I loved my dad, but I didn't know what to think of him. That's weird, isn't it? I mean, he might have killed Mom—I hated the thought. And I hated that he was hanging with a blonde girlfriend. Like Mom didn't matter. And he didn't have time for Kelly or me.
But I still loved him. He was my dad.
* * * *
I wanted my old life back. Like a year ago when life was good, I knocked down decent grades. I played football. Was first team all-conference at fullback. I was a track star, too. Discus and shot put. I had a girlfriend. A job. Money. A car. I didn't worry about anything. I was never pissed at anything. Just at Mom and Dad's fighting sometimes and Dad's pounding on me once in awhile. But since ninth grade, as I grew bigger, stronger, and smarter, I'd pretty much managed to stay out of Dad's way. Especially when he was drunk.
* * * *
Police checked missing person reports for Iowa, Illinois, Minnesota, and Wisconsin because those states have rivers that drain into the Mississippi. My Dad's lawyer said the torso a fisherman dragged from the river could've belonged to any one of six other missing women. Maybe one of them was thrown into the river and floated down. Six possibilities, man—other than my mom's.
