“Okay, now, tell me all about your visit with Savannah. I’ve been dying to know all day.” Dad digs into his plate and settles his eyes on me, content to eat while I talk. He was the same way growing up. Always attentive. Always listening. I’m one of the lucky ones.
“She’s quiet, but she’s definitely got a wild spark that pops out. It sounds like she keeps to herself, and she hates being the center of attention.” Even my attention made her squirm. So did any supportive comments, especially if they were directed at her character. It was like she had a stubborn refusal to accept anything nice I said about her. “There’s no doubt she’s a talented and bright kid. She’s almost done with her first year at Ole Miss, and she’s going to make the dean’s list. She’s always been good at school, though. I googled her before our meeting, and she was a straight A student from kindergarten through high school. She graduated with honors at the top of her class, was head of the school newspaper and a star player on the debate team.”
“That’s a pretty impressive list,” he says, and I couldn’t agree more. He graduated at the top of his class in both high school and college, so academics have always been important to him, and he also knows how hard you have to work at them.
“I know, and here’s what’s odd about that.” I lean across the table conspiratorially. “There weren’t any pictures recognizing or honoring any of those achievements in Genevieve’s house. There were plenty of Savannah’s pageant days and her early ballet days, but as she got older, her pictures were mostly just posed headshots or formal family portraits. Any signs of her accomplishments were missing.”
“Those things are way too big to be overlooked,” he says, sprinkling cheese on top of Harper’s spaghetti. She’s old enough to prepare her own food, but we spoil her that way. “Was it weird? Was she nervous to talk to you?”
“I’m pretty sure I was more nervous than her going into it, but it seemed natural once we got started. She was easy to talk to, and it was almost like she’d been waiting for someone from the case to come see her. Detective Layne was totally right about going there.” I’m meeting with him tomorrow to fill him in on today’s meeting. If he had his choice, he probably would’ve joined us for dinner, but I’m making him wait until the morning, when I’ll be fresh. “Her relationship with her mom is super strained because Genevieve’s a huge control freak. She wanted Savannah to follow in her footsteps as a beauty queen, and once she didn’t, Genevieve turned her back on her. She forced her into going to a college she didn’t want to go to so that she could keep controlling her.”
“What’d she say about Mason?”
Her love for Mason was clear from how she said his name to the way her body relaxed when she spoke about him. I was nervous to ask questions about him because I didn’t want to upset her, so I started off with a disclaimer, trying to ease into it.
“I know this is awkward and uncomfortable, but eventually we’re going to have to get to why I’m here today,” I said after I’d finished a cup of coffee and she was on her second water. We’d put in identical orders for french toast. I shifted in my seat, trying to relax. I didn’t have any training for this part. “I’m not sure—”
She cut me off, not giving me a chance to explain where things were in the case. “I know why you’re here.”
“You do?” I asked, instantly relieved.
“Of course.” She nodded. “You want to know if Mason hurt that woman.”
Her bluntness shocked me. It took me a second to recover. “As you can imagine, everyone is pretty freaked out about what happened to Annabelle. The community doesn’t feel safe, and arresting the person who did it will give them a sense of security again.” I quoted Detective Layne just like he’d asked me to. His lines felt awkward in my mouth.
“And you think Mason did it?” She narrowed her eyes, searching my face for clues.
“It seems to make the most sense.” Another Detective Layne quote. I sounded like a robot.
“Does it?” Doubt was written all over her face, and I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t sure it did, either, but I was working for the police department, so I had to say what they told me to.
“How well do you know Mason?” she asked next.
“Not very well.” That was an understatement.
“Have you even met him?” She cocked her head to the side.
“Once.” I looked away.
A range of emotions passed through her features before she settled on indignant. She leaned back against the plastic booth and crossed her arms on her chest. “You clearly haven’t spent any time with him, or you’d never even have to ask the question.”
“What question?” She had me flustered with her straightforwardness.
“Did Mason hurt that woman? The one you came here to ask, but you’ve been too nervous to do.” She called me out like a skilled therapist. “We both know that’s exactly why you’re here, so ask me. Go ahead.”
“I mean . . . I didn’t want to—”
“Ask me.” She laid her hands flat on the table and stared at me. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t.
“Is there any chance Mason hurt Annabelle?” I asked softly, begrudgingly, because I didn’t know what I’d do if she said yes. It might break my heart.
She wrinkled her face and shook her head in obstinate denial. “Absolutely not. Mason would never hurt a fly.”
That was it. She wasn’t willing to entertain the possibility of Mason having anything to do with Annabelle’s death.
I turn my attention back to Dad. “Ironically, Savannah said the exact same thing about Mason that her mom did—he’d never hurt anyone or anything.”
“So maybe the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?”
“Maybe.” I shrug, but I’m not so sure.