“I’ve never understood why you hate novels so much.”
“It’s what weak-willed people do to escape life. I should know. My mother always had her nose stuck in a book and ignored me and my brother. We pretty much raised ourselves thanks to her obsession with romance novels.”
“It’s not the book’s fault. Maybe she was unhappy.”
“Then she should have changed things. Instead, she let our dad beat us while she pretended it wasn’t happening.”
He’d never talked much about his childhood, but the revelation explained so much about his hardness and self-reliance. He’d found out early on that he couldn’t depend on anyone but himself.
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
He shrugged. “Water under the bridge. The lessons taught me well.”
“What did you do when you found her in the cabin?”
“I grabbed the book and ripped it to shreds, then tossed the pages in the fire. I told her to get home. She gave me a look I’ll never forget. Like she hated me.”
Reid lowered his arm from the top of the sofa. “You’re an idiot, Charles. She wasn’t a child. She was an adult woman and could make her own decisions about what to do in life. What to read, who to befriend. You had no right to do that.”
“As her husband, I had every right.”
“You might as well save your breath,” Jane muttered. “No woman wants to be treated like a child. Or a possession.”
A wave of love swept over her as she took in Reid’s narrowed eyes and clenched fists. His respect for other people was one of the many things she loved about him.
She rose. “If you think of anything else, let me know.”
“What about Gabriel?”
“He wants me to contact Mom.” Her laugh sounded bitter to her ears. “He has the insane idea that she’d come here if I asked. He clearly doesn’t know her.”
* * *
Reid passed a beignet over to Jane in the next chair and flicked powdered sugar off his fingers. Parker sniffed the white stuff and licked it up. Lights lit the street below her balcony, and jazz music floated on the night air. The scent of jasmine mingled with the scent of grilling shrimp—not exactly a pleasant combination.
In a parking lot below, Will was skateboarding with some local kids, and the laughter lifted Reid’s spirits.
“Any progress on the arson investigation?” he asked her.
She licked powdered sugar off her fingers and shook her head. “Nothing concrete. Still waiting on the autopsy. I spoke with her brother and ex. I didn’t much care for Drew Briscoe. Pompous and arrogant. He didn’t show an ounce of regret for her death.”
“Did her brother have anything to add?”
“He told me Drew was abusive, so that’s a definite red flag. I’ll interview him again when he’s had a chance to recover from the shock.”
“What will you do about your mother?”
She looked down at her hands in her lap. “Nothing right now. My personal problems can’t take precedence over my job. If a killer’s out there, I have to bring him to justice.”
“While you’re waiting to find out if it’s even murder, we could go talk to your mom.”
“I should have the autopsy on Monday, and I want to hit the ground running.”
“We could leave tomorrow, talk to her the same day, and fly back on Monday. Augusta could handle things until we arrive back in the afternoon.”
He held his breath as she fidgeted and stared out at the streetlights and neon shining in the dark night. She had to be afraid, and he tried to put himself in her place. He’d never doubted that his mother loved him, but facing his father was a different story. If the situation were reversed and he had to confront his father, he wouldn’t want to do it either.
She shook her head. “It can wait. And why do you care anyway?”
“Because I love you, and I want you to have some peace and resolution about all this.”
“What if she won’t talk to me? What if it makes the situation even worse?”
She hadn’t responded to his comment about loving her, and he didn’t blame her. They had a lot of garbage to get past, but he knew she loved him too. It was hard for her to trust.
He rubbed his forehead. “I understand, honey, but you have so many questions. Answers are never bad.”
Parker lifted his head and rose to press against her leg. She petted him. “I’m okay, boy.” She stared at Reid. “I’m not sure I want to hear them when I can’t know if she’s telling me the truth.”
What could he even say to truth like that? He nodded and let it drop.
Seven
The foam-tipped waves deposited seashells on the sand before rolling back out. Gulls fought over food scraps and stared at Reid with beady black eyes. Several oil platforms rose in the distance out in the Gulf as Reid walked through the churning waves to the beach.
A decent number of beachgoers milled about on this Memorial Day weekend, and Will had found other teenagers to coax into volleyball in the thick sand. Megan and Olivia should arrive anytime.
With water streaming from his skin after his swim, Reid flopped on his back next to Jane and lifted his face to the hot sun. Jane’s very wet, sandy dog stretched out on the sand beside him. “I meant to ask you last night if you believed what your dad said about those missing three days.”
She clutched her knees to her chest and shook her head. “I don’t know what to think. It’s disconcerting to be forced to accept the fact that I lost three days of my life. And it sounds like they might have been an important time.”
“At least Will didn’t have any effects from whatever drug she gave you. He’s perfect.”
A proud smile lifted her lips. “In every way.”
He still felt he was wading through quicksand with her. Ever since Lauren cornered her, he’d felt Jane holding him at arm’s length, and he wasn’t sure how to break through it. He might not be able to until he managed to resolve his situation with Lauren.
He lifted the cooler’s lid and extracted a cold, wet bottle of sweet tea. Jane already had one beside her. “Did you think any more about what I said last night? About your mom?”
“I barely slept for thinking about it.” She reached down and picked up a handful of fine sand that she let sift through her fingers. “I think maybe you’re right. I’ll have to talk to my mother.”
“Face-to-face or a phone call?”
The wind blew her light-brown hair into her eyes, and she swiped it away. “What do you think I should do?”
It was a step in the right direction that she cared enough to ask him. “You already know how I feel—talk to her face-to-face. She might not answer a phone call. Caller ID would tip her off that it’s you, and I doubt she’ll answer.”
Before Jane could reply, Megan, dressed in a white cover-up over her bathing suit, called to them as she and her mother came their way across the sand. Her mom, Olivia, wore a navy top over white capris, and she looked almost normal until Reid noticed her stiff gait.
She made slow progress across the uneven ground. He should have suggested they meet somewhere else.
He rose and helped her to a waiting camp chair. “Thirsty? We’ve got sweet tea and lemonade.”