Jamie
Jamie’s first instinct was to check the math: Jo found at maybe seven and adopted a couple years later. It was easier than thinking Jo’s biological father is Stanley Trevor Davis, or Jo thinks her adoption was Stanley Trevor Davis’s trigger. He also didn’t want to either think or say Okay but you don’t actually have any proof he’s your father, because Jo clearly felt a deep responsibility toward Davis either way.
He couldn’t help the “Ahhhh” that came out, and he was willing to explain it at her raised eyebrow: “That’s how you even knew who he was.” Not Forgotten got a lot of questions about how they’d finally uncovered Davis, because he was such a nobody, but they’d picked a researcher who … “Shit, does Tess know?” Okay and maybe he shouldn’t have said that.
“So.” Jo set down her burrito and turned more to face him, resting one hand on his leg like it was comforting. “I don’t know if you know this, but some people are weird about the whole adoption thing.”
Jamie nodded reluctantly. When they were kids, Dad shut it down when anyone mentioned that Jamie was adopted. He was another Whittaker, and that was that. Allan didn’t mess it up, but Jamie had heard Shane reminding his friends of it a time or two: oh, he’s not my real brother. Like being chosen instead of accidentally conceived made him less.
“I never told Tess.” She grimaced. “I never even actually told Jake. He didn’t want kids, so I figured we wouldn’t have to do the whole family medical history thing, and since we moved to Michigan …”
That made him nod once, deeply. Moving might’ve helped them, because then nobody would know he just materialized in that house when he was a toddler.
Jo took a slow breath and then shook her head and burst out, “And they wouldn’t have cared anyway. They would’ve paid someone to stalk me and grab a used coffee cup lid or something so they could try to run a DNA test.”
Jamie licked his lips. “I didn’t think the Milwaukee Millennium Murderer left any DNA.”
“Not that they knew at the time, but someone could go back through the files and find a hair or something.” Shrugging, she sighed and reached for her coffee again. “So yeah, I’m the reason my likely biological father is in jail for more murders than he actually committed, and now I’m the reason he might die.”
He shifted again to catch both her hands around her mug, looking directly into her eyes. “None of this is your fault.”
“Jamie—”
“Hey.” He didn’t want to shake her hands too hard and spill the coffee, but he needed her to meet his eyes again. “This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”
Jo looked away, but she didn’t pull back. She searched the corner of her room or maybe the corners of her mind for the right words. “They wouldn’t have his name at all if not for me.”
“And you admit he killed two people.” Okay, maybe he needed to work on his comforting technique.
“Just because he killed people doesn’t mean he should be shanked!” she protested. “Someone attacked him just to be the guy who stabbed the Milwaukee Millennium Murderer, and that’s not fair! That’s not justice! He can’t afford the kind of lawyer who can make the case that he didn’t kill the other seven, and if he dies, then nobody’s ever going to find the one who did! Maybe nobody’s going to listen to me when he’s alive to back me up, but seriously nobody’s going to listen to me if he’s dead.”
But the Milwaukee Millennium Murderer had stopped killing. It was a terrible protest, even if it was factually accurate. He was dead or in prison—Davis had been in prison—or he’d moved away, and if he’d moved away and kept killing people, then he was another jurisdiction’s problem.
“Honey.” Right, and now he really had to keep talking and pretend like he’d meant to call her that and wasn’t trying to take it back. At least it made her look at him again, this time with a guarded expression. “As glad as I am that you exist, and maybe he’s the one to thank for that, he’s not your dad. He left you when you really needed him, and he showed up once, already too late, and you know he’s a murderer. He’s in jail because of what he did.”
She freed one hand to hold up a finger. “He’s in jail because I’m the one who brought up his name. He’s a nobody. No one was ever going to catch him, until me.”
“So, using that logic …” Jamie tilted his head and raised his eyebrows and really hoped he wasn’t coming off too dismissively saucy. “You’ve done something very right.” A new thought occurred to him, and he thought he hid it well, but her eyebrows were up now, too. “I can’t say that to you,” he protested in a low, quiet voice that he really hoped she listened to.
“Don’t make me use your full name.” It was probably supposed to be a threat, but he kind of wanted to hear his full name come out of her mouth.
Jamie pressed his lips together, but now she was the saucy one, clearly challenging, and he was going to lose standing in her eyes if he didn’t say it. “I really don’t want to put this idea in your head if you haven’t already thought of it.”
She shook her head a little without looking away from him. “Bet.”
Right, he’d gotten himself into this. “Are you sure your mom overdosed on accident?”
Jo tilted her head. “The coroner is. He wasn’t going to look into it any further. It doesn’t matter how many bruises you have or where they are if you’re living the life she was. He dismissed her as a sex worker who’d take it rough and couldn’t set the proper boundaries because she was under the influence, but he also said it was her own fault.”
So Jo had wondered if her father had killed her mother. Killed her, and then left Jo, what, alone next to her body?
“Her purse was empty.” Jo swallowed, so even though her voice was low and even, this wasn’t just casual information. “She always had a bunch of coins in it. All the spare change she could get. But it was empty, and someone called 911 to report her, and tell them to hurry because she had a kid.”
Ever so slowly, Jamie reached for her hands again.
She shook her head and grimaced when she dislodged a tear, so he let her withdraw enough to wipe at it. “I’m better than that. I have to be better than that.”
Jamie moved her mug back to the coffee table and pulled her in as she started to cry.
Chapter Twenty-Five – coming October 25
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