The Whole Truth Read online

  THE WHOLE TRUTH

  Also by James Scott Bell

  Fiction

  Deadlock

  Breach of Promise

  Presumed Guilty

  No Legal Grounds

  Sins of the Fathers

  Circumstantial Evidence

  Final Witness

  Blind Justice

  The Nephilim Seed

  City of Angels (coauthor)

  Angels Flight (coauthor)

  Angel of Mercy (coauthor)

  A Greater Glory

  A Higher Justice

  A Certain Truth

  Glimpses of Paradise

  The Darwin Conspiracy

  Nonfiction

  Write Great Fiction: Plot and Structure

  Sin has many tools,

  but a lie is the handle which fits them all.

  Oliver Wendell Holmes

  ZONDERVAN

  THE WHOLE TRUTH

  Copyright © 2008 by James Scott Bell

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Zondervan.

  ePub Edition January 2009 ISBN: 978-0-310-54358-9

  Requests for information should be addressed to:

  Zondervan, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530

  * * *

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Bell, James Scott.

  The whole truth / James Scott Bell.

  p. cm.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-310-26903-8

  1. Lawyers — Family relationships — Fiction. 2. Threats — Fiction. 3. Fathers and daughters — Fiction. 4. Teenage girls — Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3552.E5158N62 2007

  813'.54 — dc22

  2006033493

  * * *

  All Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means — electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other — except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  * * *

  07 08 09 10 11 12 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  This is a novel about brothers.

  I dedicate it to mine.

  Tim and Bob, this one’s for you.

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  PROLOGUE

  INDIO, CALIFORNIA, 1983

  PART 1

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  THIRTY-NINE

  FORTY

  FORTY-ONE

  FORTY-TWO

  PART 2

  FORTY-THREE

  FORTY-FOUR

  FORTY-FIVE

  FORTY-SIX

  FORTY-SEVEN

  FORTY-EIGHT

  FORTY-NINE

  FIFTY

  FIFTY-ONE

  FIFTY-TWO

  FIFTY-THREE

  FIFTY-FOUR

  FIFTY-FIVE

  FIFTY-SIX

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  FIFTY-NINE

  SIXTY

  SIXTY-ONE

  PART 3

  SIXTY-TWO

  SIXTY-THREE

  SIXTY-FOUR

  SIXTY-FIVE

  SIXTY-SIX

  SIXTY-SEVEN

  SIXTY-EIGHT

  SIXTY-NINE

  SEVENTY

  SEVENTY-ONE

  SEVENTY-TWO

  SEVENTY-THREE

  SEVENTY-FOUR

  SEVENTY-FIVE

  SEVENTY-SIX

  SEVENTY-SEVEN

  SEVENTY-EIGHT

  SEVENTY-NINE

  EIGHTY

  EIGHTY-ONE

  ONE

  ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

  SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS

  THE WHOLE TRUTH

  PROLOGUE

  INDIO, CALIFORNIA, 1983

  They put Robert in Stevie’s room when Stevie started getting night terrors. He was five and the terrors came hard one night when he woke up sure that a monster was trying to get him. He woke up screaming in the dark and when no lights went on he screamed louder because he thought the monster heard the screams and would try to kill him now.

  His mom flicked on the light that first time, and Stevie saw through sleepy eyes his older brother, Robert, seven, rubbing his own eyes with his hands. He was in his train pajamas. Stevie would never forget that. All those years later, he would think of Robert in his train pajamas wondering why his little brother was screaming.

  The terrors came three nights in a row. The third night was the worst and Stevie wet the bed and cried.

  Stevie’s dad yelled at his mother the next night. Stevie could hear them in the kitchen, arguing, like they usually did. His dad yelled, “You’re not putting Robert in that room with the baby bed wetter.”

  His mom yelled right back at him. “You’re not the one who has to get up! You don’t even hear him, you’re so bombed. Robert’s going to sleep with him for a while, and that’s the way it’s going to be.”

  Then Stevie heard a noise and thought it was somebody falling hard to the floor in the kitchen. He never found out if it was his mom or his dad.

  Robert didn’t have a problem moving in with Stevie. The little house in Indio had three bedrooms. Four if you counted the living room as one, because that’s where his dad slept most of the time. He’d drink beer and watch TV and usually fall asleep with the TV on.

  That first night, Robert said he’d tell Stevie a story. That was way cool. Stevie loved his big brother, because he was athletic and fearless. Stevie wanted to be like Robert in every way, even wishing his brown hair was sandier like Robert’s, and his eyes blue.

  And he loved hearing Robert tell stories. Robert could tell the best ghost stories. But tonight Stevie hoped he wouldn’t tell one of those, because they were too scary. Then Robert said he was going to tell a monster story and Stevie said maybe not, and Robert said just hang on and listen.

  “Once upon a time,” Robert began — the room was dark except for the moonlight, and Robert’s bed was close enough for Stevie to touch with his foot — “there were two baby monsters. Their names were Arnold and Beebleobble.”

  Stevie cracked up. Arnold was a funny name, but Beebleobble was even funnier. Funny names for monsters. A funny monster story, he could deal with.

  “One was green,” Robert said, “and one was blue
.”

  “Which one was green?” Stevie asked.

  “Arnold. Beebleobble was blue.”

  “Cool.”

  “Listen to the story.”

  “Okay.”

  “One day Arnold and Beebleobble decided to go to the store.

  Arnold wanted some peanut butter and Beebleobble wanted some gum. So they went into the store, and the man screamed, ‘Monsters!’ and ran out of the store. But Arnold and Beebleobble didn’t want to scare him. They were friendly monsters. They just wanted some peanut butter and some gum.”

  “Was anybody else in the store?”

  “No. So Arnold got some peanut butter and Beebleobble got some gum and they left without paying for it. Then the police came and said, ‘Why did you scare that man?’ and they said, ‘We didn’t mean to. We don’t want to scare people. We just want to get some thing to eat. We have money.’ So the policeman scratched his head and said to the man, ‘If they have the money then everything’s okay.’ And the man said, ‘I guess so. I’m sorry. I thought they were trying to scare me.’ So they paid him and went home and ate the peanut butter and chewed gum.”

  Stevie smiled in the moonlight. “I didn’t think monsters did that.”

  “They were baby monsters,” Robert said. “They didn’t know about scaring people yet.”

  That night Stevie didn’t have the terrors.

  A week later, at kindergarten, it occurred to Stevie that Robert told the story that way just so he wouldn’t be afraid of monsters trying to get him.

  The terrors never came back. Until the night of the shattered eyes, when the real monsters came.

  It was good to have Robert in the same room when Mom and Dad were fighting. Robert would say, “Don’t worry. They’ll get over it.”

  Then Robert would tell another story about Arnold and Beebleobble. And even though Stevie could still hear the voices yelling in the kitchen, he’d get lost in the stories about the two baby monsters and everything would seem all right.

  Of course, Stevie knew that Robert was Dad’s favorite. Robert could throw a baseball almost across the park. He was built like Dad, strong and stocky. Stevie took after his mom, who was kind of skinny.

  Lots of times Dad took Robert to the park to play and left Stevie at home.

  Once Stevie cried about it and his dad took him outside and whacked his butt with a piece of kindling.

  The night of the shattered eyes started with a hot wind from the desert. It blew into Stevie’s room like a pair of hot gloves, pressing his face. Stevie’s window looked east toward Highway 86 and across the valley, to the brown desolate mountains, sun-baked in the distance. There wasn’t much but undeveloped land between the house and hills. Sometimes Stevie thought they lived at the end of the world. Because all he could see from his window was a whole lot of hot nothing.

  This night, there was something on the wind. Stevie tried to tell Robert about it.

  “It’s hotter,” Stevie said.

  “It’s not so bad,” Robert said. “Sleep on top of the sheets. Sleep in your underwear.”

  “I will if you will.”

  “Okay.”

  In the darkness they took off their pajamas. Stevie wore underwear under his pajamas like Robert did.

  Then Robert said, “Once upon a time, Arnold and Beebleobble decided to sleep on top of their cave. They looked up in the sky. They saw a shooting star. Some of the shooting-star dust fell on them and made it so they could each have one wish and it would come true. Arnold wished he could go to an Angels game. Beebleobble wished he could fly to the moon and back. And they got their wishes.”

  Stevie thought about that. “Know what I’d wish for?”

  “What?”

  “That I could throw as good as you.”

  “You can if you practice.”

  “I tried.”

  “Tomorrow I’ll practice with you, okay?”

  “’kay.”

  With the wind blowing outside, Stevie fell into a calm sleep. Deep like the desert night.

  He woke up with a rough hand over his mouth. Pressing him down. Maybe it was Robert playing a game. But it wasn’t. It was something big.

  A monster.

  Stevie tried to scream, but the monster pushed on his mouth. The monster had no face. Stevie heard something by the window and knew there was another monster in the room. Getting Robert.

  The no-face leaned down and Stevie smelled cigarettes, and that both relieved and frightened him. He was sure it was a man now, not a monster, but what was he doing to him? And Robert?

  The man was wearing a ski mask. It was too hot to wear that, so why was he?

  The man in the mask whispered. He had a scratchy voice. “Don’t make a sound, you hear me?”

  Stevie tried to nod his head, but the man was holding his face hard.

  “If you make one sound I’m going to kill you and your brother. I’ll kill you right now.”

  Stevie tried not to cry but couldn’t help it. He wanted Robert. He wanted his mom. Even his dad. Anybody.

  “So you listen good. I’m gonna be right outside this window, and if you move, if you make any sound — quit crying!”

  Stevie couldn’t stop.

  “Quit crying or so help me I’ll kill you both.”

  For Robert, Stevie thought. Stop crying or they’ll hurt Robert. Ste-vie closed his eyes and sucked in air through his dribbly nose. It took him a minute, but he stopped crying.

  “Good,” the man whispered. “Now here’s what you do. You turn over and put your head in the pillow. If I hear you make a sound or call out anything, you’re going to be dead, you and your brother. You understand?”

  Stevie nodded.

  The man slowly took his hand away. “I’m gonna be there all night. Not one sound. Now turn over.”

  Stevie did as he was told. If he did what the man said, then Robert would be okay and so would he. They would get to live.

  Oh God let us live. Oh God don’t let them hurt Robert. God God please.

  Stevie started to cry again but made himself stop. They would kill Robert if he made a sound.

  Oh God don’t let me make any noise. Make them go away and don’t let Robert get hurt.

  He had to go to the bathroom. But if he moved they would kill Robert. He had to go to the bathroom so he did it in the bed.

  This was worse than nightmares. He remembered the nightmare he had before Robert told him stories, and one of the monsters took his bear and broke the eyes, shattered them. The bear looked at Stevie with shattered eyes. The eyes accused him. Why did you let it happen? the shattered eyes said.

  Tonight was like that for real. Stevie couldn’t help Robert. Only God could help him. Stevie could only lie in the bed and not cry.

  Shaken awake.

  Jolted out of sleep. Somebody clutching him. Hurting his shoulders.

  Mom.

  She was shaking him and yelling, “Where’s Robert?”

  Scared, Stevie thought it was a dream. But the room was full of light and he felt the wetness and smelled it and knew it was real.

  Like last night was real.

  “Answer me!”

  Like she was mad at him.

  He didn’t answer. Didn’t want to make a sound. What if they were outside the window?

  Now his mom was really crazy and tears were in her eyes.

  “Answer me, will you!”

  If she was yelling then maybe it was okay to talk now. “Outside! Look outside!”

  “Outside where?”

  “The window!”

  His dad charged in. Must have been right outside the door. Ran to the window and looked out.

  He turned back to Stevie, face red. “Whattaya mean outside?”

  “A man! He had a mask. He was gonna kill us!”

  His mom and dad didn’t say anything. They looked at each other the way people did sometimes in movies. Not knowing what to do.

  “Where’s Robert?” Stevie said.

  “Oh, honey.�
�� His mother sat down on the bed and hugged him. “Frank, call the police. Hurry.”

  Stevie let himself cry now. He saw Robert’s train pajamas on the floor.

  The police came. A lot of them. It was confusing. Everybody was talking to him, asking him questions, making him go over and over things. Stevie started sucking his thumb again. He clung to his mother.

  She told the police not to make him talk anymore, that he had told them everything.

  Other people came. Stevie knew they were people from TV. They had cameras and microphones.

  Stevie’s mother wouldn’t let the people in the house.

  Finally, when it was dark, the people were gone. But the house wasn’t the same. Something had changed, and it wasn’t just that Robert wasn’t there. It was that Robert wasn’t there because of Stevie. He wasn’t there because Stevie didn’t say anything. The man in the mask didn’t stay outside the window. He just said that to scare him.

  There was a moment when Stevie knew all this instantly. One look was all it took.

  One look from his dad. They were sitting at the kitchen table. Too tired to eat. Mom had heated up some Tater Tots for Stevie, and he ate some, but not all of them. His parents were silent, looking down at the table.

  And then Stevie saw his father looking at him. The look bore into Stevie like fists. It was a look of disgust. His father hated him. Stevie was sure of that now.

  Stevie ran from the table into the bathroom and threw up and cried.

  His mom came in and cleaned him up.

  His father didn’t come. His father didn’t speak to him for a week.

  Eight weeks later, Robert hadn’t been found. There was no ransom note. No contact of any kind.

  Stevie managed, from snippets of conversation, to piece together that the police thought a group might be involved. They called it a “religious cult,” and Stevie wondered what that was. He asked his mom once and she just shook her head like she didn’t want to answer.

  A couple of times he heard the word pervert and wondered if that was something else, but he was afraid to ask.

  His father was drinking a lot of beer and stuff from a bottle. He stayed away from the house for days sometimes. When he came back he and his mom yelled at each other.

  He wouldn’t talk to Stevie.

  When Stevie looked at his father, he thought something was taking Dad over. A bad thing. All because of Robert. What Stevie had done to Robert.