“I heard them arguing,” Kevin said. “I remember Mom saying, ‘Jeff’s going to be the end of us.’ But Dad was on my side. He told her to stop concerning herself about Jeff.”
He stared into the pool. The bougainvillea branch had sunk to the bottom. “But Mom was right. Jeff was the end of them,” Kevin said. “After that fight, they started hating each other.” He put the empty bottle to his lips, then shook it with frustration when nothing came out. “Mom never forgave me,” he said, his body starting to shake. “I screwed up their marriage. I screwed up our family.”
“That’s not so, Kev.”
“You don’t know, Aubrey.” His voice was like a shard of glass. “She blamed me for almost letting you drown and for that big fight with Dad. My whole life, she’s been punishing me. First, she misses my graduation, then my wedding. And now . . .” His voice broke. “Now she loses my son.”
She opened her mouth to defend their mother, then closed it. Kevin was hurting, and arguing with him wasn’t going to help. She gently took the bottle out of his clenched hand, then put her arms around him and held his trembling body close. “We’re going to find him, Kev. Ethan will be home soon, happy and safe.”
He jerked his head back. His eyes were filled with pain. “Do you promise?”
Her heart clenched. Who was she to promise such a thing?
“Yes,” she said. “I promise.”
CHAPTER 23
Diana wondered whether Jonathan had already arrived at Frazier’s. It had taken her over a half hour from the time she’d called and asked him to meet her to shower, dress in a white blouse and jeans, and then get to downtown Coconut Grove.
She had walked slowly, her mind in turmoil.
Jonathan couldn’t possibly have known Jeffrey Schwartz. There had been hundreds of students in the law school. But if he had, then Jonathan likely knew more than he had let on about Stormdrain and April Fool. He might even be involved with Ethan’s kidnapping.
But this was the man who made her tea when he sensed she was down. The man she was engaged to marry. It wasn’t possible he had some secret past or agenda. The problem was in her mind. She was anxious and stressed, and lack of sleep was making her imagine villains where none existed.
She turned off onto a side street, almost an alley, where a red-and-white-striped awning protruded from the white brick front of a small building. The sight of it calmed her. Frazier’s Ice Cream and News. The combination newsstand, ice-cream parlor, and luncheonette was one of the oldest establishments in the Grove and had been considered quaint even when Diana and Larry had moved here thirty years ago.
The window was covered with local postings of “Apartments for Rent,” “Loving Dog Walkers Available,” and “Today’s Specials—Chili, Tuna salad, Pistachio ice cream.” They were the same specials they’d had for the last thirty years.
She used to come here with Aubrey and Kevin and buy them ice-cream cones. Kevin always got vanilla, but Aubrey would order pistachio. Diana had been planning to bring Ethan here as a treat. She stood straighter.
She would bring Ethan here!
The bell on the front door chimed as she stepped inside, just as it used to. The place was empty except for Jonathan, who was sitting at a rickety table for two. He stood when he saw her—his pale, freckled face in a worried frown. He wore a faded, short-sleeved madras shirt tucked into a pair of khaki slacks.
A wave of guilt swept over her. He was still Jonathan. How could she doubt him?
He came toward her and gave her a light hug, not the usual bear-squeeze. She wondered whether he was responding to her remoteness or if he had some secret of his own.
“You got here quickly,” she said.
“As quickly as I could. You sounded very distressed.”
“Sorry if I worried you.”
He glanced around at the newsstand and magazines, then at the counter. “Well, this is a charming place. Shall we get something to eat?”
“Their chili has always been great.” She said it lightly, trying to hide the darkness that was threatening to reveal itself.
Jonathan signaled to the young man behind the counter. “Two chilis, please.” He looked back at her. “Coffee?”
“Just water, thanks.”
Jonathan ordered a couple of waters, then sat down across from her at the small table. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “When you called, I was just finishing up with the man heading up the FBI investigation.”
“Tom Smolleck?” She tensed. “He came to your apartment?”
“That’s right. He wanted to ask me a few questions.” Jonathan scratched his bald spot. “It was a bit awkward for me after what you told me last night about the note.”
“You spoke with him?”
“Well, yes. Of course. How could I not?”
If Jonathan had mentioned the note to the FBI, then Ethan was likely lost to them. “What did you talk about?” she asked.
“Nothing about the note.” He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.
She nodded, relieved.
“He asked about people who might use Ethan as a political pawn in my nomination, or anyone I may have angered in the past. Since I’d already given that quite a bit of thought, I gave him a few names.”
“Anything else?” she asked.
He stared at the dulled marble tabletop. “Well, he asked about you and Larry, and about your relationship with your son and the Simmers. Whether I knew of any threats by the Coles.”
“Anything else?” She could hear the strain in her voice and realized she probably sounded unhinged, repeating her question.
He met her eyes. “You seem anxious about my interview with him. I told you, Diana. I said nothing about the note.”
She looked away. The newspapers and magazines were neatly stacked in the racks, everything in its proper place. So unlike the rest of the world.
“Diana,” he said softly, “I don’t want to make this about me, because I understand how frightened and upset you are, but . . .” He cleared his throat. “I feel you’re withdrawing from me. Almost like you’re afraid to confide in me.”