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“What was in the envelope?” I ask.
“The four envelopes that I delivered to your doorstep along with a note for me with instructions, and five $100 bills in payment to do it.”
“And you didn’t even think to take this to the police?”
“Hell, no. Five-hundred bucks? No way. I’d just run away from home, five-hundred bucks felt like hitting the lottery.”
“Where is the note with the instructions?” Rhett asks.
“I burned it, dude.”
Rhett shakes his head, clearly pissed.
“Why did you run away?” I ask.
Jesse shrugs, looks down, a hint of shame in his eyes.
“Answer the question,” Rhett says.
“I don’t know… I just hate my life. I hate my parents.”
I think of Janet, his mother, the perfect wife, and his father, the successful doctor, and their perfect house in the perfect gated community.
“Why? What’s to hate?” I ask.
“My parents… they’re just… I don’t know… I don’t really want to get into all that bullshit. You’re not my therapist.”
“You’ve got a therapist?” I ask, not bothering to hide my surprise.
Jesse kicks a rock, sending it tumbling over the edge of the cliff. “Yeah. Mom used to make me go—”
“How’s your relationship with your dad?” Rhett interrupts.
“I don’t really know my dad. He’s never home.”
“Working?”
Jesse scoffs. “That and other things.”
“What other things?”
“He’s a cheating asshole. I’m pretty sure he’s got at least a few girlfriends on the side.”
“Who?”
“Don’t know.” Jesse shifts his weight. “Don’t care.”
A moment of silence stretches between us, Rhett and I studying Jesse, Jesse staring at the trees.
“What are you not telling us?” Rhett asks.
“Nothing, man.”
“There is more to this story, with your dad.”
Jesse shrugs.
“Do you have an idea of who gave you the letters?” I ask, returning to the point.
