Nightchild

Chapter 65

"Like I said, he was having an affair with her. She'd been a friend of Susan's, Sonny's wife, since they were kids. I knew she'd hit on Sonny, or tried to, long before I ever met her. I never thought much of it. That was just her way, always wanting the attention, wanting what she couldn't have. I don't know how it ended up happening. We were having problems. She was going to Sonny for advice. I think he and Susan were starting to have trouble. I was getting the feeling that she didn't trust him.

"When Heathe and I went to the cabin, Sonny said he'd catch up to us later. Something to do with Susan being upset he was going. She was pregnant. I kind of figured that wasn't too odd that she wouldn't want him to go." He paused and looked Connie in the eyes. "I didn't know about Samantha. Not about her and Sonny. She messed around and I blamed myself for not giving her the love she graved. But I never thought..."

He shook his head and stared into the fire. "Anyway, Sonny didn't show up and Heathe and I decided to go back early and I heard about his car accident on the radio on the way home. When I got there, my house was swarming with police. Samantha and one of her lovers had been shot to death. I'm not going to go into gory details. It was bad. The police thought I had something to do with it. I was questioned. You name it. They put me through it.

"Mother was finally able to reach me and said she had an envelope that Sonny had brought by and given to her. She'd thought it was strange since he was supposed to have been on his way to meet us. It was still sealed. She hadn't opened it. It was a confession. His confession to having an affair with Samantha, that he'd gone to let her know he was going to tell Susan and me, get it all out in the open. That he'd gotten there and caught her with someone else and in a fit of rage had killed them. He was sorry. They'd ruined all our lives and finally that he'd gotten rid of the shotgun where no one would ever find it. Oh, there was more detail than that, but that's the gist of it."

Nate's breathing had become erratic and he swallowed hard to help calm himself as Connie looked away and closed her eyes. "You didn't tell the police or anyone, did you?" she whispered, knowing the answer.

"No. I couldn't. I couldn't do that to him, to his memory, Susan or the kids."

She turned back to him. "So, you let yourself be under suspicion all this time?"

"Yeah, all this time."

"God, would you have gone to jail, taken the blame?"

He put his hands up to his face and began rubbing his forehead, his voice uncertain when he finally spoke. "Yes...no...I don't know. I honestly don't know. Everyone was so devastated. His parents, he was the second son they'd lost. How could I let his kids grow up thinking their father was a murderer?"

Connie knew he didn't expect an answer but she couldn't stop herself. "But, Nate, he was," she stated simply, trying to keep her voice soft and understanding.

He stared at her accusingly. "No. I just never believed it. It wasn't Sonny." He shook his head as if to clear it. "You don't understand. I worshipped him. He was the only really good unselfish person I'd had in my life...really and truly good and decent. I couldn't destroy that memory for everyone else. I just couldn't."

Connie's heart broke for him, for the total betrayal he'd suffered from so many people he'd loved. "I think I understand. I mean, what good could it have done? He was already dead."

"Yes. And when the cops couldn't pin it on me, there just wasn't any point." He sighed. "The accident, I think it was no accident. He did it. He killed himself to—"

"Don't Nate," Connie ordered sharply. "Don't torture yourself with that. It's something you can never be sure of."

"You're right," he answered weakly. They sat in silence a moment then his eyes clouded and he smiled bitterly with an almost haunted expression. "What's weird is that Sonny never liked guns. He didn't own one."