Page 200 of The Encore’s Crown

“Can I see her?”

“Once she’s settled in the ICU, yes. Briefly.”

I nod even though I don’t understand what I’m agreeing with. The door opens again. Rithy stands there in black sweatpants and a coat thrown over a T-shirt, his hair completely wild. His eyes go from me to the doctor.

“How bad?”

I can’t answer. Natalia does.

“She’s alive, stable. She’s going to the ICU.”

Rithy closes his eyes. At first, he stays in the doorway. Then he comes to me. We stand shoulder to shoulder while the doctor repeats the injuries, and Rithy stares at the wall with his arms folded so tightly across himself it looks painful. When the doctor opens the door to leave, a man in plain clothes is waiting in the hallway, a badge clipped to his belt. A woman stands beside him with a hospital identification badge and a folder held against her chest.

“Are you both the sons of James and Chenda Drysdale?”

Rithy’s mouth twists at the surname, but he says nothing. I nod. The detective closes the door behind him.

“I’m Detective Alvarez with Seattle Police. This is Dana Brooks, a victim advocate. We need to speak with you about what happened at your mother’s residence.”

My skin goes cold.

“Your father was found deceased inside the home.”

Rithy goes rigid beside me.

I hear myself ask, “How?”

“His death appears to have been self-inflicted.”

Natalia’s grip tightens around my hand.

“A neighbor reported hearing a gunshot and called 911. Officers arrived and received no response at the door, so they entered under emergency circumstances. Your father was found in the living room with a gunshot wound. Your mother was located nearby, unconscious but still breathing.”

Rithy sits down hard. I don’t move. The words refuse to arrange themselves into anything real.

“He thought he'd killed her, or that she'd be dead soon enough,” I say.

“We don’t know what he believed,” Detective Alvarez says. “This is still a preliminary investigation. The scene indicates that your mother was assaulted before your father’s death. We also found partially burned photographs in the bathtub, but we’re still determining how that fits into what happened.”

The photographs. That’s what I think about. Ma on her knees gathering them from beneath the table. Her hands smoothing the corners. The way she held every page like it contained something so special. He waited until we were gone, then carried them to the bathtub and tried to burn them.

Not because they mattered to him.

Because they mattered to her.

The image comes whether I want it or not. Ma reaching into the smoke. Trying to pull them free. Dad dragging her back. Her fighting him for the only proof she had that there had ever been sweetness in our lives.

Something vicious twists through me. He didn’t just try to kill her.

He tried to erase us first.

The neighbor heard the shot. The shot that ended him is the reason Ma might live. A laugh tries to rise out of me, but there’s nothing human in it. Natalia turns toward me. My voice sounds detached, like it belongs to someone on the other side of the room.

“He beat her until she stopped moving, then put a gun to his own head. Huh. At least his last decision was a good one.”

The detective doesn’t correct me. Rithy covers his face with both hands. I stand there waiting for grief to come.

It never appears, not for him. Only rage. Relief. Horror. Some ugly mix of all three twisted too tightly to separate. The victim advocate says something about the house being secured as a crime scene. About not going there tonight. That someone can help us retrieve essential belongings later. I barely hear her.