“Because she’s nuts.”
Ryan and I looked past Bernadette toward her husband. He opened his mouth to continue, but something on our faces made him shut it again.
Bernadette spoke without taking her eyes from the thread she was twisting and retwisting around one finger. “Tawny endured a five-year nightmare. Anyone would have issues.”
My gaze slid to Ryan. He did a subtle “Take it away” lift of one palm.
“Can you talk about that?” I urged gently.
“About what?”
“Tawny’s issues.”
Bernadette hesitated, either reluctant to share or unsure how to put it. “She came back to me changed.”
Sweet Jesus! Of course she did. The child was raped and tortured her entire adolescence.
“Changed how?”
“She was overly fearful.”
“Of?”
“Life.”
“For Christ’s sake, Bee.” Jake threw up his hands.
Bernadette rounded on her husband. “Well, aren’t you Mr. Compassionate.” Then to me, “Tawny had what they called body-image issues.”
“What do you mean?”
“My baby lived in conditions you wouldn’t wish on a dog. No sunlight. No decent food. It all took a toll.”
I pictured Tawny in my office, overwhelmed by a trench coat cinched at the waist.
“She didn’t grow properly. Never went through puberty.”
“That’s understandable,” I said.
“But then her body, I don’t know, started playing some kind of high-speed catch-up. She grew very fast. Developed large breasts.” Bernadette shrugged one shoulder. “She was uncomfortable with herself.”
“She was irrational.” Jake.
“Really?” Bernadette snapped. “Because she didn’t like to be seen naked? News flash. Most kids don’t.”
“Most kids don’t go batshit if their mother accidentally peeps them in the crapper.”
“She was making progress.” Cold.
“You see what I’m dealing with?” Jake directed this comment to Ryan.
“You knew about Tawny from the day we met.” Bernadette’s tone toward her husband was acid.
“Oh, you’ve got that right. And we haven’t stopped talking about the kid since.”
“She was seeing a therapist.”
“That asshole was part of the problem.”
Bernadette snorted. “My husband, expert on psychology.”
“The quack took her to the cellar where they caged her. In my book, that’s over-the-top fucked up.”
That surprised me. “Tawny and her therapist visited the house on de Sébastopol?”
“Perhaps the treatment was a bit harsh.” Softer, almost pleading. “But Tawny was doing well. She was attending community college. She wanted to help people. To heal the whole world. When she called that one time, she said she was back in school.”
“But she didn’t say where.”
“No.”
I glanced at Ryan. He was studying Jake.
“How did you two get along?” he asked.
“What? Me and Tawny?”
Ryan nodded.
Jake’s voice remained even, but the set of his jaw suggested his annoyance was no longer just with his wife. “We had our spats. The kid wasn’t easy.”
“Spats?” Bernadette snarled. “You two hated each other.”
Jake sighed, impatient with accusations clearly aired more than once. “I did not hate Tawny. I tried to help her. To make her understand that life involves boundaries.”
“Be honest, Jake. She left because of you.”
“She never embraced me as a father, if that’s what you mean.”
“You drove her away.”
The Kezerians exchanged a glance boiling with anger. Then Bernadette turned back to me. “Tawny moved out after a blowup with my husband. Stormed upstairs, packed her things, and left.”
“When was that?”
“August 2006.”
“What did you argue about?”
“Does it matter?” Jake’s voice remained level, but something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
“Where do you think she went?” I asked Bernadette.
“She often spoke of California. And Australia. And Florida, especially the Keys.”