from the gun, but you only took two. Didn’t you ever wonder about that?’
Jodie halted, keeping her back to him. ‘So maybe I fired more, I don’t remember. Does it matter?’
‘You swore in court you only fired two. Should’ve been seven rounds left in the gun, so why were there only five?’
‘Maybe I only started with seven bullets.’
‘You said you loaded a full magazine. Nine rounds.’
Clack-snap. Nine bullets loaded.
Jodie squeezed her eyes shut, driving the memory away. Then she spun round to face him. ‘What the hell does it matter how many shots I fired? However many it took, Ethan is dead.’
‘The prosecution claimed you fired a round into the gas tank of the car.’
‘I don’t remember doing that. Why the hell would I do that?’
‘To finish him off in the explosion, is what they said.’
‘I know what they said, but Ethan was already dead. I shot him, for God’s sake. Point blank range. There was blood, it hit my face—’ She clamped her mouth shut, inhaled deeply