“She should’ve stayed gone. Your mother should have stayed gone. But she came back. Your father burned down the set and Bill Hollis made her come back as his personal whore. And God knew what that man wanted he always got.” He pounded the air with the hammer again, spittle flying from the corners of his mouth. “Trust me, I was happy that Carrie came back, but Vanessa was jealous. She cried on my shoulder.” He pointed the hammer at himself again. “Mine. Not Bill Hollis’s. Mine. I had her back. And then Carrie went away again—well, we all know why now, don’t we? We all know about Peyton. But at the time, nobody knew. She just disappeared. And the minute she left, Vanessa forgot that I existed. Went right back to Bill, as if he gave even an ounce of shit about her. Not like I did.”

“My mom didn’t steal him,” I said. “She was blackmailed by him.”

“I wish she would have!” he yelled. He began advancing on me again. I tensed the umbrella again. “If she would have stolen him, maybe Vanessa would have given up on him. Instead, when your mother came back again, Vanessa came to me. She wanted me to make her go away for good.”

“You? You’re the one who killed her?”

He pressed the hammer against his lips as his eyes smoldered through the memory. “I did everything Vanessa ever wanted.”

I felt a tear run down my cheek. My poor mother had been trapped by Bill Hollis. She had no way out, just like I had no way out here. Would we both die by the same man? Trapped by Hollis lies? “You didn’t have to kill her.”

“I wasn’t going to. I was going to scare her, make her and Milo leave town. I didn’t want to kill her,” he said. “Until I looked into her face and saw . . . I saw Vanessa. I saw someone who was willing to do anything—even betray the man who would die for her—for Bill Hollis. She betrayed Milo the same way Vanessa betrayed me, all for that man. Next thing I knew I was bashing her head in with a tire iron. She was gone, and Vanessa was happy. And for the rest of her life, I kept Vanessa happy. I was there for her to run to when things were going wrong.”

“She wasn’t worth it,” I said. I swung the umbrella again, but my swings were getting worse. My hands were getting numb. My arms were getting weak. “The world is better off without her.”

He growled and came at me, swinging.