And you ...” She slapped the steering wheel again. “How do I even know you're telling the truth, that Daddy set you up like this?” It's probably not accurate to say my feelings were hurt, since I'm pretty sure I don't have any. But the injustice of the remark did seem painful. “I wouldn't lie to you” I said.
“You lied to me every day of your life that you didn't tell me what you really are” she said.
I am as familiar with New Age philosophy and Dr Phil as the next guy, but there comes a point where reality absolutely has to intrude, and it seemed to me that we had reached it. “All right, Debs” I said. “And what would you have done if you knew who I really was?”
I don't know” she said. I still don't know.”
“Well then” I said.
“But I ought to do something.”
“Why?”
“Because you killed people, goddamn it!” she said.
I shrugged. I can't help it. And they all really deserved it.”
“It isn't right!”
“It's what Dad wanted” I said.
A group of college-aged kids walked past the car and stared at us. One of them said something and they all laughed. Ha ha.
See the funny couple fighting. He will sleep on the couch tonight, ha ha.
Except that if I couldn't persuade Deborah that all was exactly as it should be, world without end, I might very well sleep in a cell tonight.
“Debs” I said. “Dad set it up this way. He knew what he was doing.”
“Did he?” she said. “Or are you making that up? And even if he did set it up, was he right to do it that way? Or was he just another bitter, burned-out cop?”
“He was Harry” I said. “He was your father. Of course he was right.”
I need more than that” she said.
“What if there isn't any more?” She turned away at last, and didn't beat on the steering wheel, which was a relief. But she was silent for long enough that I began to wish she would. I don't know,” she said at last. I just don't know.”
And there it was. I mean, I could see that it was a problem for her —what to do with the homicidal adopted brother? After all, he was pleasant, remembered birthdays, and gave really good presents; a productive member of society, a hard-working and sober guy —if he slipped away and killed bad people now and then, was it really such a big deal?
On the other hand, she was in a profession that generally frowned on that kind of thing. And technically, it was supposed to be her job to find people like me and escort them to a reserved seat in Old Sparky. I could see that it might pose something of a professional dilemma, especially when it was her brother who was forcing the issue.