“He’d have just set you up for the hit-and-run,” his mother said.
“Yes.”
There was a long silence.
“What will you do after you prove Damen killed her?”
If he could prove it. That was something that wasn’t being said. “I’m not sure yet.”
“What about this woman we keep hearing about?” his mother asked. “Jackson Ivy’s daughter?”
“She’s helping me.”
“How is she helping you? Macon Ivy told reporters this morning that you got stuck on her road and that’s how you ended up together.”
His parents had been getting all their information from the media. “She just is.”
“You may have gone off with a bunch of thugs, Korbin, but I still know you. There’s something there between you. Macon claimed you were innocent and that his sister was in good hands.”
“Mother...”
“Honey,” his dad said.
“I’m just happy he called.”
“Don’t forget the choices he’s made. And he may still pay for them with prison time,” his dad said. “Whether innocent of the crime you’re charged with or not, you probably deserve some time behind bars.”
“Maybe I do. But not for murder.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ve had it with all you’ve put me and your mother through. Your mother especially. Did you have it so bad growing up? No, you didn’t. Most kids would give a limb to have the life you did as a kid. And look what kind of thanks we get.”
“I’m sorry, Dad.” There was nothing else to say. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“You’ve been nothing but trouble since you were fourteen.”
“I’d like a chance to change that.”
“It’s a little late, don’t you think? You can’t even decide definitively what you’re going to do with the rest of your life. You’re almost forty. Crying out loud. If you don’t know by now, you never will.”
“Honey.” Now it was his mother who used the endearment.
“You’ve had plenty of opportunity to change before now. Why should we believe you mean it this time?”
“Because this time I mean it.”
“It takes being accused of murder to realize that? Two people have died.”
Korbin lifted his free hand and rubbed his forehead. “Three.”
Don’t forget his wife. She was the one who’d changed him.
“Well, great. Congratulations. My smart son. It takes your wife dying to realize crime isn’t worth it.”
“Honey, stop.” His mother began to cry.
Korbin felt like crying with her. His dad was right. He should have known sooner. Maybe he had, but he hadn’t paid attention. He’d gotten so entrenched in the life that he’d missed all the signs. Adolescent rebellion had grown into habit. Routine. And then there had been nothing routine about his wife’s shooting.