Sins of the Father

11

A/N: Thanks so much for reading and supporting this fic!

Westchester County

6:30pm

A loud bang startled Veronica and her cell slipped between her fingers. Her head snapped in the direction of the danger. The silhouette in the doorway looked familiar, "John?" the word escaped her mouth before she had a chance to think. She covered her mouth in shame and grief.

"Ronnie?"

"Jimmy, what are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you. I tracked the last couple purchases you made on my credit card, and figured this is where you were going. Why are you here?"

Veronica shrugged. "I thought I knew. John never wanted me to go in the basement, and he'd been acting so strange lately, I just wondered... you know, if maybe he was keeping secrets from me, maybe he got involved in something over his head and he didn't know how to deal with it." Thankfully, she had left Stepha with her mother. The last few days had been a hazy blur. She could hardly sleep, hardly think, hardly breathe. Paranoia dogged her. Every time she saw a man with a shock of dirty blonde hair, her heart fluttered. Whenever she saw a white truck pass her window, she ran to the door. Tears poured down her flushed cheeks. "I just don't know what to do."

"Shhh, Ronnie, there's nothing you can do, not really. You have to let it play out." Veronica felt his arms on her shoulders, steadying her.

"The basement. He's been keeping things from me. The truth is down there. If he didn't do it, there won't be anything. If he did..."

"Ronnie, you go down those steps you might never forget what you see."

"You think he did it!" Veronica spat.

"He did." Jimmy shrugged. "He did it, and then he thought about you and the baby, and getting caught, and it overwhelmed him so much that he shot himself. The evidence is all there. Bloody fingerprints and everything-"

"But why? Wasn't I good to him? " There it was, her thinly veiled irrational thought that she was responsible. Things had been stressful lately but she was good to him. Wasn't she? When he came home from work, she asked him how his day was, popped a beer open for him and told him that supper was almost ready. He liked that, didn't he? Or maybe it was something she didn't do. In bed. John never talked about or complained about their sex life, but after Stepha was born, their relationship changed and they both were a little on edge at times. "It's my fault, I should have known there was something wrong with him. Those rides he would take alone, he was so angry on friday night, didn't even come back from work. He just called me and said something came up and he would be late..."

"Ronnie," Jimmy said, and he tilted her chin so she could lose herself in the ocean depths of his eyes, "It's not... and never will be your fault." She leaned into him, soaking his jacket with her tears and bluthering. Finally Veronica's knees gave way and the two of them slid to the floor.

Jimmy's familiar embrace soothed her, and time slowed to a waltz. Veronica looked up when she heard the sound of a diesel truck. "Oh, the locksmith." There was a loud knock on the front door. She gathered herself off the dusty floor and walked through the living room to the entrance. Jimmy hung back, hands shoved in his pockets.

Veronica wiped off the tears with her sleeve, took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Hi. This way." The burly locksmith carried a tool that looked like a nail gun. He walked up to the basement door, and stuck the tool into the key hole. Ratta tat tat, and the door opened.

"There ya go miss, that'll be sixty five." His half smile revealed brown teeth.

"Oh, right, uh..." Veronica reached into her pockets.