Page 38 of Bad Intentions

“He is a criminal,” Grandma says. “A womanizer, a despicable person. He is dangerous, Josie. I don’t know how to put it in a way you’ll understand, but he’s trouble. The fact that he showed up again is bad news.”

“Yeah, I gathered, since he’s kidnapped a person. What I want to know is why he’s in Burnville.”

“I don’t know.”

I roll my eyes. “Who is that woman, Mallory Blain?”

“Just a person from the past.”

I bite my lip in frustration. “That past is pretty muddy, Grams. Why would he kidnap her? And what does he want to tell me about Mom and my father?”

Grandma winces, just barely, but I notice, because that’s unlike her. Everything she’s done and the way she’s acted in the last few days is unlike her.

“I don’t know, Josie. But that man is a liar. He’s capable of ruining people’s lives very easily.”

I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. “Really, Grams? After everything, that’s what you tell me? He’s a big, bad wolf, so stay away from him?”

I shake my head in frustration and look through the kitchen window. “What’s his deal with Mom? Because I’m pretty sure everything that’s going on has to do with her.”

“She was one of many. One of many who fell for his charm. Who became his prey. Who was left a victim.”

“Oh! My! Gosh, Grams!” I lean in and bang my palms against the table. “You are telling me the vaguest story. No, wait. You aren’t even telling me a story. You’re leading me around like I’m a ten-year-old who won’t leave you alone if you don’t feed me some nonsense. You’ve been doing it for years!”

“You don’t know that man,” she says harshly. “I hope you never do. He is evil, and I hope the police find him and lock him up for what he did.”

“What did he do?” I ask louder, losing my temper. “You are not telling me! What! He! Did!” I almost snarl at Grandma.

“He kidnapped that woman. I’m sure he was planning on doing the same to you.”

I gape. “Why? Why would he? Why me? Why that woman? Why is he in this town again?”

“Because he ruined many lives,” Grandma says louder, her hands clasped together so tightly that her knuckles turn white. “Everything that happened twenty-five years ago—the murder, the fire—it’s all his doing. Someone went against him, and he devised an evil plan to ruin their lives. That was me. You know how it all went down.”

She looks down again at her hands that are trembling now.

“No, I don’t,” I say. “That’s the problem. I don’t know anything. The murder, the fire…” I don’t continue. Getting her to talk is like pulling teeth. I want her to look at me. What happened twenty-five years ago haunted my entire childhood. No, scratch that—my entire life in Burnville. The rumors, the accusations. The nasty comments about my mother getting what she deserved. The horrible jokes about my grandmother being a killer. There wasn’t a single bonfire without someone joking about “Ma Killer,” about “setting it on fire Karen-style.”

No matter how many times I asked what really happened, her trial and conviction, I always got the same answer. “I didn’t do it.” This is the first time, the first conversation that gives me hope that there was someone else responsible. There are facts. There’s a suspect. And maybe there’s a chance to vindicate my grandmother of what happened.

“It’s him,” Grandma says and raises her eyes. “That man, the kidnapper, the one who messaged you—he is the one who committed all those crimes and set me up years ago.”

There it is.

We sit in silence for some time, then I speak, because she’s obviously done telling her story. “Why haven’t you ever told me about him?”

“There was no reason for you to know. He’s not worth talking about.”

“Doesn’t look like that anymore, does it?”

“I was trying to protect you and your mother.”

“It didn’t exactly work out for Mom, did it?”

Grandma winces and sucks in her cheeks.

“Sorry,” I say. “Maybe if you’d told me, I wouldn’t have gotten into this mess.”

“There was no way to escape it. If he chose to come back and do what he did, he would’ve done it anyway.”